#the set musical with no name as of yet is a musical about set the egyptian god being a misunderstood hero in a mafia setting

[veronicaphoenix]

the last song | n.s.

With the new album finally completed and a new song dropping in a couple of days, Noah takes his girl to the studio, hoping to show her around without the chaos of past recording days, and maybe, he can get that last song he's been dreaming of.

one shot ✨ | noah sebastian x fem.reader word count: 2.3k tags: established relationship, fluff, fluffy sexual content (it's not too explicit), reader has a slight kink for noah's silver chain (who doesn't, let's be honest), no trigger warnings, just noah being in love and being loved back.

The studio is finally empty. 

After weeks of relentless work and dedication, days blurring into nights, headaches, frustration, last-minute changes, and ups and downs not only in the sounddeck, but also in the mood of the whole team, the album was finally ready, and in a matter of days, new music would fill spaces beyond the studio’s confines.  

         Noah steps aside to let her in. She is enveloped in the grandeur of the space. Never before had she been in a recording studio, and its magnitude overwhelms her. The expanse stretches out before her, a labyrinth of hallways leading into rooms of creativity. There are framed records adorning the walls, a testament to the artistry that thrives within these walls. This feels like the type of place Noah would call home. Too bad she hasn’t fully realized yet that his home is her,no matter how many hours he’s spent away from her locked in this very right place. 

         While she is fascinated by the array of instruments, cables, and other things she doesn’t know the name of, it’s Noah himself who captivates her the most. His joy is palpable as he gives gently explanations about the use of each room, each instrument. His enthusiasm is infectious. He’s so eager to share his world with her. 

         This is one of the reasons why she’s so in love with him. 

         His passion. 

         And she is lucky enough that he’s equally passionate about music as he is about her. 

         Taking her hand, he leads her from one room to another, continuing his explanations and sharing curiosities about this and that, mentioning the guys, the places where each one usually sits while they review the recordings, the Starbucks cups that pile up in the corner of a table when they’ve been locked in there for twelve hours and start to suffer the effects of not seeing the sunlight or hearing the sounds of the outside world, anecdotes that ignite her laughter, a sound that makes Noah’s heart flutter. 

         She asks him about the new music, she pleads to hear at least one song, a piece, ten seconds. Nearly begs him. She knows she just has to utter the word “please” and Noah will give her anything she wants. This evening, she wants to hear the melodic cascade of his voice, get lost in the way Noah turns words into dreamy melodies. It’s not enough to hear him speak; she wants to hear him weave words into a song; she wants to drown in the melodies he has put into lyrics that speak of her, of the moments when they are stripped of all mundanity, of clothes and fear, when they are alone, skin to skin, and when all that can be heard is only the rhythm of their beating hearts and the symphony of their shared passion. 

         He insists he can’t. He wants it to be a surprise. He has hopes that when she listens to the album, one or two songs will get her on her knees, while others will lead her to beg him to fuck her to the cadence of those. 

         Embedded within the lyrics of the new songs are a few confessions, but there’s a time for those to reach her ears, and it’s not tonight. 

         He silences his phone and sets it aside while she occupies herself by tinkering with the buttons on the soundboard. A few minutes later, Noah sneaks up behind her, enveloping her in his warm and slipping his hands beneath the fabric of her white t-shirt.  

         “There’s actually... one last song missing,” he murmurs against the fragrant scent of her hair.  

         “One last song?” She asks, her curiosity piqued. She begins to turn round, but Noah holds her in place. He rests his head on her shoulder, and with a trail of his fingers along the curve of her stomach, he elicits a subtle shiver that she tries to ignore. “I thought you said the album was complete, that you had finished...”

“Not quite yet,” he replies, planting a ghostly kiss on her earlobe. 

         She can sense the cool, minty breath against her neck, and it sends a shiver down her spine. He has been indulging in a mint candy, and her mind wanders to the tantalizing thought of having his mouth between her legs at this moment. The idea of that refreshing sensation sends a rush of desire coursing through her veins, and she can’t help but wonder if it would be enough to push her over the edge. 

         She smells of jasmine and the promise of spring. He wants to inhale her, breathe her in.  

         Concerned, she wriggles in his embrace until she can face him, stepping back a few paces as she speaks. She wants him to take her seriously.

         “I didn’t know, Noah. I wouldn’t have asked you to bring me here if you were still in the middle of—”

         With a single step, he reaches her again, his smile widening at her endearing bewilderment. He captures her lips in a kiss, stealing her breath away. The taste of the candy is still on his lips, and his fresh breath enters her mouth as their lips part.

         It’s in the way their mouths fit together that she finds reassurance that they’re perfect for each other. She knows she’s found the boy of her dreams, and the mere thought of being apart from him feels unbearable. She doesn’t know how she will survive next time he goes away on tour. For now, she will live in the way his tender kisses have a way of evolving into passionate bites that ignite a delightful flutter in her stomach. 

         “You’re adorable,” he says over her lips. 

         For a moment, she feels dizzy. Then, with a determined frown, she grabs a handful of Noah’s black hoodie, attempting to appear assertive, though to Noah, she resembles nothing more than an adorable kitten.  

         “You told me the album was complete, that you would only bring me here once the work was done and this was empty so that you could let me explore and touch things and…”

         “And record the last song,” Noah interjects calmly, looking into her eyes, smile tugging at his lips.

         Her brow furrows even deeper, her head tilting slightly to the side as Noah’s gaze traces the contours of her face, his eyes filled with admiration for every freckle, that little ever so tiny scar earned in a childhood adventure, the faint blush spreading through her cheeks.  

         “Noah, I don’t understand.”

         “Let me show you…”

         With her skin already responding to the anticipation, Noah’s hands find their way under her t-shirt, caressing the skin of her sides. It’s always just one touch and she’s already putty in his hands. She can’t help it; the man has that effect on her, that power over her. She would give him the world if she could because no one ever makes her feel as cherished he does.  

         So, when he gently lifts her t-shirt, after worshipping her with light, seductive kisses along her neck and jawline, she allows him to undress her. His lips touch her shoulder, his tongue tracing a slow path until it finds the pulsing vein of her neck. A sharp intake of breath escapes her lips as he tenderly sucks at her skin, his fingers expertly finding their way beneath her skirt and underwear, eliciting a low, sweet moan from deep within her.  

         It’s the first of many moans to come.  

         Noah smiles against her flushed skin. His cock twitches. His heartbeat races.  

         The music is playing now. 

         He showers her with kisses, his hand cradling the side of her face as he traces a line with his finger from between her legs, through the valley of her breasts, up to her clavicle. 

         Growing impatient, she tugs at his hoodie, and sensing her urgency, he assists her in removing it. Underneath, Noah wears a black tank top, and her eyes immediately gravitate to the silver chain adorning his neck, previously hidden by the hoodie. With a heated spark in her eyes, she hesitates for a moment before seizing the chain and pulling Noah down to her awaiting mouth. 

         With one hand clutching his chain and the other sliding to the back of his head, she revels in the sensation of his soft hair sliding between her fingers. He emanates the intoxicating scent of masculine perfume and tastes like pure adrenaline—a potent combination that renders him utterly irresistible. He’s as addictive as a man can get. He’s tall, muscular, handsome, and fucking sweet. 

         And best of all, he is hers.  

         Noah scoops her up, intending to place her atop the sound deck. It would be a great place to fuck her on, but he quickly realizes it wouldn’t be comfortable at all, and he doesn’t want her to get hurt. 

         He pivots towards the couch—a place where he had envisioned her countless times before… Sitting there with pen and paper, crafting songs about her, he had often pictured her naked form, her eyes shimmering with anticipation, beckoning him to find his place between her legs, to envelop her with his body, to fill her up with every inch of him.

          With care, he lays her down on the couch, positioning one knee on the cushions to remain close to her, determined to prolong their kiss for as long as possible. He doesn’t think he can breathe without her nearby. 

         She is never shy when it comes to showing how much she wants him, how much she needs him. She’s unapologetically about her desperate desire, and that’s something that drives him to the brink of madness. Her eagerness only serves to make her so fucking attractive that he thinks he could eat her up. He’s consumed by that need, to bite and taste her in a surge of primal instinct, yet he manages to maintain a sweet and seductive demeanor. She brings out both the beast and the tender lover in him, and somehow, it’s a harmonious blend that feels inexplicably beautiful. 

         With each touch, nibble, and kiss, her passionate responses start escaping from her lips, wet with lust for him. Their clothes disappear in a matter of minutes, and as Noah finds himself —and his skilled tongue— nestled between her legs, savoring her essence, and impregnating her with his fresh minty breath, the symphony of his name being carried through long feminine moans fill the studio walls in ways he could never have imagined. 

         But it’s when he’s buried deep inside her that the music truly comes alive. 

         Together, they create a melody of ecstasy, Noah playing her body like a virtuoso, eliciting the perfect notes and sounds with each touch, kiss, thrust. She’s a tangled delicious mess beneath him, but every whimper and sigh and plea for more is a testament to her trust and love for him, a hymn sung in the throes of passion. 

         Occasionally, a primal growl escapes him, the beast within yearning to be unleashed, but she, the angel, the muse,keeps him grounded, wrapped in her wings, guiding him along the lines of their shared musical score. 

         As their bodies glisten with sweat, the tempo of their lovemaking begins to slow, descending from its crescendo, their ragged breaths filling the remaining spaces of their song. She smiles against his cheek, nuzzling her nose against his skin. She holds him close, unwilling to let go just yet. Unwilling to ever let go. 

         “So?” She murmurs, teasingly playing with her teeth on Noah’s earlobe.

          He squirms in an attempt to escape her, but her teeth follow him, leaving him with no choice but to retaliate by biting her shoulder and descending to capture on of her nipples in his mouth, coaxing one new sound from her lips. 

         “So?” he repeats, mumbling between clenched teeth, his tongue teasing her hardened nipple. 

         “Did you record the song?” she asks playfully, gesturing with her eyes towards the sound deck. 

         “No. No, I didn’t,” he admits with a laugh, feeling himself softening inside of her. 

         “Oh, well…” she licks her lips, pretending to think of what to do now. The weight of Noah feels so nice on top of her that it would be enough to just keep on holding him. “What are we going to do about it?” she continues. “Any idea?”

         She does have an idea. 

         Her cheeky tone catches him off guard, and this time, it’s him who frowns as he gazes up at her. His chest and stomach press against hers, and with each laborious breath she takes, he feels the rhythmic rise and fall of her body beneath him. He considers moving, but before he can act, she wraps her leg around his, anchoring him in place.

         She bites her lip, tempting him to do the same; to lower his head and kiss her and bite her and leave her breathless. 

         A second later, she reaches down towards her bag on the carpeted floor beside the couch and retrieves her phone, unlocks it, and opens the voice recording app. 

         “Maybe we should try again, don’t you think? And perhaps we should try to be… a bit louder?”

         His eyes darken. 

         “Think you can do that?” she asks him, a devilish smile painted on her face. 

         “I can definitely make you sing louder,” he growls, feeling himself hardening once more while still inside of her. His home. 

         She has a way of provoking him that never fails to get him hard anywhere, anytime, in no time. 

         “Do I… press play now?” Her fingertip hovers over the screen. 

         Noah responds by pulling a few inches out and thrusting hard into her, their bodies moving in perfect synchronization against the worn fabric of the sofa they are laid on. She lets out a scream as her fingertip presses the play button. The phone falls with a thud on the floor. 

         And with that, they’re making music once again. 

         One last song. 

         One more time. 

         Louder. 

#inspiration was kicking in #noah sebastian #bad omens #bad omens cult #bad omens one shot #bad omens fic #bad omens fanfic #noah sebastian x you #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian one shot #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfic

[barbiiecams]

need to know

drew starkey x reader, smut!, reader is younger and also JD’s little sister, she’s also tipsy but not drunk, kinda trash but hear me outtt 😭! & absolutely no hate to odessa i just needed a plot lolz, *not proof read*

when you walked into the house party, the first person you were looking for was drew.

your brother, JD, was very close to him, so it made your life even better. if they hung out, you were hanging out too. and they were going to a party, you begged your brother to take you. even though you were an adult, some clubs (and some hosts of the parties) would only let a certain age in.

but now you had just turned 21, past the point of just being legal.

and now you just had to have your crush of basically 4 years.

when JD first got casted, you were so excited for him. you really did look up to your brother and admired him. because of the distance, he’d facetime you and tell you about all of the fun things he did, his fun scenes and etc.

it seemed genuinely fun, so when he asked you to meet the cast while they filmed season 2, there’s no way you would’ve turned that down.

he flew you out, helped you sort of “move in” to where he was staying at, and had you help him practice all of his lines. stepping onto the set was really nice, and so were all of the people.

everyone was so welcoming. the girls became your new besties and the boys saw you as their own baby sister as well.

but when it came to drew, being seen as a baby sister was something that almost… deflated you.

—

“and this is drew,” JD says as he finishes introducing you to the actors scattered all over the place.

when you locked eyes on him, you just felt your panties being soaked.

“nice to meet you,” drew smiles. blue eyes covered by his hair looking into yours and a hand sticking out. “what’s your name?”

you shook his hand, “y/n.” he nods at this before being called by one of the producers.

your shocked state might’ve been obvious, because your brother had to nudge you in the shoulder to get your attention back.

“you just turned 18, he’s 26 turning 27. don’t even think about it.” he gives you a stern look.

“think about what?” you feigned innocence. “you’re a weirdo.”

JD rolls his eyes, “yeah yeah whatever. come help me practice.”

you followed your brother over to wear his character chair was, but you couldn’t seem to get drew out of your head.

—

and now here you were. fast forward three years later and you were making the move. you just hoped he was actually interested and you wouldn’t embarrass yourself.

“don’t drink too much,” JD raised his voice over the music, “i wanna get wasted too.”

you rolled your eyes at him as he walked away and made it to the group of boys. you’re glad you actually watched him walk, seeing drew right there laughing and drinking.

as if he couldn’t get any more sexier, his hair was buzzed. usually, you weren’t attracted to the buzz cut. only some people could truly pull it off.

but it was drew, he could pull anything off. and when you saw him, you thought your legs were about to give out on you.

you had to really pull yourself out of thought. madelyn had spotted you and embraced you in a hug.

“hey girl! you’re finally of age!” she teased.

“i know,” you giggle. “where the drinks at?”

she laughs at you then brings you to a table where the rest of the girls are. they’re cheering, hugging you, and happy to finally see you and actually party, no rules pushed onto you.

“what’s gonna be your first drink?” laci asks with a smile.

“i want the hardest shit available.” you said, half joking yet half serious.

now all of you guys are really laughing. “getting bold i see.” madison jokes.

but that’s exactly what you get served. a gin and juice given to you all pretty and colorful, but when you took a sip, your face immediately scrunched up.

madelyn giggles, “drink it!”

“i didn’t know it was that strong!” you defend.

they’re laughing at your face while also trying to down their own hard liquor. you’re having such a good time, the headache you’ll have tomorrow morning is least of your worries.

you guys are all drinking and dancing, the time passing being the least of your worries. you’re on your second drink, and third shot of the night, and that’s when you realize you still haven’t said hi to any of the boys.

“i’m gonna go say hi to everyone else,” you tell the girls as you guys are settling back down from dancing. they all nod and watch you walk to the other side of the room, where austin is now chugging a beer while the rest of them yell “chug, chug, chug!”

as you’re walking over there, you seem to notice a girl with curly hair, standing next to drew.

‘interesting.’ you thought.

austin finishes and they’re all yelling for him. he turns around to your face and smiles. “baby sis!” he yells.

everyone turns to see you, and the screaming is now directed towards you. you were definitely walking out of here with a headache and hearing loss.

you gave them all individual hugs, saving the best one for last. (drew of course.)

“how are you?” chase gives you a pat on the back.

“more than good, i can see you are too.” you chuckle as you point out the spilled drink in his shirt.

he lets out a drunken huff, “yea blame your brother for that one.”

JD raises his head from a plate of wings he’s devouring. “you were in the way!”

you realize you’re still hugging drew, and he’s still got his arms around your shoulders. the thought ran through your mind that you looked like a little fangirl, but you didn’t care. hopefully when the night was over, you’d be doing more than just holding onto him.

he lets go of you, and you internally sigh. “you’ve been drinking?” he asks.

you nod, “not enough tho.”

he laughs at your response then turns to the girl you saw earlier, “odessa, this is y/n.”

odessa.

“nice to meet you!” she waves. she’s pretty, but what was she doing around drew?

you didn’t have the guts to ask, and it would be a weird look if you did, so you left it alone and just mimicked her smile and wave.

“alright i just came to say hi, ill talk to you guys in a few!” you said, wanting to get away from them in a heartbeat as long as she was still around.

you walked away from them while they all were saying ‘see you in a few.’ getting back to the table with the girls, you immediately had to ask them.

“whos that girl with drew?” you said as you sipped your almost empty glass.

“odessa?” madelyn starts, “that’s his friend. they shot a movie together and have been close ever since. they look like a couple tho, right?” she says as she downs a piece of pizza.

hearing that made you feel good yet bad at the same time. they were only friends, yet people seemed to peep at the fact that they looked like more than just friends.

and you weren’t having any of that.

not wanting to speak any more of it, you just let out a ‘hm’ which seemed to go unnoticed.

“how come?” madison asks.

“no reason,” you lie. “they just looked really close.”

—

over the next two hours, you went from drinking, dancing, eating, then repeating then same process. it started to catch up with you, but that wasn’t stopping you. surprisingly, you weren’t that much of a lightweight.

walking and sort of tripping in between people over to the counter with drinks, drew’s there by himself filling up his glass. you weren’t sure were that girl odessa was, but you most certainly didn’t care to find out.

as you slightly stumble, he holds your arm as you get closer so you wouldn’t have to struggle.

“somebody’s having fun,” he laughs.

“i am, i’m not drunk just yet tho dont worry.” you giggle. you started to think your legs were actually giving out on you to the sight of him, and his hand on your arm wasn’t helping your case.

“take it easy,” he says, “JD isn’t the most sober either.”

he motioned his head over to where he was. you turned your head to see your brother doing a line of shots with everyone surrounding him, cheering and yelling some more.

“of course,” you mutter.

drew chuckles, “i got you, don’t worry.”

your stomach was doing flips at this point. his words affected you, even if they weren’t meant to be flirtatious. that’s how bad this attraction was.

it’s silent between the two of you for a second, until you decide it’s time to speak up. ‘now or never’ you thought.

“can i ask you something?” you turned back to him. he replies with a quick ‘sure’ as he put his phone down.

“are you and odessa together or something?” you blurted. maybe you should’ve reworded the statement, but the drinks had gotten your boldness up.

he seemed taken aback, “no, not at all. why?”

you didn’t have a lie for this one, “just wondering.”

he wasn’t moving on from that quickly at all. “i can tell that’s not full truth.”

that little thought came back into your head again. ‘now or never.’

“it’s just… i feel like i want you to see me more than just as a little sis.” you said. when you said this, you didn’t feel bad either. you’ve been wanting him for a good 3 years now, and you’d be damned if you let someone else get him before you did.

he’s not speaking for a good moment which makes you worried, then he finally says something.

“you’re gorgeous y/n, you know that?” he starts. you nod, but you were kind of freaking out at the same time, not really knowing where he would take it from here.

“but i’d think it be wrong if i saw you as anything else other than a little sister. you’re a lot younger, and literally the little sister of a close friend. i just don’t think it would work.” he explains.

fuck no. you were not giving up that easily.

you started to stand a little closer to him. “i’m 21! that’s enough past 18 if i can legally drink. and who cares about JD?”

“i know, i know. but JD most definitely wouldn’t like seeing his sister with his best friend.” drew tries to reason.

“i don’t care,” you drag out the word. “i’ve been crushing on you since i met you. i waited so long to finally tell you.”

you can see the light red start to form at his cheeks and the smirk come to his lips, “i’m flattered, really. but i’d rather not get my ass beat by your big brother.”

“please?” now you were really getting close by wrapping your arms around his neck. “it can be our little secret. no one has to find out. but i just need to know.”

drew’s starting to cave. he rests his hands on the sides of your hip. “need to know what?”

the smirk is starting to become more evident, and his voice starts to drop.

“how you feel, how you taste. i want you so bad.”

“you’re gonna get me in trouble, y’know.”

you don’t notice up until now how close your faces are. he lets out a sigh that sounds like he’s not going to let is guard down, but little do you know he’s been wanting to take you there just as long as you’ve wanted it.

“i’d be lying if i said i didn’t want to bend you over the minute we shook hands.” he said seductively.

“then do it now.” you tell him.

something you’ve been waiting on forever, he gives you a short kiss on the lips. he pulls back quick and make sure no one’s watching, but everyone is too busy drinking and dancing currently.

he rubs his hands up and down on your sides. “let’s go upstairs.”

it’s like a weight lifted off your shoulders. all these years of plotting finally paid off. you were so ready to give him whatever he wanted and have him take you however he pleased.

he held your hand as the two of you walked upstairs, getting to the most closest and available room, he opened the door for you and walked in behind you, locking the door.

he wasted no time either. as soon as the two of you were closed off, he started kissing you deep. forcing his tongue into your mouth, teeth clashing, and his hands working to get your pants off.

you definitely weren’t trying to waste a moment either. your hands immediately went under his shirt to feel his abs, and to take it off.

his hands worked fast. he got your pants off after pushing you down to the bed, and now your top was gone as he started to feel you through your bra. you were still trying to get his belt off.

he’s groaning into your mouth and it’s the hottest thing you could possible experience. “shit, i need to taste you. let me taste it baby.”

as he’s working to get your bra off, you finally managed taking off his belt and unzipping his jeans. he took down his own pants, then went straight to dipping his head down there and took of your panties, quite literally discarding them. he pushes your legs open and gets to work.

he opened your folds with his hands then put his tongue on you, which had you moaning in seconds.

drew knew exactly what to do with his tongue. you were already so worked up on him, and now he was eating you out like it was the first meal he’s ever had.

he brought a thumb up to your clit. “like fuckin candy, mama. so sweet.”

“drew!” you practically screamed out.

he moans against your clit, which really does it for you. “be as loud as you want, baby, nobody can hear us.”

and that’s exactly what you do. you don’t hold back your moans for a second.

he puts a finger in you and starts moving it quick, curling it while still using his tongue. he was a fuckin pro.

the release was coming quick, but he stops. he hears the sound of disappointment and sees it on your face.

he pulls down his boxers, “it’s okay. gonna make you cum around me as many times as this pussy can.”

that’s all he has to say for you to practically push yourself even closer to him.

and he was real big. you were almost afraid he wouldn’t fit. but right now, you had to have him in every way. you’ve craved him for too long and you didn’t care if it hurt.

he lines up with your entrance and rubs the tip along it. “you ready?”

“give it to me.” you say. he takes this as his cue to push his length inside you.

both of you let out a sigh when he goes in. he makes sure you feel every inch of him, moving in slowly then bottoming out completely.

“you feel too good, princess.” he groans. all you can do is whimper at how full you felt with him inside.

after a few moments of letting the feeling sink in, he starts moving. your breathing starts to heavy, and it feels like you’re on cloud nine.

“mhm, that’s right. feel me baby.” he says as the pace speeds up. he throws his head back and his hands squeeze your hips, holding you down and making sure you take it all.

he then plants a leg on the bed, fixing his position so he can hit it even deeper. you can’t even form words at this point. it’s just all moans and “ah ah ah” sounds.

you can feel him all the way in your guts. he’s in there so deep, going completely ham on your tight hole. it was so much that you reached your arms out to try and block his hips a bit.

drew wasn’t taking that. “uh uh baby. you wanted this right? you wanted to know. you wanted to be a big girl and take it, so that’s what you’re gonna do.”

“it’s so deep!” you’re able to blabber out. he puts his leg down and leans back on his knees, bringing you to sit up with him. now his hands are supporting your waist as your hands find his shoulders, holding on for dear life.

“i know it is baby i feel it,” he says against your mouth. “i knew you’d be a good girl for me tho, shit. taking this cock like a damn pro.”

as he thrusts up into you, he starts grinding your waist into him. this is a whole new feeling that has you really screaming out now.

“you like that, pretty?” he says into your ear.

“so much!” you mewl. he chuckles at the state your in. fucked out and filled with his cock.

“yea i know you do baby.” he says. “you just needed a real man to come and work you huh?”

he lets out a breath before continuing, “yea, you like your men with some experience. don’t you baby?”

you just let out more moans at his words, he knew what he was doing and he was proud.

you felt the orgasm approaching, and he could tell too. “you gonna cum?”

“yes!” you yelp.

“go ahead sweet girl. let me feel this pussy gush around me.”

when he gave you the ok, you let go. you were cumming and crying at the same time, everyone downstairs probably wondering where the two of you went. but did either of you care?

absolutely not!

“that’s it, good job baby. i knew you’d be a good girl f’me.” he says, thrusts slowing down to soak in all of your orgasm.

he laid you back down to get a few more thrusts in. now he’s chasing his own release.

“i’m gonna cum, sweetheart. you want it on your stomach?”

“anywhere,” you respond.

he looked shocked. “oh yea? what if i knock you up? then what are we gonna do?”

“i’m on the pill! promise.” you tell him.

his eyes squeeze shut. he was real close. “okay baby, here it comes.”

you feel the hot liquid squirt inside you and fill you up. you could almost cry again from how good it felt.

when he was done, he stayed inside for a little just to calm down. after that, he pulled out and laid down next to you.

“i’m glad you convinced me, best sex i’ve had in a while.” he’s still catching his breath but smiling.

you giggle, “it’s about time i got my hands on you.”

he laughs as well, holding you close and letting both of your bodies relax. “guess you’re all mine now.”

him saying that made your heart burst. it’s the only words you’ve been wanting to hear for so long. “i guess you’re all mine too.”

he smiles, but then you suddenly remember you’re at a party. “we better go back down before they start a watch party for us.” you said while getting up, trying to find where he even threw your underwear.

“right. we’re getting you a plan b tomorrow too.” he says, and you definitely have to agree.

but finally, that was your man.

#barbiiecams #drew starkey #outer banks #drew starkey blurb #drew starkey drabble #drew starkey fic #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron #drew starkey fluff #drew starkey headcannon #drew starkey angst #drew starkey smut #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron headcanons #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron smut #drew starkey x black!reader #rafe cameron x black!reader

[hwangism143]

paper rings

synopsis: you're in love with your best friend, but technically, you're already engaged

pairing: non-idol!jisung x gn!reader (ft. the rest of skz and one roommate)

genre: best friends to lover, idiots

warnings: drinking. swearing. reader is implied to be bisexual. kys jokes.

word count: 4.1k words

a/n: i remember reading about someone and their best friend doing this lmao and just instantly thought of jisung. pls drop your comments and reblog lovies <3!

"i hate accidents, except when we went from friends to this"

Being Han Jisung's best friend was certainly... something. Three years ago when he sat down on the free seat next to you during your first sound engineering class and offered you a big grin, you never expected him to become an unreplaceable part of your life. It came with it's benefits too though; you were now friends with his extremely loud and boisterous group of friends, but hey, at least that meant that you would get free food from Jisung five days a week (technically it was his food the Minho would pack but, who cares? Certainly not him).

You found it extremely easy to become friends with Jisung. It was almost amusing, how quickly you had opened the door to your heart for entry by him. Asking for class notes soon became hour long conversations about anime and movies and campus gossip. A shared obsession over Taylor Swift soon became in-home ice cream sessions spent dissecting her lyrics. Your friendship had gotten to the point where everyday, Jisung would leave you a paper ring on your seat beside, scribbled with a inspirational message.

You two had a tendency of doing almost everything together. You both were similar in several ways. Jisung wanted to be a music producer and had already decided that you would be the sound engineer for his studio. You both had anxiety as well, and although it varied, you knew each other's tells. It was a habit, at this point, comforting each other and being the other person's crutch in life.

Although, doing everything together wasn't always beneficiary. You were often party to Jisung's mischievous schemes, a product of his irresistible longing to entice playful irritation within his hyungs. The rest of the group loved you though, causing Jisung to be let off easily as a result of you being present with him.

You couldn't really say that you showed any mercy to Jisung either. He was a compulsory addition, along with your phone and wallet, on your late night grocery runs. You could have a craving from sushi to just dollar-store ramen, Jisung was always there (and sometimes not of his own will and accord). Regardless of what time or what materialistic object was set in your sights, Jisung had to come with you.

He never complained though. The boy had a slightly concerning affinity towards eating blueberry muffins and barbecued chicken breast at two in the morning. Both of you having some of the most fucked up sleep schedules you had ever seen (rivaled only by that of Chan, if you could even call it a sleep schedule), caused these late night runs to be an extremely frequent occurrence.

-

Your eyes were closed as you sat in the park bench in the middle of some town whose name you could not pronounce. What was the point of going to a prestigious university if they didn't even take you on nice trips?

After Jisung had finally been released from the clutches of 3RACHA (aka three broke men making music that is destined for greatness as soon as they become money minded), he had found his way to you. Well, less found his way and more spam called you and blew up your phone with Jujitsu Kaizen memes (which was so infuriating because you hadn't even watched it and yet your phone's gallery was full of Gojo's six-pack, all thanks to Jisung).

You felt bad for even thinking it, but to be honest, you were kind of avoiding him. Lately, Jisung had been spending a lot of time with you. You were probably imagining it, but it felt like Jisung was stealing glances towards you more often, like his touches were lingering instead of fleeting.

Ah, hope. What a fickle thing. It had people grasping to ideals that could be never achieved, desperately trying to hold on to a light that was long past dimming. You were already prisoner to wishful thinking; you didn't want to be held captive to the confines of hope either.

You texted Jisung the location of the park that you had accidentally stumbled upon and had decided to spend the rest of your day in. The university you attended had paid for transport, dumped you here and left you to be. To be fair, there wasn't really much you could plan for a two-day one night trip. The idea was, for your friend group at least, to spend the first morning roaming around on your own, go out to a nice restaurant in the night and spend the second day in the beach before heading home.

Jisung was hijacked by his other friend group for the larger part of the day, causing you to be victim of walking around pitifully alone and threatening bodily harm if Jisung didn't properly apologize with Boba and breakfast pancakes. You were walking in and out of stores, window shopping (the unfortunate and yet to be expected aftermath of blowing all your money on arcade tickets), when you decided to sit down somewhere nice.

Of course you found the most sub-urban park you had ever seen, complete with a once copper now greening statue of some man who was probably extremely important to the towns history but never brought up in conversation, educational or otherwise. The park was full of children with rose-tinted cheeks and mothers lamenting about each other (with the addition of an occasional barking dog).

You wondered if you would live the same way someday, coming to the park with a man or woman you loved and a child in your arms. Maybe even a dog or two, although you highly doubted if you could handle one considering you didn't even have a hold on yourself. Soon, you saw the figure of Jisung approaching you, Boba in one hand and waving at you with another. He handed you the drink and proceeded to sit down, his thigh brushing against yours.

Beside you, you felt Jisung shuffling around. "Okay, I have a very important question. When did you feel happiest with me?"

You wondered what could have prompted such a question from him. Jisung did have a tendency to talk about the latest hit songs for two weeks and then suddenly ask you about something nearly superficially philosophical. The last time he had asked you something, it had prompted an hour long debate on the meaning of life that could only be stopped due to Minho allegedly accidentally bringing home a stray kitten.

You let out a snort, "People don't feel happy around you, they fear for their fucking lives."

Jisung shoved you playfully, "Hey, be serious!" He had been growing out his hair and it fell into his eyes, making you suppress the temptation to run your hands through it. The entire world was moving around you, cars driving, people talking, an annoyingly loud baby crying. But this moment, with Jisung looking at you with curious eyes and a wide smile, was at a standstill.

You instantly knew the answer and reflected his smile back at him, "When you first proposed to me."

-

University students were apparently supposed to be mature and always prepared. You and Jisung were clearly the exception. The two of you were doubled over in laughter (in the middle of the street that too) after recounting what had happened just a few short minutes before.

It was a mere two weeks after your mid-terms for your first year in university. Jisung was over at your dorm room, citing an escape from Changbin's chokehold as an excuse to instead trouble you with his presence. You both were curled up on the couch watching some trashy reality show when Jisung's stomach comically grumbled.

Without even bothering to grab your stuff, you both had gone to a fast food restaurant, craving french fries for dinner. As Jisung ordered, the cashier asked robotically, 'cash of credit'. Jisung looked at you with wide eyes. You reciprocated.

The cashier was growing impatient. "Well? Do I need to call someone?"

The both of you exchanged a glance. A curt nod. And ran for your lives as the cashier cursed behind you. You both ran as much as you could until your legs finally gave out. Finding yourself in front of an alleyway full of small shops, you began contemplating where was the best to go. Finally, the two of you went inside a small, family-owned café, and sat down, breathing heavily.

The café in itself was extremely cozy, decorated in varying shades of brown and beige. You were surprised and slightly disappointed about not discovering this gem of a place before. In your mind, you had already tucked it away to become a regular study destination. You certainly did need one after getting banned from the public library thanks to another one of Jisung's antics.

"Did he call us a green horse's explosive ass?" You questioned, just setting off another fit of giggles.

Jisung shrugged at you, his eyes suddenly narrowing. That couldn't be good. He had a look in his eyes that you knew all too well. Han Jisung was about to come up with a plan, and it would either be Nobel worthy or akin to a tsunami.

"Y/N," said Jisung, "I have an idea. Just play along."

He dragged you to the middle of the restaurant, earning stares from the onlookers who were peacefully eating. His right leg bounced up and down as you glared at him. What are you doing? you mouthed at him. Just trust me, he said back. You knew about his social anxiety. Then why on earth was he putting himself in such a situation?

He took a few steps backwards, letting go of your hands, and dropped down on one knee. Jisung took out something shiny out of his pocket and quickly wiped it on his sweater. You looked at him in confusion, eyebrows raising in disbelief when you realized what was happening.

"When I first met you, I knew you were the one for me. Everything about you fit everything about me as if we're meant to be. I don't know the definition eternal, but if we were to consider the conventional meaning... I would like to have the honor of spending the rest of it with you."

You arched an eyebrow, wondering how long it took your best friend to come up with that. Coming back to your surroundings, as if on cue, your hand flew to your mouth and your eyes began to water (more so because of how difficult it was for you to contain your laughter, but oh well; at least it got the job done.)

You rapidly began to nod, grinning at him ear to ear. He smiled back at you, slipping the ring onto your finger. You look down at it, suppressing yet another snicker after seeing the tacky pawn shop ring that adorned your hand. Jisung quickly wrapped his arms around you, picking you up and spinning you around. You giggled into the crook of his neck as the room burst into applause.

People came up to you with their congratulations while you two went to the counter to place your orders. "Two chicked burgers and one large french fries to go please," said Jisung kindly. He cocked his head towards you, "Baby, do you want the oreo milkshake?"

Jisung calling you 'baby' caught you by surprise. A part of you had nearly forgotten that you still had to put up the act. Blushing furiously (because you forgot, not because Jisung called you baby with a low drawl, obviously), you replied with a simple, "Sure. Thanks, honey." You smiled in achievement as Jisung began stuttering, cheeks tinted red.

"Oh, it's on the house for the soon to be married!" said the kindly old lady working the counter. Jisung quickly grabbed your food and the two of you rushed out of the store. As soon as you turned the corner, you both burst out laughing again.

"Jisung," you slapped him on the chest, "I feel so guilty!"

He just gave you a sheepish nod, grabbing a french fry and popping it in his mouth. You continued protesting but he put a finger on you lip and tilted the bag of food toward you. You gave him an admonishing look, picking up the food. He threw an arm around your shoulder while you settled into the curve of his collarbone, eating and walking in comfortable silence on the way home.

That was when, you thought, that was when you first started seeing him as someone more than just a friend.

-

Jisung tapped you impaitiently. "What say we do it again?" he asked sweetly.

"Oh my god Jisung, stop," you said pushing him playfully. He pouted at you while you glared at him, until Chan came up to the two of you and asked if he could talk to Jisung alone.

Jisung gave you an apologetic smile and strolled away with Chan, chatting away about something. As soon as he left, you let out a long exhale.

Nobody warned you about how painful being in love with your best friend would be. Nobody told you about how difficult it would be to restrain yourself from confessing all you feelings. Nobody told you how torturous it would be watching him gaze at other people, knowing that he would never look at you the same way.

You pinpointed that afternoon as the day when you started looking at Han Jisung through rose-tinted glasses. You went from being comforted by his light touches to craving them. You found yourself wanting to be something to him, something more than just a label of a 'best friend'.

You wanted him, wholly and completely, and were prepared to give yourself to him in the exact same way.

You would never, in a hundred years though, tell Jisung about your feelings. You had made up your mind. Telling him that you loved him would put your friendship at risk. You would much rather have Jisung at an arm's length than not at all.

You sat in the bench, lost in thought when you felt a throat clear in front of you. There Jisung was propped up on one knee, rattling off the same words he had told you all those months ago. He had a twinkle in his eye. You had tears in yours.

Jisung always lauded your performance in that tiny café. He said that your on command crying was so exceptional that 'aspiring actors should be grateful that you decided to settle on sound engineering'. You decided to spare his feelings and not tell him that your tears were a result of the absolute absurdity surrounding the entire situation.

The second and only other time that Jisung had whipped out his ring and you had whipped out your bridal tendencies was when your entire friend group was half-drunk in a bar, celebrating after mid-terms week. Jeongin wanted a full play by play of what, by then, was an iconic party story. You both went at again, albeit a little sloppily considering your inebriated state of mind.

This time though, tears ran down your face mercilessly. You couldn't take it anymore, your feelings growing and growing into something bigger than you could fathom. What started as the fluttering of a lone butterfly turned into a swarm of them and this, this was your breaking point.

Jisung looked at you with concern in his eyes. "Y/N? Are you okay? Is everything-"

"Stop," you snapped at him, "Just fucking stop, Jisung. Please."

He looked at you in confusion as you stood up and walked away.

-

The first place you went to was the hotel you were staying at. You quickly ran through the streets, wiping away your tears swiftly. There was something inherently wrong with you. You had utterly fucked up. You should have just played along. You should have just said yes. You should not have been hoping for something that you knew was out of reach.

You sat on your hotel bed when you heard a knock on your door. When you swung it open, Hyunjin and Seungmin stood there with an armful of chocolates and identical, all to familiar expressions on their face. Pity.

"Don't have a love life of your own so you came to interfere in mine?" You asked dryly, beckoning them inside. Out of everyone, only Hyunjin and Seungmin knew about your crush on Jisung.

-

You stood in the kitchen silently, swallowing the lump in your throat. Jisung was in the other room talking about this really pretty and amazing new transfer in their music production course. With every word of praise he spoke about her, another piece of your heart broke apart.

When you couldn't bear to listen to anymore of the incredible things that the enigmatic 'new year girl' had done anymore, you retreated into Felix's brightly lit kitchen. You opted to find solace in the soda that bubbled in your red Solo cup and the smell of brownies that somehow still lingered despite being taken out (and subsequently consumed) over an hour ago.

Hyunjin and Seungmin were walking into the kitchen when they spotted you. Hyunjin, ever the empath, knew that something was up with you. He attempted to talk to you about it, but you kept shutting him down. Seungmin, who was the most like you in the entire group, knew you needed time and lightly rested his fingers on Hyunjin's arm.

"You can stay," you said, your voice breaking in between. The three of you just stood there, the only sound being muffled chatter and the occasional sip of soda in your case and beer in theirs. Seungmin must have given Hyunjin a signal of affirmation when he turned to you, mouth opened as if to ask you a question.

He was walking on figurative eggshells when he asked you hesitantly, "You like him, don't you?"

You looked up at him with tears in your eyes and that was all it took for the two boys to quietly slip out of the apartment with you, grab ice cream and listen to your pathetic dilemma. Vowing to help you if you could keep Minho from yelling at them about the cat toy they had happened to lose, the three of you formed an extremely unlikely yet strong friendship, built on the very foundations of your pathetic unrequited love.

-

Hyunjin laid back on your bed and you settled to sit down beside him. He wordlessly handed you the chocolate, waiting for you to open it as Seungmin opted to sit down on the armchair across from the bed. Oddly enough, you had grown extremely close to the two of them after the conversation you had in the kitchen six months ago. Apart from Jisung and your roommate Reina, they were the people you were closest to.

Seungmin scoffed, "If you had a love life, we wouldn't be here in the first place."

You swore at him and threw the wrapping paper towards him. Hyunjin turned and attempted to giggle into the bedsheet undetected but earned a light slap from you in response. You slouched beside Hyunjin with a sigh, handing him block of chocolate, "Jisung told you, didn't he?"

"Yep," said Hyunjin loudly, chewing his chocolate. Seungmin pulled a face at him as you snapped a finger in the air to get their attention.

"Okay, so?"

Seungmin's eyes turned towards you. "He was horrified thinking that he had overstepped his boundaries blah blah blah, can't lose your friendship, ya da da," he said in a bored tone, "Please tell him you're in love with him. It will spare us all the pain."

You glared at him. "What if he- Hyunjin! Don't eat all of it!"

"I got you another," he said between mouthfuls, "and listen up. You know how we're your go to relationship venting people right? Well, turns out Minho hyung and Changbin hyung have taken up those responsibilities on Jisung's end. We met them up on the way here and, well, you both need to talk to each other."

Hyunjin finished triumphantly and reached for a bag of chips that lay innocently on the bedside, unaware of the fate that was about to befall them at the hands of a certain Hwang Hyunjin. Seungmin just pinched the bridge of his nose and said, "Look. Talk to him at that restaurant we'll be going to tonight, okay? You'll be all dressed up and maybe that'll help your cause considering how you look like a homeless person half the time."

You threw him a pillow and grateful smile in response.

-

"Can we talk?" asked Jisung as he stood near the chair next to you. Hyunjin shot you an encouraging thumbs up while Seungmin raised his glass of soju at you, a remind that you weren't allowed to drink yourself senseless (as worded by Seungmin himself), until you had a proper and sober conversation with Jisung about your feelings. You motioned for him to sit down on the chair beside you and Jisung followed suit.

The two of you sat in silence, and for the first time, it was heartbreakingly awkward. Silence with Jisung was never supposed to be like that. It wasn't supposed to be heavy. It was supposed to be a moment when you could just sit quietly and collect your thoughts. It was a moment when you would need a break from life, put the entire ordeal of existence on pause, and not have to explain why. It was a gift only Jisung could bestow upon you, and a curse only he could understand as well as.

"I have something to say as well. I'm sorry for running off like that," you say apologetically, in an attempt to break the silence. Jisung wordlessly hands you over a piece of what looks like green paper. It's a ring. A paper ring. It matches the pink one on his finger that he fiddles with unconsciously. You resist the overwhelming urge to place your hand on top of his and lace your fingers together.

"Oh. Is that all?"

"No- um, actually," you begin and then falter. Jisung looks at you intently, eyes prodding. It was almost as if was waiting for you to say something. His piercing gaze retreats and his expression transforms into one of defeat. He opens his mouth slightly to say something, which you do as well.

You take a deep breath, ready to deliver a confession that would rival that of the likes of a 16th century lovestruck noble, born from the pages of a Shakespearian play when you both blurt out at the same time, "I like you."

Jisung continued rambling, "I didn't know how to tell you. You're so smart and funny and beautiful and amazing that I thought you would never like me that way. I pretended to like other people so that you feel jealous, because, apparently according to Changbin hyung and Minho hyung, that is extremely effective. I should have known not to take advice from a man who literally calls his treadmill his wife and a cat mother. But I was desperate. And I didn't know and-"

"Jisung," you laughed, giving him a small shake, "I like you."

"Wait," Jisung's eyes widened as he stumbled over his words, "For real?"

You shake your head up and down, still processing everything. Jisung liked you. You. You, who were quick to snap at people when they hurt someone you loved. You, who waited and pushed until after a deadline. You, who either loved passionately or not at all.

Being loved by him was all you ever wanted, but how could he love someone as tangled up of a mess as you?

Jisung gave you a knowing look. He took you hands in his when he said, "I meant it all. The proposal. I don't know the meaning of eternity but, you give me a reason to look for it. If I look for the meaning of eternity then I have an excuse, an explanation as to why I should spend the rest of my life with you."

You looked at him, unshed drops of water reflecting in his eyes. Oh, those eyes you fondly called 'bob-shaped', those eyes that you could drown in.

"Jisung," you asked softly, "Is this the part where we kiss?"

Jisung rested his forehead on yours and gave a low chuckle, "I'm supposed to to be the idiot in this relationship, not you."

He pressed his lips onto yours and your reciprocated, ignoring all the cheering and hooting coming from the other side of the room. This moment belonged to the two of you. There was nobody you would rather give your heart too than your best friend Han Jisung, and there was nobody whose heart Jisung would rather have fit in his palm than yours.

#stray kids #skz #han jisung #han jisung x reader #han jisung x you #han jisung x y/n #han jisung fluff #han jisung fanfic #- via's fics <3

[darkdemeter]

KNOW YOUR RHYTHM

IMAGINE… CAPTURING THE ATTENTION OF NEW YORK’S MOST POWERFUL MOB BOSS; AND HE PLANS TO MAKE YOU HIS

Mob boss! Bucky Barnes x Dance choreo! Female Reader

—- gifs/images found on pinterest, credit to original posters -—

While preparations are being made for tgow’s soon to be posted prelude and side blog launch. May or may not be turned into a full one shot later on, this idea's been on my mind for a while now. ────────────────

| TAGLIST

@mostlymarvelgirl @hollyseb @sebastianstansqueen @openup-yourmind @kandis-mom @calwitch @cjand10 @identity2212 @ashdoctor @missmarvelophilic @boobsbeesbongos

────────────────┘

(18+ intended content) Read below the cut at your own risk!

 It’s cruel to watch you, knowing that this is your last rehearsal with the girls. After this, the doors will promise an opening night to remember. But if you’ve given any hints, you don’t exactly intend on seeing it. 

  And for Bucky, that is just plain torture for him. Over the past three months, you have been working your pretty arse off creating a whole show routine, expertly weaving the backbone of the club’s entertainment and allocating the playlist to fit the atmosphere Bucky and his club managers wanted. 

  Lounging in the VIP section, a raised loft that oversaw the club’s dance floor, stage and regulars bar, Bucky still cannot take his eyes off of you. Why of all nights did you have to go racing off to another job so soon? He had paid you generously, far more than any hired choreographer could ever dream of, and yet that still didn’t seem enough to convince you. He hovers like a shadow, leaning to the dark steel railing, his ring-lined fingers drum against the dark steel as he contemplates his next move. 

  He barely pays any mind to his captains who take their place in the sleek, refined office that are the booths, sipping at their drinks and chatting about the club’s interests and rates. Shit that he tunes out. He can’t focus on anything when you move like that, your body arching this way and that; sinful and cause for impossible. But you prove him wrong. There are many positions he’s fantasised taking you in mid rehearsal. 

  Your body is pulled into the music itself. A process many seem to struggle with, but for you, it’s as easy as breathing. At first, it’d been a gamble of who to hire for the job, and now Bucky cannot dream of regretting choosing you. Renowned as a star dancer, you’re credited with awards from around the globe, in solos, duos and exceeding the numbers. Competition after competition, your name became well known. 

  But there is a line in your record, as Bucky had his men find, and though the exact details are still unknown to him, it’s given him an indicator that something hit rock bottom. Some time afterwards, however, you resurfaced as a dance choreographer. 

  And if you were still the best of the best, then he’d take you for the job. But now, he wants you for good. Dressed to the nines in outfits he’s spent on all his cards, riding to events together and having the envy of every man and woman’s eyes upon you. Hell, he’s already contemplated the venue and diamond ring. 

  “Chins forward, eyes open,” you call in correction, gaze set straight ahead of you in the midst of a spinning twirl before planting your heeled stiletto hard into the stage floor with a resounding boom. 

  Bucky’s eyes trail then upwards, the dark colour of your pantyhose hiding your skin that he’s desperate to bruise and leave his fingerprints on. His fingers curl harshly into the railing while his eyes continue to admire while simultaneously undress you, your body hugged in a very form-admiring bodysuit. 

  Dropping down low with the girls following suit, your hips move on beat with the music, grinding into the floor. That, of all moves, is when you make the grave mistake in glancing up at a striking pair of blue eyes, dark in their passionate longing and so bright you’re quick to force your eyes away. 

  But not before you flashed him a toothy smile. A smile that kills him every time. Heat rushes through your veins and rises higher into the surface of your skin, in your core it feels electric with pulsating need, but you carry on with the routine, to save face from what Bucky Barnes did to you. Unbeknownst to you at this moment of what you did to the mob boss, he groans at the tightness surrounding his clothed cock as you rock your hips back and forth, suggestive in your choreographed manner. But so dismissive in how it affects him greatly and his ability to conduct business. 

  No. You can’t let yourself fall into that sort of mess again. Focus. Rolling onto your back, your back arches so beautifully off the floor, it almost has Bucky gasping. The pointed pink of his tongue’s tip darts out to wet his lips. 

  Completely and utterly mesmerised by your rhythm, he growls like a feral animal when Steve’s voice interjects his still continuing list of how he plans to ruin you and save you.

  Now at the end of your routine, you wave for Torres to cut the music and your shoulders fall heavily with an exerted sigh.   “Good work, girls,” you applaud with your friendly smile, clapping for their efforts. The girls in turn repay your praise with bashful smiles and compliments of your mentorship. 

  You had this way with people, and especially those under your study, you were kind and playful but remained an air of professionalism to ensure your students or your time wasn’t wasted. 

  Bucky feels his skin crawl and his heart drop a thousand yards into his stomach. From the lavish watch strapped to his wrist, he inspects the time. End of rehearsal. End of your contract with him. 

  “Well, they learnt from the best.” Your head turns fast, vision momentarily blurred, there again is that feeling - that spell - he has you under as he saunters down the stairs and towards the stage where you stood, hands pressed idly into your hips. 

  His tongue runs over his teeth, groaning inwardly as his eyes sink and rise in study of your entire form. He could see you being his queen. You’ve a powerful stance, that much he can see, and you possess a quality that has the attention of anyone and everyone on you. A commanding presence. 

  “You’re too kind, Mr. Barnes.” Your cheeks redden more. Praise from your clients always makes your heart flutter with adoration and joy. For them to express their gratitude in the ways they do, it’s good to know you have succeeded in your job. 

  But when Bucky praises you, you become a giddy girl that gushes and yearns to hear more. He sees the way your face shifts to reflect that professionalism, all to hide the reality of what he does to you; what he could do to you if you just gave him the chance. 

  “I could be much kinder, Doll.” His voice has lowered into a velvety purr, the callous massage of his fingers shoot a blaze of electricity through the thin fabric of your pantyhose and into your skin like ice, a simple touch over your calf, teasing you further as his palm encloses around you as well, sliding up and down gently. Despite your position above him, a sight he’ll never grow tired off, his up-tilted chin reaches level with your stomach. He sees the inner turmoil of conflict flash in your eyes, a battle he’s sure he can win if he plays his cards just right. 

  “VIP access tonight to start?”

  You scoff, shaking your head. But the furrow in your brows betrays your true, raw disappointment. You can’t hide it. Not from him. “I can’t. I have an early flight tomorrow.”

Thanks for reading!

————

#female reader #bucky barnes x reader #mob bucky au #bucky barnes #mob bucky x reader #mob boss bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky fic #bucky barnes oneshot #mafia bucky barnes #mafia bucky x reader #mob bucky barnes x reader

[utilitycaster]

@rowzeoli replied to your post “Do you think part of the D20 journalistic bias...”:

I rarely go on tumblr so sorry if you see me spamming your posts tonight, but I really enjoy your perspective and thoughts! I think I'm the journalist you're referencing in regards to the Fantasy High Junior Year article and unfortunately 1) journalists only get access to interview subjects at very specific junctions (usually press day before the series goes out or halfway through) 2) most publications are honestly Going Through It and cutting freelance rates and just not paying to cover AP

​So I'll be totally honest - I post on Tumblr because I assume it is far more unlikely to be seen and so I can vent freely (hence the fairly harsh tone of the criticism in the original post), but I guess this is a chance to clarify. I don't expect anything to change, nor do I expect you to respond; indeed, I wouldn't blame you if you block me after this. But if readership is down (and who knows? maybe it's not and I'm the outlier), this may be illuminating.

The issue with your specific article - which I brought up relatively tangential to the larger point of "at this point I think Polygon's AP/TTRPG coverage is a waste of time to read" isn't really that it's only an early look at the series; and because Fantasy High Junior Year is at this time ongoing, it's honestly entirely valid that there hasn't been a follow-up. It's, well, the "surface-level and factually wrong" issue.

Dimension 20 was by no means the pioneer of remote recording as you claim in your article; that had long been the default of smaller recorded AP shows well before pandemic lockdown for the simple reason that if you're not a media company the overhead is very low - no need to have a dedicated space or even cameras beyond decent laptops. Burrow's End's puppetry? Critical Role's Call of Cthulhu: Shadow of the Crystal Palace did shadow puppets in 2019. They had diagetic audio on the main campaign as early as 2016. I don't even like Kollok, but that's had complex set design since 2019. Meanwhile premise of the article is yet another rehash of Polygon's "Dimension 20 is CHANGING THE GAME" constant drumbeat, while your actual pull quotes from Brennan Lee Mulligan are him musing that this is simply an entry in an ancient tradition of storytelling and isn't, in fact, terribly novel. The interview fails utterly to back up your point and indeed contradicts it; I get that the timeline was probably tight but this is outright incorrect in multiple places and your argument isn't just unsupported; it's outright dismissed by the very person you claim is proving it. If the premise came before the interview, it needed to be reworked afterwards, and if it came after the interview…I'm not sure what to say, really.

This isn't your article, and I'm putting it here to illustrate that this has been a pattern for Polygon's AP coverage specifically. This article about Worlds Beyond Number is perhaps my favorite example of "this is not serious journalism:" Rusty Quill Gaming, The Adventure Zone, Friends at the Table, and NADDPod are all theater of the mind long-running podcasts (RQG's campaign lasted a whopping 7 years of real time) and that's just off the top of my head; the idea of a long-running edited audio podcast being novel is laughable. RQG and TAZ both started at level 1; I'm not personally familiar with Friends at the Table. I don't actually think starting at level 1 vs. 2 is terribly important in storytelling in the first place other than that a few D&D classes pick their subclass at L2 and that choice can be narratively relevant, which it was in TAZ; however, some classes pick a subclass at L3 so you can still achieve this with a level 2 start (as Critical Role's second campaign does). Both Emily Axford of NADDPod and Griffin McElroy of TAZ have long been composing their own music and RQG is heavily sound designed. These are not obscure pulls, either; these are some of the more well-known names in the space.

At this point, Polygon AP/TTRPG articles - by multiple different writers - simply feel like madlibs: "(actual play show) is groundbreaking in its (thing that other shows have been doing for 5+ years); I especially liked (visual effect) and (incorrect understanding of TTRPG mechanics)."

The people I allude to in the post you responded to as having egregiously uncharitable and sanctimonious takes on Daggerheart (within, again, hours of its publication) are a frequent Polygon contributor and a Rascal editor and they further my mistrust of those publications: There is this constant insistence that everything they like be "groundbreaking" and "innovating" and they will claim this even when it's demonstrably not the case, as the above examples note. As Mulligan says in your article "it’s important to keep new artists with new experiences and backgrounds flowing in," and yet by focusing intensely on high production values (difficult for smaller indie upstarts to have) and by incorrectly claiming that a well-established media company within the space like D20 invented a number of things it flat out did not, this journalism is actively, if unintentionally, working against that goal. As I put it elsewhere, Polygon's bizarre pedestaling of Dimension 20 and simultaneous putdowns of Critical Role (which turn into wild contortions when D20 mainstays like Mulligan or Aabria Iyengar collaborate with CR; for that matter others besides me have observed that Polygon acts like Spenser Starke is two different people, the genius who created Alice is Missing and the knuckle-dragging moron who put out Candela Obscura and Daggerheart) coupled with the obsession with production values over story has the whiff of claiming they're the champion of the little guy for sticking it to the 700 lb gorilla in the space and then focusing on 500 lb gorillas while making it impossible for smaller monkeys to compete because most brand new shows without the name recognition of someone like Mulligan involved can't exactly hire Rick Perry to do their models or Taylor Moore to do sound design.

I suppose a good way to put this, since I've run into this in many spaces, not just AP/TTRPG or even journalism, is that bias on its own in a subjective medium isn't inherently bad; but if something is so nakedly biased against something I love, I will, naturally, turn to it with a far more critical eye, and if its arguments are not ironclad I'm going to start noticing every structural issue in every argument and every tiny mistake. Sure, as a fan of Critical Role, and as someone who feels that Kollok was nigh-unwatchable and that Burrow's End was promising in parts but deeply flawed, I disagreed with Polygon's nonstop mud-slinging towards the former and glowing, verging on fawning reviews of the latter two. But that's not entirely damning on its own; I do get that not everyone will like Critical Role and that some people will love Kollok or Burrow's End for valid reasons. What's damning is the journalism itself is riddled with factual errors and the analysis is so weak that to call the arguments a flimsy house of cards would be generous. The opposite is also true; if Polygon's lead editor were out here repeatedly misspelling the name of one of the main characters in Worlds Beyond Number (note: this has since been corrected) but the articles had compelling arguments, even ones I disagreed with, I'd be far more forgiving, but as is? It's offering me absolutely nothing: it's poorly researched, it's poorly structured, it's poorly written, it's poorly copy-edited, and it shits on things I like seemingly just for clicks. I'm done giving clicks.

I am deeply sympathetic to the pressures facing digital journalism and media and the arts in general; as someone who is fortunate enough not to personally face those pressures and has the income to be a patron, I would love to help in my small way (and I do, at least, financially support a number of the AP shows I love). But the quality of some of this journalism is truly so bad that I can't bring myself to support the institutions putting it out; it's "dead dove do not eat" until such time as someone whose analysis and opinions I do trust cites them (or, perhaps, until there is a sea change of lead editorship). I know that this won't help the crunch, and may make it worse, but I just can't because the quality is so poor. I don't have a good solution to how to write about something that takes a lot of time to watch and process and about which the articles pay very little in return, but the current strategy of bouncing between uninformed provocateur and utter sycophant depending on the show and creators; of drooling over such surface features as shiny production and falsely claiming everything is "groundbreaking" while getting the most basic facts wrong has driven me away.

#rowzeoli #i'm leaving this rebloggable but other people...try to be respectful i will turn off reblogs if need be. #long post

[bas-writes]

ꕥ in the heat of spring | rush hours feat. ino takuma x reader

content warnings: pwp, reader has vagina and breasts, sex at a love hotel, feminine pet names, praise, dirty talk, fingering, vaginal sex word count: 3.5k mood prompt: gentle and commanding kink prompt: sex in clothes requested by: @mirkaaaluv a/n: well, well, well, if it hasn't gotten out of hand ^^" i wanted this, and other heat of spring texts, to be 1k words and best and yet, here we go. i guess ino just has his own set of rules lmao

The atmosphere changed as soon as the door opened and revealed your chosen room.

Ino's hand, so far only nudging you gently towards your destination, wanders down, to your ass, and sinks fingers into the soft flesh. You've expected the move—and yet, you jerk up, barely catching a high-pitched yelp at your throat. You're so tense that even a brush of a feather would send you spinning, an unambiguous touch is almost like a torture.

A welcomed one but a torture, nevertheless.

It's your first time at a love hotel as a guest and something about this fact keeps you right on the thin line between excitement and panic. It's hard to find a rational explanation for your state; you've been in many of them before, as a sorcerer, perpetually erasing the curses born of lust, stress, and raveled emotions you loathed to name but learnt by heart and damped down in order to do your job properly. You gave this place a quick scan even before you stepped into the main hall, and it was as clean as a sex-focused establishment could be. You stared intently at the blurry silhouette of the check-in clerk behind the frosted glass as Ino paid for your room and claimed the card key, but there was nothing suspicious about them. You looked around for residuals or disturbing vibes that could betray a presence—past or present—of a curse, just to find nothing.

It was a safe hotel—and yet, you were much more tense than you ever were in those cursed ones.

"You okay?" Ino puts the card key into the holder, turns the light on, finally closes the door behind you two. "You're…kinda pale. Is it—"

"No." You cut in, your voice calm and unbothered, contrary to a shriek you've expected. "Definitely not. I've checked."

"No curses?"

"No curses."

Ino laughs and kisses the back of your neck, "If there was one around, I'd tear it with bare hands, I think. I fought for this fuck break for a week. C'mon, ladies first."

Nudged by a playful yet hearty squeeze on your ass, you finally step fully in. The room is almost soundproof; the soothing music played from the speakers at the corridor is immediately replaced by serene silence. Fighting against weirdly stiff legs, you take a few curious steps inside; the space is on the smaller side but well organized and cozy for a hotel booked for a single night at best. There's a small tv, speakers, two chairs by a coffee table with a small basket (filled with everything you would need from an establishment of this kind), door leading to a private bathroom—and, of course, the main star of the event: a comfy-looking bed, big enough to fit not two but even three adults at once.

In any other place and time, you would happily pounce straight on it, to test if it's as soft as the views promise—but with legs so stiff and your head spinning you need another nudge from your boyfriend to finally approach closer.

"Well—" Ino is right behind you, the side of his face pressed close to yours and his fingers slowly tracing your sides. "—how do you like it?"

"It's…nice. Very nice."

For a starter, you've been aiming for a cautious sit at the edge of the bed, but Ino is faster, bolder, and impatient with your guarded behavior. Hand on your hip, he spins you around and crashes lips against yours. It's a hasty, hungry kiss, full of longing and agony of separation for weeks of work, stress, and all of this cursed bullshit pulling you two out of your routine. You can't blame Ino for finally snapping; you feel it too, the fire you forced into the subconsciousness has perked its head up and is pushing you now into his hungry arms. The familiar tight knot in your abdomen is pulling hard, harder than you've felt since what seems forever, and begging for a fast and intense release.

If he kissed you like this for longer, the weird tension would evaporate from your head—but Ino's in a rush, as always when his needs are pent up to the verge of bursting. He pulls away from your lips just to push you on the bed, yanks the beanie off his head, hesitates over doing the same with the hoodie just for a second but leaves it, already too starved of your closeness. He advances on you with such momentum that he pushes air out of your lungs—and doesn't let you take another breath before kissing you again with the same fervor. The horny beast in you growls, pleased, and your legs immediately open to fit him better—but the tension at the back of your head remains and tries its best to tie your body into its submission.

"Fuck, I need you..." Ino rasps into your ear, sending harsh shivers down your spine. He ruts his hips against you, the rapidly growing bulge against your groin leaving you no doubts you're for a fast and bumpy ride. You mewl and crane your neck for his lips, jerk your hips up in an answer to his bite, whimper, and moan when he lingers to mark you with a hickey. 

His hands don't give your nerves the same luxury; using one for leverage to pin you with his body just enough, he sneaks the other under your clothes. It traces your tum lovingly but, remembering you have only three hours yanked out of your tight schedule, dives into your pants and panties shortly after.

"You're tense," Ino points out as he's spilling wet kisses from your jaw towards your neck and lower. 

"This is new," you admit but don't follow any further, trying to silence your uneasiness with haste, shallow kisses that swallow his pleased murmurs and mewls. There is no time for niceties, both of you know it—and you're not letting your weird qualms get in your way, not with the fire spilling between your legs just at the brush of his fingers against your slit.

It's uncomfortable to maneuver under your jeans without unzipping them but Ino would endure even digging in a cooling-down concrete if it meant he could finally touch the place he longed for the most. He curses under breath, his words moist against your neck, and finally finds an angle that satisfies him. His thumb traces your slit, spreads your labia and toys with your clit—touch undeniably pleasant but also palpably rushed, especially for a man who could finger you for hours, until you were nothing but a puddle melting in his hands. He's rather seeking for your arousal than working for it; you're more damp than wet but that's enough, it was before, and your thighs quiver by his sides when he teases right at your entrance.

Tension itches at the back of your head; when Ino's eyes seek yours you nod with agreement, maybe even too sharply to pass as genuine. Under other circumstances he would point it out and ask to be doubly sure, to read the sweet consent from the timbre of your voice, but his senses are as hazy as yours—and he's not thinking with the right brain anymore.

He adjusts the position of his hand one more time—and slides two fingers into you, at once.

Instead of the expected surge of pleasure, your body spasms and you hiss sharply as you try to stop your hips from jerking away. The tension hasn't worked in your favor; yes, the moisture would be more than enough if you were at home, lazy and relaxed, but here it fights against his fingers, access suspended, no matter what your soul and mind are craving.

Ino immediately notices.

"Oh baby, did I hurt you?" He withdraws his hand and lifts himself on both arms now, giving you more space beneath him. The wildfire in his eyes has turned warm and docile, and he's looking at you with nothing but concern—and guilt, creeping at the corners of his big, puppy eyes.

"No, don't worry, I'm alright." You scratch at the back of his head, yourself not sure if to calm down him, yourself, or both at once. You don't know how to explain your current situation without sounding too intricately and ridiculously. You're tempted to joke that you would feel more at ease if there was a curse in the next room, but that's not really the strategy you're looking for to salvage the mood.

"A false start?" Ino finds the right words first and exhales with relief when you agree. "Shit... I was so focused on time... My bad. I'm sorry."

When he reaches to your lips again, the kiss is softer, asking for your forgiveness, but as enthusiastic as before. There's still plenty of heat in between the two of you, so it doesn't take long for your moves to turn sloppy and hungry anew. He's more cautious, though, and doesn't budge from his position any further than needed to sip from you. No matter how tempting you and your mewls are, he's not caving in, not until you're nice and putty in his arms.

It seems it's been hours when he finally asks if you want to continue, and you nod with such enthusiasm that your vision goes blurry for a moment, the tension at the back of your head already too lazy to perk its head, peeking curiously at the situation instead.

A soft kiss on your cheek later, Ino climbs off the bed and, finally, strips off his hoodie. The view itself does wonders to your mood; his athletic and lean body is a work of art, begging to be touched, licked, and caressed. You stare at his back intently as you work your pants and panties down—and count its crevices and lines of defined muscles you're going to trace soon. The tension lets out only a warning thrum when your partner starts digging in the basket with love hotel goods, but it's pretty much its last spasm.

With a comically triumphant noise, Ino turns with a bottle of lube and a condom in his hands—and stops in his tracks at the sight of your half-naked body. He takes a harsher breath when you roll your shirt over your waist; from the weight of his stare, you know he's inches from pouncing on top of you again. Nerves and will of steel, forged in heated battles against curses, pay off in a situation like this, he shrugs the temptation off and snuffs out the wildfire running through his veins.

Everything for your sake.

"You spoil me." The mattress dips under his weight as Ino approaches you on his knees, opening the lube with his teeth at the same time. He spits the cap out on the floor and sits by your side on his heels. He takes his time studying your curves, almost motionless if not for his chest heaving with need and his abdominal muscles tensing and twitching. He might be controlling himself, but it doesn't come with ease. Each breath is a fight against his instincts, racing thoughts, and pulsing hardness relentlessly pushing on his jeans.

"Show yourself to me, pretty girl." He finally snaps out of trance and pours lube, almost everything he has, on his fingers. A smile grows on his face as you listen, bending your legs in knees and spreading them wide for him. "Yes, just like this... Fuck, you're so hot..."

Scooting closer, Ino moves in between them, eyes fixed on his goal, warm and ready for him—but still takes his time to adore you properly. He leans close to your thigh, kisses your knee with sweet affection and advances further down, until he has you giggling and mewling with anticipation—so close to your core yet so painfully away.

One flick of gaze up later he finally reaches between your legs again—the strategy and technique all the same but slower and patient. He spreads lube along your slit as he caresses it, working his way past the last knots of your hesitation. He teases and asks for permission until he's sure your gasps and spasms are genuine in every way possible, and even there, he takes his sweet time playing with your clit. In the heated rush you've almost forgotten how sadistic and stubborn he can be if only he wants to spoil you beyond the expectations. Soon he has every single one of your nerves taunt and at the mercy of his fingertips and midst your hazy mind you're thanking the conditions for giving you two so little time, otherwise he would boil you right there for painfully long hours.

Right as you're ready to beg for more, Ino finally makes his move, starting with a single finger this time.

"There we go, smooth and easy..." He's slow and careful, his eyes fixed on your pussy as he fills you up to his knuckle. "Such a good girl, Y/N..."

He adds another one and smirks down at your expression. Not caring about the mess, he tosses the bottle with lube away and lies beside you, chest flush to your shoulder. You feel his warm breath right by your ear, heavy and right on the verge of a needy groan; prolonging the fast has its great price and he's paying without a blink. It's so unbelievably hot to have him so worked up with only two fingers in you, to be so adored and needed that he's taut like a string on the verge of snapping, and his tongue is tying into knots as he's whispering dirty encouragements for you.

"My... You're getting so wet now..." His voice is throaty, tense and almost breaking, in the most sensual way. "Sucking me in... Can you squeeze a little more? Oh yes, that's right, that's a good girl, working so hard to take my fingers. Do you think you can take another one? I'll be gentle. You need to take it, if you want my cock, pretty girl."

His breathing hitches when you, indeed, take the third finger. Rutting against your side, his hard-rock length twitching in his jeans, he moans, loud and pathetic, at your cunt fluttering around his knuckles. His patience is on the verge of crumbling; even the gentlest and most loving boyfriend has his limits and Ino has pushed past them ages ago. Even midst the hot-red haze mantling your mind you can feel him struggling. His moves turn less precise and sloppy, once almost ceasing, once rushing and seeking that one last nerve to graze and snap. Along with willpower he's losing his focus, putting it instead whole into not cumming into his pants.

And yet, despite everything, he puts you in the first place.

"Fuck..." Ino flounders between words, trying to play two roles at once and win his prize in both of them. "It's so hot... Pretty girl, please? Can I fuck you now? Look, you're taking my fingers already... Fuck— You're taking them so well... Will you cum on them? I want you to cum. Please, cum for me, sweetheart."

He whispers a please after a please into your ear, abandoning stretching you for the sake of moving the remains of his focus to your clit. He rubs it fast and sloppily, far from ideal but makes up for it with desperation and not ceasing until your heels start to dig in the mattress and your thighs to spasm and shake. 

"Do it now, sweet girl." He trips over his words as if he was as close to the release as you're now, but he finds enough willpower to show dominance one last time before he finally pushes you over the edge. Your whole body spasms, the buildup and anticipation resulting in a strong, mind-numbing and exhausting orgasm. For a moment there's nothing for you but blank, overwhelming pleasure, white silence and dry, itching pain in your lungs, as if you forgot how to breathe when you were crying out his name.

You return to your senses with stickiness all over your skin and his hot breath pressed to your sweaty neck with a silent pleading for more.

Ino licks his lips when your gaze meets and smiles, as cheeky and proud of his work as impatient. His eyes are glossy, feverish, and his cheeks are flushed so much they're beaming with heat, "Are you okay?"

You nod, not quite having power to say something yet.

"Do you want more? Can I take you?"

Another nod—and a bright smile at his sudden, childish pounce at given consent. Ino's hands are shaking when he unbuckles and unzips his jeans; his fluffy happy trail leads your gaze towards his heavy, twitching erection and precum beading at its head, threatening to spill everything at the slightest friction. He doesn't do much better when rolling a condom on, almost dropping it straight out of the wrapping and dragging a dry spasm of laughter out of you.

"See what you're doing to me, you little minx?" He says once finally successful and squirts the last dollop of lube along his shaft. He spreads it with a few strokes—biting on the bottom lip as he's doing so, so close to his finish that even a loose, almost mechanical jerk of a hand is overstimulating—then finally takes his place between your legs.

He spreads your knees further open, pulls your hips closer and helps you rest your calves against his chest. Before he guides your ankles to his shoulders, he brushes a gentle kiss against the elastic band of one of your socks, then the mark it left before it slid down.

"Ready?" He asks, voice shaking, as he's rubbing himself against your puffy, sensitive clit: shallow, pleading thrusts that could as well just get him off right over you.

You nod again and your eyes flutter in pleasure as Ino wastes no time and slides in, with ease and a loud, guttural groan. He stills mid-way in, intense twitching inside of you calling for a fast finish, but he manages to calm himself down enough to press further, leading your knees towards your chest until he meets your limit.

"Holy shit..." Eyes closed, Ino bites on his lips almost to blood. Sweat pearls on his forehead, first droplets trickle down his temples, and his arms, supporting your legs, start shaking. "This is... Fuck, baby girl, I missed it... I missed you so much..."

He twitches harder when you trace his back, lets out a single dry sob when you run fingers through his hair and pull him closer to yourself. It's okay, he has worked hard for it, he can let go and just enjoy himself. You want to say all of this aloud, but only breathing and soft mewls feel right now—and he's too lost in it to hear all of that anyway.

His control snaps, from tranquil and nearly motionless he switches into the highest gear in seconds, and his deep, harsh, desperate thrusts pierce your body deeper into the soft mattress. It's primal and selfish, and the closest to using you Ino could ever get, each day of loneliness and pent-up tension written in the frantic and sloppy rhythm of his hips. It could have been too much for your body, so spent after an intense orgasm, but he doesn't last long, soon whining and moaning, and finally coming, with fingers digging into your thighs and head falling into the crook of your neck.

He's thrusting into you, at the end only rocking gently against you, until he has no cum and power left in him. He lets your legs slide by his sides and sprawls himself on top of you, heavy, sweaty, so hot against your barely pulled-up shirt and his jeans lowered just below his hips.

"Holy shit, I needed that." There's a trace of smile in Ino's voice—and even in his groan when he fails to pull out of you and has to collapse on you again.

With a pleased, agreeing hum you wrap arms around him and giggle when he finds some steam in him to nibble on your neck. The room is filled with your breathing, mixed musk of your bodies, and the barely audible but steady buzz of the electronics. Now, when nestled cozy with his body close to yours and his lips affectionately tasting your skin, the worry and tension that got in between the two of you feel so irrational that you want to laugh. How could you possibly feel so out of place when you had Ino by your side all this time? The rhythm of his heart and smell of his cologne alone have you feeling at home, safe, cozy and loved.

"How much time do we have left?" Ino fishes his phone from the back pocket, furrows his brows, displeased, when he glances over the screen. "Hey. Do you think we can make it with one more round, shower and a lunch in less than an hour?"

"Do you still have power left after that?" You giggle when he wriggles to find a comfortable position, tickling you while doing so. "You're crazy."

"Nah." He sinks teeth into your shoulder, playfully, but hard enough to leave a little mark. "I'm not just crazy. I'm crazy for you."

thank you so much for reading ❤ i'll be really happy, if you reblog it and/or leave some feedback! you can read more of my jjk fics here.

tag list: @lale-txt @honey-deku @ohnococo

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #ino takuma x reader #ino x reader #jjk ino x reader #ino takuma x you #ino x you #jjk ino x you #bas writes #sinful #in the heat of spring #female reader

[majorproblems77]

Festival of Light - Skyloftian New Year

I had some interest so here it is! Now I cant draw to save my life so this is very much a wall of text. That's why I've got a read more for you :)

What is it?

The Festival of Light, or Skyloftian New Year's, is an event that takes place around the longest day of the year. (summer solstice for us. - So June time But in our case the skyloftian calendar begins here.)

What it's for?

It's the celebration of the year thats past, as well as looking to the year ahead. The skyloftians do this to remember where they've come from and where they are yet to go.

What happens on the main day? (Run down)

Loftwing riders 'bring the sun' from beyond the horizon. Rituals are performed by not only the riders but the townsfolk too. There are skyloftian dances, and a huge feat to celebrate the coming of the sun.

Skyloftians are expected to stay awake for the duration of the entire celebration. (The 24 hours after the riders leave). Families create lanterns to decorate their houses and the town with food for the feast that feeds the whole town.

After the riders have left is a moment of reflection, with gentle music to remember the year that's gone by.

When the riders arrive, the feast is had and as the sun continues to rise toasts and wishes for the new year are had.

Sky's place in the festival

Sky has performed in every part of the festival, his most noteworthy being the flight path the year of demise defeat. (As you can imagine that went down a treat with Zelda, who tried to fight the result of the choosing of Sky right after his journey. But Sky insisted on performing the flight.)

He was granted the green harness and it was decorated with the exploits of his journey, with feathers from Zelda, Groose and the headmaster. (Though almost everyone in Skyloft offered a feather which Sky made into a separate sash which he wore the day of the flight.)

Sky performs in the flight of tomorrow at least once while with the chain, but is exempt from being chosen for the sun flight due to this adventure he is on.

More detail about the stages of the festival are below. Including preparation stages, As the stages begin almost six months before close to the shortest day of the year.

Six months before

Day of Free Spirits (Winter Solstice festival) - I'll happily talk about this one too but the important part is this.

On the day of free spirits, all suitable Loftwing riders (over the age of 18) are chosen to select a box. Three of The boxes contain a blank night harness while the others contain normal loftwing harnesses.

The three-night harness riders are those chosen three riders for the Festival of Light. And must begin preparations with their loftwing to prepare them for the sun flight.

The harnesses are, Red, Green and Blue. (The green one is recent)

(To allow for fairness, the one's who flew in the year before are not given a box - due to being the ones to prepare the boxes)

Six month time span before festival - night flight training

Over the six months, these three riders are given night-time loftwing flight training, (even experienced riders are given this.) They often take up nightshift above Skyloft to get themselves and their loftwings used to flying for extended periods of time.

During this training, the riders hand off the night harnesses they were given to family and friends. To decorate the harnesses with the stories from the person from the year.

Key items added to the harnesses are loftwing feathers from the flier's closest relatives. They are often embroidered with names of loved ones, key events ect etc.

Harnesses are not given back to the riders until a week before the celebration is set to begin so exploits are added to the harness until this point.

(So, For example, Skyward sword Link, (Sky, because this spanned from an LU fanfic) was handed one of the harness boxes the celebration following his defeat of demise. So his harness was decorated with the tales of his adventure to defeat the demon king.)

During this time they also practice the flight path a few times.

Three months before the festival - Ceremonial outfits

Sun Riders are fitted for their ceremonial outfits. these are knighthood outfits based on the colour of the harness they received.

What's key about these outfits is that they are imbued with golden thread, in skyloftian terms this is an indication of the goddess's blessing over the garments to protect them from the darkness as they bring the light.

I see them as more, refined Knight Academy outfits. Embroidery often includes loftwings and the sun.

Three months before the festival - The secondary flyers

At this time, volunteers are chosen to perform the Dance of Tomorrow, A flight 'performance' performed after the main flight team returns to the skyloftian settlement.

This dance is a set performance that the skyloftians have been performing for generations. It's designed to depict the passage of time from the past ( the flyers grabbing the sun) To the future.

Week before festival - lanterns and feast preperations

Skyloftian families create lanterns, each house has three decorating their doors and then they make several more to string across the town.

Each one is decorated with family memories, loved ones key life events etc. (Normally parents and children will make separately but this differs from family to family)

The Knight Academy creates one per student to decorate the halls with. (Apart from the flight riders, theirs are made for them)

This is also the time to begin preparations for the feast. Each family creates a dish for the collective town to share. Could be food, drinks etc.

These are agreed upon amongst the community. So there's not a bunch of pumpkin pie/ soup.

Day before festival

Tables and lanterns are set up, with the main grounds for celebration, the riders are given time to tack up their loftwings with the ceremonial harnesses to check they fit etc.

Riders are given their favourite foods and packs for the journey. As the trip is a long one, filling water skins and food packs etc.

Departure (24 hour period of wakefulness begins)

The riders are sent in the late hours of the night before. With the whole town sending them off with quiet goodbyes.

The final thing said to the flyers before they depart is

"May you bring Hylia's light on the back of your loftwing's"

Reflection

During the dark of the night while the flyers are away, the skyloftian people undergo a period of reflection. Its a quiet time for the normally bustling town, the light of the lanterns the only light permitted over the few hours the flyers are away.

Quiet conversations occur and set up for the dance of memories. A slow dance with little music used to remember the times in the year that are harder. And how they persevered through it.

Dance of memories -slow

A slow dance, with no music to begin with. Used to reflect. Various members of the town perform this dance, depending on the events over the year.

Arrival

The riders arrive over the horision with the sunrise behind them. And the music then begins again. Begining with the harp more instruments enter as the riders get nearer and nearer before they land back with the town. The sun risen behind them.

Those performing the dance of tomorrow then mount up and begin their flight.

Dance of Tommrow - upbeat

The Dance of Tomorrow is a flight which shows the past changes to the future, it is a dance that has been done in skyloft for generations and requires at least three riders. It is performed to upbeat music by the people on the ground while the riders of the sun flight are allowed time to rest before the feast.

Feast

The feast lasts the remainder of the day, with singing and dancing as the skyloftians celebrate the first day of the year. Before taking the second day to sleep.

I hope you liked it! :D

Please feel free to ask my questions I will happily answer them.

Tagging people who showed interest, @vaathnaos, @fortheloveofhylia

#WOOO BOY #This was so much fun #please please ask me questions im obsessed with this #give me more skyloftian customs thanks #themmmm #skyward sword #loz #loz sksw #loz skyward sword #lu sky #linked universe #linkeduniverse #its times like this where i wish i could draw #cause there are images in my brain #like the little settlement decorated with lanterns #or the outfits for the riders #my brain is braining #long post #corner of headcannons #this is getting a link in my master post it needs it #ramble corner with major #im so normal about this idea #so excited

[sasaranurude]

Okay. I've been playing Tokyo Debunker today, since the release happened to catch me on a day when all I'd planned to do was write fanfiction. I just finished reading the game story prologue (it was longer than expected!), so here's a review type post. If you're reading this post not having seen a single thing about this game: it's a story-based joseimuke gacha mobile game that just released globally today. It's about a girl who suddenly finds herself attending a magic school and mingling with elite, superhuman students known as ghouls. If you look in the tumblr tag for the game you'll see what appears to be a completely different game from 2019 or so: they retooled it completely midway through development, changing just about everything about it due to "escalating competition within the gaming industry."

I'll talk about how this looks like a blatant twst clone at the end.

Starting with the positive: The story is charming. I enjoyed it thoroughly the entire time and am excited to read more. The mix between visual novel segments and motion comics was really nice--it broke things up and added a lot of oomph to the action or atmospheric scenes that visual novels generally lack. I like the art in the comic parts a lot. the live2d in the visual novel parts is... passable. Tone-wise, I think the story was a little bit all over the place and would like to see more of the horror that it opened on, but I didn't mind the comedic direction it went in either. The translation is completely seamless. The characters so far all have unique voices and are just super fun and cute. Of the ones who've had larger roles in the story so far, there's not a single one I dislike. It's all fully voiced in Japanese and the acting is solid. (I don't recognize any voices, and can't seem to find any seiyuu credits, so it seems they're not big names, but they deliver nonetheless.) Kaito in particular I found I was laughing at his lines a ton, both the voicing and the writing.

He's looking for a girlfriend btw. Spreading the word.

The problem is like. The gameplay is the worst dark-pattern microtransaction-riddled bullshit I've ever seen. Hundred passive timers going at all times. Fifty different item-currencies. Trying to get you to spend absurd amounts of real world money at every turn. There's like five different indicators that take you to various real-money shop items that I don't know how to dismiss the indicator, I guess you just have to spend money, wtaf. Bajillion different interlocking systems mean you have zero sense of relative value of all the different item-currencies. I did over the course of the day get enough diamonds for one ten-pull, which I haven't used yet. Buying enough diamonds for a ten-pull costs a bit under $60 (presumably USD, but there's a chance the interface is automatically making that CAD for me--not gonna spend the money to check lmfao), with an SSR rate of 1%. BULLSHIIIIIT.

There's like a goddamn thousand-word essay explaining the dozen different types of character upgrades and equippables and equippables for the equippables!! Bad! Bad game design! That's just overcomplicating bullshit to trick people into thinking they're doing something other than clicking button to make number go up! That is not gameplay!

In terms of the actual gameplay, there is none. The battle system is full auto. There might be teambuilding, but from what I've seen so far, most of that consists of hoping you pull good cards from gacha and then clicking button to make number go up. There's occasional rhythm segments but there's no original music, it's just remixes of public domain classical music lmao. I'd describe the rhythm gameplay as "at least more engaging than twisted wonderland's," which is not a high bar

At least there's a cat in the rhythm bit.

And like, ok, I gotta remark on how derivative it is. Like I mentioned in my post earlier, this game is unabashedly aping twisted wonderland's setting and aesthetic. (That said, most of the stuff it steals from twst is magic school stuff that twst also basically stole from Harry Potter, so...?) However, it isn't exactly like twst: in this one, the characters say fuck a lot and bleed all over the place and do violence. Basically, the tone is a fair bit more adult than twst's kid-friendly vibe. (Not, like, adult adult, and I probably wouldn't even call it dark--it's still rated Teen lol. Just more adult than twst.)

Rather than just being students at magic school, the ghouls also go out into the mundane world to go on missions where they fight and investigate monsters and cryptids. Honestly, the magic school setting feels pretty tacked-on. The things that are enjoyable about this would've been just as enjoyable in about any other setting--you can tell this whole aspect was a late trend-chasing addition, lmao. So, yeah, it's blatantly copying twst to try to steal some players, but... Eh, I found myself not caring that much. Someone more (or less) into twst than me may find it grating.

Character-wise, eh, sure, yeah, they're a bit derivative in that aspect too, but it's a joseimuke game, the characters are always derivative. Thus far the writing & execution has been solid enough that I didn't care if they were tropey. If I were to compare it to something else, I'd say the relationship between the protagonist and the ghouls feels more like that of the sage and wizards in mahoyaku than anything from twst. There's some mystery in exactly what "ghouls" are and their place in this world that has me intrigued and wanting to know more about this setting and how each of the characters feels about it. I have a bad habit of getting my hopes up for stories that put big ideas on the table and then being disappointed when they don't follow through in a way that lives up to my expectations, though.

So, my final verdict: I kind of just hope someone uploads all the story segments right onto youtube so nobody has to deal with the dogshit predatory game to get the genuinely decent story lol. Give it a play just for the story if you have faith in your ability to resist dark patterns. Avoid at all costs if you know you're vulnerable to gacha, microtransactions, or timesinks.

#suchobabbles #Tokyo Debunker #it's a global simultaneous release so I'm curious to see how it ends up doing in Japan #it's gonna be competing directly with stellarium of the fragile star which releases in a few days lmao. and is about a magic alchemy school #looks like the two games twt accounts have a similar number of followers #and then theyre competing with bremai releasing in may... #also adding this at the very end since i cant confirm anything: #but i found out abt this game bc it was rt'd by the former localization director/translator of A3en #i dont know if she worked on it or maybe her friend or maybe shes just hype! who knows! but i think her word (or rt) is worth something

[subwaysurf45]

The Cafe

Pairing: College!Bucky x Reader

Words: 6k

Warnings: nothing really (except for the fact that I haven't posted in like a year lmao), alcohol, self-doubt, etc...

A/N: don't get used to this...just an idea I managed to finish.

The first few times you were seen in the campus cafe it was when you were by yourself. You must have been completely unaware of the constant nail biting or when your neck would let your head fall forward in discouragement, all the signs that you were stressed flew under your radar. 

As Bucky Barnes stood behind the cash he looked over his customers should to see your head fall forward once again, the third time since his shift started fifteen minutes ago…not that he was counting. He knew it was a problem when the customer he was serving looked over their shoulder, not understanding what Bucky was looking at. 

He’d watch you go from sitting completely still to your finger flying across the keyboard with a new idea, as if you were rushing to write it down before the idea slipped through your fingers. When you’d hit your groove, not looking away to grab your coffee mug provided by the cafe, Bucky took it as a sign to tone down the stairs to see if you were okay. 

With your headphones on and music blasting the hairs on the back of your neck didn’t stand up like they normally do when someone was looking at you, truthfully, you had caught the barista looking a few times but you had no idea that wasn’t even the half of it. 

Bucky was truly hypnotized by you, and he had no reason to be. Maybe it was the insane work ethic that blew him away, always by yourself with headphones on your laptop open. Maybe it was the way in which you talked to service workers, always adding a please and thank you no matter the service you got. It didn’t help that you were beautiful in his eyes, he could stare at you for hours, taking in your attributes as if he was being tested on it. 

His stomach always twisted when he saw you pack up after a few hours. Part of him wanted to go up and talk to you, maybe offer another cup of coffee to keep you there for longer. But he knew that it was selfish, and creepy. He’d always dreamed of following you out of the cafe and asking you out, or even for your name…probably the name would be the first question. He felt like he knew you before ever really conversing with you, but the moment you left and vanished from view out of the windows he was reminded time and time again he did nothing, just staring and holding back. 

********

“Welcome to another lecture everyone,” Dr. Fury spoke from the front of the room, you were already set up with your notes, hands hovering over the keyboard due to the speed at which he talked. He was an amazing professor, you’d tell people, but he couldn't help how fast he talked when he was in the middle of lecturing. 

“I thought you were going to skip,” you whispered to Wanda as she sat down next to you, rushing to pull out her notes. It was only one minute past the class start time and yet Dr. Fury was beginning his lecture, “why can’t he talk about his weekend for like two seconds,” Wanda whispered as she opened up her laptop to a black screen that stayed that way.

All you could do was laugh before taking out your charger, “there you go.” 

Wanda just looked at you with an apologetic smile, “you are a lifesaver, this and the notes you let me borrow,” she thought for a moment, “let's get coffee, let me buy you a coffee as a moment to thank you for our friendship.” 

You giggled quietly to yourself as your fingers began to type, “I’ll never say no to a coffee, but you don’t need to always pay me back, you know I have your back.” 

“I know,” Wanda quickly responded to not annoy the students surrounding you, “but just let me, okay?”

All you could do was nod with a smile on your face, a small warmth bloomed in your chest as you took a moment to reflect. You had a good friend with you, one that you’d want to keep for a while; especially if she likes to buy you coffee. 

When the class finished you stayed back to ask Dr.Fury a question about a topic that didn’t make sense in the lecture, Wanda was going to meet you at the cafe after her meeting with her biology professor. Dr. Cho held weekly tutoring sessions that Wanda found extremely helpful. 

Before you could fully make it out of the lecture hall you felt a tap on your shoulder, when you turned around a semi-familiar face greeted you. Something was off about the individual but you knew you knew them. Even though you didn’t really remember the boy, you smile wide. 

“Hey,” he said quickly, “I love your sweater, did you see them live?” 

Your eyes lit up, “yes I did and thank you,” without thinking you grew coy, “it was like a religious experience, I love live music,” you managed to pull a giggle from him. “I know this sounds so rude but I know you but I don’t at the same time…” you trailed off with a squint. 

“I work at the cafe?” it was a question, “I also have a class in here right now so maybe-”

“James, I didn't even recognize you without the hairnet and apron oh my god how stupid of me!” Your face grows hot, your favourite barista compliments your sweater and you forget who he is. “I am so sorry.” 

“No, don’t be sorry,” he quickly waved his hand, “I know, the uniform becomes a part of you at some point,” his eyes lit up when you giggled. 

“I’m heading there now to get coffee with a friend, when do you work next?” you could see in his face for a moment that he was surprised at the question, as if he didn’t fully believe youd care enough and actually go in to see him. 

“I work tomorrow, I have a lab due tonight so that’s going to take the top spot on the to-do list,” he bashfully smiled. 

“Okay,” you nodded, “then I’ll see you tomorrow, James,” your face grew warm again as you back away, “have a good class.” 

“You too,” James said before biting his lip, you just had your class, idiot.

But you just giggled and left. Didn’t point and laugh that he couldn’t flirt, didn’t care to point out his heavy blush the entire time he spoke to you, didn’t make fun of him when he let his true thoughts show on his face. 

Bucky sat down at a seat, he placed his hands on his face to feel a radioactive heat still burning hot. He knew he’d be completely out of it the entire class, how could he focus on molecular genetics when all he could think of was the girl he was hypnotized by talking to him; nevermind asking about when his next shift was. 

“Why are you sunburnt?” Sam asked the moment he sat down, Steve joining Bucky on the other side. 

“Shut up,” Bucky rolled his eyes. 

Sam whipped his head to look over, “oh that’s not a sunburn, that’s a blush!” Sam poked his shoulder to be a nuisance, “I forget how red you guys get it’s hilarious,” Sam laughed to himself, “who got you that flustered?” 

“Ended up talking to the girl from the cafe,” Bucky muttered, the seats around him were filling up and the last thing he wanted was to have a group therapy session with everyone in his class about the girl who finally talked to him. “She’s as sweet as I thought.” 

“Oh you’re a goner,” Steve shook his head, “invite her to the house party, maybe she has a friend she can bring to make it less obvious, you guys can talk there.” 

“It’s too soon,” Bucky shook his head, “I’m not doing that.”

“I think you should, even if she says no at least she actually knows you want to see her again, maybe get to know her.” Sam dropped the joking tone and got as serious as Steve, the two of them could see how much he liked that girl. “What did she say to you?”

“I just complimented her sweater, I know the band and I know they were just on tour, she-...” his words got caught in his throat when he realized inviting her to the party wasn’t a stretch, “she asked when I was working next…”

Sam facepalm, “because she wants to see you again…” The mocking tone came back, James honestly preferred the devil-angel situation with Steve and Sam instead of them both getting serious on Bucky. “But no of course, it’s too soon.” 

The class started and Bucky barely took any notes, he was thinking of you at the cafe with your friend. His mind wandered to all the terrible outcomes of you going to the party, any outcome other than him getting with you - or even speaking to you. Both Sam and Steve knew Bucky was not looking for another notch in his belt, being raised by a single mom gave him a unique view of women; including the mommy issues. 

********

Bucy Barnes had never made so many coffee’s wrong in one shift. Everytime the bell rang on the door  to signal a new customer, he’d look up to see who it was and somehow mess up a pour or leave the milk to steam a little too long. He’d never admit to anyone how high he got his hopes up, he’d think how pathetic he was and miss his pour, landing hot coffee onto the back of his hand. 

His shifts were long and he felt like you knew that as well, there would be times during midterm season where you’d out-last him at a table while he worked his shift. Part of him always wanted to stay back, not knowing how long you stayed; he wouldn’t be surprised if you had walked yourself home in the dark more than once. 

Bucky was in the middle of an order when the ball rang again, his eyes shifted slightly when asking for the customer's name - his stomach dropped; you actually showed up. Not that he would ever think you wouldn’t show up but the anticipation was over. 

Seeing that he was busy you waved with a big smile, raising both eyebrows as you found a table. Once he finished his order and began working on the coffee he took his time watching you, seeing how you set everything up before getting your coffee. 

“Totally didn’t expect to see you here,” you spoke softly as you walked up to the counter, “how’s the shift been?” 

Bucky smiled, “pretty good,” while he was thinking of every time he messed up thinking of you, “pretty slow as well which is always nice.” 

You giggled, “I’m glad to hear, can I just get my usual, please?” you pulled out your wallet. 

“Of course,” Bucky punched it in, a simple order that was always the same. “Anything else?” 

“No, that’s okay, thank you!” you smiled, ready to pay.

This is your moment, do something. 

“Come on, let me get you something to eat, on the house?” he pointed to the small treats they also sold beside him, definitely not as popular as their drinks but he knew you’d be here for a while, who wouldn’t want a little treat? 

He could see you grow coy again, tucking your chin into your neck like you did yesterday when he complimented your sweater. It was as if you didn’t experience this often, you didn’t know what to do with yourself. It occurred to him at that moment that you might be as nervous as him, maybe guys being interested wasn’t as often as he thought, especially someone as beautiful as you. 

“What have I done to deserve that?” your voice has grown so quiet. 

“For starters, you’ve always been extremely polite whenever you order, you’d be surprised how many people think we’re robots,” hearing the giggle he pulled from you made his heart soar, “and because you deserve it, you’ve been studying here forever and you deserve a little recognition, a little something - I don't know…” Maybe he gave too much away, maybe you were thinking to yourself how he knew how often you studied, maybe you weren’t as interested in him than he thought. 

“Chocolate chip muffin, please,” you beamed and all the worries washed away, “that is so kind, James, you just made my day.” 

Before he could say anything, even correct you to use his nickname, the door blasted open. In that moment all the confidence he accumulated dissolved right between his fingers. All he could think was oh no as he saw Steve and Sam burst through the door. To think he was actually about to ask you to come to the house party, to think he actually made progress with you, all torn up in one moment.

“Bucky!” Sam shouted. 

Bucky stood still as you looked over your shoulder to see the two men attempt to squeeze through the single door at the exact same time. He could see your brows pulled tightly together, the way you were so thrown off by the loud call in a semi-full and semi-silent cafe. 

“I’m so sorry,” Bucky whispered before the two men managed to approach the cash. 

All you did was smile at James, realizing whatever condolence you offered would be heard by the two guys approaching. You quickly paid and stepped to the side, thinking they just wanted to order next. 

“Hey, Bucky,” Steve said, “how’s the shift?” 

“So great,” Bucky deadpanned as he made your coffee, looking over to see you trying to cover a smirk. 

When he placed your coffee down you reached out quickly, managing to brush your hand against his. “The muffin?” you whispered, not wanting to further embarrass him in front of what you assumed were his friends. “Thank you again, that was really sweet,” you said as you picked up the plate. 

“She got a free muffin?” Sam whined, “you never let me get anything for free.” 

You stood there giggling, “maybe don’t almost break down the door when you walk in and see people studying,” you shrugged, “just a thought.” 

Not wanting to entertain any longer, you walked away, back to your little spot in the corner. Once your headphones were on you began to work, toggling back between tabs as you worked on your paper. The one thing you learned about James when you worked here was that he was a very focused guy, rarely ever did you see him standing around or slacking off. There was always something going on behind the counter, he was always busy. 

As you worked you could see the two men who barged in slowly shrink into themselves, you could tell James wasn’t very happy, which is a first. Part of you had to agree, it was a very cute moment. Being told you’re a memorable customer that has an impact took you out of your normal routine. Most days were the same, it would have you thinking late at night what was it all for? 

Moments like that, when you’re gifted with a free muffin by someone who makes you smile almost everyday. It was now retrospectively obvious there was something else under this offering, which was why James was so upset. To say that James was harsh on the eyes would be a blatant lie. He was a very handsome guy but to you he was someone working a job that involved a customer service persona. 

After yesterday, seeing him in his element, you realized that persona wasn’t just so he could pay his rent; he actually enjoyed the moments with you as much as you enjoyed them with him. But it was spoiled in a way, a way you thought was left in high school. 

You didn’t even notice when the two boys left, the bell ringing for another customer that rang right when a song faded out brought your attention up, seeing James smile to the customer walking in. You let yourself pause to think for a while, working through what your next paragraph would cover, but an all too familiar habit began to roll out as you watched James work behind the counter. 

Who the hell is Bucky? 

He was James, that’s what his name tag said. In what world did James logically connect to Bucky, it must have been some inside joke or story you obviously didn’t know. It never occurred to you that he was someone else to others, you had realized how repetitive you have been, how robotic. 

“Hey,” James slid into the chair in front of you, scaring you half to death, “sorry.” 

You slowly slid your hand off your chest, reaching over to music at the same time. “Don’t worry,” you smiled. 

“Sorry about my friends earlier,” he couldn’t look more sincere, “they always do this, like, always.” you just laughed, understanding how annoying this was to him. “So I just wanted to say sorry, I don’t know if they made you uncomfortable or anything.” 

“Not really,” you shook your head, “I’d like to remember the moment right before that instead.” 

This seemed to take him by surprise, “me too,” he spit out, making sure to keep you on the same page, as if this would never happen in his wildest dreams. “Also,” he paused for a moment, “those same,” he sighed, “those same guys are having a house party this weekend and before they crashed in I was going to tell you about it, I don't know if parties are your thing but I thought if you were looking for one…we could maybe, y’know,” his eyes got lost, he was losing confidence, “see each other when I’m not working, as actual people, you know?” His voice was pitched up, his eyes squinting. 

You were nowhere close to a party monster in your mind, most weekends you stayed in, sometimes with Wanda, and just chill. The week ate away at you and left you too tired to even think about getting ready, pregaming, going out, so on and so forth. But you were tired of feeling robotic, this was the time to live it up. 

“I’d love to go out this weekend, I can't remember the last time I was at a house party, honestly.” you looked out the window to think but couldn’t remember the date, just drunk memories that didn’t make sense now. “Do you mind if I invite my friend, I promise she won’t keep me to herself but I think she’d love a party.” 

James quickly agrees, “yeah, of course, of course, no worries, Invite whoever because I know for a fact those two-” he couldn’t find another word, “-idiots want some rager, I don't know.” All he could do was laugh, “so bring whoever.” 

“Since I’m going I need to make sure they let me in, will they kick me out if I ask for James? Who’s Bucky?” you laughed and sipped your coffee, slowly pushing your laptop screen down a bit to show your attention. 

In a moment you saw his face grow red, he tried to cover it with his hands but to no avail. “That would be my nickname, so happy you noticed,” he said sarcastically, “my middle name is Buchanan, so of course my childhood best friend- the blonde one -shortened it and somehow it has stuck all these years.” 

“You don't seem to be happy with it?” your hands clasped under your chin to hold your head up, your eyes squinted as you studied him. 

He tilted his head back and forth, “I mean they’re my buddies so I can see why they would call me by my nickname but y’know, I don’t mind James…” his face grew red again, “especially when it comes to you.” 

It was your turn to grow warm, covering your face as well. “You are such a flirt, first the muffin, now this,” you giggled. 

“First the compliment, really, I had never seen you outside of the cafe before, I wanted to make an impression,” he said after a while, “now I feel like I’m spilling all my secrets,” his eyes met yours quickly, “I just-...” he sighed, “I feel like I can just talk to you, I don't know.”

“I’m glad,” you smiled, “because you can, and I’m very excited to see you this weekend.” 

All he could do was smile to himself, “me too,” he drummed on the table a few times before looking at his watch, “sorry, even though I could keep talking I only had a fifteen minute break,” his thumb jerked over his shoulder, “I gotta get back.” 

“That’s all good, I’d never get my work done,” you grabbed your headphones again, “wait, I need to know how to get there, the party,” you clarified. 

“Right, okay,” James looked over his shoulder, the pen he used to write down expiry dates on the dairy products was clipped to his apron that he still had on. With the clean napkin you grabbed for your muffin he quickly scribbled down something, “I’ll see you Saturday night, okay?” 

“Okay,” you nodded, watching with a smile as you see him get right back into working. You slid the napkin towards you and saw his number, followed by the address of the party. Knowing you, you’d lose the napkin before Saturday and would need to text him.

But he didn’t know that, he just gave you his number.

********

YOU: Wanda do I have news for you

WANDA: TELL ME TELL ME

YOU: you know that really cute barista at the cafe I always go to…

WANDA: SHUT UP

YOU: he gave me a free muffin and an invite to his friends house party this weekend

YOU: and of course I asked if you could come, so do you want to party this weekend? 

WANDA: Is that even a question???

WANDA: also I need to lend you clothes for this, you need to end the night with that man oh my lord

YOU: Alright take it easy, we’ll see how it goes!

WANDA: don't be stupid you two would be so cute together!!

********

Throughout the week you and James had been texting all the time, you even waited after Fury’s class to say hi to him again. It ended up that you took the entire ten-minute grace period between classes to catch up since texting last. Conversations both in person and over the phone were easy, it didn’t feel as complicated as your other situationships and relationships. 

There used to be calls with Wanda, freaking out over what was too risky or what was too boring. Forget the spitballing of the same sentences with minor changes, forget the excruciating nerves that came in the window after pressing send and before hearing back. 

He was an interesting person to get to know, but you didn’t regret it. By Saturday you understood how Bucky could be so fitting, under the customer service persona, in his element, he’s a hilarious guy. It wasn’t always flirty, it wasn’t always serious, it was just a well-balanced conversation that seemed to continue for days. 

As you stood in the bathroom, drink in one hand and mascara in the other, you bounced with Wanda as you both got ready. Friday night you and Wanda booked a study room and grinded your to-do’s that had yet to be completed, and a grind it was. Three red bull’s ,each, later you and Wanda were ready to take the entire day to pamper yourselves. 

With no weights on your shoulders you took an everything shower this morning, feeling clean and well moisturized. You ate what you wanted throughout the day, treating yourself to the first thing that popped into mind. Wanda did the same, sleeping in until noon before beginning her wake-and-bake. 

All of that pampering led to now, you and Wanda mouthing to Beyonce as you placed the finishing touches on your makeup. 

“Another shot!” Wanda poured two shots, both of you taking them back like it was nothing. 

“How long until the uber gets here?” you asked between coughs, trying to fight the vodka burn. You downed the vodka cranberry you made before spraying Wanda’s setting spray. 

“Five minutes, we should head down,” Wanda did one final once-over before turning to you and making jazz hands around your face, “super-model is getting some dick tonight!” Wanda shouted before you could cover her mouth. 

“Shut up!” you laughed and pulled Wanda into a hug, “are you sure you’re gonna be good if I go off with James?” you asked as you both grabbed your final things to shove in your small purses. 

“Oh, of course,” Wanda looked over her shoulder, “but I want to meet those idiots and show them how to introduce a friend,” you couldn’t see her face but you knew she rolled her eyes; she found the story more annoying than you. 

“Relax with that, let’s have an open mind,” you said as the elevator began to descend. Your phone in your hands, you were texting James to let him know the two of you were on your way. 

When the two of you arrived the party was in full effect, before fully entering you sent another text to James, he hadn’t responded to the first one. The ride was short, not expecting the house to be this close. 

JAMES: come down the main hall and into the kitchen, you’ll see me

You grabbed Wanda’s hand and began to march through people standing and talking, couples making out against the wall. There was a basement door before the kitchen, you could hear different music coming from the speakers down there. People were cheering and yelling, most likely playing a drinking game. Pushing through the final group of people you were in the kitchen, and there he was. 

Two closed cans extended to you and Wanda, a tipsy smile gracing his face. “I’m so glad you guys could make it!” he spoke loudly to be heard over the dub-step music. “My buddies are there, I wanted to make sure you got in alright,” he confessed, bringing a blush to his cheeks. Three of you walked over to the two men you recognized. “Sam, Steve…” Bucky coughed, “this is y/n and her friend Wanda. Wanda, this is Sam and Steve,” James pointed to them respectively. 

“Hi boys,” Wanda greeted with a half-smile.

Tipsy and slightly nervous you jutted in, “Wanda is a chem major.”

“We’re all in stem,” Steve lit up, “I’m in engineering, Sam’s in Biology with Bucky.” 

Wanda almost spit out her drink, “who the hell is Bucky?” 

Everyone laughed, in that moment you looked to James to see a wide smile, Wanda was in between you two so a look was all that seemed appropriate. The conversation flowed, primarily about stem activities. For a while you stood silently and listened to their similar stories and experiences. James didn’t talk that much, he seemed to be waiting for something. 

The party had only grown but you all stayed in the same spot, you didn’t realize until a small push how crowded the kitchen became. Wanda jolted forward and James stepped in, moving Wanda to where he was standing so he could push back against the large group of guys obnoxiously jumping and screaming to a song. 

Your circle slowly began to shrink, Sam and Steve stayed pressed against the counter, right by the corner. Wanda snuck in beside Steve, you noticed her flirty look at him. Instinctively you moved to stand more in front of James rather than beside, his hand quickly wrapped around you. 

“This is okay, right?” he asked and brushed his thumb a few times on your waist to signal what he was talking about, you looked up quickly and nodded. The moment he saw your face his brows pulled tight, “are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” you spoke over it all, he leaned down to listen, his hair almost in your face. As he bent down a gust of his cologne hit you, it had an undertone of beer. “Just kinda crowded.” 

“Tell me if you want to go to the basement- how about that? They're playing beer pong down there, maybe we can watch?” 

You nodded quickly, looking at Wanda who had moved away from Steve and was talking to another guy. “Wanda,” she looked over her shoulder, “I’m going to the basement, okay?” 

Wanda’s eyes grew big as she gave a thumbs up, “I love you, I’m all good, have fun!” 

You giggled and took Jame’s hand, he took the long way around the annoying crowd and to the door you noticed when you walked in. Finally starting to move after a while, you realized how drunk you really were. The stairs were steep, as one hand grabbed the hand rail the other was placed on his shoulder. 

Once you got to the bottom he gently took your arm to get your attention, “still good?” he giggled. 

“I’m very drunk, but good drunk!” your laugh pushed you into his chest, letting him wrap his arms around you. After a quick squeeze he pulled away and brought you away from the stairs, the both of you watched the game as you nodded your head to the beat. 

“Have you been enjoying the party?” After a while James leaned down to your ear from behind you. The smell of beer washed over your face as his lips tickled the side of your ear. Before you could respond, a full-body tingle, accompanied by goosebumps, rippled down your body. James could obviously tell you had a physical reaction to him, “I saw that,” he whispered again, peering over to see your eyes gently close. 

With his arms wrapped around your waist you slowly turned to face him, “that was like ASMR in real life,” you blurted out, your guilty pleasure slipping through your teeth. James laughed and nodded, his reaction calms your nerves because it seemed like he was drunk enough to admit it to. 

“That shit is great!” 

A burst of laughter ripped through you, your hand covering your mouth. “Imagine you recommending a coffee to someone like that,” you tried to imitate but another wheeze of laughter hit you, the alcohol making everything so much funnier. 

“You’re adorable,” he chuckled to himself, a genuine smile gracing his face. He stared at you for a moment, his eyes switching between yours, though his smile faded a small grin stayed implanted on his face. “Can I kiss you?” he whispered. 

“Yeah,” you bit your lip and nodded, your eyes flicking down to his lips as he licked them. One hand that sat on your hip moved to cup your jaw, his eyes watching your lips the entire time. As you leaned forward the alcohol pushed you a little too hard, there was no way you were going to ruin this moment by stumbling so you placed your hand on his chest, gently closing your eyes as you felt his lips connect with yours. 

It seemed neither of you wanted it to end, holding onto the moment before slowly pulling away. It must have been the alcohol between the two of you because neither of you were satisfied, instantly you both kissed again, James prodding his tongue against your lips. 

Getting the hint, you slightly opened your mouth and slid your hand up his chest. Grabbing a fistful of hair you kept him right where he wanted. Kissing him was like a drug, every second thought or insecurity slowly faded away as your shoulder rolled back for the first time this evening. Due to the lack of air you  both pulled away at the same time, giggling to yourself as you looked around; realizing how public that make-out session was. 

“Are you okay?”James asked, you quickly nodded and leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek, making him blush. “You are such a good kisser,” he added. 

“You too,” you tucked your chin into your neck, not knowing what to do with the attention. 

After watching the end of the beer-pong game you both headed back upstairs to find Wanda, James was more than happy to come with you to check on her. She was with the same guy you saw her with when you left, when she saw you her eyes lit up. Before you could say anything she turned back to the guy, speaking quickly with an apologetic face. Quickly, she rounded the counter and grabbed both of your arms, “I see a little lip gloss smudge,” she reached up and wiped your top lip. 

“Stop,” you gasped and quickly wiped around your lips to make sure it was all gone. “Now, who is that guy over there?”

“His name is Vision- he’s European, we’ve been talking so much about Europe it’s so nice to talk to an international student,” she leaned closer, “it also helps that he’s hot.” 

You laughed and looked over Wanda’s shoulder to wave to the guy, looking confused as to why the girl he’d been talking to all night ran off. Before Wanda could leave James came back, empty hands leaving his pockets to wrap an arm around you. 

Wanda took one look at James before a wicked smile grew, “love the lip gloss, what shade is that?” In an instant James covered his mouth, the crinkles around his eyes told you he found it as funny as Wanda did. James didn’t have anything to say back, obviously being caught. Wanda didn’t harp on it though, she just sipped her drink with a chuckle. 

The night flew right past you, you had slowed down on your alcohol consumption but still held a decent buzz. After the moment in the basement it seemed James was stuck to you, and you weren’t complaining. If you were dancing, talking, or even moving from one room to another James was touching you in some way. 

His hand rested on your hip for the majority of the evening. It was grounding to feel his side pressed to your shoulder, you felt protected in ways you never felt before. You hadn’t asked him to gently pull a strand off of your lip gloss and tuck it behind your ear, you didn’t tell him you wanted a hug everytime you came back from the washroom, he did it because he wanted to. 

********

The walk to the cafe had never felt more stressful than it did right now. Flashes of the previous night caused a lull in your stomach, a slowly growing ball of stress. 

Last night was too perfect, this morning you laid in bed and analyzed everything you could remember about the party. You hadn’t realized how long you had been staring at the ceiling, nit-picking every interaction you had with James. Even the thought of the kiss you shared in the basement caused a wave of nausea to hit you. You had sent him a text when you got home, he sent a quick reply. 

This is definitely a fluke, you thought to yourself as the cafe entered your view, he just liked me because we were both drunk. Part of you didn’t know why you were so keen to go the next morning, maybe you should have stretched out the rejection; living in your fantasy for as long as possible. 

With a deep breath you pulled the door open, cringing at the bell ringing; you had hoped for a stealthy entrance, maybe you could both go about pretending not to know each other. 

There he was, barely anyone else was in the cafe at the time, he looked right at you. “Hey,” you said softly, eyes casted low. 

“...hi,” James dipped his head to try to make eye contact, “y/n, what’s wrong?” His eyes widened in a fraction of a second, shooting him forward, “did I make you uncomfortable last night?” he whispered, placing his hand on the counter. 

In shock your lips slightly parted, “I-um, yeah I’m okay-um,” you just shook your head, speechless. “I just thought this was going to be different.”

“How?” 

With your eyes wide, you tried to find the words you wanted to say without sounding like an idiot, you hadn’t even entertained the idea of him genuinely liking you after one night out, especially when there was a steamy make-out session that wasn’t spoken about for the rest of the night. 

“I-I genuinely thought you would regret yesterday, I don’t know why I- I just thought it was because we were drunk,” you fiddled with your hands as you spoke, not wanting to deal with this any longer. 

“I need you to understand,” James spoke as he rounded the corner of the counter, taking your hand and pulling you to the back. “You come here all the time, you are consistent, you are a creature of habit.” James placed a hand on your shoulder, “almost everyday I think about when you’re coming, what you’re doing while you’re here, if your work is going smoothly, and if you get home safe. I always look at the door thinking it’s you walking in, okay?” He chuckled at the confession, “this is not because I was drunk, this was not because you were drunk. It’s simply because I like spending time with you, in fact, I love it now because I can actually get to know you; not just from your window seat.” 

It came as a whisper, “okay,” slowly, you wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling him instantly pull you close. “I was really preparing for the worst, but I do really like you too, James,” you giggled after feeling him squeeze you tighter at the sentiment. 

“I know your coffee order, my friends came and made fun of me in front of you,” he led you out of the back and began making your order, without you paying. “There are so many reasons this is not a fluke, okay?” 

Taking your coffee into your hand, you quickly nodded. “Thank you, James,” you slightly lifted your cup to him, “maybe I can get you back for the muffin and coffee…” you tucked your chin to your neck, “maybe dinner would be the logical reimbursement…”

James just laughed, “I would love to get dinner with you, but you are sure as hell not paying on the first actual date,” he continued to laugh, “that’s just not happening.” 

“Fine,” you took a seat at the bar, “you can pay for the first and I’ll pay for the second.”

James’ smirk grew, “sure, totally.” 

“I’m serious,” you laughed, “let me pay for at least one!”

All it took was a knock-out smile, “you’ll pay on the one-thousandth date, and I am not keeping track.” 

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x yn #bucky barnes fluff #college!bucky #bucky fluff #bucky barnes oneshots #bucky oneshots #bucky #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky fic #collegebucky fluff #college bucky fic #collegebucky oneshot

[jcs-singular-slut-strand]

MDZS fanfic ideas I have that most likely won't go anywhere and are mainly just titles atp

@fandom-trash-goblin ‼️

Wish You Were Sober (Chengxian but not necessarily outright)

Post Sunshot when Wei Wuxian is going out drinking everyday

Jiang Cheng being pissed about that (rightfully so, Jesus Christ)

They still love each other but it's hard when you're a sect leader and your SiC is dodging his responsibility's and by extension YOU

Jiang Cheng feels

Jiang Fengmian bashing

idk really I just felt like sharing

Modern AU Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling road trip

The end of the Summer holidays

And they have to get from Yunmeng to Lanling but Jin Ling's flight has been cancelled so Jiang Cheng has to drive him there

All types of shenanigans, for example:

Car breaks down

There's a storm so they have to stop for the night in this shifty ass motel

Jin Ling's awful (in Jiang Cheng's opinion) music

Jiang Cheng's awful (in Jin Ling's opinion) music

There isn't really anything dramatic or overly emotional about this

Just a bit of a laugh

Jiang Fengmian bashing (idk how but I will fucking get it in there idc)

Zhao Zhuliu/Wen Zhuliu is actually Jiang Cheng's real father AU (thank the Lord he looks like his mother)

Major Jiang Fengmian bashing obvs <3

pretty ooc except for Wen Zhuliu who doesn't really have a personality to mischaracterise

Wen Zhuliu being a bit #suspicious when Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian pull up for the Wen indoctrination

Just cause. how can anyone Like That be Jiang Fengmian's son??????

Anyways they're in the cave and Wen Zhuliu refuses to fight Jiang Cheng because by then he's worked out that the boy's birthday is like... suspiciously 9 months away from the last time he and Yu Ziyuan were last Together™

And bby is just like nope

not doing that today

Anyways burning of Lotus Pier and it all goes down the same

EXCEPT

Wen Zhuliu doesn't have anything to do with the death of Yu Ziyuan (if anything he's holding them all back)

Instead of taking his core, Wen Zhuliu takes that child out of Lotus Pier and straight to Wen Qing and renounces the Wen name, going back to Zhao Zhuliu (independent King, we love to see it)

Basically pledges pledges allegiance to Jiang Cheng and kinda follows him around like a guard dog for the entirety of Sunshot

OR

Wen Zhuliu doesn't make the connection of Jiang Cheng potentially being his son until he's got his hand in his chest and is melting Jiang Cheng's golden core

In this AU there'll be some weird thing where you have parts of your parents in your core I don't really wanna explain it

"Jiang Cheng’s golden core was strong for a seventeen year old and was filled with unbridled potential that only the son of the Violet Spider could hold or hope to live up to"

"It spills all over his fingers then onto the floor and he lets it, staring transfixed as his son’s livelihood falls through his fingers"

Basically, Wen Zhuliu gives up his core for Jiang Cheng via Wen Qing and surgery instead of Wei Wuxian and everything else plays out the same minus the demonic cultivation

Jiang Cheng still kills Wen Zhuliu however when he searches his robes he finds a letter addressed "Jiang Wanyin"

Edge of Seventeen (Jiang Cheng Sect Leader succession during Sunshot, potentially Zhancheng 👀)

Pretty much just a character study of Jiang Cheng

Set during the 3-6 months that Wei Wuxian was in the burial mounds

Lan Wangji being there when Wei Wuxian wasn't...

Not a fully fledged idea yet

Jiang Fengmian bashing <3

#mdzs #the untamed #jiang cheng #mdzs fanfiction #chengxian #zhancheng #jin ling and his jiujiu #wen zhuliu #zhao zhuliu

[quietwingsinthesky]

i have many many thoughts about rose & tentoo and how their relationship would evolve in this verse. about how you can't just take the love you have for one person and put it on someone else. not even a clone, a regeneration, a metacrisis. about how that doesn't mean you can't love them, or that you can't fall in love with them the same way, but that love has to be for them.

#it is relevant it just isn't relevant. right now. #but i do think about them a lot. #i think about them still living their lives after even leaves. think about rose and donna bonding. think about rose working for torchwood #and seeing a new side to jack and new sides to herself as well because she has to be there for the whole CoE thing. #think about tentoo transitioning because she is trans have i mentioned she's trans yet. she is. even doesn't know that yet because they #weren't there but they will someday. #i think about them all being at donna's wedding. and about a rose noble who grows up knowing the woman she took her name from. #they're a fambly.......... #i think about rose actually not keeping the whole doctor/aliens/mind wipe for your own protection/etc thing from tentoo for very long #about how working through both that being kept from her but also how it was killing rose to do that. how rose had to tell her. #is a fundamental part of what they build everything on now. they grow together. #i think about donna missing someone who isn't there and how sometimes with tentoo she feels a little better but it isn't exactly right #and how as time goes on. that feeling goes away more and more. her grief over losing the doctor *increases* as tentoo grows into a differen #person. she is still. fundamentally. the doctor. but she is also johanna tyler. and donna loves her. and still misses the doctor. #and i think. a lot. about that empty space that even leaves behind. about how they aren't there for donna's wedding. #about how they aren't there when rose noble is growing up. about how they disappear one day and no one ever tells rose or donna #or johanna or *any of them* what happened. i think about how they put up missing posters. i think about how rose holds her breath #for a whole year because hell the doctor got it wrong once with her. maybe they're just late. maybe they'll be back in time for christmas. #but even doesn't come back. they keep a picture of even on the mantel. and they do set an extra plate at christmas. just in case. #a lot of times it stays empty but they sometimes have other impromptu guests. martha and mickey and jack. jack comes by a lot. #couldn't keep him away if they tried really. sarah jane comes sometimes too. (sky babysitting rose noble. ough.) #something about. the doctor does have a family out there. if he'd only come home to them. #so does even. they're both going to have to go back sometime. face the music. sit down for dinner. #there's still time. there's still time. #dw oc

[deathshadowed]

Tags

#💀 ooc ⚡| out of bullets #💀 musings⚡| one bullet in the chamber is just enough #💀 wardrobe⚡| dressed to kill #💀 memes⚡| a different kind of russian roulette #💀 promo⚡| yet again an another wanted poster #💀 self promo⚡| killer for hire; or personal problem solver; however you fancy #💀 personality⚡| so empty yet wishing to be overfilled with emotion; keep chasing the adrenaline high #💀 crack⚡| .....was that cotton eye joe? #💀 stories⚡| when listening to others'; l already set my mind on becoming one of them #💀 dash commentary⚡| loud; drunk and horny; just like l expected #💀 aesthethic⚡| scorching desert sun; crawling scorpions; death lingering in the air #💀 skills⚡| l make it look easy #💀 about⚡| l wanted my name to be known. so l made myself one. #💀 answered⚡| nothing is certain except my bullet 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 hitting its target #💀 music⚡| dance with death #💀 suggestive⚡| loosened corset strings #💀 alright/encouraged to like and reblog⚡| don't let my myth fade #💀 nsfw⚡| shoot for the thrill #💀 desires ⚡| hint: not opium. #💀 shitpost⚡ | it's high noon motherfucker #🪦 hazbin/helluva verse ☠️ | l fear no evil; the shadows are mine. so is your life. #🐎horseman of the apocalypse verse ☠️ | oh death; the final note of the crescendo; after thy sisters ravaged grant mercy at last #⚡raia 🗡 | the duelist #⚔ rozália 🔥 | the general #🔥 cindy 🌌 | the phoenix #💀 headcanon⚡| keep your sins; no need to confess

[chernozemm]

infatuation makes your heart race love is quiet. love sets you at ease.

and because most of my pieces are mental screenshots of little scenes in my head, here's the scene:

Crowley was tugged into consciousness bit by bit. The afternoon light slowly filtered in, as well as the hum of music from the other room and the weird angle his neck was at. He was warm and content and wanted to sink back into his nap, but the threads of sleep fluttered away the more he tried. Finally, he took a deeper breath, shifting in the armchair, and cracked an eye open just a sliver. There he was, the angel, sitting at his desk. Had hardly noticed Crowley was awake, engulfed in his task of retouching a damaged page. Looking at his hands, Crowley became aware of the fuzzy warmth covering his own and peeked down to see a blanket tucked around his shoulders.

The feeling hit him so hard he let his head loll to the side, eyes closed. His chest tightened and he just…buckled. Finally came undone under the weight of his love for Aziraphale. Its inexorable, steadfast pull which he had been pushing back against for millennia, it had finally caught him off guard, sleepy and vulnerable and so tired from holding back, from refusing to name it. It was a quiet surrender. Crowley looked back at Aziraphale with the understanding of a man meeting his end and embracing it.

Perhaps he could gently pull the blanket to the side and get up. Perhaps he could cross the few steps to the desk and place a freshly made cup of tea to Aziraphale’s right. Perhaps he would hold his gaze, for longer than needed to answer “Don’t mention it”. Perhaps he would ask him if he would like a scone with that. Perhaps Aziraphale would understand that this was not about the scone at all. And yet, what Crowley was asking of him was also exactly about scones. And tea. And quiet afternoons together. Perhaps the angel would finally put down his sword, too, and the world would let out a breath it had been holding for millennia.

the soulmate to this piece, i guess.

#good omens #good omens 2 #aziraphale #crowley #aziraphale x crowley #ineffable husbands #myart #hozier's first light has chemically altered my brain and this is kind of the emotion i wanted to put into this piece #yanno? you look at your loved one and just know with immense gravity that youre GONE youre so whipped its not even funny anymore

[burntoutdaydreamer]

Things That May Be Causing Your Writer's Block- and How to Beat Them

I don't like the term 'Writer's Block' - not because it isn't real, but because the term is so vague that it's useless. Hundreds of issues all get lumped together under this one umbrella, making writer's block seem like this all-powerful boogeyman that's impossible to beat. Worse yet, it leaves people giving and receiving advice that is completely ineffective because people often don't realize they're talking about entirely different issues.

In my experience, the key to beating writer's block is figuring out what the block even is, so I put together a list of Actual Reasons why you may be struggling to write:

(note that any case of writer's block is usually a mix of two or more)

Perfectionism (most common)

What it looks like:

You write one sentence and spend the next hour googling "synonyms for ___"

Write. Erase. Write. Rewrite. Erase.

Should I even start writing this scene when I haven't figured out this one specific detail yet?

I hate everything I write

Cringing while writing

My first draft must be perfect, or else I'm a terrible writer

Things that can help:

Give yourself permission to suck

Keep in mind that nothing you write is going to be perfect, especially your first draft

Think of writing your first/early drafts not as writing, but sketching out a loose foundation to build upon later

People write multiple drafts for a reason: write now, edit later

Stop googling synonyms and save that for editing

Write with a pen to reduce temptation to erase

Embrace leaving blank spaces in your writing when you can't think of the right word, name, or detail

It's okay if your writing sucks. We all suck at some point. Embrace the growth mindset, and focus on getting words on a page

Lack of inspiration (easiest to fix)

What it looks like:

Head empty, no ideas

What do I even write about???

I don't have a plot, I just have an image

Want to write but no story to write

Things that can help:

Google writing prompts

If writing prompts aren't your thing, instead try thinking about what kind of tropes/genres/story elements you would like to try out

Instead of thinking about the story you would like to write, think about the story you would like to read, and write that

It's okay if you don't have a fully fleshed out story idea. Even if it's just an image or a line of dialogue, it's okay to write that. A story may or may not come out of it, but at least you got the creative juices flowing

Stop writing. Step away from your desk and let yourself naturally get inspired. Go for a walk, read a book, travel, play video games, research history, etc. Don't force ideas, but do open up your mind to them

If you're like me, world-building may come more naturally than plotting. Design the world first and let the story come later

Boredom/Understimulation (lost the flow)

What it looks like:

I know I should be writing but uugggghhhh I just can'tttttt

Writing words feels like pulling teeth

I started writing, but then I got bored/distracted

I enjoy the idea of writing, but the actual process makes me want to throw my laptop out the window

Things that can help:

Introduce stimulation: snacks, beverages, gum, music such as lo-fi, blankets, decorate your writing space, get a clickity-clackity keyboard, etc.

Add variety: write in a new location, try a new idea/different story for a day or so, switch up how you write (pen and paper vs. computer) or try voice recording or speech-to-text

Gamify writing: create an arbitrary challenge, such as trying to see how many words you can write in a set time and try to beat your high score

Find a writing buddy or join a writer's group

Give yourself a reward for every writing milestone, even if it's just writing a paragraph

Ask yourself whether this project you're working on is something you really want to be doing, and be honest with your answer

Intimidation/Procrastination (often related to perfectionism, but not always)

What it looks like:

I was feeling really motivated to write, but then I opened my laptop

I don't even know where to start

I love writing, but I can never seem to get started

I'll write tomorrow. I mean next week. Next month? Next month, I swear (doesn't write next month)

Can't find the time or energy

Unreasonable expectations (I should be able to write 10,000 words a day, right????)

Feeling discouraged and wondering why I'm even trying

Things that can help:

Follow the 2 min rule (or the 1 paragraph rule, which works better for me): whenever you sit down to write, tell yourself that you are only going to write for 2 minutes. If you feel like continuing once the 2 mins are up, go for it! Otherwise, stop. Force yourself to start but DO NOT force yourself to continue unless you feel like it. The more often you do this, the easier it will be to get started

Make getting started as easy as possible (i.e. minimize barriers: if getting up to get a notebook is stopping you from getting started, then write in the notes app of your phone)

Commit to a routine that will work for you. Baby steps are important here. Go with something that feels reasonable: every day, every other day, once a week, twice a week, and use cues to help you remember to start. If you chose a set time to write, just make sure that it's a time that feels natural to you- i.e. don't force yourself to writing at 9am every morning if you're not a morning person

Find a friend or a writing buddy you can trust and talk it out or share a piece of work you're proud of. Sometimes we just get a bit bogged down by criticism- either internal or external- and need a few words of encouragement

The Problem's Not You, It's Your Story (or Outline (or Process))

What it looks like:

I have no problems writing other scenes, it's just this scene

I started writing, but now I have no idea where I'm going

I don't think I'm doing this right

What's an outline?

Drowning in documents

This. Doesn't. Make. Sense. How do I get from this plot point to this one?!?!?! (this ColeyDoesThings quote lives in my head rent free cause BOY have I been there)

Things That Can Help:

Go back to the drawing board. Really try to get at the root of why a scene or story isn't working

A part of growing as a writer is learning when to kill your darlings. Sometimes you're trying to force an idea or scene that just doesn't work and you need to let it go

If you don't have an outline, write one

If you have an outline and it isn't working, rewrite it, or look up different ways to structure it

You may be trying to write as a pantser when you're really a plotter or vice versa. Experiment with different writing processes and see what feels most natural

Study story structures, starting with the three act structure. Even if you don't use them, you should know them

Check out Ellen Brock on YouTube. She's a professional novel editor who has a lot of advice on writing strategies for different types of writers

Also check out Savage Books on YouTube (another professional story editor) for advice on story structure and dialogue. Seriously, I cannot recommend this guy enough

Executive Dysfunction, Usually From ADHD/Autism

What it looks like:

Everything in boredom/understimulation

Everything in intimidation/procrastination

You have been diagnosed with and/or have symptoms of ADHD/Autism

Things that can help:

If you haven't already, seek a diagnosis or professional treatment

Hire an ADHD coach or other specialist that can help you work with your brain (I use Shimmer; feel free to DM me for a referral)

Seek out neurodiverse communities for advice and support

Try body doubling! There's lot's of free online body doubling websites out there for you to try. If social anxiety is a barrier, start out with writing streams such as katecavanaughwrites on Twitch

Be aware of any sensory barriers that may be getting in the way of you writing (such as an uncomfortable desk chair, harsh lighting, bad sounds)

And Lastly, Burnout, Depression, or Other Mental Illness

What it looks like:

You have symptoms of burnout or depression

Struggling with all things, not just writing

It's more than a lack of inspiration- the spark is just dead

Things that can help:

Forget writing for now. Focus on healing first.

Seek professional help

If you feel like it, use writing as a way to explore your feelings. It can take the form of journaling, poetry, an abstract reflection of your thoughts, narrative essays, or exploring what you're feeling through your fictional characters. The last two helped me rediscover my love of writing after I thought years of depression had killed it for good. Just don't force yourself to do so, and stop if it takes you to a darker place instead of feeling cathartic

#writing #creative writing #writer problems #writing advice #writing community #writing a book #writing problems #novel writing #on writing #writing tips #writing help #writers on tumblr #writers block #female writers #writers of tumblr #writers blog #adhd writer

[princesssarisa]

In the past I've shared other people's musings about the different interpretations of the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice. Namely, why Orpheus looks back at Eurydice, even though he knows it means he'll lose her forever. So many people seem to think they've found the one true explanation of the myth. But to me, the beauty of myths is that they have many possible meanings.

So I thought I would share a list of every interpretation I know, from every serious adaptation of the story and every analysis I've ever heard or read, of why Orpheus looks back.

One interpretation – advocated by Monteverdi's opera, for example – is that the backward glance represents excessive passion and a fatal lack of self-control. Orpheus loves Eurydice to such excess that he tries to defy the laws of nature by bringing her back from the dead, yet that very same passion dooms his quest fo fail, because he can't resist the temptation to look back at her.

He can also be seen as succumbing to that classic "tragic flaw" of hubris, excessive pride. Because his music and his love conquer the Underworld, it might be that he makes the mistake of thinking he's entirely above divine law, and fatally allows himself to break the one rule that Hades and Persephone set for him.

Then there are the versions where his flaw is his lack of faith, because he looks back out of doubt that Eurydice is really there. I think there are three possible interpretations of this scenario, which can each work alone or else co-exist with each other. From what I've read about Hadestown, it sounds as if it combines all three.

In one interpretation, he doubts Hades and Persephone's promise. Will they really give Eurydice back to him, or is it all a cruel trick? In this case, the message seems to be a warning to trust in the gods; if you doubt their blessings, you might lose them.

Another perspective is that he doubts Eurydice. Does she love him enough to follow him? In this case, the warning is that romantic love can't survive unless the lovers trust each other. I'm thinking of Moulin Rouge!, which is ostensibly based on the Orpheus myth, and which uses Christian's jealousy as its equivalent of Orpheus's fatal doubt and explicitly states "Where there is no trust, there is no love."

The third variation is that he doubts himself. Could his music really have the power to sway the Underworld? The message in this version would be that self-doubt can sabotage all our best efforts.

But all of the above interpretations revolve around the concept that Orpheus looks back because of a tragic flaw, which wasn't necessarily the view of Virgil, the earliest known recorder of the myth. Virgil wrote that Orpheus's backward glance was "A pardonable offense, if the spirits knew how to pardon."

In some versions, when the upper world comes into Orpheus's view, he thinks his journey is over. In this moment, he's so ecstatic and so eager to finally see Eurydice that he unthinkingly turns around an instant too soon, either just before he reaches the threshold or when he's already crossed it but Eurydice is still a few steps behind him. In this scenario, it isn't a personal flaw that makes him look back, but just a moment of passion-fueled carelessness, and the fact that it costs him Eurydice shows the pitilessness of the Underworld.

In other versions, concern for Eurydice makes him look back. Sometimes he looks back because the upward path is steep and rocky, and Eurydice is still limping from her snakebite, so he knows she must be struggling, in some versions he even hears her stumble, and he finally can't resist turning around to help her. Or more cruelly, in other versions – for example, in Gluck's opera – Eurydice doesn't know that Orpheus is forbidden to look back at her, and Orpheus is also forbidden to tell her. So she's distraught that her husband seems to be coldly ignoring her and begs him to look at her until he can't bear her anguish anymore.

These versions highlight the harshness of the Underworld's law, and Orpheus's failure to comply with it seems natural and even inevitable. The message here seems to be that death is pitiless and irreversible: a demigod hero might come close to conquering it, but through little or no fault of his own, he's bound to fail in the end.

Another interpretation I've read is that Orpheus's backward glance represents the nature of grief. We can't help but look back on our memories of our dead loved ones, even though it means feeling the pain of loss all over again.

Then there's the interpretation that Orpheus chooses his memory of Eurydice, represented by the backward glance, rather than a future with a living Eurydice. "The poet's choice," as Portrait of a Lady on Fire puts it. In this reading, Orpheus looks back because he realizes he would rather preserve his memory of their youthful, blissful love, just as it was when she died, than face a future of growing older, the difficulties of married life, and the possibility that their love will fade. That's the slightly more sympathetic version. In the version that makes Orpheus more egotistical, he prefers the idealized memory to the real woman because the memory is entirely his possession, in a way that a living wife with her own will could never be, and will never distract him from his music, but can only inspire it.

Then there are the modern feminist interpretations, also alluded to in Portrait of a Lady on Fire but seen in several female-authored adaptations of the myth too, where Eurydice provokes Orpheus into looking back because she wants to stay in the Underworld. The viewpoint kinder to Orpheus is that Eurydice also wants to preserve their love just as it was, youthful, passionate, and blissful, rather than subject it to the ravages of time and the hardships of life. The variation less sympathetic to Orpheus is that Euyridice was at peace in death, in some versions she drank from the river Lethe and doesn't even remember Orpheus, his attempt to take her back is selfish, and she prefers to be her own free woman than be bound to him forever and literally only live for his sake.

With that interpretation in mind, I'm surprised I've never read yet another variation. I can imagine a version where, as Orpheus walks up the path toward the living world, he realizes he's being selfish: Eurydice was happy and at peace in the Elysian Fields, she doesn't even remember him because she drank from Lethe, and she's only following him now because Hades and Persephone have forced her to do so. So he finally looks back out of selfless love, to let her go. Maybe I should write this retelling myself.

Are any of these interpretations – or any others – the "true" or "definitive" reason why Orpheus looks back? I don't think so at all. The fact that they all exist and can all ring true says something valuable about the nature of mythology.

#mythology #greek mythology #orpheus #eurydice #orpheus and eurydice #analysis #interpretations #adaptations #long

[finelinefae]

flower [tattooH x Innocenty/n]

synopsis: harry's the boy next door, he's also a tattoo artist aannd y/n's sexual awakening because she's an innocent virgin with a flower shop. 

word count: 8.6k

content warnings: smut (fingering, daddy kink, praise kink, virgin Y/N) 

read part 2 here

my first imagine !! i hope u enjoy it !! i enjoy it here very much !

. . .

Y/N had been having a terrible week.

She owned a flower shop called 'Sweet Juniper' which had been hers for almost an entire year. It had been her dream to share her love of flowers with everybody so when she finally saved enough money to set up a shop, she worked tirelessly to make it the best possible floral shop the town had ever seen.

People would put in special requests if they needed flower arrangements for special occasions or others would just come by to just lift their mood a little bit if they were having a tough day. Y/N loved her customers and spent so much time chatting throughout the day all whilst tending to her plants.

But this week was not fun.

The shop next door had been empty for a long time now - ever since Y/N had set up shop. She lived in the flat above the shop so it was ideal not to have to handle any neighbours. But the past few weeks, decorators and construction workers had been making a lot of noise - fixing up the empty shop - which meant someone was moving in.

Y/N hadn't met them yet so she wasn't sure what the shop next door would be. The town was relatively quiet so she expected a bakery or maybe a clothing boutique. Only yesterday, with the shop all set up and ready to go, she found it to be nothing of the sort.

It was dark and music pulsed through the walls of her flower shop. The heavy bass made it sound like someone was trying to fight their way through the floorboards she had painted a very, very light pink.

Her customers had complained especially the older bunch. They had trouble concentrating whenever they tried to talk to her or hear her advice on what the best flowers were during the current autumn season.

So after a not-so-fun week and frequent visits to the corner shop to top up her headache medication, Y/N made the decision to confront her new neighbour and tell them exactly how she felt. She wasn't going to let her flower shop fail because of an inconsiderate, noisy fool.

Y/N flipped the sigh from 'open' to 'closed' and took off her apron which had her name in swirly handwriting embroidered onto the breast pocket. She took three deep breaths and mentally went through her speech. She wouldn't be unkind but she would be fair.

"You can do this Y/N," She said to herself before she exhaled and opened the door to walk five steps over to her next-door neighbour.

She hadn't seen the shop properly since the decorating was completed so was immediately struck by how dark it was in comparison to her own shop. It was painted black with illustrations and pictures of people's tattoos set up in the shop window.

The pavement was lit up in the darkness by the red neon lights coming from inside the shop. Everything about it was so different to her baby pink and white flower shop.

The sudden thought of turning back and going upstairs to her apartment almost tempted her enough to turn away but she knew the problem would not be resolved if she were to sit by and do nothing.

Her Mary Jane heels tapped against the pavement as she came to stand in front of the door. It seemed as though the shop was still open, so she pushed the door and stepped inside.

The smell of tobacco and musk and ink hit her senses as she closed the door behind her. The heavy bass of the music was now pounding through her ears. The nerves were rising within her and turning back seemed much more tempting now.

She spun on her heel and reached for the door handle, only to be stopped by someone clearing their throat.

"Are you here for a tattoo?" His voice was deep, husky and... pretty.

She turned around and was met with a tall figure standing in the doorway to the back of the shop. His arms were by his side and he was wearing a black, fitted shirt with black trousers and low cut doc martens with red laces. His face was illuminated by the red, neon sign on the wall with the words 'Styles INK' written in a grungey font.

"T-tattoo?" She gulped, the script she had rehearsed over and over again was nowhere to be found like the words had silently fallen from her brain, through her nose and slipped from her mouth before she had time to speak them out loud.

He walked to the front desk, footsteps heavy against the wooden floor. "We don't take walk-ins this late at night if that's what you're after."

The tone of his voice made her tremble in her heels. She curled her fingers into a fist and tried to stop her heart from beating so fast. "I-I'm not here for a tattoo. I-I'm actually from next door."

His head lifted up, she could finally see the colour of his eyes were a pale green and his hair was curly and brunette. "Ahhh," He dropped the pen he was fiddling with on the desk, "The flower girl."

She huffed, "Yes, that would be me."

"M allergic to flowers." He said.

"W-what? Why would you set up shop next to a flower shop then?" She asked.

"Only place that offered a space with an apartment." A breath slipped past her lips.

He was not only her shop neighbour but her neighbour neighbour too.

Well, this just made things a bit more awkward.

He came in front of the desk and leaned against it, crossing his arms. Y/N saw every inch of the skin on his arm littered with tattoos and even caught a glimpse of his ring-clad fingers. "Listen, if you're not here for a tattoo then why are you here? I need to close up so I'd appreciate it if you were quick with whatever it is you came here for."

Y/N swallowed her nerves, "Your music is too loud a-and it's driving my customers away."

"What was that?" He wanted her to repeat herself.

"Y-Your music, it's much too loud and my customers are c-complaining." She wished she didn't stutter but at least she got what she needed to say out.

"My music?" His eyebrows scrunch up.

"Yes." She nods.

"What about your music?" He retorts, "s all I can hear when I'm upstairs."

She immediately blushes and wonders how long he has been staying in the apartment upstairs. Y/N was so used to not having neighbours that she hadn't thought to turn her music down or take a break from her lonesome karaoke nights.

"That's different."

"If I have to hear you sing to that broken-hearted, bubble-gum pop princess every night then you can't complain about me playing my music like I have." He argues.

"B-but I don't play it in the day like you do! It's so loud! It is - hey quit laughing!" She huffs when he snickers at her.

"M sorry, you're just so little." He laughs. "Maybe that's why I haven't seen you since I've moved in."

Y/N crossed her arms, "I'd just appreciate it if you turned your music down a little, just so my customers can shop for their flowers in peace."

He says nothing. Instead, his eyes scan her face and then fall on the rest of her. She was wearing light blue jeans and a pink, cosy sweater. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail with a white, silk ribbon and her heels were still on her now aching feet.

He smirks, "Alright, I'll turn my music down but you have to do the same. I don't want to hear you sing about Romeo and Juliet or running out of the woods at 11 o'clock at night when I'm trying to relax."

She turns pink but luckily the red light hides the true colour of her cheeks, "Fine." She huffs and turns on her heel, too embarassed to say anything else.

"It was nice to meet you, flower." He says and she swears she can hear him smiling.

Her entire face heats at the nickname.

***

The next day, Y/N walked downstairs to her flower shop and prepared for a new day. She spent the rest of her night after visiting the stranger next door, quietly listening to music in hopes he would reciprocate today.

She hadn't seen him since last night and part of her was grateful for that. He was tall and intimidating and covered in tattoos but his voice was just so...nice that she couldn't seem to get the thought of him out of her head since she walked out of his tattoo shop. It was embarrassing to admit and Y/N was awfully bad at hiding her emotions so she hoped that would be the last time she'd speak to him face to face.

When she flipped the sign on the door to 'open', she held her breath as she waited for the sound of heavy, rock music coming through the walls only to find complete silence. She smiled and mindfully tapped herself on the back for being brave enough to go over and stand her ground.

Her customers were happy with the change too. They stayed and chatted with Y/N for a while, bringing home their baskets of flowers. The day had been much more successful than the past week had and she was thankful things would finally get back on track.

After cleaning the shop at the end of the day, she walked upstairs to her apartment and immediately decided to get into her new cute pyjamas she had ordered from Hollister - long trouser bottoms and a cute tank top both covered in the same pink, ditsy floral print.

She made herself some dinner and snuggled up on her tiny couch with her pet cat, Marshel, nestling to the side of her. Y/N hummed in delight when she made the decision to re-watch her favourite Harry Potter movie- it was the best film for the autumn weather.

Ten minutes into the movie sounds of people speaking and loud music sounded through the walls of her apartment. "Oh please no," She looked up at the ceiling, praying that someone out there would put her out of her misery.

It could only be her new neighbour, the tattoo artist, the one with the nice voice.

She pressed her ear against the door of her apartment and from the racket of people speaking and how loud the music was, she knew he was having a party.

"It's going to be a long night Marsh." She sighs, picking up her kitty and carrying him to bed.

At 2 am, Y/N was still awake. The party was still going and the music had yet to quieten down.

Y/N had been tossing and turning all night. Tears in her eyes as she tried to sleep but couldn't because of the loud noises coming from next door. At this rate, she'd only get four hours of sleep before she had to be up again for the busiest day of the week at the shop.

She couldn't handle it anymore. She flipped her duvet off and swung her legs over the bed. Her eyes fighting to stay open as she stumbled for the door.

At this rate, she was so tired she didn't care how she looked. She just wanted the quiet.

She flung her front door open and already found herself outside the tattoo artist's door. She knocked but the music was so loud, the only thing she could do was invite herself in.

The door opened and suddenly she was in a whole new world. There was cigarette smoke and a strong stench of alcohol. It was dark but red LED lights lit the room. People were laying on the floor or sitting around chairs or dancing in the empty spaces. There must have been about thirty people but with how tiny the apartment was it felt like much more.

Y/N took a deep breath and began her mission to find the source of where the music was coming from. Everyone was much taller than her which made it harder for her to push past people, especially in their drunken state.

"Excuse me please," she mumbled.

"Flower," his voice made her freeze in place.

She stilled and spun round on her sock-covered feet, making a mental note to throw them in the trash when she got home.

The person standing in front of her looked the same, wearing the same all black outfit he wore yesterday. She could see the illustrations of his tattoos a little better this close and she could also see the anger that covered the features of his face.

"Y-you." She said through parted lips, unable to hide her fear or shock.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" He grabbed her arm and pulled her to a corner of the room. He placed his hand on the wall behind her and covered her with his body like he wanted to hide her away.

"The m-music it's too loud and I-I can't sleep." She said, nearing on tears.

"You and your loud music." He muttered, "It's Saturday night. Shops aren't open on a Sunday."

"Mine is." She said.

"What?"

"I open my shop on a Sunday. I do work shops for little kids whose parents have to work on weekends and for elderly people who get a little lonely." It was her favourite day of the week but now she was dreading it because of the lack of sleep.

His expression seemed to soften but he rolled his eyes, "Of course you do."

"I just need to sleep for four more hours and then you can carry on doing whatever you're doing." He smirked.

"You've never been to a party before flower girl?" She shook her head and yawned.

Harry's smile fell and he sighed. He looked around at the party and then at the sleepy girl in front of him. "Fucks sake." He muttered and wrapped an arm around her.

Y/N's eyes widened when his hand rested on her shoulder. He tucked her into his side and quickly manoeuvred past everybody.

"Is that your new girl Styles?"

"Nice one, H."

"Have fun Styles."

"Ignore them." Harry told her as he reached their front door.

"Is that your name? Styles?" Y/N realised she had yet to ask what his name actually was.

"S Harry. You call me Harry." He says and she smiles at how normal and soft his name was compared to his dark and grizzly stature.

She hadn't realised what he was doing until he opened the door to her apartment. She gasped, suddenly wide awake and highly alert considering he was now in her very messy, untidy apartment.

"W-what are you doing?" She ran to her sofa and picked her blankets up from the floor before grabbing her bowl of popcorn from the coffee table that was littered with books and magazines she was halfway through reading.

Harry's eyes darted around her small apartment. The corner of his lips flinched into an almost smile when he saw the pastel colours littered around the place. It was so her - cute and cosy.

"You wanted to sleep." He said, "M helping you sleep."

Her mouth opened and closed in shock, "Helping me sleep?"

"Mhm, I've got these," He pulled out some earbuds from his pocket, "They're noise cancelling. Can't hear a sound when you've got them in your ears."

She looked at them in intrigue, "Where's your room?" He wondered, already walking in the direction of her bedroom like he'd been in her apartment many times before.

"My room's a little untidy," She tried to get past him so she could block him from coming into her room but he was much too tall.

"Don't care flower, just helping you out." He walked into the messy bedroom and paid no mind to the state of the floor. She'd never had a man in her room before so wasn't sure exactly what to do. Her apartment seemed so much smaller from his presence alone. "Get into bed, love." He pulled out his phone.

"O-okay," She said and tucked herself under her blanket.

It was strange to let a person she barely knew into the confines of her room but she was too tired to care and something inside of her trusted him.

He crouched beside her, resting an arm on her mattress. "Here put these in," He handed her the headphones, "Can you hear me?" He asked but received no reply, instead, Y/N giggled.

"I can't hear you Harry!" She laughed and something weird happened in his chest.

He smiled, "Tha's good." He murmured and put on a song he knew she would like.

Her heart stopped beating in her chest when the gentle piano music began to play. An instrumental of 'Cardigan' by her favourite singer whispered into her ears as he played it on a low volume.

"Sleep now flower." He encouraged.

"M name's Y/N." She whispered, her eyes fluttering shut, "You can call me Y/N."

"Y/N," He whispered back and the name seemed to unlock something deep inside of him. He said it once more for good measure before leaving her there with the music still playing.

***

Y/N woke up the next morning with a phone that was not hers resting right by her head. She had managed to fall asleep for four hours thanks to the man who she now knew as Harry. She felt as though last night was a fever dream and Harry had been a guardian angel, granting her sleep at last.

She could have slept in for another four hours but the shop would not run itself and she had many workshops on today that a lot of people had signed up for. She grabbed Harry's phone and made a mental note to give it back to him before she went to open the shop.

She made herself a good breakfast and fed Marshel as well, before getting dressed into a grey mini dress with a cute white collar and an encrusted black bow. She tied her hair back into a half up, half down and fastened it with a black bow to match her dress. She wore the same black Mary Jane heels and a bag with her packed lunch inside.

When she left her apartment, she listened out for any loud music coming from Harry's apartment only to be met with silence. She knocked three times- his phone in her hands- but no one answered.

She'd come back later, she thought. Maybe he was also catching up on some much-needed sleep.

Her first workshop of the day was with a group of children.

Their parents worked weekends and some of them were from the orphanage that they had signed up to help them develop new hobbies. Y/N knew them all by name and loved teaching them how to grow their own tomato plants and arrange flowers with cute bows.

An hour before lunch, she had a class with a group of mothers whose children had just left home. Most of them came because they needed a little company on the weekends when not a lot was going on at home or they wanted to pick up a new hobby.

In the midst of her basket weaving session, Y/N heard a phone ring. She glanced at the phone still on the front desk and saw the screen lighting up. "Excuse me ladies," she slid off the chair and walked over to Harry's phone.

Mike Supplier was the name on the screen. She wondered whether or not it was important and if she should answer it just in case. The phone stopped ringing for a brief moment until the name lit up the screen again.

"Seems important, Y/N." One of the ladies said.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows and walked to the back room, pressing the green button to accept the call. "Fucking finally!" A gruff voice speaks on the other end, "I've got your stash when do you want it?"

"Excuse me?" Y/N blushed, not use to such aggressive language.

The person paused, "Are you Styles' new lady? Listen can you put him on the phone? I need to speak to him urgently."

Y/N was in shock, "I'm not his lady! I'm his neighbour."

"Well, whatever you are could you just pass the phone to him?"

"Give me a second," She huffed, entering the shop again and turning towards the ladies who were in deep conversation, "Ladies, I just need a moment to go next door." They nodded.

Y/N could hear Mike Supplier cursing over the phone even as she had it by her side. She noticed Harry's shop was still unopened so went upstairs instead.

She knocked on the door of his apartment repeatedly until she finally heard footsteps coming towards the door. His door swung open, "Can I help you flower?" Her eyes widened.

He stood in the doorway with nothing but grey sweatpants and socks. His bare torso was littered with tattoos and his brunette hair was clipped with a tiny claw clip.

"Your p-phone," She held it out to him. His eyebrows furrowed like he had a lot of questions as to why she had his phone but he took it from her anyway and held it to his ear.

"Yeah, yeah shut up." He spoke. Y/N could still hear Mike Supplier talking on the other end. "Come by this afternoon. I'll wait outside the shop and don't wear that dodgy fucking hat this time."

The conversation ended and Y/N stood awkwardly in front of him. "Well I should go,"

"Wait," Harry stopped her "Did you steal my phone from me flower girl?"

"N-no! You left it in my apartment." She argued.

"Oh yeah," he grins like he was thinking back to being in her room last night, "Your lips go all pouty and you snore when you sleep you know that? 'S cute."

"Hey," she huffed, "I do not snore!"

"Whatever you say baby." Her cheeks warmed at the new nickname he had accidentally added to the seemingly growing collection.

"W-well who was that anyway. He was a little rude." She mumbled.

"You spoke to him?" He arched a brow, "was he rude to you?"

"He swore at me,"

"Dick." Harry muttered, "He's my supplier."

"Oh like for the shop?" She asked. Harry could have sworn he was having palpitations from how innocent she looked.

"No baby," he smirked, "a different kind of supplier."

"Oh," she said, still not fully understanding what he was getting at, "Well I better get down to the shop. My class is waiting for me."

"Sure I'll come with you." He grabbed a sweater and his jacket from the coat hanger.

"Wait, what? No."

"I'm bored and I want to hang out with you." He shrugs, "I don't see how that's a problem."

"You want to hang out with me?" She couldn't make sense of it.

"Mhm," He shut the door of his apartment behind him, "Lead the way, flower girl."

Y/N argued with him as they walked back downstairs. She tried to push him out of the shop before he could even step foot inside but she was too small for his 6ft frame and he gently grabbed her waist and picked her up as if she weighed nothing, stepping into the shop.

All eyes turned in their direction. Y/N blushed and stuttered as she said, "L-ladies, this is my neighbour."

"Hi, I'm Harry." He said from behind.

The ladies looked confused and then concerned and then suddenly they were grinning ear to ear, slipping out of their seats to welcome their new guest.

"Oh Harry, you look as old as my boy! It's so lovely to meet you." Mildred, one of the elder ladies said.

"Nice to meet you too." He spoke in a warm, almost flirtatious way.

Y/N stood there in shock, her mouth opening and closing like she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Kathy and Lucy had already sat him in between them both and got him the things he needed to weave a basket.

"Are you interested in flowers Harry?" Julia asked.

He looked across the table over at Y/N whose cheeks seemed to be a shade of red they'd never even been before. "Only one."

"Oh well Y/N's an excellent teacher. We're making hanging baskets to plant daffodils in them for the spring."

"Hmm I guess I've come to the best place to learn then." His eyes remained fixed on Y/N who defeatedly picked up her basket to show Harry exactly how to make one himself.

"How are you so good at this?" Y/N whispered in awe as Harry finished his basket.

"These hands are good with fiddly things." He says.

"Oh that's wonderful Harry!" Kathy exclaimed, "You could take over Y/N's job. Might help her out and she can finally have a much deserved rest."

"S that right? You tired flower?" Harry murmured when he saw Y/N's eyes opening and closing as she leant against the desk.

"Not tried at all," she lied but Harry seemed to see right through her.

"Hmm," he frowned which immediately had Y/N standing straight and trying to disguise her exhaustion a little better.

"You hungry?" A tall shadow loomed in front of Y/N as she sat at the desk, processing payments for her classes and labelling the baskets for the ladies to take home.

She looked up and saw Harry, his voice now a familiarity after the last almost twenty four hours since she had met him. "A-a little." She decided not to lie this time since apparently, she was much easier to read than she thought.

"I've got food upstairs, wanna come up?" He asks.

"A-Are you sure?" 

"C'mon little flower, I wouldn't be asking you if I didn't mean it." With a nod, Y/N locked up the shop for lunch and followed Harry up to his apartment. When she stepped inside, it was completely different to how it had been last night. 

It was clean and tidy. A few boxes were lying on the carpeted floor of his open living room here and there, but for the most part, it was pretty neat. Y/N's eyes were immediately taken by the prints hanging up on the wall. 

"These are incredible." She gasped, feeling particularly fond of a line drawing of a woman. 

"It's my mother," He stood next to her, looking up at the drawing with her. 

"You drew it?" She asked, wide-eyed.

"Mhm," He hummed. 

"Wow, no wonder you're a tattoo artist," She glanced at the intricate tattoos littered on his arms. 

"Ever thought of getting one yourself?" He asked. 

"N-Not really, I'm no good with needles." She said, rather sheepishly. 

He smirked, "Let's get some food in that tummy." 

Twenty minutes later, Y/N and Harry sat on the small two-person couch eating sandwiches and a fruit salad they had prepared together in Harry's even smaller kitchen. Y/N giggled as Harry threw a grape into the air and tried to catch it in his mouth.

"T-tell me about your tattoos," Y/N insisted after taking a bite out of a strawberry. Harry's eyes looked down at her lips and back to her big, doe eyes. "What does this one mean?" She questioned, pointing to the words written in Hebrew.

"M' sisters name," He starts, "And that says 'Can I stay?'" 

"Hmm, you have a lot of hearts." She said, fingers lightly touching the human heart on his arm. 

"I have a lot of love." He grins, cheekily, like he knew the line was cheesy but wanted to use it anyway. He was glad he did from the smile it had formed on Y/N's face.

Y/N hadn't realised how close they had gotten until she felt his breath on her neck.  Her voice wavers slightly as she tries not to think too much about it, "And what about this one," She points to the rose, her fingers tracing the petals. 

"I did that one myself," He murmured, lips close to her ear. 

"You did?" She said but it came out more as a whisper. She seemed to have forgotten how to breathe, her brain turning to mush and all her thoughts suddenly turning into Harry. 

"Mhm," She glanced up and his deep, green eyes were already boring into her. Her eyes darted down to his lips and then back up again. "You're pretty," He mumbled, loud enough so she could hear.

She shook her head, "I-I don't think so," She was suddenly flustered and confused and wondering why her brain was not acting the way it usually did. 

"I know so," His hand reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ears, and she shudders when his fingertips brush against her cheek. Slowly his head inches forward and the nearer he gets it feels as though more oxygen leaves the room. "Relax," He whispers, touching her hand, "You're okay flower girl."

"H-Harry, I-I've never kissed anyone before." She admits, embarrassment flooding her. 

"What?" He furrows his eyebrows. 

"O-oh, it's just that... I've never been k-kissed before."

"By anyone?" She nods. "Impossible." He whispers.

"We can stop if you want to," He says, his voice gentle and comforting.

"No," She wraps her small fingers around his wrist before he pulls away, "I-I want to,"

"Want to what?" He smirks, "You've gotta tell me baby."

"I want to k-kiss you," She blushes, it's all she seems to do around him.

"Cute," He murmurs before his lips press to hers.

Y/N's not sure what to do at first, her eyes are open and shock courses through her, but Harry's lips move against hers and he breathes, "Relax flower," He insists and she does. 

Her eyes flutter shut and she mimics his movements. What he gives, she gives right back and a small whimper leaves her when he kisses her even harder. She starts to lose her breath with how long they kiss for but she's far too deep, floating too much, to pull away. She grabs the back of his neck and pulls him in closer, a groan eliciting from somewhere deep inside him. "Baby," The name escapes his lips and a shiver runs through her. 

With panting breaths, she pulls away and so does he. Her face is flushed and his lips are pink, "You okay?" Is the first thing he asks, receiving a nod. "I think 'm a little bit obsessed with you." He confesses.

"M-Me?" She couldn't believe what he was saying. 

"Don't think I've ever wanted anything more," He looks away like being vulnerable is a foreign thing for him.

"Why?" She can't help but ask.

He shrugs, "Sometimes it just is." 

She thinks on his words before replying, "Can we kiss again?" 

Harry chuckles, "Kiss me all you want flower."

. . .

Y/N had a permanent smile on her face the next day as she went back to work. People asked her what was making her so happy and she was constantly finding things to lie about instead of speaking the name of the tattooed boy next door. 

An hour before lunch, the postman came to deliver her new ribbons for the bouquets and accidentally dropped off a package meant for Harry. Y/N couldn't help but smile at his name written on a brown box. 

"Give me a second ladies, I'm just going to pop next door." Y/N grinned, ignoring the knowing looks of the ladies she was teaching. 

As Y/N walked next door, her confidence seemed to shrink with every step. She realised she had yet to go to Harry's tattoo shop when he was actually working and she knew she would stick out like a sore thumb once she took a step inside. She was wearing a lilac dress and white heels, of course, she was going to stand out.

The bell rang as she stepped inside and a few customers looked up, some of them doing a double take at the small girl. Music played through the speakers but it was a lot less quiet compared to the first day Harry's shop had opened. 

Footsteps walked on the wooden floorboards and Harry walked out from the back room. His eyes caught sight of Y/N and his frown immediately turned into a smile. He held his arms out for her and she quickly walked into his embrace. "Hi flower," He murmured into her hair. 

"I came to drop off your package," She held out the box to him when he let her out of his arms.

"Oh," He took the package from her, "That's all?"

She bit back a smile, "Mmm, I may have something very important to tell you," She gave him a not-so-subtle wink.

He grinned, almost wickedly, "Well, do follow me this way to tell me this very important thing," He led her way from the waiting area and somewhere closed off and hidden from everywhere else. 

When they were alone, he grabbed her hips and hoisted her up onto a countertop, knocking things over. "Harry," She giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

"Shhh no more talking baby," He said before kissing her lips that he spent all night dreaming about. Their mouths were wet and hot against each other as they made out in a closet hidden away from Harry's customers.

His hands slid down her back and around her waist, pinching her hips, "Did you wear this dress f' me baby?" He murmured, the tone of his voice sending shivers up Y/N's spine. 

"Wanted to be pretty for you." She told him. She had spent all morning trying to find a nice outfit to wear, not only for work but for when she saw Harry too.

"Fuck," He groaned against her lips, "Where have you been all my life?" 

Y/N felt like a teenage girl getting all flustered and hot over a boy. She'd never experienced being with someone in this way before and now she had a taste for it and couldn't get enough of him. She had left Harry's apartment yesterday in a daze and she felt like she was still floating from the high of her first kiss. 

He stood in between her legs and she subconsciously rolled her hips against him. She gasped in both shock and at the feeling of him against her, "You're okay baby," He soothed her, sensing her confusion.

"Feels good huh?" He pulled her hips into him again and she felt a moan bubble in her throat. "Have you ever touched yourself Y/N?" He wondered. 

She froze, "N-no," She confessed, embarrassed. 

"Nothing to be ashamed of baby," He comforts her, his words soothing the insecure part of her. He kissed her lips softly, "Can I visit you this evening?"

She nods without even thinking about it, "Please," 

He smirks, "Please baby? Please? What are you asking for?"

She didn't know, her mind was foggy and all she could see was him, "Everything." 

His eyes darkened but his smirk never left, "'M polite little flower."

"Harry," She whined, burying her face in his neck. 

Harry laughed and cupped the back of her with his hand, kissing her forehead, "I'll come visit tonight and you better be wearing those cute pyjamas," He knew she was smiling because he could feel her lips against his neck. 

That evening after Y/N had closed the shop, she ran upstairs to her apartment and kicked off her heels. She ran around her living room, hiding things she didn't want Harry to see and flinging dirty laundry into the washing basket. 

She walked into her very pink bedroom and pulled out her pyjamas, happy to finally be wearing something comfortable. She spritzed some of her favourite perfume and rubbed vanilla lotion into her skin. 

Y/N sat on her sofa with Marshel seated by her feet on the carpeted floor. She switched on the TV and watched a few episodes of friends whilst continuing to finish her knitting project - she was making a blanket since one of the ladies from her group was pregnant and would be giving birth very soon. 

She fought to keep her eyes open as she waited for Harry to knock on her door. His shop was meant to have closed twenty minutes ago so she assumed he'd be here by now. 

Slowly, an hour had gone by and Y/N was getting worried. Her mind spun with insecurities and a sudden fear that something might have happened to Harry. She placed her knitting project on her coffee table and patted Marshel on the head. She walked to the door and slid her sock covered feet into her brown UGG boots. 

The shop was not its usual LED red colour when she came to stand in front of the window, instead it was neon blue. Y/N frowned when she heard music playing from inside and checked to see whether the door was open.

Her hand pushed the door handle, the door swinging open and the muffled music suddenly became coherent. She could hear voices coming from the back room where Harry tattooed his customers.

Walking towards the sound, Y/N eventually caught the sound of Harry's voice amongst the group of people chatting. Her shoulders relaxed at the thought of him being here, at least she knew she'd be okay if he was there with her. 

Turning the corner, her eyes landed on Harry with two other tattooed men, smoking something that - in Y/N's opinion - smelt a little strange. 

Harry must have sensed her presence as he turned his head and caught sight of her hiding behind the corner wall. He smiled, "Hey flower," 

"Hi," She murmured, feeling embarassed. 

"C'mere," He held out his arm for her and she scurried towards him, attaching herself to him by snuggling her body into his side. He put an arm around her, kissing her forehead. "I thought I was meeting you upstairs?"

Y/N frowned, "You took too long,"

He smirked, "M impatient girl," He nodded towards the two men he was talking to, "Y/N, these are 'm friends, Mike and Dan."

"Mike supplier," Y/N whispered, finally putting a face to the name of the man she had spoken to on Harry's phone.

He was tall and bald with a beard and looked to be in his forties. Like Harry, he also had tattoos but not nearly as much. Beside him was Dan who looked closer in age to Harry, maybe a little older. He was blonde but wore a cap on his head and a silver chain around his neck. 

After Harry had finished smoking with his friends, he said his goodbyes and led Y/N upstairs back to her apartment. "What were you smoking? It smelt funny," Y/N asked,"

Harry fell back onto the couch and pulled her down with him. She lay on top of him, the smell of the smoke still lingering on his clothes. "'S just a bit of weed." He confessed.

Y/N gasped, "Weed? Is that legal?" 

Harry looked at her amused, "Not here but it doesn't do much harm to me, been smoking it for ages." He twirled a piece of hair around his finger, "Does that bother you?"

She thought about it but the idea didn't really seem to phase her. As long as he was being safe and was using it in a healthy sort of way, she didn't mind. "N-no, not at all." Harry's smile widened into a grin. He didn't hesitate to kiss her, feeling her soft lips which had recently become his new obsession. They were so soft and red and kissable and made just for him. 

Y/N didn't want him to stop kissing her whenever he did. She loved the feeling of her eyes fluttering shut and all of her senses just filling up with him. Harry pulled away, still cupping her cheek in his hand. Y/N's chest heaved up and down against him as she tried to catch her breath, "Breathe, flower." His heart ached when she looked up at him with swollen red lips, trying to catch her breath. "Lose your breath a little bit huh?"

"A little," She huffed. 

"You're too cute." 

Y/N kissed him again once she had caught enough air again. Harry sat up, pulling on the roots of her hair as her legs wrapped around him so she was straddling him. She whimpered, tugging on the fabric of his t-shirt.

"What do you want baby?" Harry mumbles against her parted lips. 

"Take it off," She whispers, pulling on his shirt. 

Harry does as he's told, pulling his shirt up over his head and revealing his muscular, tattoed torso. Y/N's eyes widened. She'd never seen something so beautiful, he looked as though he was one of those marble statues in a museum. "Eyes on me baby," Harry smiled, pushing her chin up with his finger so her eyes were looking directly into his. "What now?"

"I-I-I don't know," She blushed, losing her confidence now that they were no longer kissing. 

"We don't have to do anything you don't want." He looked at her with a soft gaze.

"I-I don't want to disappoint you." She admits, her insecurities coming to the surface. 

"Couldn't disappoint me baby, ever." She smiles, feeling secure in his words and his hold. Y/N leans forward and rubs her cheek against his chest. Harry's hands go beneath the tank top of her pyjamas, brushing her bare back. "If it helps I've never done this before."

She's shocked but she tries to hide it, "W-what do you mean?"

"Been intimate with someone." 

She smiled. 

She really, really liked him.

. . .

For weeks after, Y/N was obsessed with two things. 

Her flower shop and her tattooed boyfriend next door.

When she wasn't working, she was with Harry, either cooking in his apartment or cuddling together on the couch in her living room. Harry had also developed a new taste for basket weaving, joining in on Y/N's Sunday classes with the elderly ladies in the morning. 

In the short time they had known each other, Y/N had come to learn that Harry wasn't a morning person but he never missed a Sunday class even when he was exhausted from the busy day before at the tattoo shop. He would stumble downstairs with dishevelled hair and sleepy eyes in sweatpants and a hoodie, sitting in his seat between Mildred and Julia as they fussed over him. 

Y/N had also grown a love for kissing Harry at every opportunity. She'd take many five-minute breaks, walking over to the tattoo shop and kissing Harry in the cupboard or visiting him in the alleyway behind the building where they'd make out against the brick wall. Even Harry had an addiction to his girlfriend's very kissable lips, sneaking out of his shop in between appointments to smother her in kisses in the storage cupboard. 

"Hey Marshy little fur ball," Y/N bit back a grin when she heard the door of her apartment open and the familiar gruff voice speak to her little cat. 

She swung her legs over her bed and paused the movie she was watching, running to the front door and leaping into his arms, "Hi flower," Harry murmured, inhaling the scent of her coconut shampoo. 

Y/N nuzzled her face against his jumper and squeezed him tightly, "Hi Harry," She sighed, blissfully.

"Wanted to come see ya, hope tha's okay." He kissed her quickly. 

"Course, I was watching a film in my room." She tugged on his hand and lead him to her bedroom. 

Harry had spent nights in Y/N's room before. Sometimes he would ask her if it was okay if he took a nap in her bed whenever he finished work early because it was much comfier than his. She'd find him curled up under her blankets, hugging one of her stuffed animals to his chest with the hood of his sweatshirt over his head.

Harry removes his sweatshirt, leaving him in only sweatpants, before he crawls into bed and pats the spot beside him. Y/N turns on the movie but knows that neither of them has any plans of watching it. 

With the amount of kissing they had been doing, Y/N hoped she had gotten a lot better. She realised Harry would often make small, quiet noises whenever she did something he liked, like tugging on his hair or sticking her tongue in his mouth. 

It wasn't long before they were making out again on her bed. Her leg hooked around his hip and her hands in his hair as he gripped her waist, every now and then he would squeeze her ass remembering the first time he did it and how much she loved it from the soft moans that left her. 

Y/N thought that kissing Harry was the best thing in the entire world but what she didn't know was that Harry had plenty more up his sleeve. 

His hand slid from her waist and down to her bare thigh - she was only wearing pyjama shorts since her apartment was pretty warm. He squeezed her softly, "Can I feel you baby?" He asked.

Y/N froze, not sure how to react. "I-I-"

Harry cupped her cheek, "I know," He already knew what she was thinking before she even said anything, "We can carry on doing what we're doing if you prefer. It's no rush." 

"N-no," She grabbed his wrist in both her hands. Y/N was a virgin but she wasn't afraid... Just inexperienced and that made her a little wary. But with Harry, she knew she wanted to allow that part of herself to him. Maybe not the whole thing but a little something. 

"Y-you can feel me... I-if you like." She said, awkwardly. 

Harry chuckles, "What about if you like, hmm?" His fingertip traced circles on her thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps. 

"I-I would l-like that p-please." She whispered.

Harry grinned, "Only because you're so polite sweet girl."

Harry's arm slides between her legs and hooks his fingers around her pyjamas bottoms to pull them down her legs. Y/N inwardly praised herself for shaving the night before yet she was pretty sure Harry wouldn't mind either way. Harry tuts when he sees her underwear, "Did m' little flower get all wet from kissing on daddy?" 

She felt the air leave the room and her body heat at the nickname. It was so dirty and yet she felt herself aching from his words. "Y-yes," She breathes. 

"Yes what baby?" He kisses up her thigh. 

"Yes daddy," She murmurs. 

Harry eyes darken as he looks down between her thighs, "My good, polite girl." He pinches the flesh on her thigh and she feels her chest heave.  Y/N gasps for air when his fingers trace the fabric of her underwear and her heart races even more when he moves her underwear to the side to see a part of herself no one had ever seen before.

"Fuck me," He whispers under his breath. "Prettiest pussy I've ever seen." 

"R-really?" Y/N blushes, her cheeks hot.

"Don't think I've ever seen something so pretty." 

"T-thank you, daddy." She whispers the last part but it doesn't stop the bulge from growing in Harry's sweatpants. 

"Have you always been this needy when we kiss baby?" Harry murmured in her ear as his fingers part her pussy. He tries to stop himself from groaning at the slick wetness that coats his fingers.

Y/N gasps at the new feeling but is immediately overcome by pleasure as Harry begins to move his finger back up to her clit, "Harry," She whimpers. 

Harry's quick to pull his hand away, "Nuh uh baby, that's not my name."

Y/N's head was all dizzy but she managed to reply, "Daddy, please," She whines.

"Barely even touched you and you're already whining," He tuts before rubbing his thumb over her clit and making small, slow circles. Y/N whimpers at the new sensation of intense pleasure. "Does that feel good flower?" He asks, nipping her ear as he murmurs against it. 

"S-so good- so good daddy, so, so good." She babbles as he continues to tease her clit with his thumb. 

"Who'd have thought I had such a naughty girl hmm?" She arches into his touch as he moves his finger in a certain way. She wonders how she managed to go on for so long without feeling something so blissfully delightful. 

"Put your hand here baby," Harry instructs, reaching for her hand that wasn't currently scrunching the duvet, and placing it flat over the top of his, "Let me show you how to touch yourself. Watch daddy," Y/N's eyes look down to see his gold ring-clad fingers drenched in her wetness, his tattooed hand moving in circles as her rubs her clit. "This is how I want you to touch yourself when you think of me baby and when you're good, I'll make your perfect, little hole feel good too." Y/N gasps and clenches when he brushes a finger against her hole. 

"I-I'm good-Please, I'm good," She mewls and her hand grips his wrist instead. She uses it as leverage to twist and turn into him, the pleasure overwhelmingly good she can't help but hide her face in his neck. 

"You are good," He kisses her forehead, "My good girl." She nods at his praise, eyes shut. 

Harry forces her legs a part and continues to pleasure her in a way she didn't know about until today. She writhes and moans beneath his touch as he whispers dirty things into her ear. "I want you to cum baby, think you can do that?" 

"Mhm," She sighs, already feeling the bubble of pressure in her tummy. "F-feels - feel's s-so-" 

"Feel good m'love?" He coos, "Cum f' me. Cum f' daddy, wanna see you soak my hand." 

At his words, Y/N whimpers as she becomes increasingly sensitive the more he circles her clit. Harry feels as though he's about to explode as he watches her cheeks flush pink and she grinds her pussy against his hand as she rides out her orgasm. "That's it my little flower, so good." He praises her, feeling her shudder as she finishes coming down from her high.

She's panting heavily as Harry slides her panties back into place. "You okay?" Harry checks, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Y/N nods and instantly feels embarrassed, hiding herself in the crook of his neck. Harry chuckles, "That was the hottest thing I've ever seen."

"You're lying," Y/N says, her voice muffled against him.

"Never gonna lie to you flower, never." He promises. 

Y/N removes herself from her hiding place and looks up at him. Harry's heart bursts in his chest when she sees her sleepy, blissful gaze. He wonders where this girl has been all his life and how he managed to go this long without her. He was pretty sure he was falling in love with her but that was a conversation for another day.

"W-what about you?" Y/N looks down and sees the very noticeable bulge in his trousers. 

Harry shakes his head, "Not today," He smiles, "We have plenty of time to experiment some more but think you've had enough experimenting for one night."

"Me too," Y/N curls into his side, not bothering to put her pyjama bottoms back on. "Having sex is exhausting." 

"We didn't even have sex, silly girl." Harry laughs.

"Felt like it," She mumbles against him.

"I'm that good huh?" He grins, cheekily, "Just you wait baby,"

"The best," She slurs, yawning, "M so tired." 

"Yeah? You sleepy baby?" He kisses her forehead. "Get some sleep m'love," He wraps an arm around her and tucks her into his chest. 

"I like you very much Harry," She whispers, sleepily. 

"I like you very much too." Harry replies, holding her close.

psa don't let strangers into your room... actually don't let anyone into your room

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