#hope that was enough rambling for you anon jesus christ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

veliseraptor · 3 years

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So this is in NO WAY PRESSURING, get to this whenever you're bored and have nothing better to do, but I (have still not watched The Untamed) would love to hear any disorganized rambles around your fic 'Punitive Measures', like your thoughts while writing it, how you view Xue Yang's fight/flight/freeze instinct, and/or where you would take the plot if you ever came back to it (again, not pressuring, I'm not asking for a sequel, I'm asking for director's commentary. Also I know the mysterious flute was implying Wei Wuxian, I know that much and not much more.) It's a really fun, quick fic that I enjoy reading through while I keep circling around your longer, more intimidating stories. I aspire to write like you.

oh boy, well, I don't know that I ever have nothing to do but here I am answering this ask anyway, because I like talking about my fic even if I get self-conscious about it.

this entire fic falls solidly into the genre of fic I write that is legitimately just “I’m gonna fuck up this character I love because it’ll be fun and I love to do that” and then just kinda...went for it. actually harder than I was initially planning! my vague sense of what I was going to do with this fic didn’t have Xue Yang down an eye at the end of it.

but when inspiration strikes, what’s a girl to do, etc.

I actually thought recently about writing a sequel to this fic (or, well, continuing into the AU it started, more like) because the concept of Wei Wuxian and Xue Yang being bloodthirsty vengeance brethren is a very good one for me, personally, and at the point their paths would be intersecting in this AU a more plausible one than it would be at pretty much any other time (I would argue, at least in CQLverse). And that’s where I think this would be going. Because Xue Yang would see Wei Wuxian, in his bloodiest frame of mind, powered up with a gorgeous flute of bad vibes and go “fuck yes” even if he wasn’t in a place where he really needed the help.

The question I had was whether Wei Wuxian would be interested in accepting company, and I feel like Xue Yang on that front could be convincing. And the way that the latter would both enable and egg on all the former’s darkest fantasies and impulses...I’m just saying, Wen Chao and everyone he has ever known is in for a very bad time, possibly even worse than they already were.

I invite you to picture in this AU the part where Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji find not just darker and edgier Wei Wuxian at the end of their scavenger hunt but darker and edgier Wei Wuxian with a friend. A familiar friend! Now down an eye and practically picking his teeth with Wen Chao’s finger bones. :D

since you asked for disorganized rambling I went back to reread and I’ll give you some director’s commentary on a few things

And he’d kind of hoped Wen Ruohan would be too busy figuring out how to deal with his brewing war to dedicate much attention to looking for one absent retainer. And even if he did, Xue Yang had sort of figured that finding him would fall to Wen Chao, who’d probably struggle to find his own ass with two hands.

kicking off this director’s commentary with Xue Yang’s brutal assessment of the competency of Wen Chao.

tbh one of my favorite things about CQL’s involving Xue Yang in the whole Sunshot storyline, despite the merry hell it plays with timeline stuff later, is how obviously little regard Xue Yang has for the Wens, even when they’re at the height of their power. He shows Wen Ruohan himself very little respect, and I can’t imagine anyone else getting more (except maybe Wen Qing, because Wen Qing is competent and if nothing else Xue Yang can respect competency).

and he just like. ditches them. walks out! promises to deliver very powerful magical artifact, and then gets what he wants and is like “smell ya later, peace” and they never catch him.

that’s just a kind of gutsiness and casual disregard for very powerful people that I really both love and respect about Xue Yang. and also that he has in common with Xiao Xingchen, tbh. and Song Lan (though him I think to a slightly lesser degree, partly because he has a little more tact and sense of societal norms as something relevant to be thinking about)! they can all vibe on that.

They took Jiangzai. Well. One of the Wen disciples took Jiangzai in the stomach and Xue Yang didn’t get it back.

this isn’t an important line or anything. I just like it a lot.

Wen Chao gestured again and he went down in a hail of fists and feet. Xue Yang tucked his chin down to protect his throat, curled his hands into his chest, and drew up his knees to guard his stomach.

He knew how this worked. Sure, it’d been a while since someone had beat him like this, but the lessons stuck. It was almost boring, really. If Wen Chao was going to play torture games then he could at least do Xue Yang the favor of trying to be creative.

He checked out the part of his brain that registered pain as anything other than a thing that was happening and focused instead on opportunities. Weaknesses in his assailants. Escape routes. Getting away would be the first thing. Nice if he could take a piece of Wen Chao with him on the way out - arm, or maybe even a head - but the priority was freedom and survival.

okay, this I feel like cuts into some of what you were talking about regarding Xue Yang’s fight/flight instinct, and also a lot of what if, I was feeling pretentious, I feel like this fic is digging into on a level under “what if I just tortured Xue Yang a whole bunch,” which is something about the relationship Xue Yang has to (a) pain and (b) his own body. Specifically, the relative indifference he has toward both. Or...not indifference, exactly, because it’s not like he’s enjoying himself, it still hurts. It’s just...expected.

unremarkable.

which is a lot of what I was trying to convey with Xue Yang’s narration during the whole torture sequence, with the commentary on methodology and how things are mundane or boring, because the suffering itself is mundane! as far as Xue Yang is concerned that’s exactly what suffering is! other peoples’, for sure, which is part of why it doesn’t matter, but also his own.

the world hurts and that’s just how it is and you learn how to cope with that. pain as...a thing that [is] happening.

I also, since you mentioned the fight/flight instinct, think a lot about how Xue Yang is, while he’s very proud and very stubborn, absolutely not someone to pick fights (in general) that he knows he can’t win. Xue Yang will almost always be on the side of “run and come back another day” over “stand and fight when all is lost.” survival, first and foremost.

which feeds into the weird paradox that I kind of hint toward at the end of this fic about Xue Yang as someone who has a definite death drive, who is profoundly obsessed with his own death in a lot of ways, and simultaneously is attached to staying alive above pretty much all else.

“Snap and snarl all you want,” he said. “You’re not going anywhere. And the only part of you I need intact is your tongue, so you can tell me where you hid the Yin Metal you promised. Everything else is optional.”

A prickle of fear rolled down Xue Yang’s spine and he flicked it away, baring his teeth.

I actually do think that, even before they get around to hand-specific trauma, permanent mutilation is one of those things that still scares Xue Yang. which is a short list! there isn’t much that actually either gets to or scares him, but I think the prospect of (further) mutilation does, because I think Xue Yang is very...acutely aware of the fact that his physical capability is a major factor in what has kept him alive and what, in all likelihood, is going to keep him alive moving forward. anything that threatens that capability, that limits him in terms of strength or mobility or otherwise has a disabling effect, is consequently going to be a short road to death, and Xue Yang would much rather die painfully fighting than die as a consequence of not being able to take care of himself.

for Xue Yang, the idea of a return to the kind of helplessness that is tied to his trauma is one of the worst possible prospects to contemplate. in my head this is exacerbated further by the fact that I figure Xue Yang didn’t get much if any medical care post hand incident, meaning that the recovery period was absolutely nightmarish and a whole stretch of time beyond the event itself where Xue Yang was struggling to survive because he’d been damaged.

in some ways I think that period of time probably did more to shape Xue Yang than the moment itself.

Wen Chao grabbed one of the branding irons from a disciple’s belt and pressed it to his stomach. That hurt. More. He clamped his back teeth together so he didn’t make any sound, absorbed the burn, owned it. His. You only hurt if you were alive. And anything you survived made you stronger.

Not that this was actually going to make him stronger. It was probably just going to make him dead. But then again, the worse this went the more resentment he’d have built up. He could use that. Would.

Dead didn’t have to mean finished.

obviously this is pulled almost direct from what Wei Wuxian himself says to Wen Chao. deliberate echoes based on character parallels! we love those.

and yeah, again here about Xue Yang and his relationship to pain, but in a less mundane way this time where it’s about pain as a tool, pain as something he can use. which is another thing about coping, I think - when pain and suffering are a regular part of your life, one way to deal with that can be to convert it into having some kind of purpose or benefit.

which in this case it definitely can. Xue Yang is definitely someone who, I think, has thought a lot about trying to arrange it so he becomes a ghost after he dies. or at least has thought a lot about what he’d do after dying to the person who killed him.

and when you’re a necromancer by trade death really isn’t the end of the line anymore, just the start of a something new. Xue Yang’s relationship to life itself: about as jacked up as his relationships in general.

He felt the snap of bone in his teeth. Pain shooting up the side of his hand, all the way to his wrist, and Xue Yang couldn’t keep himself still enough not to try to wrench himself away. He swallowed his scream and turned it into a laugh. It was funny, wasn’t it? Funny, that he was back here, again. It wasn’t as bad, though. He knew how to take pain, how to breathe it in, make it part of himself, later turn it outwards magnified tenfold. They were old friends. Practically lovers.

two things here:

1. the thread throughout this fic of Xue Yang making things funny so he can deal with them, here brought to you by reliving trauma! because it’s funny! right? laugh about it! just fucking hilarious.

I have a thing about characters basically deciding for themselves to make very unfunny situations funny because it makes them less awful.

2. and look, now he can deal with it better this time! he’s Learned. :) :) :)

Everything splintered. Splintered like bones under a wheel, and first thing he tried to struggle to get away but that just hurt worse and then old old old instincts kicked in and he went still, limp, dead.

“Did he faint?”

Someone nudged him with their foot. One part of him roared to grab that foot and rip it off along with the leg it was attached to. Immediately the same thing that’d made him play dead told him to wait.

at an end point where fighting is impossible and running is also impossible, the only thing left to do is play dead and wait it out. this is very much, in my head, a reversion to a tactic Xue Yang hasn’t used in a very long time and does not want to be using now, because it is absolutely the recourse of the extraordinarily helpless with no way out.

which he has been! and is now, but he really really really doesn’t want to be. Xue Yang has built his life around not being that, ever again.

but here it’s not a move he makes planning to turn it around the way he does, not at first. he gets there, but when he first does it I think it is literally just instinct that goes enough is enough and shuts down.

Wen Chao, Wen Chao, Xue Yang thought. My body’s going to give out before I do.

someone should remind me at some point maybe (or not) to write something coherent about my Xue Yang vs. his own body thoughts. specifically the way that, while Xue Yang is very physical and very grounded, I think he has a somewhat antagonistic relationship with his own body, actually. not completely! he definitely respects what it can do for him! but I think he also treats it a little as a slightly separate entity that’s capable of betraying him rather than as a fully integrated part of himself.

not always! but it’s a little bit there. this idea that sometimes his body, and its capacity to be hurt or damaged, is a weakness that he’d like to be able to forgo entirely, if only it wouldn’t mean losing all the good things about having a body. and that’s present here in this line, for me, where he thinks about himself and his body as slightly separate, and his body as something weaker than its Xue Yang core.

#hope that was enough rambling for you anon jesus christ #confessions of a frustrated writer #i don't even know what to tag this #anonymous #conversating

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omg-imatotalmess · 3 years

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Better Than Your Pillow

Hey guys! There was an anon that asked for a little more sub!neville as a cure for their blues, and I couldn’t resist. Sub!neville is chicken soup for the soul. Hope y’all enjoy!

Pairing: Neville Longbottom x Reader

Requested: Ye

Anonymous Requested: i need more sub neville. i’m so sad

Warnings: Pillow humping, mild voyeurism, fingering, dirty talk, mild praise kink, sub!neville, dom!reader, swearing

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If you hadn’t seen it with your own eyes, you wouldn’t have believed it. Neville. Your sweet, shy, ever awkward Neville curled over his pillow, humping it with the desperation of a dog in heat. All while spilling the filthiest fantasies into the open air. Every one of them revolving around you. In your shock, all you could do was take it in. And you couldn’t say you minded. He was really putting on a good show.

“(Y/N)! Fuck, I’ll be your good boy!” he cried, fisting his sheets like they were the only things keeping him steady.

“I’ll be so good! Use me however you want. Please, I want you to!” he babbled. His hips shifted faster, maybe imagining your reply. You certainly knew what it would be.

You took a step further into the room, closing the door quietly so as not to disturb the scene in front of you. It was everything you’d ever hoped for—the amalgamation of every wet dream you’d ever had wrapped up in a pretty bow. Well, in an argyle sweater vest, actually. Leaning against the bedpost, you let his sheer want wash over you. It was heavy and searing but more perfect than you ever could have imagined. And from there, you could see his face. The way his mouth gaped open, chest heaving with every sound out of him and his eyes screwed shut against the onslaught of pleasure your phantom self was giving him. It made you wonder what he’d look like if he got the real thing. You couldn’t believe Neville hadn’t noticed you yet. Then again, he was too busy talking to hear your own labored breaths.

“Do anything you want to me! Please, I’m yours. Your little slut to play with! Tie me up and play with me until you’re satisfied!” he begged.

“If that’s what you want.” The words slipped out of your mouth completely unbidden.

“(Y/N)?!” he squeaked.

“You were late to our study session,” you said.

“I-I’m so sorry. Merlin, I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life. Let me just p-put my trousers on an-and I’ll be there in a minute,” he rambled, scrambling into a sitting position with the pillow doing very little to conceal his flushed, dripping cock.

“Don’t stop on my account,” you said, a smile curling at the corner of your mouth, “It looked like you were just getting to the good bit.”

“Please don’t tease me,” he moaned, covering his face with his hands.

“Who’s teasing?” you asked, feeling a smile curling at the corner of your mouth.

“Why can’t the castle just swallow me whole and put me out of my misery?” he said miserably. It was like he hadn’t heard you.

“Who’s teasing, Nev? I’m interested,” you said.

“I-Interested?” he sputtered, head shooting up.

“Mm-hmm, I’d love to help you out. If you want me to, that is. If not, I’ll leave, and we’ll pretend this never happened,” you offered.

Blinking at you with big, slightly unsure eyes, Neville let his pillow slip off his lap. He wanted to. You could tell that much. The way his eyes trailed up and down your body was leaving you a little hot under the collar. Smiling, you waited for him to answer. It was his decision, and who were you to rush him? Taking in a shaky breath, he reached for you, pulling you gently onto the bed while trying not to look you in the eyes.

“Please?” he whispered.

“Please what?” you asked despite the knowing glint in your eye.

“Please, touch me,” he muttered shyly.

“Like this?” you asked, drawing patterns over his plush thigh with your fingertips, just barely brushing his cock each time. It jumped with each gentle attention.

“(Y/N),” he whined. You gave him a wolfish grin.

“I guess I did say I wasn’t teasing,” you said. “Undress me.”

“A-Are you sure?” Despite the question, he was already working the buttons of your shirt with shaking hands, popping them open one by one.

“Hurry up. I don’t like to be kept waiting,” you ordered.

“A-Alright. Anything you want,” he breathed, yanking your shirt the rest of the way open and pushing it off your shoulders before making quick work of your pants. Each item was laid carefully beside the bed as soon as it left you. Before long, you were bare in front of him as his eyes roamed your body. It was like you’d showed him Eden. He couldn’t figure out where to look first. You smiled, pulling him toward you by his sweater vest. God, you were glad he’d kept it on.

“Good boy,” you purred, “Now, I want you to finger me open until I’m nice and ready to take that pretty cock of yours.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, reaching blindly for the bottle of lube he’d tossed on the edge of the bed when he started.

Slicking up his fingers, he stroked over you a few times just to excite you a little more. Also likely just to touch you like that. You let him. Bringing your hands to your own chest, you pinched and tugged at your nipples lightly. Partly to add to the sensation of Neville’s fingers stroking your sex and partly to put on a show. He watched your fingers dancing over your chest for a moment before bringing his eyes to yours.

“Can I-Can I suck them?”

“Kiss me first,” you said. As his lips touched your own, he pressed a finger into you gently. Groaning, you arched your back and bit down on his lip. When he let out a thin whine, you laved your tongue over the spot. The two of you stayed like that for a bit, his finger moving in you, kissing you as though the world was burning down around you. Then you pulled back. Dragging in a deep breath, you fisted his hair.

“Go on. Use your mouth.” He didn’t need to be told twice. Licking and sucking at your nipples as he added fingers. His tongue flickered over one hardened bud, pressing his fingers into you all the more eagerly. For a while, you simply lost yourself to the sensation.

“(Y/N),” he whined, grinding his dripping cock against your leg.

“Be a good little slut and beg for it,” you said.

“Please, please, I’ll do anything you want! I’ll be such a good boy for you. I will. So good. Please, (Y/N), let me put it in. Can I put it in?” he plead, practically humping your leg like he’d been humping his pillow earlier.

“You really want it?” you teased.

“Yes! So much! I’ll be such a good boy,” he promised.

“Fuck me.” Your voice was low and sharp—an order. One that he couldn’t have resisted even if he wanted to. He pressed into you slowly, watching you to make sure you were enjoying yourself. Each inch was a little more heaven than the last. Growling, you tugged his hair and bucked your hips down impatiently.

“I-I’m trying to be gentle,” he whimpered, shaking in your grip.

“Who the fuck asked for gentle?” you snarled, yanking his hair savagely. “I said fuck me, Neville!”

“Ooooooh!” A long howl burst from his mouth as he thrust into you recklessly, which you silenced with your mouth. Swallowing down his pathetic, little sounds of please and trading them for yours. His hips pounded against yours, encouraged by your heels digging into the small of his back. At this point, you couldn’t tell if he was chasing his pleasure or yours. You didn't care. It was all the same.

“Fuck, there! Good boy, right there!” you groaned.

“Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you...” his thanks became a chant into the crook of your neck. He only interrupted it to sink his teeth into it every now and then.

“Harder!” Obedient as you expected, he fucked into you hard enough to scoot the two of you up the bed. The sound of the headboard slamming against the wall was just background noise to you. Neville’s drawn-out, sobbing moans were far more interesting.

“Close,” he breathed.

“Don’t you dare cum before I do,” you hissed in his ear.

“Please, please, (Y/N). So close,” he begged. His hips had completely lost any semblance of rhythm. They just pistoned away unevenly, somehow managing to hit exactly where you wanted it most.

“C’mon, a little more. Almost...!” Your words trailed off into a long, high moan as your orgasm washed over you. For a moment, the world whited out. All you could feel was Neville driving himself into you like a man unhinged and wave after wave of pleasure. When you finally came back to earth, Neville was hammering into you, sobbing incoherent pleas into your shoulder.

“Can I cum? Please?” he sobbed.

“Cum for me,” you said. And he was gone. His teeth sunk into your shoulder, but it did nothing to stifle his shout of pleasure. You could feel his hands leaving bruises on your hips, but you didn’t mind. Not as he shook on top of you, pumping his cock in you a few final times before collapsing on top of you. Smiling, you pressed a kiss to his sweaty hair.

“Better than you pillow?” you giggled after a moment of catching your breath.

“I’m never going to live this down,” he muttered, keeping his face buried in your neck.

“If it makes you feel better, I’ve never cum so hard in my life,” you said. Pulling back, he looked down at you with a good measure of surprise on his face.

“R-Really? I was good?” he stuttered in disbelief.

“So fucking good. Jesus Christ, Nev, I almost blacked out,” you said. He made a pinched-off sound, dipping his face out of your eyesight. After another moment of silence, he spoke up.

“Thank you,” he said.

“No problem. If you ever wanna do that again, come find me,” you said, carding your fingers gently through his hair.

“Can I take you on a d-date first?” he asked shyly.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that, but how about a nap first,” you said. Nodding, he curled up against your side and dropped off almost immediately. You, however, laid awake for a bit. That was so much better than studying. And definitely better than his pillow.

#neville longbottom x reader #neville longbottom x reader smut #neville longbottom smut #neville longbottom #neville longbottom x reader imagine #neville longbottom imagine #neville longbottom oneshot #neville smut #neville x reader #neville x reader smut #harry potter #harry potter imagine #hp #dom!reader #sub!nevile

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apocalypticgargoyle · 3 years

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𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝟒. ♡ 𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

"Hi! I hope u have a lovely day :] I was wondering if I could request an imagine where you're online friends with Gogy and one day you send him a picture wearing his merch and he can't stop thinking about it and finally ends up telling you he has a crush on you?? Thank you in advance :] I really enjoy your writing"

pairing: georgenotfound x reader

warnings: Zoom Video Communications none :)

links: | ao3 | request | masterlist |

⋆ song recommendation: Slowly by Josh Gilligan

(streamer bf gogy brainrot brrr) hello sweet anon! thank you for much for this request :) I love love love all the geo simps and their ideas. also thank you to my dearest LB for helping me with the plot help. happy reading, everyone! ♡ ᵍᵉⁿᵉ

You tapped your fingers on your desk, nails clattering at you waiting to be let into your third Zoom meeting of the day. Usually, you got off with only one lecture, but because of upcoming exams, you were finding yourself in and out of virtual meetings and office hours. Sure, it was better than jogging from building to building, fighting the crowds, and searching for a seat in a packed lecture hall, but it was still wearing you down beyond belief.

You rested your chin in your hand as your window went from white to dark grey, the square with your name getting wedged in beside the professor. Everyone’s cameras were off, a thankful sigh leaving your lips as your head slumped down to lay against your arm, the danger of falling asleep suddenly becoming more prominent.

You jumped slightly as your professor cleared their throat, sharing their screen and beginning to ramble off facts listed on the slideshow. You played with your keyboard, focused on removing a crumb from beneath your spacebar that was almost unreachable. You usually took notes in the class, but today was just one of those days.

“... And with that in mind, I’m going to put you all into breakout rooms…” Your professor trailed off, eyebrows furrowed as they peered at their screen and clicked frantically to assign all of you to rooms. You yawned, smacking your cheeks and sitting up. You were determined not to be a shitty partner, at least. The white box popped up, inviting you to join breakout room four. That’s always lucky, you thought to yourself as you joined.

Once again, you were cursed to look at the buffering wheel of death as your internet struggled to sustain all your opened tabs. Please, just a little longer, you groaned internally, eyes dashing towards the receiver and exhaling in relief as your computer connected to the breakout room. You turned on your camera, eliciting your partner, George, to do the same.

You flashed him a smile as you struggled to open the article from the previous night. “Hi! How’s it going?” You greeted, not yet looking at him.

“I’m good, actually. How are you?” He engaged, his voice deep and tired.

You finally managed to split your screen enough so that you could see him and the article. “Yeah, I’m good too. Thanks,” you chewed the inside of your cheek, eyes skimming some of the notes you’d etched into the margins. “So, did you have any idea what,” you paused, squinting at the author’s name, “Robert A. Schneider means when he discusses how ‘men of letters’ fear the lower class more than anything?” You asked, as your eyes trailed across your screen to finally gauge his reaction, you were taken aback by his appearance.

His soft features and dark eyes made you feel safe. As he smiled softly, running his fingers into his hair, he seemed to be racking his brain for an answer. He opened his mouth to begin, detailing what you had previously thought with better articulation.

The two of you got through the basic questions the professor had scripted for the students, then finding yourself still stuck in the breakout room. On a normal day, your professor would have pulled everyone back into the call after the first few questions.

George swiveled in his chair quietly as he listened to you briefly explain your area of study. His kind smile made your heart flutter slightly. Deep down, you hoped the two of you would be stuck in the room for a while.

Soon your topics blended into what kind of movies you both watched, a debate on where you could buy the cheapest bread on campus, and what kind of party people the two of you were. After an hour, instead of worrying whether or not your professor was dead, you were swapping numbers and planning out how the two of you would turn the Florida Keys into the headquarters of your new cult where the members would all worship a separate bitchy philosopher.

You pulled one of your legs to your chest, resting your cheek against your knee as his laughing died out. “Okay, this might be a weird question, but I need to know why your webcam is so clear. Is it like an OnlyFans thing or…”

He chuckled. “Yeah it’s definitely OnlyFans,” he joked, making you laugh. “I’m actually a ᵐⁱⁿᵉᶜʳᵃᶠᵗ ˢᵗʳᵉᵃᵐᵉʳ” he mumbled.

Your eyebrows perked playfully. “You’re a what?”

He pursed his lips to fit the grin stretching across his face. “ᵃ ᵐⁱⁿᵉᶜʳᵃᶠᵗ ˢᵗʳᵉᵃᵐᵉʳ”

You snorted slightly. “Sorry darling, you’ll have to speak up. What was that?”

He wet his lips, rolling his eyes as he bashfully groaned. “I’m a Minecraft streamer.”

You giggled, him basking in your disbelief. He smiled a bit brighter as he shrugged, leaning back in his chair as you rambled off questions. “There’s no way! Nerd!” you chaffed, making him smile as if he liked it when you playfully teased him. “Are you super popular?” You asked, catching your breath.

He bit his bottom lip swaying his head slightly as if deciding not to answer. “Mmmm. Not really.”

“Well, come on, Georgios! Give me your Twitch user and I’ll be your biggest fan, I promise.” He laughed at your response, digging out his phone to send you a link.

“I’d like to see you try,” he mumbled.

After the class had finally ended, you’d learned that your professor was on the phone with their credit card company. In the following weeks, you and George were in constant contact, even becoming part of each other’s daily routines.

As you studied for finals, you’d turn on his stream, letting his voice alleviate some of the stress of your exams. He knew you were watching and would even drop hints for you in what he was saying, or he’d blatantly just ask what you were talking about in your essay for a certain class. After the stream would end, he’d call you either on Discord or the phone, just so it felt like the two of you were studying together.

Jokingly, you badgered him to send you some of his merch, threatening to buy it from a bootleg online store if he didn’t. He had only brushed it off at the time, but shortly after, you received a hoodie in the mail with his gamer tag printed across it.

It was late at night when you’d received it, the tiredness of your eyes and George’s dulcet tones lulling you towards the idea of a dead sleep. Yet, you were drawn from your pleasant relaxation with the shrilling of your doorbell. You shrugged out of your blanket cocoon, grabbing your phone and trudging down the stairs. As you tore open the bag, your phone buzzed with a text from George asking if you’d seen something that one of his chat members. You chuckled softly and dug your hand into the material, holding it out in front of you.

You snickered to yourself, running your fingers across the red patch in the center. You slipped it over your head, letting the softness of the fabric brush against your skin. You snapped a photo of yourself and stumbled back upstairs before sending it to him.

When you returned, George was focused on something he was crafting. His eyes darted down to one corner of the screen where his phone was probably sitting. His eyes flashed back up with a smug grin on his face as if he knew exactly what you were going to say. Your “Thanks sugar daddy xx,” probably didn’t help either.

“What, chat?” His voice came out slightly uneven as he bit back a smile. You skimmed what people were asking. “It’s not a nude. A friend of mine got something I sent them,” he answered nonchalantly, finishing up what he was doing. The chat began to spam quietly. “No, it’s not a maid costume. Jesus Christ.” He leaned back in his chair, grabbing his phone and opening your message.

A grin spread across his face, alongside the light dusting of rosy pigment settling in his cheeks. He chuckled to himself, quickly replying before getting back to his game. You scoffed at his response.

George (H325) Anything for my silly little baka

You curled up again, putting away your schoolwork and devoting your attention to watching his stream as you drifted off to sleep.

Once again, you found yourself at the mercy of your internet as you attempted to join the breakout room assigned to you. You almost jumped out of your chair when it finally connected and you found George waiting for you. You smiled slightly as he scrolled through his phone. “What are the chances?” You asked, pulling his eyes to you.

He grinned, clicking off whatever he was looking at. “I was just about to raid your inbox.”

You chuckled. “I almost wore your merch to class, just to out you to whoever my partner was,” you joked, making him roll his eyes.

“I’m glad it’s me then,” he responded. You began scrounging around for your article. After a beat of hesitation, George spoke up again. “Hey, I’m glad you like the sweatshirt…” You perked an eyebrow in his direction. “I actually haven’t been able to get that picture out of my head. I know it’s stupid,” he stated lightly, chuckling nervously. You could feel your heart beating in your ears. “It’s so lame, but I think I have a crush on you.”

You sat back in your chair, stunned. “I mean, the feeling’s mutual. Even if it’s lame,” you mirrored, winking at him. “I mean, maybe it’s not lame because I know I like you.”

He smiled to himself at your answer before chuckling, “Should we Zoom date or something?”

#georgenotfound headcanons #georgenotfound x y/n #georgenotfound fluff #georgenotfound x reader #mcyt x y/n #mcyt x reader #mcyt fluff #mcyt imagine #college au #gnf x reader #gnf brainrot #gnf my beloved #gnf x y/n

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caroldantops · 3 years

Note

hey! im quite new here and i have seen a lot of talk about readers interactions and i was wondering what is the best way to support my favorite writers (like you) because i think i have been doing this wrong and i really want to support writers who do this<3 ps. sorry if that was confusing, english isnt my first language

not confusing at all babes! you're 100% clear.

also can i just say, i very much appreciate you asking this. i would much rather more people speak up and be like "hey, we dont know the best way to support our favorite writers so how can we?" other than just. Not Knowing and Not Doing Anything.

so, im going to speak from my own personal experience but also what ive seen many of my mutuals/writers i follow talk about. this might get a little long but i wanna answer as thoroughly as i can because people should know!

im putting it under a read more because it got hella long, but please i encourage everyone who reads fics but don't interact to read and consider these things.

fellow writers i encourage you to reblog and add any other commentary you think is helpful!

before anything else (this is absolutely not directed at you, anon, you're perfect), i just want to get this out of the way. never come to a writer's blog and get angry with them for complaining about lack of engagement. like jesus christ. writers are putting hours of work on tumblr for you for free. the least we ask is for comments and reblogs. that's it. if you go and act shitty towards writers who ask for more engagement, yet still follow and wait for the next fic, like what are you even doing bro. just stop.

anyway. now let's get to the actual question!

basically all writers on tumblr will agree, reblogs are vital. and i feel like that gets said a lot but maybe people dont actually understand how impactful it is so lemme give an example.

so let's say hypothetically i have 100 followers. that is 100 potential people who see a fic that i post (i say potential because timezones exist so you might not see it as it's posted)

and let's say one of my followers (Person A) reblogs it, and they have 50 followers. that's 50 more people that can read the fic.

and let's say Person B followers Person A and they also reblog it to their 50 followers.

with only two people reblogging a fic, that's already doubling the number of people who have read the fic.

now imagine Person C followers Person A and reblogs the fic, and Person C has like, 1,000 followers. that's so much more exposure for the writer.

and that's only from two followers of the writer. so imagine if all 100 that read the fic reblogged it? the numbers skyrocket at an exponential rate.

plus, more people reading means that the writer could get more people follow them. so they get a more consistent audience.

likes, on the other hand, do not guarantee this exposure. i would say that most people don't have their likes public on tumblr. and also, even if they do, i know that I'm not about to scroll through people's likes rather than scrolling thru their blogs. likes up the notes, and that's about it. of course i understand liking a fic so you can come back to it later, i do that all the time. but if I've liked a fic, i always reblog it once I've read it.

now, say you're reading hardcore smut that you might not want on your main blog for whatever reason, so that's why you don't reblog a fic. look, i get it. sometimes irl people follow your blog, or sometimes you just don't want people to know what you're getting up to. but that's why i made a sideblog specifically for fics.

this entire blog BEGAN as a way for me to reblog fics i liked. and then it grew and grew and grew into all this. not saying that you have to start writing if you do that of course, but i guarantee, i'd rather see a small sideblog blog with like 3 followers reblog my fic than a blog just like the fic and leave. because that's still 3 more people who will see my fic and possibly read it and reblog it. 3 is better than none.

comments. reblogs are important, but comments are really what keep writers writing. they inspire us with new ideas, help figure out what it is that people enjoy from us, help us improve our writing, and most importantly, they make us feel good. and like writing and posting is worth it.

now, i know that sometimes it can feel awkward reblogging with a comment directly on the post. i even usually don't do that unless it's with a friend. but here are some alternatives/tips!

send an ask or DM! if you're really intimidated, sending an anonymous message is by far the easiest way to bypass that awkwardness.

write in the tags!! i cannot express this enough. comment in the tags. ramble about the fic. just put three tags worth of screaming. literally ANY comments in the tags are my favorite thing. i promise you that writers will scroll thru like basically every tag.

also, if they post it on both tumblr and ao3, don't feel weird about giving a little comment on both! i do that all the time. you can even be like 'hey i read this on tumblr first but wanted to say again how much i enjoyed it' and that is like, heart burstingly nice to hear.

also, if you're having trouble coming up with something to say, my like top commenting tip as both a writer and a reader is point out something specific that you like about the fic. when i comment on a fic (this is moreso when i comment on ao3 bc my comments are always longer there) i try to point out a particular line i like. literally if you just copy and paste it and go 'wow i really really like this line especially' that is the number one way to a writer's heart. seriously. it's the simplest thing, but it makes SUCH an impact.

however, if your comments are only asking for more fics, then that's not a comment, that's a request (which not all writers take).

saying something like 'hey i loved this fic a lot! if you have more in store for this in the future, i'd be really excited to read it!' is a million times better than 'will you do a part 2'. i know they don't sound that different, but i promise you that the tone makes a big difference.

(i honestly have more thoughts about good ways to get over commenting fear/know what exactly to comment that doesn't feel generic, so if people would like me to make another post about it i'd do it.)

and last but not least, if the writer has a way to donate, like a ko-fi, that always is so appreciated. of course, take care of yourself first, but if you have a few bucks and wanna show some support to your faves, that's a great way to help :)

oh! also, if the writer ever reblogs those little ask game things, just send them something! engagement outside of writing is also so much appreciated.

i think that's about everything i can think of! i hope this is helpful and that my explanations weren't confusing (if i need to clarify anything let me know). and again, thank you so much for asking! even doing that shows that you're a reader who cares, and that means the world ❤

#misc #writing advice #not really writing advice but like kinda in a way yknow #i didnt really mean for this to be so long #but i felt like the explanation of why reblogs are so important is important for people to understand #bc i think its easy to believe that 'oh i have a really small blog so it wont do anything'#but no! even one more person reading is better than none!#reader advice

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bruhstories · 3 years

Text

Dazed and Confused

Summary: You and Connie have been friends for ten years, crushing on each other like a bunch of idiots who can't confess their feelings for one another. Until you go on a trip with your friends. Pairing: Connie Springer x Fem!Reader Warnings & Content: 18+, language, oral sex (female & male receiving), unprotected sex, weed smoking, alcohol consumption, f l u f f Word Count: 4.2 k

A/N: I got so pissed at that last anon that I finished this oneshot quicker lol. @fiaficsxo here it is!

You loved parties. Not the loud music and thick smoke, not the booze and smell of vomit, but your friends. Every time they gathered at someone's place, your heart fluttered, filled with happiness and content and long-lasting memories.

Connie had the brilliant idea of spending a week in the mountains during your spring break, and you wasted an entire night searching for the perfect cottage to rent. Luckily everyone was down with his suggestion, the only problem was how you'd sleep. Historia obviously wanted to share a room with Ymir. Mikasa and Eren were an item now, so they'd have to sleep together. Armin wanted to try his luck with Annie, so no one objected to that. Jean declared that he wanted to bunk with Connie, like the two eligible bachelors they were, and that left you and Sasha to share a room together. You didn't mind it, in all honesty you loved Sasha with all your heart — but you secretly hoped someone would pick up on your feelings for Connie and let you sleep with him. You weren't that lucky.

You packed your bag the night before the trip, obsessively ticking everything on your list and double checking every item and pocket. It was ready, with one item missing — the white lace babydoll smoothed on your dorm bed. You chewed the pen cap, debating whether to bring it with you or not. You bought it for special occasions, but you haven't had a dick appointment in a long time, and you doubted you'd have one this week. With a shrug, you decided to bring it — you never know what might happen. Nighttime passed quickly and you soon found yourself all dolled up, albeit still sleepy from all the tossing and turning, excited to make more memories with your friends.

The train station was packed with people, especially students who went back to their hometowns for the break, and you were relieved to find Armin and Mikasa there. You three were always punctual, followed by Jean and Annie. Eren, Sasha and Connie were always late, which is why you told them the train leaves at 7 am instead of 7:30. It was a dirty strategy, but no one wanted to miss such a fun opportunity because of those lazy fuckers. And lo and behold, they decided to appear at 7:15.

"That was some good thinking." Jean shook his head, hand sympathetically placed on your shoulder.

"I'm only glad you guys rolled with it." You laughed without noticing the way Connie stared at you, and even he didn't understand exactly what he felt. Was he grumpy because he hated morning, or was it Jean's hand on you that irked him?

"It's not polite to stare." Sasha pulled Connie out of his thoughts.

"I wasn't staring, I was looking." Connie rolled his eyes, gripping the handle of his suitcase a bit too tightly.

"I just don't get it why you don't tell her you like her." The girl popped a bubblegum baloon, proceeding to chew it very loudly.

"Are you kidding me? She obviously likes Jean. Look how she's laughing!"

Sasha placed an arm on his shoulder, a sheepish smile on her face. "You, my friend, are a dumbass."

"Takes one to know one."

To say that your friends were loud during the train ride was an understatement. They didn't really care about the nasty glares other passengers shot at them, opting to talk, sing, eat and practically embarrass themselves. But two hours later you arrived, and the fresh, crisp air of the mountains was a blessing. You didn't regret coming, all of you deserved a break after all the exams, studying and all-nighters you guys pulled.

"We could visit the military museum!" Armin suggested, but Connie scrunched his nose.

"We came here to get high, drink and spend time together, why the fuck would we visit some old ass building?"

"I'd like to go to the museum." You awkwardly smiled, earning a 'see?' from the blond. Mikasa, Eren and Annie backed you up, and since it was a democracy, you ended up leaving your bags at the cottage and touring the small town to find the military museum. The building wasn't massive, and inside it was dark, with crimson carpets and dim lights. It was actually quite a romantic atmosphere, had it not been for the weapons and armours displayed in glass cases. Connie watched you intently, taking in every movement, every flinch, every hair tucking, every scrunch of your cute nose. You absorbed the information, hungry for knowledge. This was something you and Connie didn't share — yes, you were down to drinking and smoking, but you were also eager to learn and study, while he always preached how 'you can always retake an exam but you can't relive a party.' He wasn't stupid by any means, but unlike you, Jean, Armin and Mikasa — who alwaysstudied and never skipped lectures — Connie would wing it and somehow end up getting better grades. His strategy didn't always work, and sometimes, when you were in college, he'd ask you to tutor him. Now you were second year undergraduates, and while you were studying different subjects, you still made time for each other.

"That's a nice, uhh..." Connie squinted, "...shotgun."

"It's a musket." You chuckled, your fingers accidentally brushing his as you turned around to face him.

"Shotgun, musket, same thing."

"Actually, muskets are muzzle-loaded and fire a single bullet, but shotguns pack multiple pellets in one shell." You explained. "I'm sorry, you're probably not interested in my ramblings."

"No, no, it's... interesting. I just wasn't expecting you to know so much about guns." He rubbed his nape and smiled at you.

"Well, I do study history, in case you forgot."

"How could I forget that?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" You awkwardly elbowed Connie. Why was it so hard for you to just tell him your feelings? Oh, right, because you've been friends for ten years and if he didn't like you back, it would only ruin a great friendship.

"It means you brag about it so much it's kind of hard to forget." He told you, quickly realising just how insulting that sounded.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know that's how you felt..." You sighed, eyes darting back to the weapons.

"No, I didn't- forget it." Connie shook his head. Well played.

Back at the cottage, with enough food and booze to last the group a month, you decided to stay in your room for the rest of the day. It wasn't the first time you had embarrassing moments with Connie, but this particular one made you anxious to be around him. Did he really dislike you that much, or was it just friendly banter? If you were to ask him, you could find out, but every scenario in your head had a bad outcome, so avoiding him for now was the smartest choice. Sasha pleaded with you to spend the evening in the living room with everyone else, but you brushed her off, telling her you weren't feeling quite well.

"Text me if you need anything." She told you before leaving. It was immature to act this way, you knew that all too well, but it wasn't like Connie cared, right? You eventually decided to go downstairs after finishing a long episode of your favourite tv show, your stomach begging for nourishment. As silently as possible, you tiptoed behind the couch. The hallway was dim, the sun had already set, and the only lights were the ones from the wide TV screen in the living room where your friends were watching some corny horror movie. You could cut the suspense and tension with a knife, and when you dropped a teaspoon, everyone jumped.

"Sorry, sorry! It's just me!"

"Jesus Christ, Y/N, you almost gave me a heart attack." Jean got up from the floor and walked behind the couch. "How are you feeling? Sasha said you're ill."

"I'm fine, don't worry." You picked the spoon up and threw it in the sink. "It's just a headache, I'll sleep it off."

"Good, we need you here." The man wrapped an arm around you. "You're missing how Connie's crapping his pants at this shitty movie."

From the outside it would seem like you and Jean were a couple, but the truth was far from it. You two grew up together, his family was friends with your family, and what you had was nothing more than a brother-sister relationship. Jean's little remark earned a disgruntled look from Connie, you quickly picked up on that, and so you playfully jabbed him in the stomach.

"Connie's crapping his pants? You're the one who almost had a heart attack." You grinned.

"Oi, that was only because you dropped your stupid spoon. I was invested in the movie."

"Mhm, sure you were."

"Hey, you sure you don't want to join us?" Mikasa waved at you from the living room. You pondered over her question. Perhaps it wouldn't be too awkward to sit with them.

"Alright, sure, why not?"

"Come, sit next to me." Sasha shuffled to the side, but what she really meant by that was 'sit next to Connie', because she shuffled to the otherside.

The following two nights were surprisingly quiet, all you did was play board games, watch movies and walk around the town taking pictures. The tension between Connie and you seemed to dissipate, and you both forgot the unpleasant interaction you had on the first day. But on the fourth night, that's when shit hit the fan. Annie and Armin left for a date, and Eren and Mikasa wanted to spend the night alone in their room, leaving you, Sasha, Jean and Connie unsupervised, bored and tipsy. There was absolutely nothing good to watch on the TV, and you almost wanted to scream when your friends wanted to play truth or dare. It was one of those games you despised, because the whole point of it was to put the players in uncomfortable situations. And you didn't like being uncomfortable, unlike your friends.

"Jean, truth or dare?" Sasha beamed.

"Dare, duh."

"Alright, I dare you to switch roommates for the rest of the week." She sipped her blackberry cider.

"Okay? So, I'll stay with Y/N, then."

Good lord, if looks could kill, Connie's would annihilate Jean and Sasha off the face of the Earth.

"No, no, you'll stay with me. Y/N will stay with Connie."

"Eh? Why does your dare involve us?" You asked, confused and curious of your friend's proposal.

"Because." She shrugged. "Don't pussy out."

"I'm not pussying out. A dare's a dare." Jean scoffed. "I'm gonna go take my shit in your room and shower."

"Y-yeah, I'll go bring mine, too." You got up, using this time to hyperventilate alone. What the fuck was Sasha even thinking? Was this some stupid joke? But your friends wouldn't harm you, so why would she suggest such a stupid thing?

You took a quick shower before curling up in the bed, blankets covering you from neck to toe. Connie wasn't back yet, and you didn't want to go after him, that would just be odd. You were hoping you'd fall asleep before he returned, to avoid any unnecessary fuss, but just as you closed your eyes, the door opened. Maybe you could pretend you were asleep? He struggled to find his pyjamas in the dark, stumbling over furniture and knocking things down, and you turned the bedside lamp on to ease his search.

"Did I wake you up?" Connie bit his lower lip, and through the dim light you watched the way his grey eyes glistened, the way his short brown hair was ruffled, and how the sage green t-shirt hugged his toned abdomen.

"No, no, 's alright. I wasn't sleeping. I can't exactly fall asleep." You clutched the blanket at your chest as you shook the intrusive thoughts away. Connie was your friend, damn it, there was no room for romance between you.

"I can sleep on the floor if you want."

"Oh, God, no, it's... stiff."

"Um, yeah, it kinda is. Alright then, I'll jump in the shower real quick before going to bed." He stumbled into the bathroom and you really wanted to fall asleep now.

But you couldn't. Every time you closed your eyes, Connie's face popped in your head. So much for resting. You tossed and turned on the mattress, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in, but nothing helped. It didn't take long for him to finish his shower, and you mentally chastised yourself for not falling asleep when you felt him shuffle under the same blanket that was covering you. For a minute, you didn't utter a word, you barely breathed, afraid to disturb the silence in the room.

"Are you asleep?"

"Nope." You heard the click of Connie's phone and turned around. You couldn't see him, but you could hear him.

"Do you wanna talk about something? Until we fall asleep, I mean." You suggested.

"Hmm, sure." He turned on his side and you felt his breath fanning over your cheeks. You were too close to him. "Actually, d'you wanna smoke?"

"Aren't the others gonna be mad if we smoke without them?"

"They don't have to know. Besides, you and I never smoked together." Connie was already up, rummaging through his backpack with the flashlight of his phone. "And then we can talk as much as you want."

"Alright, I'm down."

You laid on the floor, your head next to Connie's as you looked at the ceiling, smoke leaving your lips. He took the joint from you, fingers touching yours and you blushed, the haze of the weed melting your worries away.

"Do you want me to skip the song?" Connie asked, and for a moment you forgot there was a song playing.

"No, I like it." You confessed. "I didn't know you liked Led Zeppelin."

"There's lots of things you don't know about me, Y/N." He passed you the joint.

"Okay, tell me something else I don't know."

"I like it when you randomly say historical or scientific facts."

"Didn't you say I brag too much about it?" You took one final drag before you stubbed the joint out in a makeshift ashtray filled with a bit of water. By this point you were high as a kite, every trace of rationality gone.

"That doesn't mean I don't like it." Connie smiled and you could feel it in his voice. "Now you tell me something I don't know about you."

"I can't sleep with open doors. It freaks me out." You sat up, a breeze blowing through the window sending shivers down your spine. "It's a bit cold, do you mind if I close the window?"

"Go ahead."

You got up and picked the ashtray up but before you could close the window, you stumbled over a chest of drawers, the ashes mixed with water spilling over your t-shirt.

"You okay?" He quickly crawled to you, concern written all over his face.

"Yeah, I'm just clumsy." You laughed it off and waved your free hand. "I'll go get changed, I should have a spare shirt."

But you didn't have a spare shirt. All you had was that stupid white babydoll, and anxiety seeped through your veins. You couldn't exactly show up in that in front of your crush. And you didn't want to ask him for a shirt either. Fuck it, what else could you do?

You peeked out the bathroom door and saw Connie back in bed, lazily scrolling through his phone. God, this was embarrassing.

"You look like you've seen a ghost." He laughed, but when your facial expression didn't change, he frowned. "Y/N?"

"Um, so, I didn't have a spare shirt and- Jesus, this is awkward." You opened the door and his eyes widened. "Is it alright if I sleep in this?"

"Oh, I get it now." Connie scoffed.

"Get what?"

"You were hoping you'd share a room with Jean, right?" He sounded almost disgusted.

"Excuse you? Where did you even get that idea?" You slammed the bathroom door shut, arms folded across your chest.

"I'm not stupid, Y/N. I've seen the way you two act. Do yourselves a favour and just fuck already."

You were speechless. Completely reactionless. The weed amplified your anger, but his words brought tears to your eyes.

"You... you fucking asshole! You think I brought this for Jean? I brought it for you!"

"Eh? M-me?" Connie was confused, and you were pissed.

"Yes, you. Jean's like a brother to me, oh my God! Ew!"

"Wait, so you and Jean are not in love with each other?"

"In love?? Connie, how high are you exactly?" You walked closer to the bed, arms still crossed.

"But- Fuck, I am stupid." He shook his head, the memories of you flirting with him flashing before his eyes. "I fucked up, didn't I?"

"A bit..." Your muscles relaxed and you sat on the mattress. "Really, Connie, I... I like you. A lot. But you're always giving me mixed signals."

"That's because I always thought you liked Jean!" He threw his hands in the air in exasperation.

"No, you're the only one."

"Huh, guess I've really been dazed and confused."

Calloused fingertips ran across your hips leaving goosebumps in their trail. Your hands roamed his back and the way Connie kissed you was better than any high you've ever experienced. He was touch-starved, and you were just as needy. His knee found its place between your thighs and you moaned when it barely brushed your cunt.

"I've been dreaming for this moment for as long as I can remember." Connie breathed into your neck, the hot breath tickling your skin.

"Me too, you blind bat." You laughed and he turned you over, hovering over you.

"'M sorry I didn't notice quicker." He kissed you again. One hand travelled lower, pushing your underwear to the side before he pushed two fingers between your folds. "Fuck, you're so wet."

"Well, at least now I don't have to finger myself thinking about you." You whimpered with a grin.

"Oh?" Connie arched a brow. "Is that what you've been doing?" He curled up his fingers and you threw your head back with a moan. "I thought you were a prude."

"T-there's lots of things you d-don't know about m-me!" You replied back between oh’sand ah’s, imitating his words from an hour ago. That only earned a sneer from Connie, his head dipping between your thighs. "Wait, what are you do- ooh fuck!"

His tongue lapped at your cunt, fingers pumping in and out of you, and you completely sunk into the mattress, moaning his name over and over again. You gripped the sheets, flexing the muscles in your legs as you squirmed and thrashed. Connie stopped and you almost crushed his skull with your thighs at the empty feeling. He pulled your underwear down and shoved the cotton panties in your mouth.

"Don't wake everyone up, Y/N. You don't want them knowing what a little slut you are, do you?"

You shook your head and Connie went back to circling your clit with his tongue, adrenaline rushing through your entire body with each lick, each suck. Tears of pleasure pooled at your eyes, nose and cheeks red from the thrill of your incoming orgasm. The way he was sloppily eating your pussy and moaning while doing it drove you insane, and within seconds you came undone, thighs trembling with delight. In fact, you were so sore you had to push his head back, begging him to stop so you could return the favour.

"You taste so sweet." Connie licked his lips. You don't know what possessed you to pull him into a kiss after you removed the makeshift gag, but he was right, you were sweet.

"Can I...?" Your eyes drifted down to his twitching cock, your voice soft and quiet.

"You wanna suck it?"

"Yes."

"Later. Right now, I wanna fuck you."

Connie gave you no time to protest, his elbow pushed one of your things to the side, the blushing tip of his cock grazing over your overstimulated clit, up and down your slit. Inch by inch it disappeared into your cunt and he let out a satisfied sigh. You bucked your hips, manicured nails digging into his shoulders with each thrust.

"Shit, you're so fucking tight!" Connie growled, head lowering to kiss you. You could still taste yourself on his lips and that only made you clench your spongy walls around his cock. That seemed to please him, because he rocked his hips harder and faster. "You like it?"

"Oh, God, yes!" You gasped, beads of sweat forming on your forehead as you clawed his back.

"Fuck, I want you to ride me." He gripped your hips tighter and turned you over. You tried your best to get in the new position without letting his cock slip out of you, and when you finally adjusted yourself, it was a whole new challenge. Gravity pulled you down, and his tip brushed your cervix, your eyes squinting at the slight pain. "If it hurts, stop-"

"No!" You cried out, your hands resting on his chest. You bounced up and down, the uncomfortable feeling slowly replaced with pleasure. Connie's hands traced your thighs as you rode him, another wave of heat flushing through your core. His palm met your cunt, thumb circling over your clit. "I can't c-come again!"

"Yes, you can. And you will cream on my cock."

The disgust words worked like magic and you flexed your thighs, bouncing faster, head thrown back, hair cascading down your back. "You're so beautiful, Y/N."

"Connie, I-" The words stopped in your throat, the pressure too much for you to handle.

"You what?"

"I'm- oh, God!"

"Atta girl!" He praised you when he felt your silken walls relaxing and your thighs quaking. The second orgasm was so intense you let yourself fall over his chest, dizzy and tired. You thought he'd give you a break, but Connie wrapped an arm around your back, holding you in place before giving your oversensitive cunt a few more thrusts. "Now you can return the favour."

You mustered up some strength to get up and kneel in front of the bed, between his legs.

"Please don't come in my mouth." You asked him before wrapping your pretty lips around his cock.

"Gotchaah-" Connie choked on his words when he felt himself in your hot mouth. You bobbed your head up and down, cheeks hollowed and eyes on him. You didn't break eye contact when you pulled away and spat on the tip, hand pumping his cock to smear the spit. "Hot." He mumbled before you went back to sucking. You felt the throbbing, tightening your lips around him and picking up the pace. "Y/N-"

It all happened in a flash — Connie yanked your hair and pulled your head back, thick ropes of milky white cum shooting all over your face and neck.

"Eew!" You scrunched your nose, hand under your chin to stop it from dripping down the floor.

"What do you mean ew? That's, like, a billion kids!"

"Actually, a fertile man produces around-"

"Don't start. Do not." He pressed his index finger over your lips. "Let's get you cleaned up."

You woke up sore, especially between your thighs, but damn, was it worth it. Connie wrapped an arm around your waist, mumbling something about how pretty you are, but you assumed he was still sleeping — or still high. The sun shone through the blinds and you squinted, annoyed by the brightness, and so you turned around, watching the way your crush snored peacefully.

"Cute." You smiled and planted a kiss on his forehead, waking him up. "Oh, I'm sorry!"

"Why?" Connie rubbed his eyes. "Waking up to you is a blessing."

You couldn't hide the tinting of your cheeks and the grin on your lips. "I didn't think you were the romantic type."

"There's lots of things-"

"I don't know about you. But I'd like to know those things. If you let me, of course." You bit your lower lip, eyes filled with hope.

"Can I be your boyfriend?" He sat up, his eyes serious.

"I thought you'd never ask."

Okay, so maybe Sasha knew a thing or two when she dared Jean to switch roommates.

You walked into the kitchen after getting ready for the day, with Connie following behind you. Everyone was eating their breakfast, and Jean instantly dashed to you.

"Connie, bro, take me back. Sasha's leaving crumbs all over the bed! I can't sleep like that!"

"I can't, man, I wanna spend the rest of the week with my girlfriend." He sneered and you elbowed him.

"I forgot to mention Jean's overprotecti-"

"Your what? Hands off my sister from another mister, you creep!"

"Creep? You're the one who was sexting someone's sister last night." Sasha chimed in, mouth full of cereal.

"Thanks, Sash." Jean rolled his eyes. "For real, how did this happen?"

"You see, mate, when a man and a woman love each other-"

"Nope. I will not hear this."

#connie springer #connie springer x reader #connie x reader #aot #aot x reader #aot smut #aot x you #aot x y/n #connie springer x you #connie springer x y/n #snk #snk x reader #snk smut #snk x you #snk x y/n #connie x you #connie x y/n

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giowritess · 4 years

Text

straight to my head [henry cavill]

masterlist

Pairing: Henry Cavill x bestfriend!female!reader

Request: “Hi! May you please write a Henry Cavill one where you’re hanging out with him and you have feelings for him but haven’t had the guts to tell him but that day your sister called you and you started speaking in Spanish to her about Henry but little did you know that he actually knew Spanish and he teased you about it. Happy ending please, thank you!”

Warnings: cursing, some angst, fluff

Word-count: 2,697

Author’s note: HEY GUYS! I can’t believe I’m finally posting my first writing piece here on Tumblr! It’s my first attempt at writing this kind of fanfiction (well, the second, actually), and I truly hope you like it, especially you, dear anon, who requested this. I did some changes, hope you don’t mind. This one was based on the song Straight to My Head, by You Me At Six, and I’d really like if you listened to it. A big thank you to my best friend, @naturiz for the Spanish part, and a big shoutout to my amazing beta/daughter/friend/love of my life @amirahiddleston <3333 I’d be lost without you!

gif credit goes to @b-n-a-o

Straight to My Head

You had never been the kind of person to enjoy dancing.

Yet, here you were, jumping, moving and swaying your hips to the beat of your favorite song in the middle of an empty dance floor. A little tequila-and-other-alcoholic-beverages-induced, yes — but you were happy, not even minding the glances you were getting. All the stress that had built up in the past few weeks had finally left your body, and you had your friends to thank for that. They were the ones who’d dragged you down here, to a cosy small pub. It had been way too long since the last time all of you had spent time together, and everyone seemed to benefit from a bit of fun and forgetting the real world.

Exactly as you were doing right now, completely oblivious to everything and everyone else. How good it felt to be trapped in your bubble, with nothing but your fuzzy mind and your favourite song.

“Didn’t know you could dance, y/n,” Henry teased, not far from you. You could even hear the smirk in his deep voice.

“Shut up, idiot,” you replied, snapping out of your bubble and walking closer to your friends.

“Seriously, though,” he insisted, grinning like a kid, “those were amazing dance moves. You should teach me.”

You just rolled your eyes, making him laugh, and tried to hide your smile. Your relationship with Henry had always been playful like this, ever since you met a couple of years ago. You two had been through a lot together — it was quite a fun and exciting journey to follow his success as an amazing actor that close, which meant celebrations, parties, even a few premieres.

As the boys got ready to play some pool, you stood in the back with a beer in hand, watching him — always him and no one else. You sighed as you watched him move with the ease and gracefulness of a cat. A big, fluffy cat who seemed to be serious and almost dangerous on the outside, but was nothing more than a playful little kitten on the inside.

The dim lighting in that corner of the room sent shadows over his godly features, the sight sending warmth up your core. He was always the most handsome man in the room. And in your head.

That was where he was. He’d taken over your thoughts ever since you met, and there was nothing you could do to take him out; he was already at home and wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. You tried as hard as you could, even dated other people, but it was pointless. You still fell hard for him anyway.

But Henry was your best friend, and you were his. You talked about everything, helped each other with everything — even his own love life. It hurt you. Like hell, but there was nothing you could do about it but listen and be there for him when he needed, just like he did for you. His friendship is one of the most precious things on Earth to you, but that is all you were meant to be. He was yours, but not in the way you truly wanted.

Which was why sometimes it got too hard for you. Sometimes you had to step back and pull yourself together when it was too much for your heart. Seeing him with other women, especially when you knew he was happy, was far more than you could take, a pain you couldn’t avoid.

You straightened yourself up and dropped the bottle on the table. You needed to sober up. Being drunk around Henry was always a dangerous idea — you were a complete mess. Crazy, unpredictable and suddenly brave. The possibility that you’d end up saying or making anything that could lead to regrets and ruining your friendship was a giant risk — one you couldn’t take. So, you always tried your best to be as sober as possible, but tonight you desperately needed the freedom and release that only alcohol could give you. And he happened to be around.

“Be right back,” you muttered to no one in particular, making your way towards the ladies room. They were too entertained in their game to miss you, anyway.

Thankfully, the bathroom wasn’t crowded, just a few girls who seemed half your age, many who had probably got in with a fake ID. You went straight to the sink and splattered the cold water in your face one, two, three times. But it was the girls’ conversation that caught your attention.

“Did you see Henry Cavill playing pool by the back? Jesus fucking Christ, that’s Heaven made of flesh,” one of them said.

“Can you believe our luck? Gotta be fate,” the one applying mascara in front of the mirror replied.

They laughed together and started to make their way outside.

“I think I’m gonna try my luck, who knows,” you heard one of them say as they left the bathroom, and you gripped the sink with both hands, taking a deep breath.

You had no right to be angry with their words. In fact, you understood a-hundred-per cent how they felt — you felt that way almost all the time, too. But fuck. There was no way in controlling the anger that was taking over you, as well as the few lonely tears that escaped the corner of your eyes. There was nothing you could do about it but simply accept it. That was your job as his best friend.

After a few deep breaths, you pulled yourself together, and finally mustered the courage to leave the bathroom. Your anger alone, still tingling through your face, your arms, your fingers, had sobered you up some seventy-per cent by now. You stopped by the bar to buy some chocolate and was met with one of your friends.

“Hey y/n, wanna play some pool? We need someone,” he asked.

“Yeah, sure,” you replied, eating the chocolate before you walked back to the pool table.

You grunted at the scene in front of you. The girls from the bathroom, one sitting in the back with her arms wrapped around one of your friends and the other one — the prettiest one, with long, dark hair and a beautiful black dress that hugged her body in the best way — tangled up with Henry, laughing and touching him whenever (and wherever) she could. Which meant all the time (and everywhere).

It wasn’t that this kind of thing didn’t happen often — it did, in fact; of course it would, when your group of friends had you as the only woman. And you didn’t care for your other friends, they could do whatever they wanted if it’d bring them a bit of happiness, even if momentary. But Henry was… Henry. He would never be like everyone else, and you couldn’t fool yourself or your heart to believe that.

“Girls, this is y/n,” your friend said, and the girls smiled at you.

You tried your best to look sympathetic.

“Hey, I’m Devon,” the one in the back waved at you.

“And this is Julia,” Henry told you and motioned at the girl beside him.

With another deep breath, you smiled and hoped it looked real enough.

You didn’t know what happened to you. You’d never been this jealous, you’d always been able to control your emotions and prevent them from rising to surface. But that night felt completely different. Probably because of all the alcohol, but there was no way you’d be able to look unaffected.

“Ready to kick some asses?” your pair asked, handing you the stick.

“Born ready, baby,” you replied, applying chalk to the end of the poolstick.

Julia was Henry’s partner, of course. He had to show her how to properly hold the stick and how to play, but you had your doubts if she truly didn’t know or was just pretending. Well, you’d pretend if you were in her shoes.

It was no surprise when you made the first ball — you had a natural talent for the pool. Especially when drunk. And angry.

The chocolate in your mouth felt bitter because you kept hearing Julia’s giggles and saw the way Henry touched her. Every fucking time she was going to play, he had to be glued to her back, lingering touches on her hand, her arms. It began to piss you off way more than you imagined.

You made a ball. And another, and another, and another. Four in a row, leaving only two of your balls on the table.

“Fuck, y/n,” your partner said, and laughed, clearly a bit shocked. “Where did that come from?”

“What can I say,” you replied, “the effects of anger.”

The game soon came to an end, you made the victory hit. You started another, trying your best to focus on the game and nothing else. But it was hard. It was so fucking hard when Julia and Henry didn’t even pretend to play properly, due to their drunken stupor and lust for one another. When his lips went closer to her ear, you finally snapped. There was no way in fucking hell you were going to endure that. No. Enough.

“I’m through,” you stated before dropping the stick on the table.

You didn’t care about the stupid game. All you wanted was to leave the pub, to get away, and cry and scream and fill up your sister’s inbox with countless messages rambling about it.

That was exactly what you did the instant you crossed the door, drinking in the cold night air and fishing for your phone. After finding her contact, your fingers started to fly across the keyboard, but you realized that wasn’t enough for how angry you were.

“No puedo creer lo enojada que estoy por eso [I can’t believe how mad I am],” you started. Of course, it’d be in Spanish, your mother tongue: it was the only way you truly could express your anger.

You weren’t even sure what you wanted to say, but you had to say something, to get it out. There was a pressure in your chest that’d only be alleviated after you opened your heart to someone, obviously your sister.

“Tú no creerías lo tan enojada que estoy. ¡Pero ugh! ¡Simplemente no puedo controlarlo y no mames eso me deja demasiada enojada! [You wouldn’t believe how mad I am. But ugh! I just can’t control it and that makes me so fucking angry!]”

You sent that first audio message to her. You didn’t even have an internet connection, so she’d only receive it after you connected to wifi or something, but it didn’t matter. You just had to speak. Get it out of your system.

“Dios, desearía que pudieras verlo con tus propios ojos todos los toques y coqueteos. Simplemente me mandaron por un tubo y no sé cómo enfrentarlo, sabes? No hay ninguna explicación más allá de la verdad, que él debe haber entendido, de todos modos. O no, apuesto que Julia lo mantiene demasiado ocupado para que yo ocupe su mente [God, I wish you could see for yourself! All those touches and flirting. It just pushed me off the edge and now I don’t even know how to face him, you know? There’s no explanation besides the truth. Which he must have already figured it out, anyway. Or not. I bet Julia is keeping him too busy for me to occupy his mind at all],” you said in a single breath. There. Now you felt as if the weight was off your chest.

After pressing the “send” button, you took a much needed deep breath. The cold weather had a calm, soothing effect on you as you breathed in the night air; you could feel yourself getting calmer. Still angry, yes, but a bit calmer.

So trapped in your own space, you almost jumped when you heard his voice.

“No hay nada que nunca pueda sacarte de mi mente [There’s nothing that can ever keep you off my mind].”

Even in a perfect Spanish, his deep British accent was still present.

Oh, my, god. There he was, behind you, and you wanted to bury yourself six feet under and never, ever come out.

“Henry!” Your voice was a shriek. “I… I’m… I sh…” you stuttered, not knowing what to say. You could feel your heart pounding violently against your chest.

What to say, what to do, how to act. You had no idea Henry even spoke Spanish, and you sure as hell hadn’t expected him to follow you outside. Díos mio. Had he heard every single word you just said? You were glad that it was dark, ‘cause your face must’ve definitely been on fire.

“I’m sorry,” he said, making you look at him with a visible question mark on your face. “For making you feel like that. I did want to affect you, though, and I’m quite glad I did.”

“What? Henr—”

“See, y/n,” he interrupted you, “I had a theory, and you just proved it.”

He came closer, his beautiful face stepping under the thin lightning which made his baby blue eyes to shine. He hovered above you, like a lion over his prey, but you weren’t intimidated at all. Though confused and with your head spinning as fuck.

“My theory was that you and I feel the same way about each other,” he continued, getting closer and closer at each word that left his lips.

Díos. Were your dreams coming true? Was this real? Were you dreaming, or even seeing properly? You could hear your speeding heart, and you wondered if he could hear it, too.

“Henry, I… I’m… I’m lost in translation here,” you replied, your weak voice almost a whisper.

He had to say it. You needed to hear the words coming out of his very own lips, otherwise, it wouldn’t be real.

A low chuckle came from him. He left very little space between your faces when he got even closer and cupped your face with both hands.

“I’ve been falling in love with you ever since you entered my life, love,” he said. Your knees were weak, and you felt as if you were going to fall dead on the ground. “But you never gave me any signal that you felt the same. Until I started to notice the small details. Your face, your eyes, your hands. Your words, your expressions. The little things gave you away, y/n.”

The warm touch of his big hands on your face, all the love and tenderness with which he spoke every single word made your heart swell. No one had ever spoken with that much affection towards you, no one had ever held you that gently as he did. Your best friend. Your soulmate.

“So? Am I right then? He asked playfully, chuckling because you hadn’t said anything yet.

You felt as if a lightning bolt had just gone through you, your skin prickling.

“Yes!” You instantly said, feeling some tears on your eyes. “Yes, Henry, yes. You are. I don’t even know for how long I’ve loved you. I was… I was scared of ruining our friendship. I’m sorry, if I’d kno—”

He shushed you with a gentle kiss, timidly placing one of his hands in the back of your neck. You placed your hands on his broad shoulders.

“No regrets or apologies,” he murmured, touching your forehead with his. “Though I do regret the method I used to prove my point,” he said, chuckling. “I’m sorry. I was getting desperate and running out of options. I just couldn’t bear to spend another entire day being nothing more than friends with you,” he explained, his eyes locked with yours. One of his hands started tracing the line of your bottom lip. “Not being able to touch you, to kiss you… God knows how torture it was to be around you all this time.”

It was your turn to laugh. He felt exactly like you did, then.

“Henry?” You whispered. “Come home with me?”

An affirmation, an invitation, an order? You didn’t know. But all that mattered was his answer.

“Yes.”

A/N: I hope from the depths of my heart that you enjoyed it! For now I do not have a taglist, but if you’d like to be tagged in my future works, let me know <3

xoxo, Gio

#writing #fanfiction #gio writess #FIRST REQUEST #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill smut #fandom #dc

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taramaclaywasaterf · 4 years

Note

Opinion on the nikkie tutorials situation 👀

Oof ok so I didn’t know who this dude was before everything went down, and I didn’t care enough to look heavily into it at first. I didn’t really realize just how massive of an audience he had, or how many people would be talking about it. But then I got this ask and curiosity got the better of me lol

First off, I didn’t watch his “coming out” video or whatever, because I really don’t feel like listening to some dude mansplain womanhood to me for however long. I have read a bunch about it ever since this anon peaked my interest though.

It’s also really important to reiterate that I didn’t know who he was before all of this, so it’s physically impossible for me to look at him and objectively say whether he passed before or not (not that it matters, a dude is still a dude, regardless of what he looks like.) I’ve only known him these past, like, 48-ish hours as a man, so of course that’s all I can see/hear, and it genuinely wouldn’t be fair to sit here and say I could clock him had I not known. He’s clearly got A LOT of surgery and transitioned younger than most TIMs, so he’s got all that in his favor, plus he seems to have a naturally softer face for a male. His weight also definitely helps smooth out and somewhat camouflage some of the harsher male features.

That said...yeah. Knowing he’s a man right off the bat, it’s all I see. Like, that’s a whole ass Augustus Gloop lookin dude.

I will also say that I think it’s absolutely disgusting that he was blackmailed into coming out. Like...I don’t care who you are, where you stand politically, radfem, libfem, whatever...that shit is never ok. It’s genuinely upsetting and very scary, and my heart does go out to him. If he was a straight TIM in drag, I’d feel much differently, but seeing as he’s a gay man whose just been outed to the world...all I can do is hope he has a good support system around him. But that’s where my sympathy for him begins and ends.

All that said, I know what you’re really here for, so I’m not gonna keep yall waiting any longer....holy FUCKING shit am I sick of these dudes thinking that playing with goddamn Barbie dolls as a kid makes them women. I played in the fucking mud and ate bugs as a kid. That doesn’t make me a dude anymore than liking dresses and makeup makes him a woman. These men are so blatantly, unabashedly misogynistic that it makes me sick. Not to mention, transing children because they’re GNC is flat out conversion therapy. Its castrating young children because they show signs of being gay because they’re GNC, all before they even know what homosexuality is. It’s pure fucking evil.

And the fact that he’s been lying to his boyfriend this whole time? Jesus fucking christ. I just...I’m livid. The lesbian and gay community has been fighting for decades to prove we aren’t these evil sexual deviants who prey on poor wittle innocent straights and get off on “infecting” heterosexuals with our gayness. And then these pathetic fucking perverted freaks come along just as we finally start to get some tiny fragment of acceptance, and they fucking destroy it for us.

This man is being fucking celebrated as “brave” and “stunning” for outright admitting to being a fucking rapist. He raped his boyfriend, and is getting praised for it, with no regard for the fact that he’s now putting his boyfriend and gay men in ACTUAL danger- and not the made up, imaginary kind of danger that trans”women” love to tell stories about.

I’m also very curious to see how many women peak because of this whole thing. I scrolled through his twitter to see reactions, and it was flooded with clearly well-meaning normie women asking genuine, good-intentioned questions...only to be attacked and dog-piled by a bunch of vile TIMs and pathetic handmaidens for not using the ~*correct*~ language. Like, I’m talking about cruel, personal, misogynistic attacks from these men, all because these women dared to ask a “wrong” question.

Anyway, yeah. That’s my opinion on the whole thing...sorry for it being so long, anon, but I kinda have a tendency to ramble lol. I hope it was at least somewhat coherent, but I’m currently sick with some type of cold and really don’t feel good, so my head is kinda fuzzy lol

........oh, and I mean...c’mon...it’s uncanny, right?!!:

#asks #anon

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hollandarling · 5 years

Text

Teach Me - HO

Summary: Things are getting hot and heavy, and you decide that you want to try something new. Your boyfriend more than happy to be your teacher. Translation//Semi-awkward first bj story

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield x Reader (Innocent!Reader??)

Warnings: Smut from the first word basically and lots of good old fashioned curse words :))) Insecurity? Just not being sure of your abilities ig?

Word count: 1.5k+ of straight smut. Honestly.

A/N: Based off of THIS ask, so wherever you are, anon, cannot thank you enough for giving life to this concept and i HOPE i did it justice

Soft, delicate kisses. Needy touches. Harrison’s fingers digging into your waist as you grind against him on his lap: the familiar position you’ve found yourselves in the last several times you’ve spent any time alone together—your lips barely taking any time away from each others’.

You move to kiss across his jaw, allowing your tongue to softly brush against his skin with each touch of your lips. He tenses up beneath you, his skin flushing a soft shade of pink, and you notice. You definitely notice something poking up in his lap. A smirk spreads itself across your face, the false sense of power going straight to your head.

In all of its “spoke too soon” glory, Harrison wasn’t having any of that. He makes sure to take the authority card back, grabbing your ass ,(only causing a small, arguable, shriek) and kissing that sweet spot on your neck. You’re panting in his ear, and he can’t think about anything but how pretty you sound when he’s doing this to you—and he can’t believe this is the first time he’s hearing it. It’s as if he spent his entire life deprived of that beautiful sound and he never wanted to stop hearing it.

“I—,” you start. “I want to try something new.”

“Alright, darling. Tell me,” he presses, still consumed in marking up your neck.

You shake away the shyness creeping up inside you and decide it’s best to just come out with it.

“I want to feel what it’s like to take you in my mouth…” You cringe slightly as it comes out, immediately scrambling to rephrase the words to soften the blow, anticipating a negative reaction. “I’ve always wanted to try it, and I want to try it with you…if that’s alright?”

You feel him freeze in his movements, taking several seconds before coming to face you, his eyes practically bulging out of his head.

“Y—what—I mean—You’ve never??” If a keyboard smash could occur in someone’s brain, that is exactly what was going on in Harrison’s at this very moment.

You shrug your shoulders and give your best doe-eyed look, climbing off of his lap and pulling at the collar of his button up to guide him to stand up off of the couch. His mouth still lies partly agape in shock, but the giddiness is radiating off of him; proving his eagerness for the challenge.

You sink to your knees in front of him, breathing slightly ragged from the nerves of excitement running through you. A hand comes up to stop you before you can unzip his jeans.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I want you to teach me.”

His head falls back at the thought, a guttural groan stirring up from his throat from the sheer torment of finding restraint in this moment to be patient and not take matters into his own hands like he oh-so-desperately wanted to. He let’s out an exasperated sigh, nice and slow to settle the heart beating out of his chest and get a proper grip on himself.

He looks down at you again, who is smiling the most innocent smile up at him. Brain going blank at that, he simply nods, giving you permission to continue.

You unzip his zipper as slowly as you possibly can, purposefully toying with him while you have the advantage.

“Jesus Christ, love.” The suspense was maddening, firing him up when he couldn’t afford to be pushed.

You giggle, knowingly, and pull his jeans and underwear down to pool at his ankles. His cock springs free, prompting a small gasp at the sight of him. Your hand naturally coming up to grip hesitantly around the base of him, purely acting on a mind of its’ own. You softly stroke him with one while the thumb of the other wipes at the pre-cum already leaking out of the tip.

“God, you’re already doing better than you think.”

“Haz, tell me how to make you feel good,” you whine. Impatient as ever, but that only intoxicated him more.

“It might be easier on you if I sit, y’know, give you more leverage and all.” He’s rambling, but can’t really begin to care.

“Then sit.” You give no room to debate, making him suck in a breath for the umpteenth time in the last 5 minutes.

He just stares at you as you scoot on your knees to get closer to him once more. Forgetting that he has a job to do.

‘Well?”

“RIGHT, alright, darling. You want to start—fuck—start by flattening your tongue and dragging it from the bottom to the tip, get me wet so—holy mother of—just like that.”

You do as you’re told, tasting the slight saltiness of his skin as you flex your tongue, harshly dragging it up his length. You marvel at the way he falls apart with the simplest touch. Never having known before that you could make someone feel that way. It was euphoric. Addicting. You wanted to do more.

“Now do the same over the tip,” he continues. “Then suck, softly.” He feels your lips close around him in just the right way and he flinches, unable to keep from muttering a string of curses.

“Feels so good, angel,” he praises—in utter disbelief that this was the first time you’d done this.

One hand of his gathers your hair into a makeshift ponytail as your lips slowly slide off of his tip. You look back up at him expectantly and he can barely get the words out.

“Use a hand, at the base. Just stroke, you can twist a little but just a little. Uhh… you want to suck again, but this time go farther, u-until you meet your hand.”

You follow his instructions, his hips instinctually thrusting into your mouth causing you to cough a little in surprise—your hand keeping you from choking completely.

He pulls your head back and off of him quickly, in concern. “Love, I’m so sorry. I’ll be careful, I j—“

“Haz, its fine! Stop worrying and let me suck you off like you deserve, damn it.”

His jaw practically hits the floor, his free hand grabbing himself as it spasms at your words. He doesn’t argue, softly guiding his cock back to meet your lips. You repeat your previous motion, anticipating his reaction this time, and handling it with ease.

“Alriight,” he breathes. “Now you want to bob up and down, hollow out your cheeks a bit, let the head hit the roof of your mouth. Keep moving your hand…just—move your tongue however it feels right.”

You make the adjustments, sucking in your cheeks and letting him hit deeper just as he asked.. You suck slightly, and you feel him pull at your hair tighter. You groan at the feeling, only to feel him thrust into you again at the vibrations.

“Fucking hell,” he curses, again. Accidentally shoving himself into the back of your throat.

You gag, but continue, relatively un-phased.

He looses himself in watching his pretty little angel doing every dirty thing that falls from his lips. The innocence of the squeaks you make when he twitches in your mouth is driving him insane. Something driving him overboard in the way you’d sweetly, filthily, look up at him with tears prickling in the corners of your eyes.

Your tongue flicks against that spot and that familiar rush is overwhelming him.

“Y/N, fuck, I’m gonna come,” he chokes out, “You’re gonna wanna stop.”

You don’t. Instead, grumbling back so he gets the point, and moving your mouth even faster. Drool is dripping down from your lips, lubricating your hand as it works in perfect harmony with your tongue.

It’s all he can take, seeing the determination on your face as you take him so fucking well. His eyes squeeze shut, relishing in the borderline-overstimulation and feels himself burst sharply in your mouth. You suck him through his high, swallowing every last drop before pulling off of him with the proudest damn grin he’s ever seen.

His chest heaves and he releases your hair back down, his hands falling down to his lap after pulling his pants back up.

“Was that okay?” Self doubt prevalent now that the heat of the moment had calmed down.

He guides you to stand up with him, only to swiftly scoop you up and plop you back down on the sofa so you were comfortably reclining on the arm of the sofa, fully underneath him.

“You were fucking incredible, my god. You looked so pretty with your lips around my cock, angel. So fucking pretty.”

Something flutters inside of you at his words, making you squirm at the strangeness as he kisses your lips with one soft peck.

Harrison’s eyes only darken in intensity as he speaks, his finger tips dangerously running along the inside of your thighs.

“Now, I wanna see how pretty you look when my tongue is making your legs shake.”

#It is the middle of the night and I am posting ANYWAY #let's see how fully awake me likes this in the morning shdjkfhs #harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield smut #harrison osterfield fluff #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield fanfiction #harrison osterfield fan fic #harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield x innocent reader #haz osterfield smut #hollandarling writes #haz osterfield #harrison osterfield x y/n

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parkeraul · 5 years

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spill your guts or fill your guts

a/n: anon suggested me but for a reason i couldn’t load this gif on the post, so it’s gonna be here lol. as the hoe that i am for james corden and this very specific part of the program, i’m unable to say no. warnings: disgusting things, cursing.

“Okay, Shawn-Shawn-Shawnie-Boy,” James calls Shawn, spinning the table filled with all the stuff he likes to call “delicacy”. She’s sitting in front of him, James standing in the middle between them both and, so far, the questions were not that hard to answer (they were but the foods and the smell of them made they both gulp and think twice). “I’m gonna give you...” The host is prolonging the tension, making Shawn turn his face away and look at the crowd, awkward smile showing up. It doesn’t matter what he’s gonna pick, Shawn might probably answer whatever it is so he won’t have to swallow down a bird’s saliva or a thousand-year-old egg — and let’s not get started on the cow’s tongue and fish eye. She’s biting on her lip, nervous for him because it’s not like she can’t suffer along with him, she’s the one who kisses his lips (maybe not for the next couple of weeks, though.) The table stops and James takes his hands off the wood, “I’m gonna give you the bull’s penis.”

Shawn sighs, putting both elbows on top of the table and facepalming with both hands, still not ready to face the weird thing standing below his face. He’s holding his breath, covering his eyes and pressing his palms even harder against his cheeks, blocking every single way so maybe the food will take the hint, create some legs and walk away. His desperation makes him consider that this idea can actually happen if he asks with all his heart. The audience is clapping and screaming like crazy, making James smile devilishly and feel internally proud of his choice. Y/N, on the other hand, waits for the noises to shut down so she can let go of her lip and breathe before saying. “You know you’re consequently dragging me down with him, right?” She points to her husband, who hasn’t moved a inch yet. “Of course!” James says, chuckling. “But after some rub-rub of tongues the taste will go out, I promise you.” She pokes her tongue out just to the thought of tasting it on Shawn’s mouth. She’d probably make him brush his teeth for the next several hours and drink all the vodka in the world to burn the flavour somehow. “There’s no fuckin’ way I’m eating this,” Shawn tilts his head up to stare at James, who’s getting a card and tapping if twice against the table. “I don’t care what you have in there, I’m not gonna put this thing in my mouth.” “Well, Shawn,” James starts, reading the question all over again and struggling to hold back the giggles. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” His shoulders are shrugging repeatedly from the laughing and he starts whimpering, bringing the crowd to giggle with him and at Shawn’s discomfort. “Okay,” He breathes in, laughs fading out and everyone goes silent to hear the question. Every muscle on Shawn’s body starts tensing for dear life — he doesn’t give a shit, he’ll answer whatever he needs to answer: about his career, his childhood, his secrets, the times he didn’t feel good on stage, the place he loved playing at the most... Anything that can free him from eating a bull’s penis. “Shawn Mendes...” “James Corden.” Shawn answers, legs shaking uncontrollably under the table. “You and Y/N have two lovely children, that I even met sometime ago...” James says after laughing at his instant reply, highlighting his name like it’s the most normal thing to answer after someone calls your name. “Yeah, we do...” The audience yells again and clap their hands, Shawn and Y/N smiling proudly although his heart is sinking, wondering what the hell does their children have to do with this clownery. “And you say you can’t ever favourite one of them, correct?” “I could never.” At this moment, Shawn’s heart starts beating more calmly, thinking of his babyboy and babygirl at home with Karen, probably asleep one on top of the other with the blankets they carry around the house. “But,” Corden calls out, raising his index finger in the air. “Which one of them did you have the most fun conceiving?” And as if this question alone wasn’t enough, he completes: “And where did it happen?” Both Shawn and Y/N’s mouths fall open and they’re silently hoping the kids are sleeping or playing somewhere far far away from the TV. They aren’t older than 10 years old but they’re also not stupid — and oh God they’d hear lots and lots of questions back home, as tortuous as the questions they’ve been answering during the show. “That’s fucked up, man,” Shawn takes a sip of water, wishing this sip could last forever so his mouth would be filled with something actually decent and he’d be unable to answer. “That’s... Shit!” He hisses the last word, placing his glass back to where it was before. “I... Lemme think.” “What?” She nearly screams, looking at her husband totally shocked. “Are you actually thinking of answering this question?” The people are laughing hard along with James, having the time of their lives and for a second no one — I repeat, no one, Shawn included — can imagine what his decision is gonna be and he wishes he was just joking to build up extra expectations, but the memories are rushing back inside his mind and they’re too delightful — if he’s honest — but ugh there’s fucking bull’s penis sliced in front of him and ugh his children are involved and ugh people would probably tweet about this until the end of his days. “I mean... I think I remember when Raul was—“ “Oh my God, he’s answering!” James can’t believe his ears, he thinks he’s hallucinating or whatever. “Lord Jesus Christ, Shawn,” She thinks she’s never been this religious before, not only mentioning but praying to all the names she knows that her husband is only playing around. “Do you still wanna be married after this?” James throws his head back and Shawn, who was starting to gesture his hands in the air, looks at her and laughs nervously. Little Raul was the first one and, although he wasn’t exactly planned, it was a nice story to be told. It happened 5 years ago but it was one of the best unexpected things that’s ever happened to him — in all possible meanings — and he finds himself reliving the moment here and there. “Don’t you remember, honey?” Shawn asks her, like they’re at home without five or six cameras pointed at them while they’re live for the whole world to see. He lifts his hands up so he can draw the moment better. “Like, we were at—” “Shut up?!” She kind of asks too, sounding extremely squeaky as she feels her heart missing the beats and the wedding ring on her finger getting cold along with her fingers. She thinks she might faint at any time if he doesn’t stop joking around right now. “Will you shut up, please?!” “This is so good!” They hear from James who’s nearly crying his eyes off from how much he’s been laughing at the situation, barely okay to speak like a regular person. “Babe, it’s bull’s penis,” Shawn emphasizes, widening his eyes and grabbing the little bowl and moving it next to her. She pulls her hair back and smells, quickly getting back to stay away from that horrible thing. “It’s simple: we’ll just never tell Raul about this or... Let him watch this interview.” “So Raul was the best?” James asks, his big smile swelling his cheeks up and almost hidding his blue curious eyes. Shawn goes speechless, smelling the food and putting the bowl back to its place. Fuck, it’s really disgusting. He looks at it and imagines that the texture is probably awful, and the taste has to be even worse. Knowing little Raul and concluding that he might only grow up smarter than he already is, Shawn rubs his whole face before placing both hands down on the table, tilting his head when he thinks about the other situation. “Well... Now that you asked I might say that Isabella was also very very fun to—” “No way!” Corden comes out very loud and everyone laughs, some people covering their mouths just like Y/N is doing right now. Yeah, no way. “I can’t believe this is happening...” She mutters to herself but audible enough for the mic to capture, making the crowd go wilder with her reactions as she looks down with her hand doing its best to support her forehead leaned against it so heavily. “What?” Shawn opens his arms like he’s questioning a normal thing. “She’s going to be so mad at me if I don’t bring her up! You know she’s jealous.” “I’m gonna be mad at you if you bring her or Raul up,” She says through gritted teeth, only facing him to point a finger towards his chest like she’s promising to bury a knife deep down his chest at home if he keeps on rambling. “Eat your penis.” She says and Shawn knows she’s not asking, covering his lap with the napkin they’ve offered. She’s coming off dramatically to increase the fun, but a huge part of her is being dead serious. Lord knows what the kids would say and how much they’d be teased in school. They can’t take the risk, that’s not even an option. There’s a moment of silence when Shawn rearranges himself on his chair, gulping harshly as his hand threatens to go inside that bowl, moving back and forth repetitively. In a lack of sanity, with a grimace taking over his whole face — hard enough to the skin under his hairline move so strongly that some curls fall from their place — Shawn takes three pieces between his fingers and shut his eyes close, shoving the food inside his mouth and chewing sloppily while he reaches the bucket on the floor, covering his whole face with it and spitting the food as fast as possible. “Who-hoa!” James says, laughing weakly to let his words out. “That’s Shawn Mendes, everyone!” People go back to clapping, screaming and whistling and Shawn practically swallows down his water in two large gulps. “Thank God.” She says under her breath, relaxing in her seat. “Is the marriage still up?” Eyeing her, Shawn asks raising an eyebrow and his grin is undeniably cute as his sweet puppy eyes study all her face, waiting for her response while he run his fingers through his curly hair. “It is.” “Then kiss me.” “Na-ah!”

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfics #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes blurbs #shawn mendes masterlist #mine #ficsofmine #the blurb saga**

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valkyrieskwad · 4 years

Note

Saw an anon mention this elsewhere but: Lena as Morticia Addams and Kara as Gomez Addams

have this, buddy

____

“Aliens are cool,” Sam had said. "Aliens are like superheroes with more oppression and less adoration. Trust me, dating an alien is probably one of the best things you can do for yourself.“

“Okay,” Lena had said.

“It’ll be good,” Lena had said.

And then they created her a profile for one of those dumb-as-shit cross-species dating apps.

It’s two years later, and Lena’s still wondering how she managed to fall for an alien that sees dead people, how she roped herself into spending the better part of the past eighteen-months knee-deep in supernatural bull-shit.

How she ended up in a goddamn car ride with a malevolent doll-spirit that’s done enough fucked up shit she makes Annabelle look like Polly fucking Pocket.

“I mean, if we want to be technical, it’s probably Single Ladies, that made her whole career,” Kara says, nibbling her lip and flicking through all the Beyonce playlists on Spotify. Because we need to find the best one, she whined, after Lena complained she was clicking through songs too fast. “Seriously, it’s what crossed her over from former girl-group-Beyonce-the-break-out-star, to appealing to mass audiences and being a household name.”

“You’re rambling,” Lena points out, making a slow left turn and grimacing when she notices it’s an unlit street shrouded by trees and probably fucked-up shit.

“Not rambling, ’m just saying—”

“It’s not about the argument, babe. I’m all on board for Single Ladies being revolutionary, but you only ramble when… there’s something wrong. Is someone in the car?”

“Just Reign back there, following my eyesight through the rearview mirror. Always hate the doll ones, so creepy. Remember when we did the first Midvale one, and—”

“Babe,” Lena cuts her off, and Kara’s temple twitches underneath her black wig.

Gomez fucking Addams.

Kara’s in a full-on mustache and suit, hair slicked back and parted down the center since she thought it’d be the best idea for their couples’ costume to be Morticia and Gomez Addams. So Lena got all done up, even bought a fancy long-sleeved black lace dress and new matte-red lipstick, hair straight down and tangle free–

And then, right before the party, Kara decided they needed to make a delivery. She said it was the delivery. The last one.

Which, in hindsight, is one too many bad decisions but Lena’s a big enough idiot that she just rolled with it. She said okay let’s do it and then they went and picked up this doll, and now if they let the car get too silent, the god-fucking-awful creepy as shit piece of stuffing and porcelain scratches up the radio to play a slowed down, eerie version of, “They’re creepy and they’re kooky, mysterious and spooky, they’re all together ooky…”

“Kara, seriously, is there someone in the car with us other than the doll?”

“He’s sitting right behind you, says he’s looking for his wife,” Kara whispers, and Lena can tell it’s bad because she stops scrolling the playlists and turns the phone screen off. “He’s not a good guy, Lee. You have to pull us over.”

“Kara, I’m not stopping this car,” Lena says, but she’s already slowing down because even in the pale shadow of the moonlight, Lena can see the glint Kara gets in her eyes. “Can we handle it and keep going?”

“Either pull over or he’ll pull us over. His words. Sorry, Lee, I have to help. Reign’s making the spirits stronger and I don’t want them to hurt you.”

“Jesus Christ,” Lena mumbles, and the car makes a swift turn that she nearly doesn’t right in time, wheels screeching dangerously close to the drop-off into the forestry.

Kara’s hand finds her forearm as soon as they’re steady again, so warm and so firm that Lena’s heart rate stops increasing just short of her peak.

“Holy, Rao, Lena,” Kara corrects. “When we’re in the presence of them, we’re respectful, remember? They have no stake in alien gods, so feel free to mumble their names all you want. But not that one,” she says, jaw clenching like it’s something she needs Lena to comprehend.

And Lena does, won’t make the mistake again. It’s just–ugh, it’s Halloween and it’s dark and she hates this fucking doll and the fact that she’s dragged an evil ghost into the back seat. And she hates that they’re by forest and it’s scary and Kara wants her to pull over. And she hates that she knows Kara’s going to have to get out of the car. To protect Lena. To protect herself.

“He just wants his wife,” Kara says slowly, Lena not sure if she’s trying to calm her or the spirit. “She’s in these woods. I’ll find her and we’re on our way. Simple. Easy. This is our last job, remember?”

“Right,” Lena says, taking a slow breath as she pulls to the side of the road, feeling Kara’s fingers flex against her skin, hope hope hoping this isn’t the last time she sees her alive again. “We help him, we get her moved and we’re at the party. We’re sipping punch and singing songs and dancing, Kara. I want to fucking dance. With you. With my girl.”

“Just make sure you’re ready to keep up with my moves,” Kara winks, opening the door to the car. She kisses Lena quick on the cheek and steps out after that, opens the back door to grab the doll, before she leans her head in to say, “Get yourself to the party. I’ll see you in a bit. Be safe. I love you.”

And Lena says, “I love you, too.”

Then Kara’s off. She walks steady into the woods, back turned, shoulders squared, being careful not to look back. She said she can’t once, when Lena asked about it, said it’s how she keeps them attached to her. Which is stupid and dumb and ominous and they should have never taken this job.

But Lena knows Kara would never stop until this doll is out of commission. They’ve been waiting for this. They have to do this. Kara’s been preparing for it. She’s ready. They’re ready. They’ll get through it.

They will.

Lena knows they will, honestly believes, she just - she feels like her tongue is glued to the roof of her mouth, wants to stay and wait for Kara, hates that she wants her to leave. But she also knows Kara and her habits, knows the worst shit happens on Halloween, knows Kara was really trying to tell her that he wasn’t the only spirit there.

So she knows she should go, knows not to wait, but still… she hesitates.

And just when she loses sight of Kara, just when it gets its absolute quietest with the engine turned off and Kara’s breathing and rambling no longer keeping her company–the radio creeks on and she hears it: creepy and they’re kooky, mysterious and spooky–

“Holy fuck,” Lena yelps, and when she looks through the mirror, the doll’s in the back seat again.

#supergirl #supercorp #kara danvers #lena luthor #supercorp fanfic #halloween #supercorp halloween #my writing #asks #lmfao #Anonymous

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thepeakyfckingblinders · 5 years

Text

Dēlīrĭum || Arthur Shelby x reader

⤠ MASTERLIST⤟

Anon requested: “Yay I love prompts! Okay; Arthur Shelby & number 16 from that beautiful list of yours. Happy writing! :D” ♡

Summary: n.16 from my prompt list: “Another’s hands on her skin” (Finn being my precious little baby, Thomas being both a caring “big” brother and an unbeatable bitch, as usual) Warnings: swearing, heavy drinking, cocaine use, mention of PTSD, angst, Arthur being softer than cotton candy

Author’s notes:

I just reached 168 followers, yay! I know it may not seem like much, but I’m shamelessly happy right know, thank you so much babes ♡

Lately I’ve been feeling like I’m letting you down, idk, I just can’t help but think that you’re not happy with my latest works; so, please, if what I think is true, tell me what’s worng and what’s right about my writing, take a minute to send me a message, I need actual feedbacks to understand how to improve my skills and grow ♡

If you want, take a look at this: ↠ Contāgĭo↞

I’m sorry for being this late, but I’ve been really busy in the past days and writing is never just easy, it demands concentration and effort, plus I don’t want you to be disappointed, so I’m always extra accurate while working. I hope this is worth the wait!

Probably, this piece is angsty, I don’t know why it came out this way, maybe because I’ve been very low in the past days, so I’m sorry if this is not what you expected. Anyway, let me know what you think about it ♡

I’m Italian, English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for every possible mistake I made. Also, please, help me improve my writing by telling me if there’s something wrong

ENJOY!

Dēlīrĭum [dēlīrĭum], delirii neutral noun II declension

1. delirium, frenzy 2. madness, lunacy, folly 3. rage, wrath, ire 4. unbridled desire, fierce passion

That familiar dense fluid inexorably dropped out of the crystal bottleneck, its dark stream harmonically danced, giving birth to an indefinite number of small whirlpools, before steadily falling into the compact glass held in Arthur’s trembling hand. His gaze followed the whole process with noxious attention, those few moments stretched out in his blue eyes, till it seemed like it took an eternity for the whisky to brim over his cup, and, during that distorted time, he somehow managed to find some numb peace, alienating his haunted mind from the thundering world around him. Nevertheless, when even the last drop run its course, that usual asphyxiating chaos, along with his compulsive thoughts, returned to fill his ears, destructively afflicting his brain again. That had been a long rough night at the Garrison, and finally, nearly at the crack of dawn, he was allowed to seek a little solace by sitting alone at the table in their private room and downing his umpteenth glass of liquor, yet no relief came for him as he couldn’t help but think about his only excruciating obsession: you. Your mother had always been Polly’s closest friend, for which reason you practically grew up around the Shelbys, easily becoming part of their family since you truly loved all of them like your own siblings, and they just felt the same way about you; however, it turned out to be even easier for you to mercilessly steal the callous heart of their oldest brother. Indeed, Arthur had been madly in love with you for as long as he could remember, what irreparably bound him to you was such a strong feeling, that the cruel war itself hadn’t been able to weaken it, not in the slightest; still, after all those years, he couldn’t find the guts to come clean about his incommensurable affection for you. Actually, the mere thought of telling you the truth terrified him: every time he looked in the mirror, he only saw a rude, pathetic man unworthy of a wonderful, sweet creature like you, he knew he could never give you what you really deserved, he knew he just was not enough, and he definitely hated the idea of making you unhappy by forcing you to remain stuck with such a wreck for the rest of your life. Anyway, during that long time, he had learnt how to cope with his difficult feelings, he had gradually become able to hide them, eventually finding a way to stay by your side without going crazy; but that night, when you entered the pub holding hands with an unknown bloke, when he noticed the way you smiled while looking into his brown eyes, every single piece of his frail soul fell apart all over again, leaving him devastated and close to a new mental breakdown. Once more, his chest seemed to unnaturally collapse under the weight of that terrible realization, pain radiating through his whole body as he tried to get rid of that dreadful sensation by slightly shaking his head. Yet, nothing changed, everything in that moment felt just like a flashback of the war, the booze together with that deep sorrow were dangerously tricking his mind, leading him to hear inaudible noises and sense inconsistent hands strangling him almost to death. Still partially aware of what was going on in his brains, and eager to break free from those mental chains, he inconsiderately took from his pocket the small blue ampoule Finn had given him, pouring its deadly white content on the table and hastily cutting it, before he could inhale the Tokyo with such violence that, soon after, blood started to fall from his left nostril. Arthur stood there for a while, in religious silence, with his wide eyes turned at the ceiling in a mute prayer to that God who had apparently forgotten about him long before that day, nevertheless he prayed for the world to stop wildly spinning around him, and when nothing happened, again, he couldn’t hold back his deleterious ire anymore. Before he had the chance to realize what he was doing, he found himself rabidly throwing the massive wooden table against the closed door, along with its four chairs and several empty bottles, his palms now covered in blood and wounded by uncountable glass shards. In the meanwhile, the main salon of the Garrison was occupied only by Finn and Isaiah, busy playing cards and drinking beer, excited to be finally allowed to stay up late at night, yet, as soon as that loud crash reached his ears, Finn dropped everything without a second thought and, utterly immersed in a blind panic, he promptly run towards the blinders private space, for his mind was already picturing the worst possible scenario. The youngest Shelby used all his strength, he kept kicking the barred door and ramming into it, until he knocked it off the hinges and barged into the room right away, finding Arthur alone in the middle of the place, crimson drops rolling down his fingers and a disoriented look on his tormented face. “Jesus Christ, Arthur! What happened? Are you okay?” Anxious breaths left the boy’s lips as he swiftly approached his brother, paying attention to avoid that mess made of sharp splinters and jagged pieces of wood, he meticulously checked that no serious harm had occurred and soon sighed with pure relief, still, when he tried to fraternally place a hand on Arthur’s arm, an impetuous shove threw him against the opposite wall. “Go away, Finn! Get the fucking out of here!” Still dazed due to the violent collision, Finn simply looked at him for a brief moment, he was beside himself, foaming at the mouth as he took dangerous steps in his direction, thus the young man managed to get back on his feet as fast as he could and escape that room without a backward glance. Anyway, he didn’t get to walk past the doorstep, because his face unexpectedly came in contact with Tommy’s chest; apparently, the middle brother had abandoned his accounting ledgers, alarmed by those same loud noises. “You’re the only one who can do something, I-I tried to help him, I tried! But he wouldn’t let me, p-please...” Tom lovingly gave him a pat on the shoulder, bringing his restless rambling to an end and flashing him a sympathetic smile, before he gently smacked his freckled cheek two times as a sign of gratification. “It’s all right, kid. You did good, go home now, eh? I’m taking care of this” Finn nodded keeping his eyes down as he rejoined Isaiah in order to leave the pub, Thomas, instead, just leaned against the doorframe and calmly lit a cigarette, while his sceptical gaze remained on Arthur who, on the other hand, keeled over the floor with both his hands covering his face. “Would you mind explaining what the bloody hell is going on?” Tommy’s stoic tone didn’t change a shade as he greedily sucked down the bleak smoke and watched his sibling squirm on the ground, screaming out all of his frustration. “It’s y/n, Tommy! It’s always been her” His voice cracked for a few moments, overwhelmed by a cry bereft of tears. “I-I can’t bear to see another’s bloody hands on her skin, Tommy, I just can’t. This... she is- she is driving me insane, brother!” Arthur’s fists collided multiple times with his own face as he continued to desperately alternate heavy sobs and gruesome wailings, until Thomas reached for him, roughly lifting him up by harpooning his jacket collar, he managed to get him to stand up, more determined than ever to put some sense back into his dizzy head.

“Hey!” His hoarse voice raised and he buried the fingers of his right hand in his brother’s cheeks, so that the strong grip on his face obliged Arthur to look into Tom’s stern icy eyes as they brutally delved into his tormented conscience. “You are Arthur fucking Shelby! If you want something, you fucking take it, because you fucking can!” Those words left Tommy’s mouth in a proper roar, still they were not enough to fix that tragic situation, in fact, a couple of seconds later, Arthur reacted to that sudden assault and violently pushed him away, before going back to cover his face with his palms, in attempt to shut down all the demons riddling his mind. “She doesn’t love me! Don’t you get it? She never will, goddamn, look at me!”

A loud husky laugh echoed through the room, leading Arthur to raise his head, glancing at Thomas in disbelief. “Are you laughing? You ‘fucking laughing at me?!” Before Arthur could physically attack him, Tommy stopped his laughter and cleared his throat, it was impressive how, in a single instant, he was always able to get his usual severe expression back. “Yeah, I’m laughing, Arthur. I am, because y/n’s been dying for you since the bloody first grade, that girl’s been trying to get your attention in every possible way” Tom’s index finger menacingly pointed at his brother’s chest while he kept shouting in his confused face “And she started dating that cunt since she was sure you would’ve never fancied her, ‘cause she’s fucking blind, just as you are! You damn idiots!”

Arthur’s blue eyes unrealistically widened in shock as his bran processed that absurd load of information, he started frenetically walking up and down the room, diving his fingers in his long hair in order to relax a bit.

“She is... Is s-she... Oh my fucking God! I need to see her, w-where is she, Tommy? Did she leave with that prick? I swear I’ll cut his hands off if he dares touch her...” The influence of cocaine on his brain was made clear by his frantic delirium, he kept bouncing from one place to another with a look halfway between enthusiastic and frightened, so that Thomas had to stop him by slightly poking the sweaty back of his neck in order to have his attention again. “She’s at Polly’s with Ada. They’re probably drunk, but so are you, now just go and take what’s yours, for God’s sake!”

@namelesslosers, @shadow-of-wonder

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gaycrouton · 5 years

Note

Please please please because you are so good at smut and also at Msr humorous exchanges write the prompt #34 “During 'Three of a Kind' drugged Scully thinks she is a stripper dressed as an FBI agent. The Gunmen keep her from stripping by telling her the bachelor of honor hasn't arrived yet. Mulder then arrives, and they leave him to deal with a stripping Scully” if I have to beg let me know I’ll do it!! You are my favorite writer on here! Thank you for existing 💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛

DEAR ANON, thank you so so much for your kind words! You’re too kind! ALSO, I apologize this literally took me like eight months to answer. I hope you’re still here.

This was in response to the @xfpornbattle ‘s battle in December I think? I wrote a different “Three of a Kind” story then, so I tried to make this one as different as I could. Here’s a link to the other story, but I hope I did this justice you kind kind anon! Illicit Desires Link Here

————————————————

“I don’ wanna wear this costume anymore,” she pouted with a playful lilt, smiling after successfully undoing the third button of her shirt after twenty minutes of struggling.

A chorus of ‘No’s and ‘Jesus Christ’s erupted from the three men before Byers grabbed her hands and gently dragged them away from herself. “Scully,” he stated like an angry parent. “Stop trying to take off your clothes.”

“But isn’t this wha’ you want?” she teased, leaning forward to kiss Beyers who let go of her like she was on fire.

“He’s going to kill us. Simple as that. Mulder is going to get here and murder each and every one of us,” Beyers moaned, rubbing his hands over his face as Scully giggled and fumbled with her fourth button.

Byers had ended up calling Mulder shortly after they lured Scully here, he just was too afraid of what the redheaded agent’s reaction would be that he felt it imperative that Mulder come to act as a barrier. He could tell Scully was beginning to tolerate, maybe he could even dare to say like, them, but he knew for a fact she wouldn’t blow up on them as much if Mulder was here to talk her down.

But that was before she was drugged.

Now not only did they have to deal with a drugged up Special Agent Dana Scully whom seemed to think her work attire was an outfit for a strip tease, who undoubtedly would tell them all off in the morning, but Mulder was due any time now. However mad Scully would be about her situation was eclipsed by the hellfire her short tempered partner was sure to enact on them when he saw the state she was in.

“I thought the shot would counteract the anoitic effect or whatever,” Langley stated while they all watched Scully struggle to pull herself upright on the bed.

“That’s what Suzanne said,” Beyers exclaimed as she continued struggling with the button that would turn a disheveled appearance into an indecent one.

“Where is she anyway? I think a feminine influence would be better for this type of situation,” Frohike asked nervously, trying to avoid gawking at Scully.

“Oh no, I broke it!” Scully whined from the bed, holding the button out for Beyers to take from her.

“Scully, please,” he pled, taking it from her as she used his arm as leverage to stand up.

“But issa party!” she proclaimed with a giggle.

“Scully, scully,” Langley repeated, trying to get her attention and ended up inadvertently holding her in his arms, careening his head away from her attempt to snuggle him. “You have to wait to take off any of your clothes until the guest of honor gets here, okay?”

“What are you-” Beyers started, stopping short as Langley shot him a look.

“Who’s that?” Scully asked, kicking off her shoes haphazardly.

“Your partner, Fox Mulder. Tall, broody, and comley,” he told her.

“Oh Muldey!” she exclaimed with a beaming smile.

“Yeah, do you know who he is?” Langley asked slowly.

“He’s my favorite person in the whole wide world,” she confessed dramatically.

“You’re his favorite too, which is why you need to stay dressed okay? When he gets here you can strip as much as you want,” Langely replied, trying to direct her to sit down with no avail.

“Langley!” Beyers chastised. Last he’d heard, Mulder still hadn’t made any sort of move on Scully nor her on him.

“What? Like he’d care,” Langely replied, watching as Scully slipped out of his grasp.

“Okay,” she agreed reluctantly before focusing on Frohike who was sitting in a chair trying to track the data they’d gotten. She took a few lazy steps towards him until she was close enough to sit on his lap and wrap her arms around his neck. “But can we have some fun before he comes?” she asked, hugging Frohike’s head against her breasts.

“What the fuck is going on?” an angry voice shouted from the entryway. They all turned in time to see one fuming Fox Mulder standing in front of Suzanne.

“I’m sorry, I thought this was your friend,” Suzanne apologized as she walked behind Mulder’s thunderous footsteps.

“He is,” the three replied in unison.

“Muldey, you’re here!” Scully beamed from her seat on Frohike. Her enthusiasm caused Mulder to falter and shoot Frohike a look of pure confusion. They all stayed still in rigid anticipation of what was to happen next. Scully, oblivious to it all, raised her hands towards Mulder and exclaimed, “Happy Birthday!”

“What the hell did you guys do to her?” he asked, taking one of her hands in his own and helping her off of Melvin’s lap and into his arms.

“She was drugged,” Frohike responded, trying to conceal his blush.

“She was what?” Mulder exclaimed, jumping in surprise when she leaned up to press a kiss to his throat.

“It’s a long story,” Beyers sighed. “But she was given an anecdote, so it should wear off relatively soon,” he explained.

“I missed you sooooooo much,” Scully whined, drawing his attention away from the three men and back to the petite redhead swaying in his arms.

“I missed you too,” Mulder reassured quietly, moving his hands to stabilize her before looking back at Beyers. “Is she okay?”

“Yes,” Suzanne spoke up. “The drug will wear off relatively soon, she just needs to sleep it off. Anoitic histamine impedes higher brain functions. It promotes suggestibility which is why she’s acting different.”

“Different? She seems completely out of it!” Mulder exclaimed, trying to keep his voice neutral for Scully, but his worry permeating through nonetheless.

“Anoitic histamine is often used for mind control. Brain washing,” Suzanne explained.

Scully giggled and held tighter onto Mulder, burying her face in his chest which he acknowledged but only seemed to get more anxious about. “And why the hell was someone trying to get her in this state?” Mulder seethed.

“Well not everyone who is inflicted turns into a bimbo,” Frohike responded. “It’s not what you’re probably thinking.”

“What did you just say?” Mulder barked, turning around with Scully attached to him.

“Oh no, Muldey’s mad,” Scully proclaimed with a mock expression of anger that was too cute to be in anyway intimidating.

Mulder let out a frustrated sigh before putting a hand on her back to get her attention. “No-no I’m not mad, Scully. I’m just worried about you,” he mumbled sweetly, obviously only wanting her to hear that, but the room was too small for it not to be broadcast to everyone else.

“What Melvin meant was that whoever did this didn’t mean for her to get in this state to take advantage of her. They probably wanted to get her in this state so she would be too airheaded, sorry,” he added at Mulder’s glare, “-to finish the autopsy.”

“Autopsy?” Mulder repeated.

“Wait, you mean-?” Frohie said at the same time.

“Yeah. I don’t think she was jet lagged like Langley thought. I think they injected her sometime around then so she couldn’t determine cause of death.”

“Beeeeeeeeep,” Scully exclaimed from her position on Mulder’s chest.

Mulder let out an aggravated huff as he figured out his next move. “Listen,” he demanded, looking at Beyers. “I want to know everything that went on, but taking care of her is my first-” he got distracted as he looked down and saw Scully unbuttoning his shirt. He reached up and grabbed her hand, halting her motions, much to her dismay. “-my first priority. She will be okay right? This is only temporary?” he asked.

“She just needs to sleep,” Beyers nodded.

“Not that that’ll be happening anytime soon,” Langley joked.

“Do I need to do anything?” Mulder asked, trying to back away from Scully who was still trying to undo his shirt.

“I’d just make sure she didn’t escape to the bar downstairs. There’s a line of men dying for her to come back,” Frohike said severely.

“What-” Mulder started defensively before getting distracted by Scully’s hands on his face. “Wh-what do you need, Scully?” he asked in a much gentler tone, giving her his full attention.

“I don’ wanna wear this anymore,” she whined, pulling at her shirt.

Mulder’s gaze followed down to her partially-exposed breasts before shooting back up. “Oh yeah,” Langley added. “She thinks she’s a stripper for some reason.”

“Excuse me?” Mulder asked, grabbing her hands in his own again to prevent her from taking off a fifth button.

“Long story, but she’s been excited to see you,” Langley responded, holding in a laugh as Mulder turned red as Scully loudly proclaimed words of affection at him.

“You’re so han’some Muldey. I missed you so much. I’m so glad y-you’re here. Can we go han’ out?” she rambled, swaying back in forth in what looked to be an attempt to get Mulder to dance with her.

“O-okay, Scully. We’ll go,” he reassured, wrapping an arm around her middle and walking her to the door.

“We’re not done with this conversation,” Mulder said severely, walking out the door Suzanne was propping open for them.

“Good luck,” Langley shouted out as the door closed before turning to the remaining people in the room and stating, “He has no idea what he’s in for.”

XXXXXXXXXX

“Scully, please,” he begged for what felt like the hundredth time since they’d entered his room all but five minutes ago.

“Aw come on Muldey, I jus’ wanna have some fun with you,” she cooed, tantalizingly swaying her hips side to side like a drunken metronome.

For some damn reason, she was under the impression she needed to give him a striptease. He’d tried unsuccessfully in the elevator to button her shirt back up, but one of the buttons was missing and she’d just kept pushing her chest out so that his fingers would end up grazing her breasts.

Now that they were in his hotel room, she was insatiable.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed she’d pushed him on and was watching with fascinated anxiety as she continued unbuttoning, more accurately - ripping, her blouse. Scully didn’t wear undershirts. Noted. Each undone button deepened the ivory line that was as dangerous as it was tantalizing, the only break was a thin black strip in between the valley of her breasts.

It was a Catch 22, if he got up to stop her, she’d be all over him, but if he sat here and watched her, he felt like he was taking advantage of her. He was going to have to ask Frohike what exactly happened in the hotel lobby, because when he tried to ignore her, she’d threaten to go down there. Short of trying her to the bedm which he was not going to do, he was at a loss.

“Scully, can we watch a movie or something?” he asked as she ungracefully pulled her shirt out of her skirt to gain access to the remaining buttons.

She shushed him before taking a few stumbling steps towards him, now making her close enough for her perfume to waft towards him. When she’d pushed him on the bed earlier ‘to get a front row seat’, he immediately grabbed a pillow and kept it on his lap the whole time. Having her all over him and acting so affectionate was having more of an effect on him than he cared to let her know.

She managed to get the last few buttons off and with a squeal of excitement, she shed the blouse to the floor, leaving her in a black skirt and a matching black lacy bra. Fuck.

“Scully, I have some spare clothes in my bag, you can use one of my shirts as a nightgown,” he offered, suddenly taking great interest in the painting of a poppy field on the wall.

Ziiippp

He glanced over just in time to see her bending over and trying to step out of her skirt. However, her balance was shit right now and he saw her careening over right next to the sharp edge of a countertop. “Scully, hey,” he shouted, jumping off the bed and grabbing her upper arms to prevent her from hitting her head or falling.

She used his support to stand up fully and look up at him with a beaming smile that made his throat clench. “Awwh, are you tryin’ to sweep me off my feet?” she giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her body flush against his own.

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” he replied honestly, trying to reign in a groan building at the back of his throat from how good her abdomen felt against his erection.

“You’re funny,” she snickered. “You don’ wanna hurt me but you’re stabbin’ me.”

He cocked his head to the side before realizing what she meant. He grabbed her arms and gently pushed her away at the same time he concaved his hips away from her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“Noooooo,” she whined uncharacteristically. “I liked it.”

He let out a slow breath as he realized she was now clad in only her bra and underwear. She wore cheeky, tiny underwear. Duly Noted. “You won’t like it in the morning.”

She took a step towards him, and he took a step backwards. This pattern continued until his legs were flush against the bed and he fell on his ass on it. Scully used this opportunity to step in between his spread legs and reach behind her back, pushing her breasts in his face. “I think I will,” she nodded.

It took him a moment to realize what she was struggling to do, and his hands instantly shot out to still her movements. The last thing he needed was for her bare tits to be directly in his face. “You’re killing me,” he exhaled, not knowing what to do.

Scully pouted her bottom lip at her worry and let her hands fall. “Do you need a hug, Muldey?” she asked.

Before he had a chance to say no, she wrapped her arms around his head and pulled him to her chest, effectively smashing his face in between her breasts. Her creamy smooth breasts that felt pillow soft against his cheeks and lips and smelled torturously like her. “I loooooove you,” she beamed, swiveling in place so that her chest kept rubbing against him constantly.

“Mpfhsully,” he mumbled against her skin, placing his hands on her hips in an attempt to get her to still. Oddly, in this moment he was reminded of what Clyde Bruckman had told him all those years ago. Would suffocating in Scully’s breasts count as auto erotic asphyxiation?

“I don’ want you to be sad,” she confided in a comically sad voice.

He was able to pull back enough to say, “I’m not sad, Scully. I promise.” His affirmation seemed to make her happy because her frown quickly became a smile. At the same time he smiled back to placate her, he noticed the straps of her bra slide down her shoulders. Shit.

She hadn’t stopped earlier because she was distracted, she stopped because she’d unclasped it. He leaned away in an attempt to get away, but the movement only resulted in the bra straps coming to rest in the crooks of her arms, revealing her rosy tipped breasts to him. His cock ached at the sight and he had to close his eyes to tune out the sensory overload going on. “Do you not like them?” her sad voice asked, so much vulnerability coming through despite the drug that it broke his heart.

“They’re very nice, Scully. I just don’t think you really want me to see them,” he replied. They’re perfect, Scully would’ve been a more accurate response, but he’ll keep that to himself.

“I always wan’ you to look at them,” she argued.

He felt a hardened nipple graze his cheek and he jumped violently in response, opening his eyes and seeing she’d managed to get closer. He’d always pictured being in this position before, but usually he got to put her mouth on her rather than careen away. This was the ultimate cruelty, Scully was finally making a move on him and he couldn’t do a damn thing. He’d never forgive himself if he took advantage of her while she was vulnerable.

While he was looking around for something else to pay attention to while he lectured her, she’d reached down and grabbed his hand and had pulled it up to her chest, resulting in him cupping one of her breasts. The weight of it in his hand felt amazing, but he pulled away immediately. “Stop doing that,” he chastised lightly, not wanting to hurt her feelings. He was learning drugged Scully had a tendency to pout and openly declare her sadness - two things sober Scully never did. Thank god for that too, because he was quickly learning it was his weakness.

“Why?” she asked, sliding one leg onto the bed next to his so that she was half-straddling him.

“Because you aren’t you right now, and I won’t let you do anything you’d regret,” he replied. Too late.

“I am me right now,” she argued, trying to get her other leg up but not having the energy to do so, resulting in her swaying and grabbing Mulder’s shoulders for balance.

“You’ve been drugged, Scully,” he told her sternly, trying to jostle her leg back down so he could stand up.

She made an exaggerated gasping sound as if this was news to her. “That’s awful!”

“I know,” he responded with just as much enthusiasm, as if confiding a secret with her.

“S-so,” she started as he stood up fully and switched positions with her, sitting her on the bed so he could grab his bag. She seemed to be struggling with her words and he could see a line of frustration wrinkling her forehead. “So, we can’ have any fun?” she asked sadly.

“We can have fun, Scully,” he replied, tossing the bag next to her on the bed before unzipping it. “Just fun that involves us wearing clothes.”

She whined and fell backwards onto the bed, letting her arms splay out at her sides. Oh how he’d imagined that exact visage so many times. She rolled her head to the side so she could look at him over her breast. “Can I see your penis?”

He let out a huff of shock as his eyes widened. “What?”

“We’d be even. You got to see my boobs,” she explained, lifting her arms up to squish her breasts together in emphasis as if he could have ever possibly forgotten what they looked like.

“I told you not to show me your boobs, so that’s on you. Besides, my penis wouldn’t be nearly as pretty, so it’s not an even trade,” he replied, barely believing this was an actual conversation he was having right now.

At that, she sat up and scooted closer to him, so she was flush with the bag. “Hey,” she declared, trying to get his attention.

“Yes, Scully?” he deadpanned, wishing he’d packed some sleeping pills or anything that might calm her down.

“Look a’ me,” she demanded.

With a heavy sigh, he stilled his motion in the bag and looked directly in her eyes to appease her. She had her face set in the most stern, no-nonsense Scully look he’d ever seen, but it was like a caricature version of herself that was so endearing he had to bite back a smile.

Pleased that she had his attention, she reached up and grabbed the sides of his head carelessly. She leaned forward and he wanted to laugh at how seriously she wanted him to take her words. “I don’ wan’ you to doubt yourself,” she demanded. His forehead crinkled in confusion, but before he could as what she meant, she added, “You have a very pretty penis.”

Jesus Christ.

“You’ve never seen it,” he retorted. “And no penis is pretty.”

She nodded her head exaggeratedly. “Yes I have. Well, not like that,” she said, pointing to his erection. “But I’ve seen you fl-flaccid and it was very nice. I don’ like hearing you be down on yourself, Muller. Everythin’ about you is pretty,” she reassured.

Dana Kathrine Scully giving him a drugged lecture on body positivity, Vegas really was as wild as people said. “Okay, thank you, Scully. I appreciate that.”

Accepting his statement, she nodded and let her hands fall into her lap. Now that whatever that was had passed, he was able to find one of his nicer t-shirts for her to wear and he pulled it out of the bag. It was barely visible fpr all of three seconds before Scully whined, “Noooooooo.”

“Scully, you need to wear something for bed,” he stated.

“Not that one!” she demanded.

He sighed and set it back in the bag. “Okay, which do you want?”

“The Oxford one,” she replied almost immediately.

He quirked a brow in surprise, but looked for it regardless. “But it’s worn out and got holes in it.”

“But i’s my favorite shirt of yours. You-” she broke to hiccup. “You wear it when we hang out an’-an’ it looks so good on you.”

The statement made him curious as to how much of sober Scully was actually coming through in this conversation. Deciding not to give it too much thought, he found the shirt and passed it to her, only to have her raise her arms over her head. He decided to indulge her and rolled up the shirt so he could drape it over her with minimal touching. When it fell down on her, he brushed his hand across her neck so he could untuck her hair from underneath the shirt.

She smiled sweetly at him before yawning and turning around to crawl up the bed. He’d never been so happy to see someone yawn before. “Hey!” she called as he set the bag on the ground. He turned to look at her and she violently patted the bed next to her.

“I’m coming, I’m coming. Find something on TV okay?” he told her, hoping to distract her while he changed into his pyjamas - which was just his undershirt and boxers. It luckily worked and he was sliding under the covers within a minute, free of any sexually suggestive comments from the peanut gallery.

She left it on Die Hard and snuggled into the bed, turning so she was facing him. “Thank you for taking care of me Muldey,” she murmured, succumbing to her exhaustion with heavy lids.

“Of course. It was about time I tried to repay the favor,” he laughed.

Her lips quirked and he felt like he could finally enjoy looking at her. Her hair was spilling out onto the pillow and the reflections from the tv were casting shadows on her serene face. Somehow this felt even more intimate than when he was defacto motorboating her earlier. She mumbled something but he couldn’t quite hear. “What was that Scully?”

“You really are my favorite. You know that right?” she mumbled a little louder, reaching her hand out to grab his.

He let her fingers interlaced in his as he watched her nose twitch. He had no idea what she was talking about, but felt touched nonetheless.

“You’re my favorite too, Scully,” he replied to her sleeping form, placing a kiss to her temple before watching her for just a while longer.

Much like she’d watch him when she woke up, a smile tugging at her lips at the endless ways her partner managed to make her fall for him.

#x files fanfiction #three of a kind #msr #gaycrouton #my fanfiction #prompt #dana scully #fox mulder

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evanstanhoney · 6 years

Text

Saved. //Vampire!Shawn

a/n: this is prompt #16 ‘Am I dying?’ requested by an anon. I had way too much fun writing this, and may have gotten carried away(...it’s 2K). it’s the longest thing i’ve written so far so i hope you like it :)

Saved Masterlist

Shawn can’t quite remember what’s happened. He remembers walking home after a late shift from work, and then nothing. But when he comes to, all he feels is the pain. Probably the worst headache he’s ever had, and every bone in his body aches. He can feel the plush of a pillow, beneath his head and there’s a strong scent of lavender and vanilla. He hasn’t a clue where he is but it most certainly isn't home. It feels safe enough, but he’s still afraid to open his eyes.

When he finally does everything at first is foggy and then it’s clear. Incredibly clear, everything is so crisp it’s like he can see every detail of the room around him, and then he sees you. The most beautiful girl he’s ever seen and he’s sure he’s in heaven.

You smiled down at him lying on your couch, legs dangling off the side.

He really was the cutest human you’d ever seen.

“Am I dying?” he asks, voice groggy, but the slightest smirk on his lips.

“No. Yes? Well, technically you're already dead.”

That was not the answer he was expecting. He thought maybe you’d blush, or giggle falling for his charm. Nurse him back to health and then fall in love.

This?

This was the exact opposite.

“What?!”

“You’re turning.” You blushed.

You had expected this reaction, really you did. But you were still nervous to explain to him exactly what was happening to him. Because that also meant, having to explain who you were, which was probably your least favorite thing to do on the planet.

“Turning into what?”

But then he remembers. Slowly pieces start coming back to him in flashes and you can see the change on his face. He’s terrified.

He shoots off the couch and makes a move to the door, but you beat him to it placing yourself between him and his only way out.

“It’s okay, it’s okay! I'm not going to hurt you,” you say as gently as you can, your hands up.

He takes a step back and looks at you. How could you have gotten to the door that fast? And how the hell did you get him to your apartment? You were so much smaller than him.

“There’s no way. I’m crazy. I'm - this isn’t happening- I’m just. I’m dreaming! Yeah, I passed out and this is just very weird...extremely vivid dream.” He rambles under his breath, pacing your living room.

You take a seat on the couch, nervously watching on as he worked himself up. You didn’t want to scare him off, you remembered what it was like to be in his shoes, so you waited until he was ready to speak.

“Who are you? Where am I?”

As softly as you can, you introduce yourself and tell him that he is in your apartment, only a block away from where you found him. That you’d scared off the guys, who’d beaten him to near death and that he’d been passed out for only a few hours.

“That was you?” he gasped, eyes wide.

“Yeah.” you say mumble nervously, “What else do you remember?”

“Not much. I uh - I was coming home from work. These guys tried to get my watch off me. I blacked out and then you’re there. And you- I- Oh. Oh God! Ew!”

He remembers the bitter metallic taste of blood in his mouth. How you bit yourself and, encouraged him to drink. Begged him to even, and tell him to keep his eyes open.

“Why did you make me do that?!”

“I was trying to help you!” you sassed, folding your arms across your chest.

“How would that help me?”

“Well I thought - it was supposed to heal you! But I was too late and I may have fucked up. A little.” you stutter, nibbling on your lip.

“You may have fucked up? I’m dead!”

“Actually you’re not...not really. You’re welcome.”

He scoffs, letting out a bitter laugh, looking down at you.

He starts pacing your living room again, rubbing his temples. You try to think of something to say, anything to calm him down, or at least explain yourself but it's hard to find the words.

“Look, I’ve never done this before okay, and I panicked. I wasn’t going to let you die in an alley.”

“So...I’m going to be one of you now?” He shrugged, irritated

“Well, when you say it like that - but yes. You’ll be a vampire.”

“Jesus Christ.” He grumbles, hands on his hips shaking his head.

“Hey don’t be rude. It's not that bad.”

He looks at you, squinting while you sit on the couch cool as a cucumber.

He couldn’t understand how you were so calm about this. He was damn near having a panic attack and you’re sat there like you’re waiting for a pizza to be delivered.

He’s about to start yelling again when he’s hit with the worst pain he’s ever felt. It’s not concentrated in one particular place, it's just a sharp pain shooting all through his body. He hunches over, holding his head, eyes squeezed shut.

You get up and guide him to sit on the couch.

“Holy fuck.” He yelps through gritted teeth.

You hold back, a small smirk at his swear. Who says that? He was so adorable. How could you let such an adorable human die?

“It’ll pass.”

“What’s happening?” He huffed, voice tight.

“Your body’s - it’s going through a lot.”

Quickly you go to the kitchen, grabbing one of the blood bags off the counter that you’d set out for him earlier. “Here.”

“Is that what I think it is?” He groans.

“Yes, take it.”

“No. No, I'm not drinking that.” He sneered, shaking his head.

“God your such a brat. It’ll help.”

“And if I don't?”

“If you don’t, then you’ll die. Really die.”

That gets him. He looks at the bag in your hands. If he really didn’t want this, if he really didn’t want to be a...vampire than he could just not drink it. He could walk out, go home and die, human, like fate intended.

But if fate intended for him to die, then you would have never found him in the first place.

“Those are my only options? Die or...never die?”

“‘Fraid so.” you sigh, extending the bag to him. “Imagine it’s a juice box.”

He rolls your eyes at you and swallows hard. “Can you, I don’t know - put it in a glass or something?”

You raise your eyebrows at him, shaking your head but go to the kitchen nonetheless. You grab a white coffee mug, figuring it’d be easier for him if he didn’t actually see it. You pour only about half the bag, in case he didn’t like the O negative. But it was your favorite and had a milder flavor than the others.

“There, now drink.”

He brings the mug up to his lips, and tips it back, only letting the contents touch his lips.

“I can’t.” He shudders, shaking his head.

What bothers him isn’t the idea that he’s drinking human blood, or that it tastes bad, because it’s the opposite.

It tastes good?

It’s like sweet syrup, with a bit of a tang to it. Like a sweet and sour sauce.

But different.

Much different.

“Yes, you can. Don’t think about it.”

He looks between you and the mug in his hands, and you give him an encouraging nod. He’s hesitant, but he finally takes a sip. And then another one, and another one before he’s chugging it down like it’s the first drink of water he’s had in weeks.

“Can - is there more?” He asks, shyly licking the remainder off his lips.

“Yeah.” you get up, and pour the rest of the bag into his mug, “Do you feel better?”

“Sorta, yeah.” He hums, between sips.

The more he drinks the more the pain subsides, but he’s still waiting for something to happen. He’s not sure what, but it shouldn’t be as easy as drinking blood from a mug.

“Is this it? Shouldn’t it be more -”

“Magical? Nope. Your fangs will come in soon, and that’s pretty painful but once you’ve got those you’ll officially be like me.” You grinned.

“Huh. And what’s that like? Am I going to be stuck inside all day? Sleep in a coffin? No more Italian food?” He teased, making you roll your eyes.

“You’ve got to stop with the stereotypes.”

He leans back into the couch with a laugh and shakes his head.

God, he was so cute!

“First, garlic won’t do anything. It’s like a cat allergy to humans. Most vampires don’t have it and if you do, the worst that'll happen after a piece of garlic bread is a sneezing fit. There are no coffins and as far as the daylight thing, goes...it’s a bit tricky. But once I make a call you’ll be able to sunbathe on the beach like everyone else.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

It seemed the more you explained some of the misconceptions to him the more relaxed he got. And you were grateful. For a new vampire everything was heightened, sight, smell, strength...emotion.

The last thing you needed was an angry or anxious newbie on your hands.

“Unfortunately you’re stuck in here until I can get my friend to do you up a daylight ring. So for now, you can crash on the couch.” You shrugged matter of fact.

“I - can’t just stay here I have work, and school I can’t just -”

So much for staying calm.

Before you can stop yourself, you reach out and run your fingers through his hair to get him to relax and he leans into it.

“Call in.” He looks up at you with a pout, “You don’t have much of a choice, bub.” You soothed.

He settles himself on your couch, grabbing a pillow and clutching it to his chest. It was the first time all night that he seemed to realize what was really happening to him. There was the slightest pout to his lips, and it broke your heart.

“You're going to let a stranger stay on your couch?” He mumbled, fingers playing with a loose strand on the pillow.

“Well, I’m not going to let you roam the streets by yourself. You’re new, and - even if you feel normal now - you’re going to need my help. This isn’t easy at first.”

You didn’t want to scare him, but the truth of the matter was that he was dangerous. Being new, he has no idea how to control his instincts, and even though he didn’t want to, he could still hurt someone. You didn’t want him to have that on his conscious...forever. You know the feeling, and you’d never wish it on anyone, especially someone as sweet as Shawn.

You go to the dryer and pull out the sheets you’d washed for him when you first brought him up to your apartment.

“Here ya go. Rest up. Tomorrow we’ll start ‘Vampire 101’.”

You turn towards your room and you hear him call after you.

“I guess I should thank you for saving me? Kind of,” he smirked.

He knows he should be angry. Or sad? Something other than what he’s feeling now, and that’s kind of freaking him out.

Everything that he’s known for the last twenty years has been completely stripped away. Maybe he was in shock, or maybe it was how gentle you’d been with him, he’s not sure. But there’s a small voice in the back of his head telling him that everything will be okay.

For some reason he couldn’t explain, he trusted you.

“You’re welcome. Kind of.”

masterlist // tell me what you think? // requests?

#my writing #vampire!shawn #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes writing #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes prompts #shawn mendes concepts #shawn mendes au #shawn mendes aus #this one may even turn into a whole series because i love it so much #like this was so much fun!#mine

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tcswritings · 5 years

Text

At first sight.

Have some Charlie and James. Have some twins. Have some Charlie and James again. Have some Orla. Have some more Charlie and James. In short: Have the not so exciting conversations and events that lead up to that first kiss between Orla and James

I had an Anon asking about my peeps’ first kisses a while ago already and I just happened to find this Orla/James draft I started a while ago and decided to get back to it again. I love me some James and Orla even though they’re highly dysfunctional at this point. Or, maybe, just because of that ‘cause ‘not really functioning’ doesn’t keep them from having the feels for each other.

Orla and James met in rather, well, tense times, in March 2017. They were both dealing with some things in their lives that put a damper on both of their moods. So, it’s safe to say that neither her or him expected any of the events that were about to happen.

WARNING: The following rather messy/sketchy/incoherent rambling/writing has James and O’Connells in it. Read as: there will be bad language and probably inappropriate stuff and phrasings at times. Whatever you might wanna call it - read at own risk!

About three months prior to meeting his future girlfriend for the first time, James learned that his ex-fling, Sophie, was expecting his child and he didn’t take the news well. It’s not like Sophie put any pressure on him. In fact, letting James off the hook was the first thing she did, knowing that he never wanted anything to do with kids. James still didn’t feel good about the whole matter. He was nervous, he was mopey, he was irritated, he just felt bad all the time.

That’s when Charlie decided to invite James to come along to Ireland with her. She and Kieran had pretty much just started their romance (around Christmas 2016, to be specific) and she was just about to go to Galway for the first time as his girlfriend. So she suggested to James to come along. Charlie knew that Kieran’s younger siblings would be around as well. He had mentioned it a while ago and she was excited to finally meet them.

“I don’t wanna go to Ireland.” James moaned. “Why would I want to go to a place that has even more freaks like your-”

“Shuuush.” Charlie cut him off. “I mean, you don’t have to go? I’m not forcing you but just think about it for a sec, will ya?”

“I don’t know, Chuck. Maybe. Ireland is boring, though, I’ve been there.”

“It’s not boring just ‘cause you didn’t like it, dunno, 20 years ago?”

James just went on without picking up on Charlie’s remark. “Besides, you guys are gonna be busy fuckin’ your brains out anyway. Don’t need me for that.” James made a face and looked at his friend. “I hope?”

Charlie closed her eyes. “I’m just going to ignore that.” she murmured, and a few moments later she went on. “Look, you can stay here and mope and be a pain to anyone around you. If that’s what you want, fine. Do it. If I have to answer just one of your whiny calls while I’m busy doing what you just said, though, I’m going to be seriously mad.”

“Oh, here’s a pro tip. Turn the phone off.”

“James!”

“What? It always worked for me?”

“You know what I mean!” Charlie pleaded. “Just think about it! You need a change, you need to get your mind off that thing every once in a while. Going things over and over in your head won’t get you anywhere! I know what I’m talkin’ about, I’m the queen of overthinking!”

“What do you mean by ‘whiny calls’ anyway?”

“Three days ago you called and whined to me ‘cause you didn’t get any fries with your burger. I can only imagine what happens when you get whiny about your situation again and I’m not around.”

“Fair enough.” James took a breath. “Okay, I’ll think about it!” he relented eventually and slumped back in his chair.

“Promise?”

“YES, for fuck’s sake.”

Charlie looked at James for a little while, amused and smiling.

James noticed and he groaned. “What now?!”

“Yoooou… just pretend to think about it, ‘cause we both already know you’re going, right?”

“If I say yes, will you shut up and stop staring at me like that?”

“Mhm!” Charlie nodded enthusiastically.

“Great. Yes. Everything you just said. Happy?”

“Attaboy.” Charlie laughed and now rose from her chair and grabbed her coat and handbag. “I’ll send you a screenshot of my ticket later - make sure you’ll get a seat next to mine.”

“I’m bookin’ last minute, Chuck.“ James sighed. “I’ll get what I get.”

“Just buy the airline then, it’s not like you couldn’t?”

“Don’t push it.” James murmured and he reached for his laptop. Crossing his legs and making himself comfortable in his armchair, he waited for the computer to boot.

“Alright, fine. I’ll be at the O’Learys around nine and you better have a ticket then.”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, are you bossing your Irishman around like that?”

“Not yet.” Charlie smiled. “You’re more fun to boss around anyway.” She leaned down and kissed the side of James’ head.

He smiled. “Get out.”

Charlie couldn’t help but feel really statisfied with herself while leaving James’ apartment. She was certain that this trip would help him get his mind off everything and maybe even help him figure some things out. It usually worked for her. If not - well, they would still have a great time.

______________

A few weeks later, the two of them got on a plane from Boston to Dublin, pretty much at the same time the O’Connell twins were on their way to Dublin as well, going by Orla’s old car. They had just gotten back on the road after they had to take a little pit stop in Athlone because Declan kept complaining about a noise he thought the car was making and he refused to drive another mile unless someone took a look at it.

“Relax, Dipso, the guys said everything is fine!”

“But it’s still makin’ that noise!” Declan insisted. “Just get this mess of a car to Mick already! These guys probably didn’t even really look at it.”

“Oh come on, how can you even pretend to hear a noise with that shit comin’ out of the radio anyway?”

“Shit?!” Declan exclaimed, outraged. “That’s not shit?! It’s some o’ the finest thrash from Germany, mind you.”

“Yeah. Trash really puts it really well.” Orla murmured and now bent down to her bag on the floor, frantically looking for a snack.

Declan, not really keen on explaining the difference between ‘trash’ and ‘thrash’ to his sister again, especially not in a moment she obviously didn’t care about getting a lesson in Heavy Metal History, rolled his eyes and sighed, as he turned the volume down. “Oh hell, you’re in a mood?!”

“I know, and I’m sorry.” Orla now moaned, although she sounded apologetic. She got back up and opened a bag of chips. “I just-” she paused and sighed, “I still don’t know what to do about Rick.”

“You promised you would try and not overthink it.” Declan groaned. “That’s why we’re sittin’ in this car, right?”

“I know, it’s just so hard to not think about it. Why can’t this shit be easy just once?”

Declan gave a dry laugh. “You askin’ me that.” he muttered and reached over to grab a handful of chips out of the bag that was sitting in his sister’s lap.

“Oh come on, you don’t have any reason to complain - whoa, careful, I don’t want no crumbs in my car! - you’re totally in the honeymoon phase with Samantha after all.”

“Shtill ain’t easy, though?” Declan spoke with his mouth full. “Shorry ‘bout the crumbsh.” he added.

“Everything’s easy in that phase. Being with Rick was so easy back then. We had the best times, I swear.” Orla recalled and smiled to herself at the thought of it.

“Uh. Can we not talk about your honeymoon phase with Rick, please?”

“Oh man, I wasn’t goin’ to go into detail.”

“Good. Chips.” Declan demanded.

Orla held the bag out to her brother. “It’s just that… I don’t know? I wish fate could give me some sort of a sign, y’know? Just a wee little clue, to point me into the right direction. Oh!” A thought crossed Orla’s mind and her face lightened up a bit. “I could really use that electronic crystal ball now. Remember? The one Ma bought me when I was a kid!”

“Aw yeah, that one had all the answers.” Declan laughed at the memory of the toy and a few of the situations the two of them had with it.

“It knew everything! My entire life depended on it! I made much better life choices when I still had it, believe me. I need it, I’m entirely fuckin’ helpless on my own!”

Still chuckling, Declan’s voice was now a little softer than before. “Just try and relax. ‘kay? You’ll figure it out eventually. Please, promise me that you will at least try to have a good time.”

Orla gave her brother a little smile and nodded.

Declan smiled back at his sister. “If all else fails, we’ll try and find you a new chrystal ball in Dublin.”

______________

“Sorry you’re stuck with only me again.” James said as he and Charlie walked their way to the pub they were supposed to meet Kieran’s siblings at.

“Ah, it’s fine. Kieran already said a few days ago that he might not make it before ten and I’m glad he at least managed to pick us up from the airport! Besides,” Charlie smiled at her best friend, “I like you. I think we’ve never been on vacation together, it was about time!”

“Yeah, I just kind of hate that I have to share you.” James admitted and he looked around a bit while he was walking, hands in his pockets. Ever since he got out of the plane, he felt a little uncomfortable. He was used to large cityscapes and the streets of Dublin appeared comparably small to him. “Holy shit, everything’s so crammed. No wonder the people here look pissed as hell.”

“No, they look pissed ‘cause you got your ‘I’m better than you!’ face on.” Charlie sighed.

“Nah, that’s my ‘What the fuck was I thinking to come here?’ face.” he corrected her. “Saving the other one for later.”

“Okay, right, that’s it. Go home, I just got sick of you.”

“You keep sayin’ that, Chuck, and it never turns out to be true.”

“Don’t push your luck, one day it might?” Charlie smiled at him.

“Yeah, sure.” James smiled back. “Alright, what’s that little shithole we’re heading at called anyway?”

“The Beehive.”

“What the fuck, man!” James cackled. “Who on earth calls their bar ‘The Beehive’? Come on. They’re asking to be made fun of!”

“Yeah, you can tell that to the owner in a second!” Charlie pointed to a little blue bar at the corner. “There it is.”

James looked into the direction his friend was pointing at. When his eyes found found the pub, he grimaced. “It’s not even black and yellow!” he called out in mock bewilderment, gesturing at the building.

“That’s probably because beehives aren’t black and yellow?”

“Really? As far as I know you don’t get hammered in beehives either and yet here we are, standing in front of a fuckin’ pub called “The Beehive”.”

Charlie looked up at James and blinked. “Why are you like this?”

“Sorry, it’s the walls. They’re closing in.”

“Oh my god. One more word and you wait outside!”

“Come on, I ain’t no fuckin’ dog?” Seeing his friend’s expression and remembering her words a little earlier, ‘Don’t push your luck!’, James decided to behave, though. “Okay, sorry. Let’s get inside. I’ll be nice, I promise.”

“As if. Just promise you’ll try and not piss the two off within the first five minutes, okay?”

“I promise.” James bit his lip. “Sorry for bein’ a cunt.” he added.

Charlie knew James was being genuine now so she decided to let it go. She wasn’t mad at him anyway, just a little irritated. Meeting family members of boyfriends always made her nervous, and this time was no exception. “It’s fine. Just go.”

The two went inside and made their way through the pub, which was much bigger than it looked from the outside. ‘This place is truly crammed’, Charlie thought to herself. People were chatting, glasses were clinking as they were passing table after table and at some point, Charlie could hear a woman’s hoarse cackling and something inside her told her they were heading into the right direction. She peeked around the next corner and spotted two people with very familiar looking raven hair sitting at one of the tables.

Charlie was still trying to think of what she would say when the young man at the table looked up from the little house of cards in front of him. Apparently he had just figured out who she was ‘cause he smiled widely now and Charlie felt her stomach flutter a bit. ‘So the killer smile runs in the family.’ she thought to herself.

“You made it!” Declan exclaimed cheerfully and now the young woman, Orla, turned around on her seat as well and looked just as happy as her brother and Charlie couldn’t help but grin back and then the two launched themselves at her, greeting her like they had known her for years already.

In a way, that was true after all.

“Of course we made it! Wouldn’t have missed this for the world!” Charlie laughed.

“We? Who’s ‘we’?” Orla asked, looking confused.

“Well-” Charlie frowned and looked behind her and when she saw the vacant space that she assumed James to be standing in, she let out an exasperated sigh and let her shoulders drop. “Gimme a second, you two, okay?”

It turned out that looking for James wasn’t necessary, though, Charlie could hear the familiar deep voice the moment she was about to head back to the front part of the pub.

“Why thanks, mate, I’ll sure think of it next time!” James called over his shoulder, and the people he was shouting at roared with laughter. “Yeeaaaah, fuck you, too.” he mumbled, never losing his grin, before he turned around and looked at his friend again. “Sorry Chuck, apparently I got ‘stranger’ plastered upon my forehead, these bozos held me-”

Startled at the sight of the two tall strangers next to Charlie, James needed a second to recollect himself.

“-held me back. For a second.” he finished, his eyes now entirely caught by the young woman with the long dark mane who was looking right back at him, her smiling blue eyes wide and curious, and her red-tinted lips slightly parted in what seemed to be pleasant surprise.

“They-”

It didn’t happen often but right at this moment, James was lost for words. She was, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

“-they, uhm. I don’t even know what- what they wanted.” He blinked and suddenly realised that he was apparently blatantly staring at the her. ‘Oh shit.’ “Sorry. Hi! I’m- I’m James.” he eventually introduced himself.

“Hi!” the woman now let out a hearty laugh. “I’m Orla.”

______________

Life sure is funny at times, Orla thought to herself.

When she had asked for a wee little clue earlier, to point her into the right direction regarding her decision whether to keep up her relationship with Rick or not, she had thought of a catchy newspaper headline, “ECONOMIC RECOVERY!”, or maybe even a manic street preacher, shouting out some ominous prophecies such as “The end is near!” but what she certainly didn’t have in mind was a six-foot-five, bespectacled Australian who had the most adorable laugh and probably the bluest eyes she had ever seen on a guy.

Kieran had mentioned James a few times before, dubbing him ‘the insufferably arrogant fucker with the funny accent’, and he had also mentioned that he would come along with Charlie this time. Judging by her brother’s descriptions and comments alone, though, Orla had already mentally prepared for dealing with a somewhat geeky little know-it-all. She certainly did not expect the handsome guy who was now sitting across her, smiling at her every so often and holding her gaze for a little while each time their eyes met, before turning to Charlie and Declan again who seemed to get along just fine on their own so they probably didn’t notice what was going on in her mind right now.

It was not like Orla hadn’t found other guys attractive before, even when her relationship was still all new and exciting. Orla had always loved the sight of a good-looking fella but that was already it, any time it happened. She would move on once she and the other guy went past each other but this time was entirely different. The thought of her and James sneaking out through the back door was awfully tempting and she couldn’t help but think about how it would feel like if she just pinned him to the next wall and had her way with him. It made her stomach flutter like she hadn’t felt it in a few years. She couldn’t do it just like that but she desperately wanted to and everything kept falling into place this evening and she could see things so clear right now that it made her wonder how she hadn’t realised it any sooner than now.

The thought of ending something just because it was no longer “new” and “exciting” had always put her off so far and Orla could never understand people who were willing to give up something safe and sound, just like that, just to relive the kick of being freshly in love while being perfectly aware that this particular feeling would fade again sooner or later. She had once made the mistake of ending a still young relationship that could’ve had potential if they had just tried and talked things through every once in a while, and it shattered her heart into a million pieces and she had sworn to herself to never let someone she loves go that easily again.

Spending time with James, Charlie and her brother like that however made her realise that the relationship with Rick hasn’t only cooled off - it had been heading nowhere for a long while now. She realised that they wanted different things and that they were at different points in their lives. They had the age gap that was sexy and exciting when it started and Rick made her feel secure and she would never not be happy about the great times they had. She realised that she was no longer willing to give up being twenty-four, though, while Rick had long settled into his comfortable thirty-nine year old life and she couldn’t even argue. She couldn’t argue when he rather wanted to stay home after a long day of work and she often found herself staying home with him because if that was the way they could spend their limited time together, it would be the way.

Orla missed being young and silly though. She missed getting tipsy with her friends. She missed the nights in the club, she missed the dancefloors and she missed the guys looking at her like James looked at her now. And it might have been just that, sure, but there was something else about him that completely drew her in. He seemed fun and easy to be with (A/N: Lol.) and Orla realised that she was dying to go on another adventure, albeit with someone else. If James would be the one she didn’t know yet but she sure wouldn’t mind giving it a try.

She had made her decision. She would spend the time in Dublin trying her best to keep things friendly and platonic for now and she would go home after the next week and break things off because it was the only fair thing to do. And then she would see what comes next.

______________

When Declan and Orla had left to get back to their hostel, James and Charlie remained sitting at their table; they had about an hour before Kieran would come and pick Charlie up and James would head back to his hotel. The twins had insisted on taking James around the town over the next few days and he had agreed although he didn’t quite know what he was getting himself into at this point. He could barely take his eyes off Orla this evening and it didn’t feel anything like he usually felt around any lady he found attractive. She had made him nervous. She had made him think of what to say and he didn’t want to leave an all too bad impression and he wasn’t used to feeling that way about someone.

“I’ll have another apple juice, please!” Charlie told the waiter and then she turned back to her friend. “So.”

“So.”

“What the heck was that about?” Charlie asked, still astounded by what she had seen happening all evening long, right at this table.

“Was… what about?” James replied, trying to look as confused as possible but of course Charlie would pick up on the circumstance of him barely saying any of the things he usually said in these situations.

“James. Please.”

“What? I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” he tried again, feeling pretty ridicoulous for even making the attempt but he didn’t feel like having that kind of talk now.

“No? Not at all? Alright then, I’ll let go of it.”

“Thank you.”

“Man. I could’ve sworn…”

“Huh?”

“Nah, nevermind.”

James rolled his eyes. “You could’ve sworn what?”

“Oh nothing!” Charlie held up both her hands, as to play down the issue, but James knew it was a trick. She had never been good at this kind of stuff.

He smiled to himself. Just in a few moments from now, Charlie would make another incredibly subtle (read as: clumsy) attempt to bring the subject back up and he started counting backwards in his mind.

Ten, nine, eight…

“What a great evening, wow!”

Seven, six…

“These two are so funny, don’t you think?”

Five, four, three…

“I mean, I expected it somehow but it’s really cool now that it turned out to be true!”

Two, one…

“And, oh man, Orla’s gorgeous, right?!”

There we go.

“Oh, really now, Chuck? That’s all? Be a little creative at least.” James scoffed.

“Oh come on, just get it over with and say it. I know you better than anyone. You’ve been staring at her the whole evening and she was staring right back at you. And it wasn’t your usual hook-up-kinda-stare ‘cause I sure do know that one-”

“My what?!” James interrupted, raising an eyebrow, but Charlie ignored him.

“What was going on there?!” she now demanded to know.

“There was nothing going on!”

“James!”

“Oh well, what do you want me to say then?” James now called and people already turned around on their seats, looking at the two of them and James would’ve loved to just call out a heartfelt ‘What are you lookin’ at?!’ right back at them but he decided against it.

He took a deep breath instead. “Chuck? What am I supposed to say? Huh?”

“That you fell for her right on the spot! You know what? You don’t even have to say it. It was plain obvious.”

“So?”

“‘So?’ ?? Kieran said she has a boyfriend.”

“Then why the fuck are we even having this conversation?”

“Kieran also said that things aren’t looking that well and she came here to think everything through.” Charlie shrugged. “And from what I’ve seen this evening, that relationship might no longer be a problem.”

James just let out a dry laugh this time.

“I’m serious!” Charlie tried again. “Look, I get it, okay? Relationships are not your thing. I know. You told me a million times and I know you got so used to your Poor Troubled Boy persona at this point-”

“What was that?” It was almost a whisper; James stared at Charlie in disbelief, not quite knowing whether he should just get up and leave or brush that remark off with a laugh.

Charlie knew she had just gone too far. “Oh crap, I’m sorry, I-”

“No, it’s fine! Not like I don’t get you?”

“James, I’m sorry-”

“You’re happy, so everyone else has got to be happy as well? No matter what? Is that what you want? Maybe I should just, I dunno, how do you happy people call it, jump into it? Forget about everything that’s going on? About why I fuckin’ came here in first place, the thing I’m desperately trying to get my mind off? I got news for you, Chuck, I didn’t get my mind off it and I got an entirely new thing on my mind instead now which is just great because you and I both know how good I am at dealing with shit!”

“Please. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that comin’ out like it did.”

James let out a sigh. He knew Charlie didn’t mean any harm and he usually liked her occasional moments of sass but it was the wrong thing to say in the wrong moment. Still, he could tell she was feeling bad about it and he wasn’t mad at her. He was actually happy for her because she never had to look at these things from his perspective.

“I know you didn’t.”

“You can’t blame me for wanting to see you happy, though?”

“I was!” James insisted. “I mean, I was on a good way, until that thing happened.”

Charlie now rolled her eyes. “Oh god, I know I’m not really in the position to be cranky with you right now but could you please stop calling it ‘the thing’? You’re going to be a father, just say it.”

“No?” James retorted, feeling a small wave of panic come up again.

“Calling it ‘the thing’ is not going to stop it from happening, James.”

“You don’t know that?”

Charlie couldn’t help but laugh at the tone James’ voice had taken now. She knew it wasn’t funny and seeing him struggle made her feel bad for him but sometimes he was nothing short of adorable. “I always loved how you can switch from ‘almost reasonable adult’ to ‘toddler’ within a second.”

She now reached for his hand over the table.

“It’s a gift from the gods.”

For a few moments, the two merely looked at each other.

“Are we good?” Charlie now asked.

“We’re always good.” James said, squeezing Charlie’s hand a little before letting it go again. “And you’re right. She’s awesome, she’s fun, she’s fuckin’ gorgeous. And she’s everything I could ever dream of if I wasn’t, y’know, me.”

“You have such a noble mind, Hoffman.” Charlie mocked. “So it won’t trouble you at all, spending time with her the next week, just like that?”

“Not at all.”

“Good to know.”

______________

It was the best and the worst week that each James and Orla ever had to spend. There was hoping on both sides that it was just a little instant crush happening that last night, caused by the sheer surprise of the moment but it turned out that they still felt drawn to each other the next day and that the feeling grew stronger with every other day passing.

It was somehow a good thing that Declan happened to be around as well. James found the guy really entertaining and he was a fun distraction, for sure. He wondered whether he knew about his inofficial role as a chaperon and if he had maybe even willingly taken it or if he just somehow went along with the situation. He was sure good at keeping Orla and him from getting too close, though. He kept interrupting in the right moments and ruining the mood by saying these entirely weird things sometimes.

It was for the better and that way the week ended up being a very fun week at least. The three occasionally met up with Charlie and Kieran in the pub for an hour or two and James couldn’t help but feel entirely comfortable around the O’Connell siblings and it was something he felt about Orla from the first moment on. She was someone to come home to. She was like a fire and not the scorching and destructive kind of fire but the really warm and alluring kind. On top of that, she was outspoken, smart and fun, and he liked that she wasn’t afraid of making a fool out of herself which made her just as entertaining as her twin brother and so it happened that James fell in love just like that, like he had never expected he would and it felt amazing and terrible at the same time and on their last evening together, when Declan had just left, the two of them sat alone in the pub, only having eyes for each other but still somehow maintaining an appropriate distance.

“How come you don’t go by any nickname anyway?” Orla inquired, pulling another cigarette out of the package.

James watched her closely and while he didn’t care for smoking at all, Orla had some class, for sure. She probably wasn’t even aware of it herself but there was something so elegant about her that James couldn’t help but admire.

“’Cause all the nicknames for ‘James’ are bullshit.” he eventually said.

“Aw, don’t say that? I know a Jim and he ain’t too bad?” Orla took a drag, then grimaced. “Granted, I wouldn’t wanna sleep with him but I guess he’s nice enough?”

“My point exactly! The Jims in this world never get laid. Anyone think of a Jim and they automatically have that suburb dad type in mind. No one ever looks at a Jim, let alone a Jimbo, and be like ‘Sure, I’d blow him.’”

“You… put a lot of thought into that, didn’t you?” Orla raised an eyebrow.

‘Great. Keep talking like that. She’ll think of you as the worst creep ever.’ James thought to himself. ‘On the other hand - that would kinda solve the problem here.’

“Nah, I’m just talkin’ shit to somebody I shouldn’t be talkin’ shit to.” James now smiled.

“I just based the likability of a person on whether I would sleep with them or not. Guess that’s just as shitty. I’m- I’m actually really not like that, believe me.” Orla laughed and she suddenly seemed a little nervous.

“We should probably drop the subject, anyway. Might give me ideas.”

Orla let out another nervous chuckle. “Oh. Really.”

‘Oh my god. I am officially the worst.’ “No! I mean. Yes? No, I mean. Fuck. It’s not just that. I’m sorry, I didn’t wanna come off creepy.”

“You didn’t!” Orla replied quickly. “I was… I dunno, I was already wondering whether I was just seeing things the entire last week or-”

“No. No, you weren’t.” James took a ragged breath now. He could feel his heart beating really fast. “Thing is, if it wasn’t for the entire situation, I’d ask you out in a heartbeat.”

“Really?” Orla now smiled. It was one of her warm smiles James liked so much. Almost a bit shy, which made it even more adorable.

“Of course. Seriously, what’s not to love?”

“Well, I think I do have to take care of something first, once I’m back home…?” Biting her lip, Orla looked down at her glass, then back up at James. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s not just that, actually. Honestly, I wouldn’t even think twice if it was just that.”

“Oh wow, you seemed like a decent fella until now? Orla now joked.

“Trust me. I’m not.” James smiled right back at her.

“Ah, cue the ‘I’m not good enough for you!’ speech. Bring it on, I’m dying to hear it. Don’t make it too sappy, though. Keep it authentic, then I’ll enjoy.”

She had just done it again - James couldn’t help but let out a hearty laugh. “I’m definitely not good enough but no. No speech. It’s just that I got shit on my mind as well. It’s some really weird shit and I just- I dunno, I just can’t. Not yet, not right now, maybe not ever.”

“Okay? But… if it wasn’t for that weird shit… you would…”

“I don’t know. Maybe. I’d definitely want to.”

“Well then. Maybe we should loosen you up a little the next time we meet.” Orla teased. “You might want to swap that Soda for a beer or two.”

“Ah. Guess not.”

“You don’t drink? Like, never?”

“Used to. Never liked the aftertaste.”

“Oh well, whatever strikes your fancy, eh?” Orla smiled and James was relieved that she apparently didn’t get the true meaning of the statement.

Orla now looked up to the clock over the bar. “Okay, so it’s almost eleven… I think they’re about to close and I should probably get some sleep anyway. I’ll be the one driving home, so…”

James merely nodded and called the waiter to their table. He paid the bill for the two of them and they got up and left the bar. It was pretty cold outside and Orla buttoned up her coat.

“So, this is a temporary goodbye then?” she smiled up at James.

“Come on. Like you’re gonna walk the way back to the hostel alone. I don’t think so?”

“Declan did?”

“Declan is tall and scary.”

“I’ll tell him you said that.” Orla sounded amused.

“Look, I’d really feel better if you didn’t walk that way back all by yourself.”

“Oh, no no no, don’t think I don’t dig your little moment of chivalry? Gives me some more time with you after all!”

“That’s the spirit.”

The two walked the way back together and it wasn’t a long way but, as Orla had said, it gave them a bit more time. Only a bit but it was better than nothing at all.

“Here we are.” Orla now shrugged. “I guess I could’ve walked this way all by myself. No scary guys in bushes, waiting to launch themselves at me.”

“The creeps are still there, they just got better at hiding.” James replied, taking his hands out of his pockets.

“You’re adorable. Thinking the world is out to get you and all.”

“I hate to burst your bubble but the world is out to get you. You wouldn’t believe some of the shit I’ve seen.”

“You wouldn’t believe some of the shit I have seen and heard either. It’s not like I don’t know what Kieran does for a living?” Orla replied. “I just don’t wanna live like that, y’know. Thinking about what could happen all the time. I could never leave my apartment again, let alone find some joy in life.”

“Alright, I know. I wasn’t tryin’ to be a smartass or somethin’.” James laughed. “I’m glad you left your apartment.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“My offer still holds, y’know. Come back soon, loosen up and give me a call.”

Half serious, half joking, Orla looked up at James and took a step forward. They were pretty close now, facing each other.

“Don’t tempt me.”

“So it’s really goodbye for now.” Orla bit her lip again.

“Guess it is. Just for the record and in case I haven’t told you yet… I had a great time.” James now smiled really sweetly at her and Orla’s heart skipped a beat.

“So did I.” she said softly.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

For being you. For letting me be me. “Just… thank you. Okay? We’re having a moment here, don’t ruin it.”

“You’re talkin’ about having a moment and I’m not even getting a hug now?”

“Yeah, well… I might not just.. hug you.”

“Oh, I see.” Pressing her lips into a thin line, Orla nodded, apparently understanding the issue but in the next moment, she was lightly tugging at the hem of his shirt. “You know what? I think I can take that risk.”

“Oh thank god.” James smiled again and now leaned in for that kiss he couldn’t have put off for very much longer at this point anyway and Orla returned it and for a minute or maybe five, there were no things on their minds but the thing that was just happening right here between them and when they eventually parted, Orla gave James another smile before she turned around and walked inside and he remained standing there, making sure she would get inside safely, looking up at the few windows that were still lit, secretly hoping she would give him a last look and feeling silly for the thought alone but he didn’t quite care.

He knew he would go back to being his good old self in a bit and pick up his somewhat messed-up-again life very soon but for a moment, for a really short little moment, his world had shined in the brightest colours and he would take the moment with him because man, did it feel great.

***

#orla x james #orla #james #charlie

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