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writergirl3 · 1 year

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Jesse’s Pottery Class; 4 Town x Reader

Okay so I posted this the other day and it got deleted…🤦🏽‍♀️

Buuut, in belated honour of the manga release, I wanted to post this chaotic piece that I wrote a couple of months back. It was an idea that @4townlove and I chatted about, but this is kinda a sneak-peak. In other words, it’s all I have right now.

Be warned- there is swearing in this (in Spanish), and Google translate dependency. You’ve been warned.

Now…onto the good stuff! 💙

“What?! All I’m saying is that T could’ve been right about there being pepper in Dr Pepper!”

Shaking his head, Robaire gives you a sideways glance as the pair of you stroll through Jesse’s house. Nonetheless, a chuckle tumbles from his lips, “You shouldn’t encourage him, Y/N”

“He could be a genius one day, you never know.”

Before the pair of you can continue bickering about T’s outlandish ideas, your collective attention is taken by the sound of voices coming from Jesse’s art studio.

“So, if you wanna go for a more rounded shape, you gotta manipulate the clay slightly differently.”

“Like this?”

“Yeah, you got it!”

You turn to Robaire, met by an expression that’s just as perplexed as your own. Deciding to explore the situation further, you push open the door.

‘Wholesome’ couldn’t even begin to describe the scene in front of you.

Z sits on Jesse’s potter’s stool, his large hands tentatively cupping the clay on the wheel. Jesse stands over him, face beaming with pride and offering encouraging pointers. Honestly, it’s such a cute moment between the two friends, you wish you could take a photo to preserve the memory. That might’ve been an option, up until Robaire’s interruption of the moment;

“What are y’all doing?”

The verbal inquisition takes the both of them by surprise, and Z’s hands slip. In an instant, his hard work collapses in on itself and he looks at the mess in disbelief. Robaire chuckles uneasily, “Sorry, man.”

You elbow Robaire’s side and Jesse just shakes his head. Heading over to Z, you offer him a friendly hug, wrapping your arm around his broad shoulders from behind. “Poor Z!”

“I already said sorry!” Robaire insists.

“It’s fine,” Z sighs a bit, throwing the clay back on the wheel before offering you a small smile, “I’ll start over.”

Detaching yourself from Z, you wonder over to Jesse. “Robaire’s right, though; what are you both doing?”

Jesse smiles down at you, “Z was feeling a little…anxious,” he carefully explains, “so I thought throwing some clay down might help him.”

Z remains silent, focused on shaping the ball of clay in his hands. Robaire nods in approval, before getting an idea. “Hey, Jess, can you show us too?”

“Really?” Jesse’s surprised to say the least. None of the other guys have really shown that much of an interest in trying their hand at pottery.

“Yeah! It looks fun!” You enthusiastically confirm, taking a seat next to Z, “I wanna make a mug, Tae keeps stealing mine.”

“Ooh, yeah, I wanna make a mug too!” Robaire nods in agreement.

—

“Hey guys! What’s up?”

Tae Young pops his head around the door to the art studio, soon followed by T’s cap-clad chocolate tresses.

“They’re making clay stuff!”

“Hey guys,” Jesse chuckles, “We’re having a pottery lesson.”

Since beginning, you’ve made some solid progress on the mug you’re sculpting. Deciding to go for a larger, balloon shaped piece, you’ve been concentrating on getting the proportions just right.

“Ooooh, can we join?” Tae asks sweetly, mindful of the concentrated silence that’s filled the room.

Jesse nods, “Sure, take a seat.” He begins to guide the two youngest members through the basics, while you and Robaire put the finishing touches to your own projects.

“Everything’s messy,” Robaire whines a bit, examining his hands with vague disgust, “it’s stressing me out.”

You laugh at the perfectionist, actually finding the clay’s softness somehow soothing. “Think it’s just part of the process you gotta accept.”

“Hmm,” Robaire picks bits of wet clay from his fingernails, “I dunno if that’s possible for me.”

“Here,” Z throws Robaire a clean rag as he makes his way back from the kiln. Robaire gives Z a grateful nod, while the latter sits next you. “That’s cool, Y/N.”

You smile over at Z. “Thanks, I still can’t get the shape quite right thou-“

“A LA MIERDA ESTA MIERDA- THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE!!”

The ear-piercing screech comes from none other than T. It seems that after just two minutes of throwing clay, he’s already demolished his attempts by slamming his hands on the wheel. The action causes wet clay to sputter everywhere, and Robaire grimaces as a fair amount clings to his skin.

“T! Look what you did!” Jesse scolds, hands on hips.

“You all done, T? I’ll fire your bowl.”

Instead of handing over the unfired ceramic dish to Jesse, T clasps it tighter. Looking up at the blonde with somber eyes, T’s bottom lip quivers. “You’re gonna what?”

Jesse’s eyebrows crinkle with confusion, “I’m gonna fire your bowl”

“NO! NOT ON MY WATCH!”

The sudden outburst takes everyone by surprise. In fact, Robaire’s mug splatters everywhere, making even more of a mess, “Goddam-“

“-YOU WON’T GET AWAY WITH THIS!”

T continues ranting, refusing to pass his bowl over to Jesse’s grabbing hands. “T, chill out man!”

“NO! YOU WON’T PUT MY BOWL OUT OF WORK!”

By this point, you and Tae are holding T back in a futile attempt to settle him, but Jesse finally manages to take the dish. Suddenly, you realize T’s confusion.

“T, Jesse’s gonna fire it in the kiln.”

Unfortunately, this doesn’t seem to lessen T’s distress. “YOU’RE KILLING JOEL THE BOWL?” The tussle between T and Jesse continues, the former screeching offensively, “THERE’LL BE CLAY ON YOUR HANDS!”

At that, Z slaps his hand across his face and Robaire looks equally unimpressed. Tae attempts to unravel T’s warped logic, while you’re honestly just trying not to laugh. “T, kiln, not kill!”

After Jesse carefully explains the process of firing T’s bowl to him, and reassures him that no ceramics will be harmed or made redundant in the process, he settles down.

“Thank God, I dunno what I’d do without Joel the bowl.”

“Joel the bowl?” Z snickers, “You named it?”

“It? Is that a polite way to refer to my handmade kitchenware?”

“Yes.”

Jesse sighs. “I’m implementing a new rule: no bickering, shouting or clay slamming in the art studio.”

—

Do you want me to write more for this?

Also, I wondered if anyone would want me to create a tag list on my posts? I’ve been thinking about it for a while. If you wanna be added, lemme know!

Musing Meaninglessly Masterlist

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gingerbreadmonsters · 2 years

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take a sip

or: he’s always had very good taste.

in which i really push the age rating on my blog - don’t worry, there’s nothing explicit, but this one is a little more… risqué than usual. gn!reader, spicy sexy fluff, freelancer being an absolute menace, gavin-typical innuendo. implied DAMN polycule, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to. all my love to @slushrottweiler-blog who sent half of the fandom into a frenzy with the magnificent prompt that inspired this, and sends the other half mental with her gorgeous art! gavin enjoying the tables being turned on him in 2200 words or less.

minors please do not interact. thank you.

sluuuuuurp.

what the hell is that?

scratch that, he knows exactly what it is - what he’s less sure of is why it’s coming from the study room down the hall. it’s blisteringly hot today, so it’s no surprise, but damien’s told him a thousand times that these rooms are strictly no drinking, no eating - of any kind, you freaking menace! there certainly shouldn’t be anyone walking around with what sounds like a pretty sizeable-

sluuuuuuuurp.

wait, is that coming from the room you’re in?

no, there’s no way that can be you. you know he’s coming to pick you up after your last lecture today, and you wouldn’t dare go and get a milkshake from the café on campus without him - the pair of you always get a nice, big one to share. it tends to be vanilla, or lemon, or banana…

(he’s not sure if you’ve realised why he keeps picking those particular flavours, but the cute barista who does the wednesday afternoon shift has definitely picked up on it. mmmm, it had been such a shame when you’d spilt all that white froth down the front of your shirt - and the way your eyes had widened, lips parted in surprise, that little gasp you’d let out? let’s just say that by the time you two left, gavin hadn’t been thirsty anymore.)

he’s walking a little bit faster now, boots muffled a little by the cheap, striped carpet that DAMN seems to adore in this building, eager to see who’s got this mystery drink that sounds so… delicious. fuck, does it have to be this hot? he undoes another of his shirt buttons - not that many of them were done up in the first place. room 215, 216, 217 - which room had you said you were in again?

voyeur <3: in room 233, ad psych is a nightmare save me

ugh, all the way down the corridor? normally he’d just rift, especially in this sort of heat - so he wants to see you sooner, bite him - but he knows better than to surprise you while you’re practicing for advanced psychokinesis. last time, you’d been in the middle of some complicated balancing act with a watermelon and a bucket of lego pieces, and while he’s all for acrobatics, it hadn’t been fun trying to clean up the aftermath.

sluuuuuuuurp.

ok, it’s definitely coming from your end of the corridor. is it from one of the other study rooms? no, yours is the only one with the door open wide enough that he’d be able to hear it from the stairs. maybe it’s from someone else who’s studying in there? nope, as he gets closer he can’t feel anyone else’s aura in the room. is it part of your project? no, that seems unlikely, so what in t-

fucking hell.

well, it looks like it was you after all.

he’s so focused on you that he trips right over his own toes and has to (gracefully) grab the doorframe to stay upright, well, he has always said you’d be the death of him.

you’re alone (thank god) in the study room, sleeves rolled up and sweating. all of the desks in the middle of the room have been pushed away, lined up under the windows on the far side, to make room for some spaghetti contraption or something.

(he has a vague memory of damien bemoaning this particular assignment when he’d done this class last term - something about the combination of delicate psychokinetic manipulation, planning and the application of real-world physical principles, and some other bullshit he hadn’t particularly cared to listen to.)

(he’s decided long ago that as much as he likes damien’s voice, he’s much more entertaining to watch, especially when gavin’s got a different kind of delicate manipulation in mind.)

(wait, did you build that spaghetti thing with your mind? shit, he’s not sure he could do that, and he’s literally made of magic. that’s his deviant - always so brilliant and gorgeous all at once, even if you don’t seem to think so.)

fuck the spaghetti - he’s far more interested in you right now. you must have just finished - the assignment, that is - considering the way you’re draped over one of the desks under the window, right in the sun, one leg propped up in front of you and the other dangling off the side. you’re leaning back on one hand, and in your other hand is-

oh, you little minx - he’s going to get you back for this. there’s no way in hell that this was an accident.

in your other hand is something very familiar. it’s a big, plastic cup with a straw - three-quarters full with electric pink liquid, and with the words BIG GULP printed on the side.

he looks up from where he’s sprawled against the doorframe, nails threatening to bite into the wood, and catches your eye just in time for you to take a nice, long-

sluuuuuuuuurp.

the sound ripples through him, catching on every nerve, making his spine tingle and his legs shudder. your lips stay wrapped around the top of the straw, and he can’t help but watch the way the muscles in your throat flex as you swallow. condensation drips off the underside of the cup and hits the floor. oh god, you can’t keep doing this.

“heya.” your lips spread into that familiar, sunny smile that you always get when you see him, and you swing your other leg down so that you’re facing him, sitting on the edge of the desk. you cannot be trying to play this cool. “sorry, i’ll just tidy this up and then we can go.”

pushing yourself off the desk, one hand flicks a careful breeze at the precariously-balanced spaghetti tower while the other reaches back to grab your drink. you take another sip as the pasta tumbles to the floor, shattering and splintering, and - oh lord, and then you kneel down to start sweeping it into a plastic bag.

it takes him a second to come back to his senses, but when he does, he walks over to stand by your side as you - jesus, as you fucking lean forward onto your hands to reach a stray shard of pasta.

“no need for all of that, deviant. aren’t you forgetting something?”

his fingers snap elegantly, and the spaghetti disappears without a trace. you sit back on your knees, bring your straw back up to your lips, and beam up at him.

“thanks, love. what would i do without you?”

you’re trying to kill him. it’s the only thing he can think of. you must be trying to fucking kill him, with those warm eyes looking up at him, those skilled fingers folded around dripping plastic, those soft, pretty lips just inches from his- uh, the straw. of the cup. that you are holding.

(did hux put you up to this? he swears he hadn’t touched his rock collection - he’s got plenty of other toys to play with. maybe lasko, as a little bit of lighthearted revenge for last week’s lunch date? well, he calls it a lunch date - lasko’s been referring to it as a diplomatic incident, much to his deviant’s amusement.)

(no, neither of them are the type to set something like this up. they’re not as innocent as the general student population of DAMN might think, he’s certainly made sure of that, but he really can’t see huxley or lasko thinking up a scenario of this magnitude.)

(well… he can, but he doubts that they would have admitted it out loud. especially poor, sweet lasko.)

he sharpens his grin. how does damien put it... don’t get mad, get even.

“deviant, darling - you know how i love seeing you on your knees in front of me like this, don’t you?”

your fingers flex around the cup. he feels the warmth of your attraction on his skin, better than the sunlight streaming through the window. you shiver as his nails - hot pink, just like the drink in your hand - graze just under your chin.

“you must have been so, so thirsty to have needed something so… big to drink, hmmm? poor thing, all hot and desperate, waiting for me to come - mmmm - come here and get you.”

you smile around the straw, even wider than before - shit, what are you planning now? your drink sloshes as you stand up, one hand on his waist to drag yourself up his body until you’re right in front of him.

your hand - fuckfuckfuck that’s cold!!!

…?

uh, as he was saying, your hand splays over his chest where his shirt falls open. you must have swapped your drink to the other hand while he was distracted - the rush of your pleasure that had run through him at the sight of your cheeky smile was just too good not to savour.

he’d been a little preoccupied when he’d first come in, so he hadn’t noticed, but it’s starting to hit him. the room is filled with the lovely haze of your attraction, that delectable flavour that fills him up like nothing else. ooh, it makes his mouth water. your feelings always make him feel the best, it’s true.

(and believe him, he’s got plenty of experience with other people and how they make him feel.)

it’s just something about you - that delicious mixture of love and lust and affection, of trust and desire and happiness. he breathes it in, heady and rich, filling his lungs with the thick, syrupy haze of you.

it goes straight to his head, as it always does, and he has to shut his eyes for a moment as a pulse of wanting races through him. when he blinks them open, he’s flush against the wall next to the open (wait, the door’s been open the whole time?) door, and there’s something pressed to his lips. thing is, your lips are still regrettably far away from his skin, so what is it?

you rattle the cup again, and he realises immediately. he licks the end of the straw into his mouth and sucks.

the flavour is bright and sugary, some kind of pseudo-fruit flavour that he dimly recognises. to be honest, he doesn’t really taste it - he’s too overcome with the dual sensations of hot and cold that are flooding his system. the icy sting of your drink clashes with the blush of sunlight on his bare skin, the dizzying wash of your desire, the smooth drag of your fingers across his chest, down over his waist, over his hips-

“oh, i- mmmm, please, deviant-!”

the straw disappears from his mouth and he gets another dose of hotcoldhotcold as your free hand sneaks around his neck and slides up into his hair to pull his lips to yours, while the hand holding the drink gets crushed against his chest with how close you are.

mmmm, it’s a filthy kiss, tongues stained electric pink, and soon he’s gasping into your mouth, eyes screwed shut - god, he needs you, deviant, he needs you now, pleasepleaseplease let him just-

“ok, let’s go.”

wait.

wait, what?

“we’re having dinner with hux’s family tonight, remember? we have to go and pick damien up from the gym, and go and get the flowers while he’s getting changed.”

his jaw goes slack. you cannot seriously be expecting him to be fit for any sort of company, polite or otherwise, rose-tinted spit smeared across his face and eyes blown wide with stifled pleasure.

“...isn’t that why you came here to get me?”

fuck, it had been, hadn’t it? and that’s why you’d had that godforsaken drink - the 7/11 is right opposite the post office, and that’s where lasko had got the present delivered for huxley’s mothers’ anniversary. he’d missed the delivery because it had been right in the middle of his office hours, so you’d volunteered to go and pick it up in the gap between your lectures today.

“so… so it wasn’t on purpose?” he’s still not quite thinking straight, breathing heavily, and he blinks in surprise as you kiss his nose.

“oh, the drink? there’s a sale on at the moment because it’s a new flavour, so i thought i’d try it and see. plus, you so adamantly recommended the ‘big gulps’ they had at that 7/11 last time we were there…”

yeah, he’s definitely going to get you back for this. ooh, he’s going to have so much fun with you when you two get back from dinner - and by the look in your eye, you’re definitely looking forward to it.

you sling your backpack over your shoulder, stick your straw back in your mouth, and grab his wrist to drag him down the corridor. he’s already thinking about his plans for tonight, and the spark of heat that jumps from your skin to his makes his heart race excitedly.

first things first, he needs to get his breath back. you always did steal it away.

he can’t see it from here, but he can feel the smile spreading across your face as if it were his own.

sluuuuuurp.

this is an original work by @gingerbreadmonsters - please do not repost or misattribute

masterlist

#redacted asmr #redacted gavin #gavin x freelancer #gavin x reader #redacted freelancer #redacted asmr fluff #redacted asmr smut #redactedasmr #ginger after dark #ginger writes #gingerbreadmonsters

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circusgoth-dotcom · 11 months

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Two Decades Apart, I Still See Your Heart

Ship: Norman Osborn x Keaton Baudelaire (Divorcees AU)

Word Count: 1331

Summary: While at the same press event, Norman and Keaton cross paths for the first time in the two decades since they divorced. They discuss how life had changed for both of them since that decision, and find they may still be attracted to each other... | Cws for brief alcohol and food mentions, implications of death (for Norman's second spouse/ex-wife), possibly vague ideations of cheating if you squint.

Tag List: @canongf @futurewife

Two decades passed before Norman Osborn crossed paths with his first spouse again. In that time, he had met a woman, remarried, had a child with her, and watched her leave him for her untimely death. Grief threw him more into his business, Oscorp, than ever before, leaving little time for him to connect with his son, Harry. Luckily, Harry had Peter Parker, his dear teenhood friend. In months, they would be graduating.

On the opposite side of the pond, Keaton Baudelaire, Norman’s ex-husband, had become a thriving author and was currently dating a radio host. He was, for the most part, content. He had enough money to live the way he wanted while remaining modest, he had a fun boyfriend, and most importantly, people liked his art. He didn’t think about Norman much these days… after all, that was roughly twenty years ago. They had moved up and on from each other.

Little did either of them know they had been invited to the same press event one night. Keaton had seen Norman across the room, socializing, as soon as he had entered the convention hall. He almost hadn’t recognized him, with his now-lined face and the subtle start of grey at the tips of his chestnut hair. Choosing to ignore him for the time being, he busied himself with the catering and talked amongst his own peers: publishers, fellow authors, and rich fans. The ex-husbands managed to keep their distance throughout a large part of the event, until Norman purposefully approached Keaton at the drinks table.

“Keaton?” He prompted curiously, making him jolt and spill champagne on the front of his peacock-coloured suit.

“Gee, thanks Norman,” Keaton responded as he turned to face him, though his snark held no real contempt.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Here,” he quickly produced a baby blue handkerchief and, in an act of second nature, began dabbing at the front of Keaton’s suit. As he realized what he was doing, his cheeks and ears burned and his hand hesitantly drew away from his chest. “Good lord, what am I doing??”

“It’s fine,” Keaton assured him, taking the handkerchief from him and finishing sopping up the champagne by himself. “Let’s go outside, if you want to talk.”

“That’d be nice.”

As the two began making their way to the courtyard outside of the convention centre, someone called out.

“Hey, are you Emile West?!”

Keaton paused and turned. “That would be me, yes.”

An excited-looking man ran up with a book, eagerly shaking Keaton’s hand. “Jeff Kassner, huge fan. Would you sign my copy of Planet Rose?”

“Sure, kid.” He took the book off of Jeff’s hands and borrowed a pen.

To Jeff, always reach for the stars -E. WEST

Jeff thanked Keaton, hugging the book to his chest, and sped off.

“Emile West??” Norman asked as they exited the building.

“It’s a pen name, Jack. Emile West for sci-fi, C.C. Egbert for mystery, thriller, and horror stories, and simply Keaton Baudelaire for the very few non-fiction books I’ve written. You know, I wrote one about our relationship, I’d be surprised if you didn’t pick it up.”

“Really?? When was it published?”

“Oh, a couple of years after we divorced. One of my firsts, since it detailed something I had recently gone through. Ambitious For Ambitious.”

“Huh. Well, I’m not sure if I would like to read that…” Norman smiled a little, sipping his own drink. “So, you’re an author, now. Anything else I should know?”

“I started dating again, though I’ve only been with Roger… a year now, probably. Maybe less, you know I’ve never been good with dates.”

“You divorced me for a man named Roger???”

“Says a ‘Norman’?” Keaton arched an eyebrow, smirking. This banter felt familiar, even with the time passed between them.

“Alright, alright, you have a point. So what does Roger do?”

“Roger Almond is a radio DJ, but he went to college for astrophysics.”

“Excuse me?!” Norman was so flabbergasted, he had to pause in their walking and set his drink on a nearby bench. “You’re dating a radio DJ who went to college… for astrophysics? How…? Where…?”

“Don’t ask me. I think he just chose to do something that made him happy instead of something that would pay well… I suppose I can admire it. Wouldn’t be dating him if I didn’t.”

“I’m glad you’re happy but he sounds like a real schmuck if you ask me.”

“Oh, Norman, how could you say that, you haven’t even met him.” Even as Keaton felt like laughing, he slowly and quietly sat on the bench beside Norman’s drink. Norman immediately sensed the change in mood, picking up his drink and sitting beside his ex while leaving ample room between the two of them.

“You are happy, aren’t you?”

“Yeah…! Well… I think so. But maybe I don’t know. Ever since I got successful with the writing gig my life’s kind of been go-go-go…” He cleared his throat. “But… enough about me, let’s talk you, Mr. Big Shot.” He playfully poked Norman’s chest, forcing the conversation along.

“You know me, same old, same old… I… I remarried, but it didn’t last long. Lasted long enough to produce a son, Harry…” Norman shook his head. “I don’t need to get into it now.”

“You’ve got a son? How old?”

“He’ll be graduating in just a few months, he’s eighteen and grew like a weed… everybody says he looks like me but… I guess I wouldn’t really know.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Norman sighed. “You’re not going to like my answer, but you knew I was a busy man even in our marriage. I don’t have enough time to be a single parent and the head of a megacorporation. So we’ve never been very close.”

Keaton frowned over what was left of his champagne. “Oh, Norman…”

He felt a mixture of emotions toward his ex. Pity, irritation, understanding. For a moment, they simply held each other’s company, silently taking in how the years apart had treated them.

“You look great, by the way. Haven��t aged a day since I saw you for the last time.” Norman hummed after a beat.

“Ah, you’re just saying that…” Keaton dismissed, blushing. “You don’t look too bad yourself, Norm. Age looks good on you.”

“Only you could say that and have me believe it.”

“And we’re complimenting each other as… just friends, right?”

They shared another lengthy gaze and a longing pang stirred in Keaton.

“Yeah. Just friends,” Norman took Keaton’s hand, gently brushing his thumb over his knuckles. It could be seen in his eyes, too. They had missed each other, but were currently experiencing entirely different flavours of the feeling.

Norman then cleared his throat. “Do you want to do dinner sometime?”

“Oh! Well! I suppose. Why not? Though Roger will likely want to come…”

“Fine by me, so long as he’s not the jealous type,” Norman smiled. “You can meet Harry and I can meet Roger, what time works for you?”

“Here…” Keaton pulled an old receipt from his pocket, “have you…?”

Norman handed him a pen and Keaton quickly jotted down his phone number. “It’s new, I didn’t want you calling my old number and asking who knows out instead. Get a reservation where you can and we’ll work something out, you know what I like.”

Norman nodded, taking the receipt. “I’m glad we can still talk like this,” he said as they stood.

“Me too…” They were less than a foot apart from each other, now. Keaton could smell Norman’s cologne, like a ghost from his past. It had changed in two decades, but it was still the familiar notes he always went for, something minty and clean and speaking volumes to his wealth. “Well. We should get back to the event, shouldn’t we?”

“Yes, yes… you’re right.”

They both faltered, struggling against the urge to do something drastic, before turning and heading back inside.

#q'd #self shipping #self shipping community #self insert #self insert x canon #self insert oc #oc x canon #self x canon #marvel oc #norman osborn #circus scripts #💵Norman Osborn🎃#🚫💍.s/i [Norman/Keaton Divorcees AU]

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phantom-of-the-ruckus · 1 year

Note

Can you tell us more about Nick Nack in your miraculous au

Wow it appears Nick Nack is the most interesting character. Two annons asking about him!

Okie dokie, here's more info about the artist and anti-hero

As a young boy, Nick had always been drawn to the antiheroes of the comics and stories. He related so much to their stories and characters, but he often told himself he'll be the hero not the anti-hero.

His aunt Nicole (@dolly-royal oc) help him finance his art school as Leighton and Miriam refused. He had some hard times making relationships and friendships during at time as his father never really allow him to socialize with the other kids. His aunt comforted him by calling him her little hero

Riley is the closest thing he has of a companion as Daisy is more of a mom to him. She still is but it's more like a human companion, as Trix has become his best friend.

He was so fascinated with the new heroes and this some fannart of them. Lord Bug and Kitty Noir were overwhelmed by the attention of the people + Nick was Nick, so that turned sour, but he still looked up to them.

After his aunt ran away with some lover from the middle class, she left Nick some of the stuff she inherited from her late mother Opal. There was a table that he wanted to get rid of but noticed someone tried to break into his home constantly. He decided to check it out and found the Fox miraculous in a secret compartment. He tried to tell the heroes but he was not taking seriously. He decided to keep it to himself as he was afraid it would fall into the wrong hands

Trix is a bit more of a trickster. He convinced Nick to at least try the miraculous instead of throwing in a safe until he found a safe place to leave it there. Nick was reclusive but try it, then he found he felt so alive.

He came out with his name very quickly because puns

He realized he was an antihero as his actions delivered from his selfishness and he sorta did something good against his father but it was purely out of spite. He then realized with powers he was like the antiheroes he read about, and he has come to accept it.

Still in progress, but he met the phantasm at a party he was in as she and Shadow were escaping some criminals. He didn't know who Riley was in her suit as phantasmagoria is technically the phantasm of the public (in rise of the phantasm is better explained, but I don't want to ruin the surprise) so he assumes she has just some sort of villain and runs after her as Mr. Foxglove. He does get to momentarily tackle her using her distraction to his advantage. He's did try to figure out where her miraculous was until he notice a peculiar shaped he has seen with sentimonsters on a ring she was wearing, and how she looked vaguely familiar. Shadow got super protective of Phantasm (not a ship) defeated Nick while escaping with Phantasm. Nick became fascinated by the lady and started to figure out who was she.

After learning a bit about the phantasm and her charade, Nick finds her on a peculiar building relating to her backstory. She did try to stab him until he told her he wanted to help her out as he was curious about her. She pretty much threatened to make his life miserable if he ever betrays her and leaves. I won't say it (I made my POV regarding the puppets not being related many times) but yes, he does feel that way and with her civil form as well. If I ever write it would be just like one implication as it's not important.

#hello puppets #asks #responds #deedz responds #mlb au #mlb crossover au #Nick Nack

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seaoreos · 7 months

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I got a new bag at forest fair this year. It’s red and orange and shaped like a whale shark with big button eyes, ridiculously adjustable straps, and a surprising amount of space inside compared to my old bag.

So I’ve piled a lot of things into it. Among the usual things like wallet, phone, lip balm. A small bottle of lotion, a small tin of hand cream, two different kinds of earplugs, glasses cleaner, phone battery, a notebook & pencil, and a small box of the Pride pins I make.

It only has one small pocket inside of it, so I put my most-used and smallest stuff in there. So, to keep things more organized, I put some things into a small handy little mesh bag I got from some dice or earrings or something I got. Two different sizes of pads, normal band-aids, waterproof band-aids, at least four ibuprofen, a pack of tissues… I’m sure there’s something I’m forgetting. Anyways, *everything* that’s in my bag isn’t exactly the point of this post.

Once I realized how much stuff I could put in my new bag, it made me happy to think of being the ‘has literally any random thing and god knows what else in his bag’ guy. And there’s still stuff I wanna add, like maybe a small sewing kit, glasses repair kit… gum. So on.

And recently, in an online class I’ve been in (which could be another, less positive post, at least right now) I saw someone trying to post their art on the discussion board that had done something I had almost done, until I figured out the way everyone else was doing it. So I just dropped a quick comment, telling them I’d had the same problem, and trying to help. Not required or anything, I just… wanted to.

Last night, my friend Skyler was drawing something for the first time in awhile- they were struggling with a small part of it, asked for some help- I did a quick show of how the reference they were using lines worked, the sort of shape they made, and also drew a vague shape of what it could look like over/with their lineart. It didn’t take much work, just a few minutes or so, but they were really happy. The art came out great, by the way, and it made me really happy to see them drawing again.

and tonight my partner was also drawing- something for my birthday, actually. (Tuesday. Oct 3rd. I’m turning 18.) At first he was just struggling with the cuff of a sleeve, some fabric folds, so I did a similar thing to help him out. Now I’m also drawing a quick reference of my oc Viri’s face scar for him, (which I have yet to finish. Class project. That I should be working on instead of writing this.) because he needed that too, and I don’t mind.

They were both thanking me for my help- we were all on call together- and in trying to find something to say, I just managed “I like to help.” And, you know, I really think I do, actually. I like to help. It’s nice. I don’t know where I was going with this originally, but… I like to help. I want to help. And I’ve been doing it without much of a second thought lately, which is nice. It feels good.

it’s 7am and I haven’t slept which isn’t helping my mush brain make the original point/meaning here that I’ve kinda forgotten by now. But I wanna be good and kind and help but I also wanna remember how to be mean again.

but I guess what I mean by ‘mean’ I think, is I want to.. have a backbone again? Be brave again? Be a brash little autistic kid who said ‘but why’ to everything and anything and just did what they thought was right? And it’s kind of ‘mean’ only because a lot of other people see it that way. I wanna stick up for others and myself too, instead of clamming up and not doing it. It doesn’t help that I don’t feel very intimidating. I’m almost 18, but I’m pretty short and a weird little hopefully-kinda-gnc-lookin thing and people just always seem to think that I’m 13 or something. It’s genuinely getting on my nerves. Ma’am. I am a fucking grown ass man. Please stop talking to me like that.

I’m tired I need to sleep. Basically I wanna be kind but take no shit. I guess. That’s very punk to me. And I wanna make a jacket covered in patches and pins and other customizations, maybe some spikes and some moss, paint and sharpies and god knows what else. I simultaneously wanna look like a wizard, some cottage thing, a punk ass fuck, a colorful blob, and some forest creature, which is great. Anyways remembering the nice stuff I’ve done recently w just the. I dunno, almost bewildered ‘I like to help’ that was.. instinct? Makes me feel good. I wanna have my sharp teeth back.

#sea thoughts #this became really incomprehensible #I’m gonna try n get back to thumbnails #and then go to bed. Bc woof

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pegging-satan · 10 months

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Bungo stray dogs John Keats was rotting my brain so I just had to scribble one out. It’s so terrible and I only have a vague idea of what i want him to look like, but I’m travelling rn and only have limited resources (no tablet) so colouring is out of the question. Digital art in general is out of question till I settle down. But this looks so terrible. It’s just concept art. A rough sketch. Ugh I hate it so much 😭😭😭😭

So let me introduce you to John Keats in the bsd universe. He’s a part of the romantic poets squad, and his constant companions are Percy Shelly and Lord Byron.

He has light brown wavy almost curly hair, and there’s a little ponytail which he ties with an off white ribbon. His eyes are light green. He wears a feather earring in his left ear. He dresses well, with an ascot or cravat, a plain white ruffled shirt, a dark blue waistcoat, light brown pants, and a super long brown coat. Brown shoes too.

His ability is called Ode to a Nightingale, and allows him to turn into any kind of bird. It’s good for spying, not so much for combat. He can fight though, by throwing his razor sharp feathers at his opponent at unnatural speeds. The feathers have a poison dart effect, and subdue the enemy, but is non lethal. He has a special secret ability which is similar to Lucy and Edgar, in that he can trap anyone in a different world. His plane consists of a labyrinthine forest that keeps looping in on itself, and it is ever changing, hence keeping the prisoner in forever. He can activate this ability at will, but uses it very rarely. Time works differently in that plane too, and the prisoner can only get out once Keats lets them out.

He spends most of his time in bird form hanging out in a tree in his garden with other birds. His best friends are a bunch of sparrows, and he gets along with other species as well, and is a sort of protector to them because he can turn into a human. The birds do most of his work for him. He has a short temper, and often gets in fights with other people in human form, and birds when in bird form. He’s shy and reserved otherwise, and doesn’t look like much. Like Chuuya he is short, but a little more broad.

He likes tea, solitude and nature. Dislikes Byron, cats, confinement.

He, with Percy and Byron had to come to Yokohama, on a reconnaissance mission. they had to gather intel on the Port Mafia and the Agency. Hence, they had little to no knowledge about anyone’s ability. Therefore they created problems on purpose to see how they worked, and during one of these incidents Keats had the bright idea of landing on Dazai’s shoulder. To both their alarm and surprise, Keats was no longer a bird, and that’s how they got acquainted.

Percy and Byron thought he had been captured when he didn’t show up to base later in the day, and he had been “captured” (more like escorted to the agency HQ), but instead of being tortured he was just enjoying some tea with Fukuzawa in his office. A cat entered and he got shit scared (because bird), but tried to play it cool. He, the 5’3 wisp of a poet managed convince everyone that his motives weren’t sinister and he was here to merely observe. Fukuzawa asked Atsushi to introduce him to the other agency members before he left. He was frozen in complete and utter fear when someone showed him a picture of Catsushi fighting Akutagawa. Oh my god I am standing right next to a tiger oh my god oh my god oh my god will I even make it out alive.

Him and Chuuya would be buddies because they share the same taste in expensive wines and fancy clothes, as well as being 5’3. Finally, Chuuya doesn’t have to strain his neck trying to talk to someone. They both go on outings atop buildings and shit and also fuck shit up together because Keats is also a bit feral. Mister birdie and mister fancy hat man become best friends. However Keats has no loyalty towards either organisation, as he and his organisation exist as an independent, separate entity. Unlike Edgar or Lucy, who are loosely affiliated with the agency, the romantic poets separate themselves completely from their affairs and merely observe. It pays to have cordial relations with all parties involved.

#bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs oc

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hannahsmusings · 2 years

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jackson

*Marilyn comes downstair when the house manager calls for her, looking dressed for a gala like she always did, her life being all about the glitz and glamour, always having to look her best* *she smiles as she approaches you in the foyer, being a sweet woman, yet very intimidating and reeking of old money and wealth* Hi there, love. How are you? *she smiles at you before giving you a hug, all about image and wanting you to respect her* Thank you again for doing this for me. I know I was a bit vague at the interview about who you'd be assisting...it's my son. This is his home. He’s just been so busy lately… I worry about him. He needs someone to be a second set of eyes. He nearly forgot my husband’s and my anniversary last week… he’s never forgotten a family event like that. He’s just far too overworked. *she sighs, playing with one of her gigantic diamond rings on her finger before motioning for you to follow her, starting to give you a tour of the house, it being massive*

*Jackson was in his office as usual when he heard the bell go, furrowing his brow since he wasn’t expecting any company, remembering that his mother was here and he figured it must be something to do with her, one of her charities or something, trying to focus back down at his work* *after a few more minutes, he hears movement outside the office, two sets of footsteps walking by and he was immediately even more confused, this being his house after all and he wasn’t sure why his mother was showing people around the second floor, it usually being kept pretty private* *he sighs, tossing his pen down and closing his laptop before getting up, straightening his shirt and making sure he looked appropriate to greet a guest, fixing fidgeting with his cuffs before walking over to the door and opening it wide, stepping out and standing right in front of his mother and… someone else* Mother, hello. I didn’t know you were expecting guests today? *his eyes locked on you for a moment, a glimmer of recognition flashing through his mind but he wasn’t quite able to place you, his eyes narrowing slightly before looking back at his mom, looking at her expectantly*

*Marilyn smiles at her son as he comes out of his office, always having such good hearing and knowing she wasn’t going to be able to hide this from him for too long, surprised she managed to keep the interview and everything such a secret, lucky for her he hadn’t been on his game recently, due to his stress* Jackson, dear, this is Hannah. She’s going to be your… assistant. *she smiled at him, a bit of a stepford wife’s smile, it not fully reaching her eye and it being her silent way of telling him to make a fuss, knowing he was going to fight this tooth and nail and she didn’t want any outsider seeing her son interact with her that way, it really being all about image to her*

---------------------------------

*admires how glamourous this woman was, it being a totally different life and i was fascinated by it, prepared to play the game as the money was excellent, hugging her in return and returning her greetings before shaking my head* It's really no problem at all, I'm happy to help. *cocks a brow as she mentions more about her son, building up a picture of a family man that was over worked and needing some help, presuming he'd asked his mother to find someone* *follows her on the tour, trying to take in all the details and important information as she outlines aspects of his routine and schedule, him seeming to travel a lot and excited about that aspect* *admiring the art on the walls when i hear a door open, turning at the sound of a deep timber voice dripping with elegance and high society, and my gaze locking on to the tall dark haired man in front of me, my gaze settling on his face and feeling myself freeze with shock as I'm immediately transported back to my school years, knowing i'd never forget his face as he was the most popular boy in the school and also a massive asshole, blinking as i look for any recognition on his face and a little relieved when i don't see any, your name rigning around in my head and praying i was holding it together as it all made sense now, you were Jackson Ford, one of the most successful young businessmen at the moment and also my high school nightmare, great**pastes on a smile and steps forward, offering you my hand to shake* It's great to meet you, thank you for this opportunity. I'm excited to get started. *those words tasted sour in my mouth now i knew who i was working with but if i could prevent him remembering me i think i'd be fine, grateful that i'd lost my glasses and knew how to style myself and wear makeup now*

#hannah plot

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theveryworstthing · 3 years

Photo

So over on patreon Trevor asked for my take on the Addams Family and I grew up LOVING the Addams family movies so here we are. Instead of doing a straight up style interpretation, I decided to do a full on design challenge, using the characters as bases to make a black southern gothic Addams au. I actually drew the kids first, using the character bases of Wednesday and Pugsley to create some delightful kiddos I'm calling Sunday and Blanche. I of course then redesigned Gomez and Morticia into Carlisle and Mortesha.

The Addams have a very specific high aristocratic goth aesthetic (they've got a butler and nobody really works among other things) so in this re-imagining I wanted to go with vibes that run a little more middle class/upper middle class. I thought it would be interesting to think about what would be considered weird and off-putting in an entirely different culture, and how being a big ol' goth is way less controversial than it used to be.

I tried to keep this short (HAHAHAHAHAHA) so I didn't spin off into an essay about villain coded families, black people in the horror genre, and normalcy as it pertains to social survival, but just...bits of that are in these designs and lore. Keep that in mind.

Also I made the kids twins because they've flip flopped in age so much in different media and also twins run in my family (i'm the daughter of one). And let's face it, I'm pulling a lot of their southern gothic traits from living as a southern goth so *shrug*.

10 thousand pounds of lore incoming loooooooooool.

The Parents

From the moment he saw her he knew that there was a 50/50 chance of him either never making it out of that swamp alive or marrying the figure that was creeping out from under the distant willow tree in a black cocktail dress. The third time she found him trussed up in one of her traps, he complimented her rope work and asked if she'd like to go out sometime after his head wound stopped bleeding.

Or while it was still bleeding.

If she was into that.

Some kids and a mysteriously burnt down Piggly Wiggly later, their love is still as strong and inescapable as a bear trap in a sink hole.

Carlisle Guillermo (now Addams through marriage but I wanted to give him two first names for a name since Gomez has two last names) makes a vaguely described living practicing ‘law’ around town. A loophole king, people come to him from miles around with contracts signed in blood, fights over chunks of hair buried in their rivals’ yard, dehydrated primate hands, memories that seemed like dreams until the evidence of their happenings became too real, and other regular Legal Items asking for counsel which he is all too happy to give. For a price. Sometimes that price is a homemade pie and sometimes it’s a million dollars, depends on who you are. Whatever you’re asked to pay it’s worth that price, and if you try to scam him out of work or he just plain doesn’t like you? Well. He knows how to twist a contract better than anything at the crossroads.

And he always gets his due.

He doesn’t just serve the local (living)humans though, there are many things that need proper legal representation in this day and age. You wouldn’t believe how many city councils try to build on sacred burial grounds even after he lets them know that his ghostly clients are totally gonna haunt the FUCK out of the ensuing shitty condos and curse their families for all eternity. At least 50% of his energy goes towards dealing with real estate bullshit.

Carl is an excitable and good natured(?) man who loves his family, cigars, dancing, and his many knife-based hobbies. People find him very charming once they get past the feeling that they’re talking to a sultry gator badly disguising itself as a human. I didn’t put a ton of deep thought into designing him, mostly I wanted to make a middle aged dude who looked like he would have been voted ‘most likely to smooch the literal devil’ in high school. Tbh he probably has, but no demonic ex’s can compare to his lovely wife~

Mortesha Addams(her name was already perfect so I just tweaked it)is a woman of many talents. A self proclaimed homemaker, she prides herself on a greenhouse full of Concerning Foliage, a beautiful wasp apiary, and a coop full of what are probably chickens that she keeps for what are probably eggs. She’s also an avid creator of the outsider art that can be seen around the estate. She has taken on the family business of selling her homemade goods in a little stall by the road just outside the swamp with her mom, and makes pretty good money doing so. A surprising amount of poison gets bought in quaint southern towns.

Speaking of poison, people who come out to the edge of the swamp to buy it are usually carrying a lot of secrets around, and Mortesha knows most of them. It’s not like she pries the truth out of people, it just so happens that many nervous hellos eventually turn into the tragic backstory power hour if she’s alone with a client for long enough. She supposes that’s just how people are. Despite the fact that the Addams are very active in the community (whether the community likes it or not) she especially, as a direct descendant of the first Addams matriarch, is seen as…Well not an outsider because the community feels A Certain Way about outsiders and despite it all the Addams are their people, but maybe something like an exception. They feel like whatever weirdness they’re hiding can’t be weirder than any given Addams, so they get a little loose with their words.

This is amusing to her, since Addams’ don’t naturally keep the kind dramatic secrets that their surface level prim and proper neighbors do. It’s much more fun to openly talk about those things.

Do they have a sadly decrepit yet terrifying grandma up in the attic? Yeah, like three. They got a tv, all the creepy porcelain dolls they could want, and they’re close to family. Where do you keep your gram-grams?

Any bodies buried on the property? Yeah some, but most are thrown to the gators.

Any creeping through the balmy summer night with ill intentions? Yeah dude, everyone loves a nice family stroll.

What about dangerous forbidden love? If an adult Addams isn’t incorporeal then they’re either queer or in a torrid romance with some person/thing mysteriously drawn to that awful swamp. Sometimes both at the same time. Most times actually.

Mortesha would know.

The current head of the Addams family is just as outgoing as her husband but a lot quieter and harder to read. She never really seems to get mad about much and always has a genteel smile for everyone whether they deserve it or not. A seven foot tall human shaped “Oh, bless your heart”. A perfectly composed Lady even when she’s, oh I dunno, burning down a Piggly Wiggly. You know. A regular southern mom. Chat her up at the hair salon for 50% off a jar of wasp honey with your next purchase of a mysterious but foreboding packet of herbs.

Designing her was pretty easy because I just drew a lankier Grace Jones and called it a day. I had some problems with her outfit simply because if we were going HARD southern gothic then she’d probably be wearing a white/cream dress with a fuller skirt but I thought keeping the silhouette and the black was more important. She’s supposed to be an anti southern gothic southern gothic character anyway. A woman who looks like she has a million secrets who is actually the most open person you could meet. For better or worse. The red hair came from a coloring error that I really ended up liking (my mom had red hair her whole childhood that only darkened up in high school so I can buy that an Addams can be naturally fire engine red) and the veil was to get more of that classic Morticia silhouette in there.

The Children

Sunday and Blanche are the twin children of Carlisle and Mortesha Addams. Some say the Addams clan got their cursed homestead when a wealthy local businessman made a deal with the devil and lost, leaving his grand mansion to his least favorite maid and cutting his losses once he realized that the swamp would do everything it could to drag the house into the water and take what was owed with its horrible curse. Others say that the family has just always squatted there and no one really cares because man, fuck that particular swamp. Have you been in there? Absolute horror show.

Anyway.

Blanche is the more outgoing sibling and quite the engineer/mad scientist in the making. He started going grey at 2 weeks old but considering he was also rocking some extra fingers, toes, and a tiny tail (he takes after his dad), his parents just put it on the 'not life threatening' pile and decided not to worry about it. He's the kind of smart that teachers find utterly infuriating, less a dog eagerly learning and obeying commands and more a hyena who keeps teaching itself how to pick locks. He has a few friends in his school's robotics club (which they honestly allowed him to make so the school could contain his... creations) but mostly hangs out with his sister exploring the swamp. They find all sorts of neat things in there! wedding rings, suspiciously lumpy garbage bags, cloaked cultists who can't read private property signs, it's an adventure every day!

Blanche is all about experimentation with his creations, his look, and his tether to this mortal coil. Is lipstick a cool thing to try? Let's find out. Can he get out of a strait jacket fast enough after being pushed into the depths of the swamp by his sister? let's find out. He's not dead yet and confused local doctors can attest to the fact that he's rarely attained more than a bad bruise so he's pretty set on continuing to kiss rattlesnakes on their cute little heads and have his sister practice her knife throwing at him until that fact changes.

Blanche is very much a country goth. Cowboy boots (customized by his mom), knife, and lighter are daily accessories. He likes to wear the crusty swamp jewelry they find (the rust adds a splash of color!) and despite appearances he does try to keep himself neat. He's just got natural Grunge Colors and a tendency to wear clothes he likes until they fall apart. Pugsley always seemed the most modernly styled to me (which might just be because little boys clothes have been the same for a long time) so I wanted Blanche to be the most purposely fashionable Addams. Everyone else is goth by nature, but he's the only one truly familiar with goth as an alternative fashion.

I got really into designing Blanche because honestly, I find Pugsley to be the most boring member of the family. And he was hard to design! I had to mess with his vibe a lot to get him looking how I wanted. I know he's supposed to evoke an " 'evil' little boy next door who's parents never reign him in", but that's just goth Dennis The Menace. I's 2020. We can at least go queer goth Calvin.

Sunday was much easier to design. Wednesday was my favorite as a child (of course) and I really wanted to keep the spirit of her look while adding things like billowy sleeves (it gets HOT down here), big poofy twists instead of braids, and a nice tie. She's a professional after all, been running the local pet cemetery since she was 6 and the previous groundskeeper met with an unfortunate accident after telling her that tarantulas don't have souls. Her specialty is creating beautiful naturalistic animal funerals similar to those that Maquenda (https://linktr.ee/artofmaquenda) makes, and she takes pride in creating miniature dioramas of her subjects after each burial which she uses as a kind of 3D catalog for future clients.

She really wants to try out her skills on humans one day. Well. Publicly try out her skills. Lotta random bodies float into the swamp. None of them have turned down her requests for diorama models so far. Most seem downright flattered. Plus, she usually figures out which graveyard/crime scene they floated over from and gets her parents to give them a lift back. She'll even help enact terrifying revenge from beyond the grave on whoever put them there if she's not, y'know, busy.

Besides arts, crafts, and pet based funerary arrangements, Sunday is an avid lover of archery (any ranged weapon really), books where little fantasy adventure animals die dramatic deaths, and history. She is That Kid who eagerly raises her hand when asked who Christopher Columbus was and ends up being sent out of class after 15 minutes for making 'a scene'. Her favorite party trick is just picking an item in the room and talking about how it relates to either some obscure historical figure with a buck wild life or a horrible disaster. At least one charity pancake breakfast ended with children in tears after her vivid description of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919.

Social-wise, while Wednesday is the girl that people ask to smile because they think she'd, "look so pretty", Sunday is rarely asked anything at all. People just kind of assume from her quiet nature (in between horrible history facts) that she's angry all the time and that she hates everyone. This is untrue. She hates some people but she's ambivalent to most everyone else and even downright friendly if you bother to talk to her like a person instead of a terrifying cryptid. Like, she IS a terrifying cryptid but she's also a little girl.

That’s about it for now. One day I might do the other family members but for now I’m happy with the four I’ve redesigned. Making an au! Lurch in a family that doesn’t do butlers could be interesting. Over on patreon I put forth that he could just be Motesha’s mute little brother (similar bone structure) but Amy Crook had the nice idea of quote: “ a mysterious "cousin" that "helps around the house" whose origins are both long in the past and faintly unsettling. He's good for lifting heavy things, like that tank of propane you're about to throw into the burning Piggly Wiggly... “ which i now consider canon. Who's kid is he? How old is he? Not important. Anyone willing to commit arson with you is family.

Annnnyway. This challenge was a lot of fun! I love indulging in AU’s.

#long post #the addams family #Character Design #au #design challenge #i am incapable of doing a design challenge like a normal person #oh god i forgot the cut lol

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fett-djarin · 3 years

Text

Stress Relief

Here it is! This is entirely self indulgent and filthy! Im a wh*re for the croissant guards

Also I headcanon Fox looking like how amikoroyoaiart draws him. her art is so good!

Commander Fox x f!reader

Crossposted on ao3

Rating: 18+

Length: 3.9k

Warnings/Tags: Oral (m receiving), that good sloppy toppy, office sex, cursing, light grinding, making out

NSFW BELOW THE CUT

Bringing the Guard their morning caf had become a tradition, of sorts. You knew the caf in the mess wasn’t good--in fact, it was barely even palatable. When you first started as a new secretary, it had been your timid way of offering friendship to the imposing troopers who worked so hard to keep the planet safe. They warmed to you quickly. Thire was the first to remove his helmet in front of you, plonking it down on your desk and taking a long pull of caf barely a second after you handed it to him. At your stunned look, he had just raised a brow and said, “Long patrol last night,” with a shrug.

As the others had become more comfortable with you, you had seen most of them without their buckets at some point--except for Fox. He always took his caf with a polite “Thank you, ma’am,” and retreated to his office. You knew it was against regulation for them to remove their helmets while they were on duty. But even when you dropped off the caf in his office, he was at his desk with his helmet on.

“He keeps it on so you can’t tell if he’s actually asleep,” Thorn told you one day. “I suspect he even does it while we’re standing guard sometimes.” You laughed aloud at that. The serious Commander Fox, asleep standing up. He was right though, you never would be able to tell.

The first time Fox removed his helmet in front of you, you hadn’t expected the gray dusting his temples, but honestly you weren’t surprised. The poor man was stressed beyond belief and worked half to death. You were more surprised that he finally did it in the first place. Fox sighed, running a hand through his unruly curls, before taking the caf and giving you a tired smile. He thanked you by name that time. You tried to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

From then on, he had been without it more when you went into his office. You even caught him sleeping once--head resting on his folded arms, bucket set next to him--and had done your best to deliver the caf without waking him. Maker knew he needed the sleep more than he needed hot caf--if Thorn hadn’t told you he snuck naps with the helmet on, you would think he ran off caf and stubborn will alone.

One morning, after you had passed out caf to the others--and a little cup of whipped cream for Grizzer--Fox hadn’t made an appearance, so you made your way to his office to drop it off. You knocked lightly on the door. “Come in,” his gruff voice called, and the door slid aside. You smiled at him, noting the way his shoulders visibly relaxed at seeing it was just you. You set the cup down on his desk. You had just turned when a touch on your wrist stopped you.

Fox was looking up at you, helmet cocked to the side. “You know you don’t have to bring us caf every time you work, right? The boys better not be nagging you for it.”

“I know,” you said. “I enjoy doing it. And it’s the least I could do.”

“The least you could do?”

“You all work so hard. You deserve more, even if it’s just better caf.”

He squeezed your wrist gently. “You don’t owe us anything. It is our duty to the Republic--”

“I know, Fox,” you tried to hide your grin, and failed. “But you’re also my friends.”

That seemed to surprise him, hand falling from your wrist as he sat back in his chair and regarded you curiously. You made your way back to the door, pausing in the entryway and looking back over your shoulder.

“Have a good morning, Commander.”

“...You as well, ma’am.”

The door slid shut behind you. Fox slipped his helmet off, setting it on his desk and staring hard at the door you had disappeared through. His eyes flicked to the paper cup of steaming caf, brows furrowed.

It was the first time you had called him by his name.

Friends?

----

After that day, Fox seemed to be trying to talk to you more. Instead of taking his caf and running off, he would stay, either to chat or just hang around for a minute with you and the other Guards. Stone nudged Thire, who nudged Thorn, and they all looked over to where Fox leaned his hip casually against your desk and you were laughing at something he said.

“Did someone replace Fox while we weren’t looking?” Thire questioned under his breath.

“I’ve never seen him so...cheery,” Stone said.

You smiled up at Fox, worrying your bottom lip with your teeth. They watched as your fingers grazed the back of his hand where it rested on your desk. “Think something’s goin’ on between those two?” Thorn asked, gesturing vaguely over towards you and Fox with his cup.

“Absolutely.” Thire didn’t hesitate to answer.

The three quickly snapped to attention as Fox excused himself, heading their direction. You gave them a small wave. Thorn was about to wave back before Thire thumped him in the arm.

“Don’t you have duties to attend to?” Fox grumbled as he passed them, heading to his office. “Get to it.” You hid your laugh behind your hand seeing the three Commanders scramble to disperse.

Evening rolled around, and you cocked your head side to side, stretching your neck and shoulders. You had been going over forms all day, datapad after datapad, organizing reports and requests for the Chancellor and the Senate. Your shift was almost over, and you were getting ready to go home for the night.

Various members of the Guard had come and gone, leaving and returning from patrols. Senators and representatives had filtered through; less and less as the evening progressed. You were just getting ready to leave when Fox stalked through, back from his rounds, tense and practically vibrating with irritation. He didn't even spare you a glance as he disappeared into his office. If the doors weren't automatic, he likely would have slammed it shut.

You knew he had a thankless job--a job he had no say in having, either. Usually it was something to do with the Chancellor that got him so worked up. Half the time you thought Fox would strangle the man himself if he could. Maybe you should take Fox out to one of the cafes nearby, just for a second to breathe and not carry the weight of the Guard on his shoulders. Was that against regulation? It might be better to invite him back to your apartment. Or did that imply too much?

You pushed yourself up from your chair, mind made up. He could always say no. You wouldn’t be offended.

You paused outside the door to his office, listening carefully. You couldn’t hear anything from the other side. So, you knocked.

“What.” Fox’s biting tone surprised you, but you didn’t take it personally.

“Commander? I...It’s me,” you said hesitantly, and then wanted to smack yourself. Confidence. “Is everything alright?”

No response. You took the silence as a sign that he wasn’t interested in talking. That was fine. You didn’t want to impose if he needed time to himself. The door slid open just as you had stepped back, intending to leave. Fox sighed, jerking his head to direct you inside.

The door shut behind you, and Fox sat heavily in his chair at the desk. Another deep sigh, and his shoulders slumped. He pulled his helmet off, setting it aside, and you caught a glimpse of the dark circles under his eyes before he put his head in his hands.

“Commander Fox?” You took a tentative step forward, so you were close enough to reach out and touch his shoulder.

He looked up at you. There was still tension lining his shoulders, hands flexing into fists and then relaxing. Stress. He opened his mouth to say something, frowned, and then closed it again. He cleared his throat. “Did you need something?” You could tell he was making an effort to soften his voice, likely as to not snap at you again.

“I just wanted to check in, sir,” you said, coming around the desk to stand next to him, leaning your weight against it. “It looked like something was bothering you.”

He waved his hand in the air vaguely, brows pinched. “You don’t have to call me ‘sir,’ you’re not one of my men.” He looked like he was debating saying more, so you waited patiently, quietly, hoping he recognized that you were here to listen if he so needed.

“As you likely know, there’s a gala coming up. Senators, politicians, ambassadors, Jedi….” Fox huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s going to be a security nightmare. And the Chancellor,” he spat, venom in his voice, “has been on my case about patrols and the Guard. Always demanding more. We’re spread too thin, and not getting the support we need--” he cut himself off. He was getting himself worked up again.

You placed your hand over his where it was clenched into a fist on the desk. It relaxed under your touch. Fox heaved another sigh mixed with a groan. “I’m behind on paperwork too,” he glared at the stack of datapads sitting to the side. “I don’t know where I’m supposed to find the time to do everything.”

“Hmm,” you reached over and picked up one of the datapads, skimming through it, hopping up so you were now sitting on the desk. It was just a patrol report that needed Fox’s signature before being filed. “What’s your CC number?”

“CC-1010,” he answered instantly, then regarded you with suspicion. “Why?”

You signed the bottom of the form: CC-1010, “Fox,” and submitted it.

“What are you doing?” his voice seemed to have kicked up an octave.

“Helping you with your work. I deal with paperwork and holoforms all the time,” you said, picking up another datapad and scanning through the information. “Most of the time it’s to make sure there’s a document trail. Most of these probably don’t need an in-depth review, they’re not important. They just go in the archives and are never looked at again.”

“I--you--that’s illegal,” he sputtered. But he seemed more surprised than serious.

You raised a brow at him, signing his designation and name once again before submitting the next form. “Are you going to arrest me?”

“No,” he didn’t hesitate. Interesting. Then he had a thought. “Your handwriting doesn’t even look like mine.”

“Doesn’t it?” you showed him where you had signed. It was almost identical to his scrawling script. His eyes flicked between the form and your face, incredulity on his features.

“How…?”

You shrugged. “It’s something I’ve always been good at. Saved me a lot of trouble as a kid when I needed my parents to sign for something at school. Especially when it was a disciplinary note.” Fox barked a disbelieving laugh at that and you couldn’t help your sly smile. “Even if I didn’t mimic your signature, no one would notice. Or care. You could mark the lines with an X and it would go through; it’s only the acknowledgement they care about. You can even draw a loth-cat face and have that be in the archive forever as a signature.”

“Don’t you dare,” he threatened with a chuckle. “Some of these aren’t just patrol reports though. I actually have to read through the more important ones.”

You handed him a holopad as you picked up your third. “How’s this: we work on these together; if I find one that has important information or requires more than a signature, I’ll give it to you.”

He regarded you for a long moment, debating your offer. Some of the weight had lifted from his shoulders; he looked less tense, less overwhelmed, even less exhausted. Then he slowly nodded. “All right,” he said. “But you have to let me buy you coffee for once.”

“You don’t have to do that--”

“We’re friends. Right?”

That stopped you short. You did consider him and the other guards friends, but to hear him say that he also considered you one...it was nice. It made a pleasant warmth flutter in your stomach, and you couldn’t help your shy smile at his words. “Right,” you agreed. The soft upturn of his lips made your breath hitch. He looked so young when he smiled.

The two of you worked in companionable silence, steadily making your way through the stack of datapads. You had been correct--most of them were unimportant; standard reports and forms that required a signature purely for protocol. Every once in a while you handed one over to Fox for him to read through. Slowly, your free hands had crept together, and Fox hoped to the Maker that you didn’t notice how warm his cheeks had gotten.

Your thumb rubbed soothing circles over the back of his hand, and he didn’t notice he was staring at the way your fingers moved rather than reading through the form you handed him until you cleared your throat. “Fox?” you asked quietly. His gaze landed on your lips. He wanted you to keep saying his name, he wanted to hear it again and again--

You brushed a stray curl back from his forehead. A tug on your arm had you stumbling forward off-balance, and you would have fallen if strong arms had not wrapped around you and pulled you into an armored chest. Heat rushed to your face at the new position you found yourself in: sat in Fox’s lap, his hand still entwined with yours.

Then he kissed you.

It was gentle, soft. His lips pressed to yours chastely, far more gently than you expected him to be, and you felt the datapad fall from your hand. The sharp clatter of it hitting the ground made Fox pull back, but then you grasped the back of his neck, twining your fingers in his curls, and pulled him back to your mouth. He tossed his own back on the desk with a groan as your lips met again.

You licked the seam of his lips, and he opened for you. Fox was content to let you lead. His hand gripped your hip, and he sighed into your kisses, melting from your affection. You don’t know how long the two of you stayed like that--tasting, breathing each other in, sharing languid kisses full of pent-up desire.

His wild curls were soft in your fingers, and he all but purred when you lightly scratched your nails along his scalp. The hard plastoid of his thigh plates was uncomfortable underneath you, and you shifted your hips slightly in an effort to find a more comfortable spot. The breath hissed out through Fox's teeth, and your face flushed with warmth realizing you had brushed against his codpiece. His fingers tightened on your hip and thigh, pulling you towards him, encouraging your hips to roll against him again.

It was an awkward angle, with you sitting with your legs thrown over his lap, but from the hitch in Fox’s breathing it was doing something for him. You hummed into his mouth before pushing yourself up, holding onto his broad shoulders for support as you swung one leg over so you were now straddling him, chest to chest.

“Better?” he rumbled, nipping your bottom lip before soothing the sting with his tongue. You squeaked as his palms cupped and squeezed your ass, tugging you closer. Both of you basked in each other's eager little breaths and soft noises, hungry and wanting for more.

"Mhmm." The new position allowed you to feel the firmness of Fox's codpiece against your center when you pressed your hips into his. Fox really appreciated the new position, with your tits against his chest and free access to grope your ass. He almost whined into your mouth at the steady slow grind you started against him.

You wanted to hear that noise again. An idea struck you. You wanted to taste him. One more deep kiss, then you shimmied back off his lap. Fox made a noise of protest and tried to pull you back to him, but you just grinned and shooed his hands away. The floor was cold on your knees as you settled between his spread legs.

“What are you--oh,” he cut off with a harsh breath as your deft fingers unclasped his codpiece and tossed it away. Immediately, your palm cupped the warm bulge at the front of his blacks. He shifted in his seat, and you noticed his cheeks and ears had flushed a shade darker. How cute.

“Commander,” you purred, slowly stroking him through the fabric.

“Y-yes, cyare?” His hands flexed at the arms of his chair. He was struggling to not reach out and pull you back on his lap. Normally so composed, Fox now looked wrecked with his lips slightly parted, kiss-swollen, and hair mussed.

“Will you let me suck your cock?”

Fox spluttered and fumbled at your bluntness. You bit your bottom lip, looking up at him from beneath your lashes, still slowly stroking him over his blacks. You could see him fighting with himself. Maker, he wanted it. He wanted to see your pretty lips wrapped around his length. But he also didn’t want you to feel like you had to--he also desperately wanted to pleasure you.

“Please?” you leaned forward and mouthed at his clothed erection, letting your spit soak the fabric. Your eyes locked with his, looking up at him with your best faux-innocent look, like you had no idea what you were doing to him. But Maker, you were hungry. You wanted him.

“Fuck,” the word sounded as if it had been punched out of him. His pupils were blown wide, black swallowing the rich brown of his irises. “Fuck, yes--”

You wasted no time in tugging the band of his blacks down. A shiver worked its way through him; seeing you on your knees in front of him was a dream--a dirty little fantasy he would never admit to. Many nights alone in his quarters or in the showers he had roughly fisted his cock to the thought of you in situations that were most definitely unprofessional, biting the back of his hand to keep his noises at bay. And now here you were, the sweet secretary, making his dreams become reality.

The sliver of warm skin revealed to you made you instantly want more, and you couldn’t stop from pressing a light kiss to his hip. Then you eased his leaking cock from his blacks. Fox hissed in a breath through his teeth as your hand loosely wrapped around him, pumping his length slowly. The precum that dribbled from the tip slicked your grip. He was thick and firm in your hand, like velvet-wrapped durasteel.

The first stroke of your tongue against his cock made him curse. You licked slowly, working your way from tip to base and back, tracing the pulsing vein that ran along the underside. Taking the head of his cock in your mouth, you tasted the salty tang of the precum that leaked from him. When you hummed around him, his hand shot to your hair, fingers winding through the strands. He didn’t push you down or pull you away; instead, he merely just...held on.

Fox’s breathing kicked up watching you worship his cock with your tongue and hands. You enjoyed watching him try to hold himself together, slowly making him fall apart piece by piece. Your head bobbed up and down his length, each time taking more of him. Your hand continued to pump and work the rest you hadn’t fit in your mouth. He breathed out a string of words in a language you didn’t understand, but from the tone it sounded like he was praising you.

All his little noises were making the heat coil in your core. Wetness pooled between your legs, and you clenched your thighs together for the slightest bit of relief. You closed your eyes to concentrate, focusing on the weight of his cock on your tongue, the heat of his body. You slowly took more of him in your mouth until you felt his tip bump the back of your throat. Breathe through your nose. Fighting off your gag reflex, you swallowed around him.

“Shit! Shit, mesh’la--” Fox cried out above you, feeling your throat constrict around his length. He tugged gently on your hair, and you pulled off him with a gasp. “Fuck, if you keep doing that I’m gonna cum in your mouth.” It was meant to be a warning, but he sounded too breathless for it to carry any weight.

“But Commander,” you looked up at him, enveloping the tip of his cock in the heat of your mouth and gently sucking. His thighs twitched under your hands, cock throbbing, and you pulled off with an obscene pop. “That’s the best part.”

You were messy, letting saliva drip from your mouth and down his cock. You sucked, licked, and kissed every inch of his length until it was sopping. When you ducked down to take his balls in your mouth, his breath hitched, hand tightening in your hair, and a low moan came from him.

“Gedet’ye, mesh’la, gedet’ye--” Fox choked out.

“Hm?” You pulled back, hand wrapped around his cock and continued to pump him tightly. You twisted your wrist when your hand brushed over his head. He was panting lightly, and looked deliciously wrecked.

“Gedet’ye,” he said again, “please.”

You smiled at him, and he felt his heart jump. You looked filthy, lipstick--Coruscant guard red?--smeared, lips and chin wet with spit. “I want you to cum in my mouth, Fox.” Then you brought your mouth back to his cock and sucked, laving your tongue over the sensitive head as one hand stroked the base. The other came up to cradle his balls, and he was done for.

Fox cursed up a storm in both Basic and Mando’a, nearly doubling over as his orgasm was wrenched out of him by your clever mouth. You kept your gaze connected with his, eyes hazy and half-lidded. Warm spurts of his release filled your mouth and you eagerly swallowed it down, milking his cock until he had nothing left. Subtly, you rubbed your thighs together, so turned on it nearly hurt. Seeing Fox fall apart for you stoked the fire of arousal in your core.

He had an arm thrown over his eyes as he slumped in his chair, chest heaving for breath. “Stars above, you’re going to kill me,” he said. You giggled, hands running soothing motions over his thigh plates, even though he couldn’t feel it through the plastoid. He looked boneless and sated, which was exactly your intention--well, part of your intention.

Then he was guiding you back up, cupping your cheek and kissing you hard. It was desperate, deep, filled with so much emotion that you couldn’t decipher it, you only knew that you felt the same. You moaned into his mouth. He broke the kiss, and you noticed the glint in his eye and his sly grin before he kissed you again, standing and guiding you back to sit on his desk.

“Now it’s my turn.”

502 notes · View notes

blackwidow-bby · 3 years

Text

Positions - Marvel Ladies x Fem!Sub!Reader

Summary: You're a sex worker and you've been hired by a new client for a "group activity".

genre: smut(18+)

pairings: Maria Hill x fem!reader, Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader, Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader, Carol Danvers x fem!reader, Yelena Belova x fem!reader

warnings: D/S dynamics, face slapping, spanking, strap on use, degradation, orgy, big ole lesbian train, oral, throat f*cking, name calling, degradation, thigh riding, fingering

AN: I am...well not a pro at writing dirty things especially not with multiple people but I hope you all enjoy regardless!

I don't own any marvel characters!!

Your assistant had just called you into her room. Your week had been slow but fruitful. Normally, it would be a regular client for the month, nothing to sweat over. Your thoughts started to run over who it could be. Maybe Mr. Dean, he usually calls on a Friday but you could've sworn you saw him two weeks ago. That didn't leave a lot of your regulars left to be requesting you as you knew their schedules like the back of your hand.

As if she could read your mind upon entering her space, she spoke, "Y/N, you have a call for a new client. Something about a friend requesting your services? The only thing is..." She hesitated almost thinking if she should tell you the rest of the details before she proceeded. "Well, it's for a group. You don't have to take up the offer if you're uncomfortable with that. I can call her back and let her know you declined."

To tell the truth, the thought of it being a group of strangers did make you uncomfortable, but your assistant wouldn't put you into a situation without going through the proper protocols first. She knew a head count of how many, roughly where they all worked, and several phone numbers. It always helped to be extra safe in these situations where you could be overpowered.

"Who inquired?" you asked interestedly. "She goes by N.R., gave me a headcount of all of her friends that would be attending. There's not going to be any men there, but I guess 'more power in numbers' is still 'more power in numbers'." In all honesty, women gave you way less shit about certain things than men did. Hopefully they'd be way more understanding if you didn't want to do specific activities.

"Call her back and tell her I'll take the offer. Do you know how much she's paying?" Your assistant slid a little sticky note over to you as she dialed the number of one 'N.R.'. You swear you almost choked when you saw how much she offered for you. That was a lot of zeros compared to usual. You walked away to get a water from the mini-fridge while you vaguely listened in to your assistant's phone conversation.

Good.

Perfect.

Okay, I'll tell her to meet you there at 6:30.

Extra clothes, yes ma'am. Have a nice day.

"Hey Y/N, I've written down the address, floor, and room number. It's uh...a really high end hotel in New York City. She also said to bring an extra change of--" you interrupted her, "Extra clothes? I overheard." you started wondering what for? Dinner? Go out? "Uhm, yes, she said extra comfy clothes." Comfy? Was she expecting you to spend the night? You looked down at your watch to see how much time you had to get ready. 2 hours. It wasn't enough but you could make it work. "Alright then, I should go freshen up."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

An hour and a half later had found you briskly walking toward the extremely tall and very expensive looking hotel in the Upper East Side. You lived in Queens and while the distance wasn't very far, paired with the traffic, the feeling of unsettlement about being late to such a client was enough to make you almost hurl.

You made your way inside the lobby, barely looking at your surroundings. You wanted to get up to the room as quickly as possible without being noticed. "Excuse me," Could you ever be so lucky? "Are you here for Ms. Romanoff?" Who? That must be your clients last name. "She said she was expecting a guest soon." The lady was being extra kind to you, she had an inviting smile. You almost wanted to never lie to her. "Yes, I'm here to see Ms. Romanoff." you replied quietly. It felt like your voice would echo too hard around the warmly lit lobby. You thought it would break you to hear your own voice shrill around such a pristine room.

"Very well, I'll show you to her room." Your nerves began to spike more the higher up you went. It was as if every floor number on the elevator was the level of anxiety you started to feel. Your palms were sweating and you could've sworn your back was too. The lady just kept her eyes forward with a meek little smile. It took every fiber of your body to not explode your feelings all over that elevator.

Ding

The elevator stopped, of course she was in a penthouse suite. You rolled your eyes as how predictable this situation was playing out. The kind lady, who's name you definitely forgot to get, remained in the elevator as you walked out. "There's a number for room service if you ladies need anything." She sung out. "Thank you."

The walk to her door seemed to never end. Your feet were dragging like gravity was doing everything in its power to keep them on the ground. The air was getting hotter as time slowed in the short distance it took to reach her door. You rang the little buzzer and a melodic voice called beyond the frame.

"Coming!"

You could hear the light patter of a single set of feet. The knob then turned and revealed a stunning short redhead with bright eyes. You were certainly gawking at the sight of her but there was nothing you could do to pull your own attention away. She had a smirk on her face when she saw you staring but not saying anything. "You must be Y/N, it's very nice to meet you. Come in and lets get you introduced to everyone."

She reached out her hand to you and you took it gently. her palms were much colder than yours and her fingers were long and slender. her hair was shoulder length and fire-y. The room was massive, and clean. She had all of the blinds closed to keep any natural light and eyes from entering the den. Scanning the room some more you noticed a couple items around the room. Non-traditional furniture. It was going to be one of those events. There were also four other heads aside from the host's. She turned around once reaching the main room and faced you. "My name is Natasha, over there is Wanda," another read-head standing behind everyone else with a glass of wine in her hands, she lightly nodded, "...that is Carol in the middle," a blonde woman with a bright and bubbly smile. She seemed taller than the rest but she was also sitting down on a piece of equipment that will no doubt be used in a different way by you. Natasha gestured to a brunette, "...this is Maria," another tall and slender woman, didn't offer a smile but a simple wave to your direction. You were scared of her the most. "...and this is Yelena." A second blonde who's face was much more stoic than Maria's. You take it back, she scared you the most.

Natasha's hand unhooked from yours and made its way up your back to settle on the back of your neck. The pads of her fingers added slight pressure to the muscles there as if she could feel all of your tension in waves. You felt her lean in closer, her hot breath fanning your ear. "There's a bathroom in the hall to the right. I got a cute little outfit waiting for you." You could feel her soft lips smiling against the curve of your ear. the feeling made you shiver. You managed to follow her eyes and swiftly walk to the bathroom, closing the door behind you.

You looked around and found the outfit in question. It was sleek all black leather body suit with a halter neck. You lifted it up in your hands and rubbed the material under your fingers. Next to it sat a bottle of lubricant no doubt to get the body suit on. You got to work shedding the current clothes you had on and began to slide on the little leather number. It wasn't too tight but certainly snug against your frame. The only thing out of the ordinary besides the material was, you noticed, a tiny little zipper in between your legs. If unzipped would reveal your very private essence. The thought made you blush a little to yourself. After cleaning up, you made your way back to the room where the women had sat prior.

Since you calmed down a little, you took the opportunity to fully take in your surroundings. The hall was adorned in art more than likely as expensive as this room. Everything seemed darker than when you arrived. To your surprise when you entered the living room area, the room lighting was red as opposed to the normal LED lighting.

Natasha held her hand out to you again for you to take. You obliged her and she pulled you close into her side. Natasha's deft fingers traveled up and down your ribs before finding purchase on your backside. "You look like the most delicious treat. None of us can wait to eat you. Would you like a drink before we start?"

The other women started moving closer almost circling you like sharks. "Yes please." Natasha poured you a glass as she went on, "We should go over some rules before we start. If at any point you feel overwhelmed, anxious, or hurt, the safe word is 'Heart'. We all stop what we're doing and will help you. If at any point you are gagged, two taps to the closest person will get all of us to cease as well. Because of those rules you will not be bound and gagged simultaneously...at least not this session." She ends her rules with a wink toward you. All of these women truly were stunning and it piqued your interest to know what they could possibly be capable of.

Wanda came closest to you first, she pulled the wine glass away from your lips and replaced it with her own lips. Holding your hand with the glass close to her chest and cupping your cheek with the other. Her lips were sinfully soft as was her kiss. She felt delicate and gentle against you, she almost seemed to not match any of this situation. Natasha took your wine glass away while you continued to make out with Wanda, who let her hands roam lower down your body. Your own hands moved behind her neck. Another set of arms wrapped around you from behind. "You're such a pretty kitten." They nibbled on your ear making you separate from Wanda to see who it was. Carol smiled down at you and found the very lips that left Wanda. You moaned into her mouth at feeling how she controlled and dominated the kiss, very different from Wanda's passion. Wanda moved down to kissing your neck and shoulder.

You could hear other giggles in the back. Natasha kept her eyes trained on you as Yelena and Maria began to touch each other in the mean time waiting for you. After a few minutes of watching her friends have all of the fun, Natasha made her way over to you, Carol, and Wanda. She pulled the other red-head back by her locks and pressed her lips to hers in a searing kiss. You heard Wanda moan out into the other woman's mouth next to you causing you to release your own into Carol. This made the blonde swiftly lift you up and wrap your legs around her waist. She brought you over to a nearby bench and kissed you harder. All of the sounds you were making began to rile her up.

"I'm not sure which one of us is more excited to have you here, pretty girl. All I know is I can't wait to ruin that pretty pussy of yours." You moaned at her words and yanked her back down into another kiss. Her words went straight to your core igniting a fire that had been waiting to burn. You made a mental note to find whoever recommended you to these ladies and thank them heavenly. Carol sunk her hips between your legs and began grinding against you seeking the friction she wanted so badly.

Even though the leather was a new material to you, you could still feel the faux member that rested in her pants; Carol was packing. This caused you to move your hands down to her pants to tear the buttons away. The tall blonde grabbed your hands and smirked, "Allow me." She stood to her full height and slowly removed the black jeans she was wearing and revealed her long, girthy strap she had been hiding. Your eyes widened which made Carol giggle. She sunk to her knees where she seductively pulled the zipper on your suit down. She held your eye contact until you saw them shift to behind you. Natasha and Wanda had pulled away long enough to see what Carol was doing and decided to join again. The two red-heads began to undress themselves where Natasha also sported a rather large strap but not Wanda.

In your distraction upon noticing the other women join in, Carol took to opportunity to shove he face into your pussy. You moaned out loud at the contact. Her tongue quickly lapping at your clit and sinking lower to curl inside you. Her ministrations were making you squirm on the bench. She reached up to hold your hips down. "Stay still kitten. Gotta get you ready for our cocks." Eating you out was an art to her. Every move she made, made you more and more wet. Natasha slid her fingers into your open mouth. You sucked on them harshly slipping your own tongue in-between her fingers and coating them in your saliva. Nat removed her fingers and started to rub them between Wanda's folds.

"Eat her out for me, malysh." Natasha requested. You looked up at Wanda as she slowly lowered herself over your wanting mouth. Your head went fuzzy upon seeing all of the quiet red-head's intimacy. Your tongue immediately poked out to welcome her to you. She let out a soft moan and slowly began to grind herself against your mouth. Carol was growing impatient watching you eat out the other woman and feeling you grow more aroused in her mouth. The blonde stood to position the tip at your entrance rubbing the head up and down your slit before she slammed her length in all at once. You yelped against Wanda's soaked cunt sending vibrations straight to her clit.

The whole scene was turning Natasha on more and more so she began stroking her own member, hoping to find some friction. The other two women walked over to join the rest of the group partially feeling left out. Carol continued to slam into you at a rather fast and rough pace. The tip of her strap hitting that blissful spot inside of you with every thrust. All of your moans and whines brought Wanda closer to her orgasm. She came hard in your mouth before she got up and was replaced by Natasha's own cock.

"Suck kotenok. Mommy's getting restless." Carol did not stop chasing not only her own high but yours. You could hear her grunting from below you. All of this attention was turning you on more than you think you've ever been in your life. Even though one hand wrapped around Natasha's strap and the other gripped Carol's wrist on your hips, you were finding it hard to keep blowing Nat. Carol moved her other hand down to your clit. "You better cum for me you little slut."

And you did; hard.

Carol continued her pace and upon watching you come undone, did so herself. Three quick thrusts and she was spent. She released the most guttural moan before her body was replaced by another blonde. Yelena had this look in her eyes like she wanted to make you pay for every wrong you never committed. She removed her clothing and sat right on your bent leg. At this point Natasha was fucking your mouth deeper and deeper. Needing to ground yourself you wrapped your hands around her thighs. Yelena began to rub herself against your thigh. You could feel how wet and warm she was, her hand sliding up and down your slit collecting your cum to rub your clit in tight circles. Your whines didn't stop especially when you were already beginning to feel another orgasm approaching. Yelena slipped her fingers inside you, finding your g-spot with accuracy. With every thrust of her fingers she hit that same spot over and over. tears started to run down your face with the feeling of Natasha in your mouth and Yelena in your core. Natasha gave one last thrust before she pulled out.

Maria shoved three of her fingers to the back of your throat. She giggled when you gagged around them. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head at being finger fucked by the two women. "You're not allowed to cum before I do, else Natty here give you a nice punishment while I ride your face." Yelena only made the threat to turn you on more, but part of you was hoping it was true. It was hard, Yelena knew exactly what she was doing with her fingers but you could feel her slick slide down the sides of your thigh. God you hope she was close because you certainly were. Maria replaced her fingers with her lips and she kissed you hard sliding her tongue along yours. The brunette smiled against your lips when she felt your whimpers in her mouth. Yelena just kept slamming her fingers harder inside of you and rubbing herself quicker. Her breaths got faster and more shallow and as she came, a couple seconds later so did you. Your body shook with the most intense tremors, but Yelena couldn't fault you. She did cum before you, and something about it being in close tandem with hers turned her on a lot more than she would admit. You let out a soft whine when the coolness of the air hit your soaked thigh.

Maria left your mouth and moved between your legs. She put one leg over your left and the other under your right and brought your centers together. "You're a pretty little slut. I want to ruin you so bad." Maria started out ruthless. Her grinding was fast and hard as if she had been waiting to cum for weeks. You felt her in her entirety sliding against your own. The feeling started to overwhelm you. Carol took your face in her hand and rubbed her thumb along your bottom lip. "Open up you little slut."

You obeyed her and opened your mouth sticking your tongue out. At this point you were a blubbering mess and all the ladies were loving it. Carol spit into your mouth before shoving her cock in. "I saw you taking Nat like a pro, so I know you can take me." At least her pace wasn't rough but it certainly was quick. Your gags around Carol was making Maria closer to her release. She leaned forward to angle herself differently against you and put her hand around her throat. She could practically feel Carol's cock fucking your face. Sweat was running down your forehead and your hair clung to every part of your body it could touch. You were close to being spent and you never looked more beautiful this way. Maria's hand tightened, her grunts were heavy. "Such a good little fuck toy. I'm so close baby." You didn't think it was possible for Maria to go any harder but she did. She came with a loud cry and slowed her hips down to ride out her orgasm. You felt her wetness mix with yours. Maria's hand stayed for a couple more minutes, entranced by feeling Carol deep in your throat. The tall blonde slapped your face a couple times before she pulled out. You were too busy catching your breath, you didn't see Natasha move by your feet. She lifted you up and turned you over on your stomach with your legs and arms hanging off the bench. Just when you were hoping it was over, you forgot that Natasha never officially had her turn with you. She rested her strap on your lower back as she ran her cool hands in an attempt to soothe your burning skin. Almost mocking you for being the one to give you the final blow. Wanda walked up to you again. She ran her soft fingers in your hair and moved the stuck strands out of your face. Your breathing was heavy and your body was trembling. Wanda's fingers moved down to cup your jaw and she lifted your head. Tapping the side with her pointer finger, you got the silent request to open your mouth for her. In unison, as Wanda brought her cunt to your mouth, Natasha slid her strap inside you completely bottoming out. Nothing but incoherent noises left your mouth at being filled so sinfully. Wanda gripped your jaw harder as she rubbed her intimacy against your mouth for a second time. You lazily kept your tongue out to try your best to accommodate Wanda's wanting. Natasha on the other hand, had been waiting very patiently for her time and now that she got it she was going to make the best of it. She grabbed your hands in her own and pulled them behind your back to make it easier for her to pound deep into your cunt. When you felt her hit somehow deeper your eyes rolled back. Wanda picked up her pace just as Natasha did, both red-heads moving in perfect synch at opposite ends of your being. A jolt of paint hit your right asscheek igniting a new spark and effectively waking you up even if only for a minute. With every thrust administered, Natasha rained a hand alternating each side of your ass. All of this was sending more and more feelings to your core. You will not be lasting long if these two kept going the way they were. You could feel Wanda fumbling, she was about to come for the second time tonight. Natasha continued to get more rough inside of you until you felt the knot inside of you burst. You came hard around Natasha groaning against Wanda's own cunt. The sight caused Wanda herself to not be able to keep her composure and she came with a scream against your tongue. You felt her pussy pulsing with her orgasm on your mouth. As soon as Wanda backed away from your face, Nat yanked your arms back harder to push herself deeper than you thought was possible. You were screaming, a sweaty broken mess, absolutely spent in this five star hotel. Every thrust pushed harder against that spongey spot inside you. You could feel another earth shattering orgasm approach hoping it would be the last. Natasha's thrusting didn't let up, she was desperate to cum. She was moaning over you with every hit. You yelled her name as you came harder than you had before that whole session. Watching you absolutely spent around her

member, Natasha came just as hard with her final thrust. She stayed inside you to ride out the rest of her high before she carefully pulled out. Looking down she could see wetness all over the bench and her legs. Nat smiled to herself at being the one to make you squirt everywhere like a silent victory. Allowing you to lay and collect your bearings, the red-head began to clean up the room.

There wasn't much you could make out in your state, but you could partially hear Natasha thanking all of the women for coming over before hearing the door open and close through the ringing in your ears. Your were shaking, your whole body felt blissfully weak. The red-head padded over softly to your spent and soaked body and picked you up carefully to place you in her arms bridal style. Your mind was in a war with yourself between wanting just a little bit more or to just go to sleep. You couldn't even open your eyes at this point.

Natasha had brought you to the bathroom to help you clean up and as she moved about, she kept you in her arms. She made sure to hold you as she turned on the faucet and sit on the edge of the tub. As the water filled the tub, Nat moved between rubbing your back and gently caressing your cheek. Once the tub was filled up enough for the both of you, she picked you up again and cautiously lowered the both of you into the hot relaxing water. You couldn't do anything but mumble and cursed yourself for the state you were in even though it wasn't your fault. You desperately wanted to think your gracious host for a life changing night but nothing could come out. Natasha shushed you sweetly. Her time wasn't done until you were well taken care of in her company.

You don't know how long you were in the bathroom, hell you don't even know when you fell asleep as Natasha washed the night away from both of your bodies. Clearly still in no position to be able to make it back to your home, the red-head dried both of you off and brought you to the large bedroom. You had come back into partial consciousness long enough to feel the soft sheets and the plush comforter of this heavenly bed you were being gifted to rest on.

Natasha lowered you down and climbed on the other side before pulling you into her. She lifted your head to lay on her chest so she could easily hold you and play with your hair. She stayed awake until she heard your breathing even out again, signaling that you had fallen asleep again since the bath. She placed a soft kiss to your hairline before succumbing to sleep herself with a blissed smile on her face.

She'd definitely be requesting you again.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Not sure how I feel about this but yeah this is my wack attempt at something extra dirty.

#natasha romanoff x reader #maria hill x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #Carol danvers x reader #yelena belova x reader #reader insert #my fic #multi character x reader #fem!reader insert

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cozy-possum · 2 years

Text

Twin AU Meeting Here by @jspills

Listen I’ve thrown myself back into monster high face first, and seeing all the amazing art is just making my fingers itch

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Summary: Monster High, based on jspill’s art of a Jackson/Holt twin au; Specifically when they come to blows about Holt playing dumb

Jackson learned earlier on in normie schools not to stare too long. Which he thinks is what’s saving his ass right now as he can hear the group of monsters mumbling about him.

“Nah, he’s probably just some weird Normie kid..” His brother’s voice forces him to look up, a reassurance that he’s safe. He searches and finds him, other male monster’s around him.

Jackson can sort of recognise the werewolf, he remembers seeing him around the vampire girl that Frankie had introduced him to, although the introductions she’d done earlier in the day are just a blurry spot because she smiled at him and then her arm ran up his shoulder to turn his head so she could point out his Home ick classroom. The fire elemental looks familiar in that vague way that Jackson thinks he’d seen him at a family function or in passing maybe a dream even. The gorgon he recognises. Deuce; he seems to be regarding Jackson with curiosity in the same way Holt had when they’d first been introduced. But then Holt flickers his gaze up and down Jackson and shrugs, repeating that he’s a normie and the rest of the monsters turn back to whatever they’re talking about.

Jackson learns by lunch that Holt’s not just giving him the silent treatment but that Holt has decided to completely ignore his existence beyond being the strange new normie that everyone is talking about. It’s too easy for Jackson to fall back on years of previous social interaction; which is him keeping his head down and trying not to draw anyone’s attention to himself.

This ignorance is bliss approach lasts until Mr. Rotter assigns some group project and Deuce

asks if they can work at one of their houses.

“Course, just don’t spill all my secrets.” Holt laughs and Jackson wonders exactly how far he expects Deuce to follow through when he nods.

Jackson almost considers going for a walk so he can pretend to show up to his own house. Holt, who’s finally acknowledging him calls him an idiot and before it can be an actual fight Deuce shows up. He doesn’t mention anything while they’re working and they actually manage to finish the project in a few hours.

Jackson knows they’ll go back to ignoring each other so when he steps back into the halls and Holt doesn’t look his way he’s not surprised. Deuce however is still surprising him when he walks over and slings his arm on his shoulder.

“Good to see you man; you eating lunch alone again?” Deuce asks and Holt’s about to answer but Jackson’s nod beats him to it. He can see the fire in Holt's eyes and just smirks a little, finally pleased he can get one up on his twin.

“Jackson, good to see you, you look like you’ve slept for once; Deuce was saying you and him stayed up all night finishing Rotter’s project, since Holt has to have his eight hours of beauty rest.”

“Oh like Jackson doesn’t whine like a little bitch when he’s sleepy.” Holt laughs and Jackson rolls his eyes.

“You’d know all about that Mr. still sleeps with a nightlight.”

“Say the one who’s still scared of everyone around here.”Holt hisses and Jackson swears he can feel the air change. Everyone shifts uncomfortably, Deuce is looking unsure, as is Clawd. Jackson catches Clawd mumbling, half asking how they know that about each other. Holt’s glaring, a barely there smirk already in place because he thinks Jackson doesn’t have anything to come back with; that he won’t admit it.

“Why would I be scared of anyone here when you’re my brother.” Jackson’s almost expecting a cliche gasp to rise up instead Holt’s hand presses firmly on his shoulder; he can feel the heat burning through his clothes, most likely going to leave a blister, or a scar if he’s unlucky; and with the tense way Holt is watching him, he knows he’s unlucky.

“Brother?” Deuce frowns and Jackson nods trying his best not to scream.

“Yeah, Jackson’s my twin; he’s normie though; as far as we can tell so no clue why he’s here. He should just got back to where he came from.”

“You really want me to go blabbing to the normies about monsters? Everyone would know you’ve driven me back.”

“When the hell did you get a spine?”

“Somewhere between you ignoring me and getting bullied for being a freak by normies.”

“They were right though, you’re a normie weirdo here and a weirdo freak to normies. Why would anyone want you here!”

“I think most of the monsters here do want me; besides you..” Jackson responds calmly, Holt finally pulling his hand back as if he was the one burned.

“You just showed up.” He growls and Jackson nods slightly, hoping that Holt will actually talk to him for once; it seems his luck will hold on this.

“They never told me about you, I was alone, you were alone.” Holt hisses, shoving Jackson away from the creepateria and into the empty hallway. Before Jackson can say anything Holt’s pulling him into a slightly stiff hug.

“I know if anyone asks ,you beat me up.” Jackson chuckles and can’t help but smile when Holt scowls.

“You’re my brother.” A tense sigh. “If anyone fucks with you they’re fucking with me.”

“And us.” Deuce and the rest of Holt’s friends are smirking as they crowd the doorway.

“Don’t worry, if anyone asks Jackson’s a sappy normie who dragged you into the hug.” Holt tries to protest before Clawd, Heath and Deuce are all pushing him back into Jackson’s arms so they’re the center of a group hug.

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#jackson jekyll #holt hyde #clawd wolf #deuce gorgon #deuce gorgon imagine #jackson jekyll imagine #holt hyde imagine #monster high #monster high fanfiction #twin au #heath burns

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edna-skiffens · 3 years

Text

The Best Medicine

Summary: You are in the hospital, but you can never sleep in hospitals. Good thing you have a very attractive night shift nurse who is willing to help out.

Word Count: 4.5K

Warnings: hospitals, light med talk, bad medical writing, fluff

A/N: Please ignore the plot holes or the fact that this isn’t the most realistic and also I know this isn’t how discharge works at the hospital.. It’s called fiction for a reason, darling. Also, I left the reason the reader is in the hospital open ended bc some of us may have medical conditions/reasons that we can attach to this, but if not I tried to keep it vague enough on purpose so that you can imagine whatever. Also if you like Nurse!Tom and have requests for him lmk bc i’m happy to write for him.

Toss and turn. Toss and turn. The routine was getting old. This was your third night in the hospital and sleep just wasn’t coming to you.

Maybe it was the medicine they had you on. Maybe it was the constant symphony of sounds and people passing in the hallway. Maybe it was because you weren’t at home in your own bed.

Maybe it was just because you were in the hospital.

You couldn’t be sure. What you were sure of is that you weren’t falling asleep anytime soon.

Feeling another presence in the room, you looked from the ceiling to the doorway where you saw Tom, one of the night shift nurses, standing cautiously.

“I didn’t wake you did I?” He asked as he eased his way inside.

“Nope.”

“So no sleep again, huh?”

“Nope.”

“Sorry darling. Let’s go ahead and get these vitals over with.” He took your blood pressure, oxygen levels, temperature and wrote it down in your chart. Putting the clipboard back on its hook at the end of the bed, he looked up at your tired face. “Okay. So now about that sleep. What do you think will help?”

“Not being in the hospital.”

He chuckled lightly while walking back towards your bedside.

“I know. You hate it here. You’ve made that very clear and I try not to take too much offense to it.” You let out a slight laugh and held back the fact that he was the best part of this whole experience. He almost made it worth it. “I’m sorry we can’t give you any sleeping medication. Do you think it’ll help if I talk to you?”

“You mean tell me bedtime stories?” You couldn’t help but tease him at the adorable suggestion, though it sent a swarm of butterflies off in your stomach.

“I was thinking more like bore you ‘till you fell asleep. But whatever works.”

“You’re the nurse. If you think it’ll help.” You both sat there smirking at each other for a moment. Something unspoken floating in the air between you two.

“Well, I need to finish my round of vitals first. I’ll come check on you when I’m done and if you’re still up we’ll see about those stories.”

“I’ll be here.”

About fifteen or twenty minutes later you heard a light tap on your door followed by “Still awake?”

“Always.”

“You up for a chat?” Tom asked as he made his way to the stool then rolled slightly closer to your bed.

“Got nothing better to do.” You teased again.

“Okay. Well you should probably lay down.”

“Oh. It’s going to be that kind of story, huh?” His laugh was so beautiful and you were happy you were the cause of it.

“No.” He corrected in between laughs “The goal is to get you to sleep. So sitting up won’t help.”

“Right. Right.”

“Well.. anything in particular you’d like to talk about?”

“Why did you choose to become a nurse?”

“Ahhh. Good question. So I actually went to an art school.” You couldn’t help the brief expression of surprise that crossed your face. “I know. Shocking. I did training specifically in dance and gymnastics and I loved it.”

“Wait, so what happened?” You asked, turning on your side to face him more comfortably.

“Well one day we were rehearsing for a show and I fell. Ruined my knee. Had to do physical therapy for months. I tried to get back into it, but it just wasn’t the same. However, through that process I learned a lot about medicine and the health side of things. It really turned me on to it. And when my Plan A got a bit messed up I thought ‘hey, this could work’. So far it’s treated me pretty well.”

You smiled at Tom, admiring his passion for his career and the determination he had to keep pushing after his accident. You enjoyed hearing him talk about it too. If you didn’t know any better you would say it was helping you relax.

“My story that boring?”

“Obviously.”

“Your sarcasm has no end.”

“Oh… goodness.. you thought that was sarcasm?”

Tom only laughed and shook his head the way he often did with you.

You may just have been his patient and he may have just been your nurse, but you both bonded. He kept you company and gave you comfort. In return, you kept him entertained during the quiet night shifts.

“I’m not going to sleep. I'm just resting my eyes. But still listening.” You told him as you nestled further into the hospital bed, trying to find a position that would make it comfortable.

“Okay, darling.” He grinned at you.

“Tell me more. What kind of-” You had to stop to yawn, “What kind of art stuff did you do?”

“Oh. Well, I was in a few musicals. I really enjoyed dancing. I did ballet ever since I was young and I love the control I have over my body. The tricks I can do with gymnastics or the turns and leaps. I mean I can’t do them to that level anymore, but I try to stay active.” He glanced up and noticed you hadn’t moved, “Are you still with me?”

“Mhm.” You barely respond.

“Okay. Well it was a performing arts school so we really were trained in many areas. We had classes in acting, singing, dancing, all of it. It was a lot of fun and I met my best friends there.”

Tom began telling stories about his time at school. Before he knew it, he lost himself and track of time. He looked back at you, quiet and still.

“Y/N?” You were finally asleep. “Goodnight, darling.” He whispered as he gently made his exit.

Because Tom worked the night shift, you never saw him when you woke in the morning. Instead, Tanya, a sweet nurse that felt like a big sister, or Linda, Nurse Ratched in the flesh, came in for morning vitals and meds.

You counted down the days until your release. Life in the hospital was pretty uneventful with the limit on visitors and limited activity. There’s only so many sitcoms one can take in a given timespan. The only thing that you really looked forward to each night was when Tom clocked in.

“Hi Y/N.”

“Hi Tom.” You would smile at each other.

“How are we feeling today?”

“Better. Ready to get out of here.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear you are feeling better and still ready to jailbreak.” He smiled while writing something down on your chart. “They should be bringing up your dinner tray soon and then I’ll bring by your evening meds after that.”

“Okay.”

“If you need me you know what to do.” He called to you before walking out the door.

You were disappointed when Shelley brought your evening meds by later. She was a nice enough nurse. She just wasn’t Tom.

You’d grown accustomed to mainly having him as your nurse during the evening shift. At first you weren’t sure if it was coincidence or on purpose, but after a few nights of staying up and talking, you grew closer to him. You saw less of the other nursing staff and more of Tom.

You tried not to build anything up in your head. You were sure everything he was doing was in his job description and a part of being a good nurse.

He would sneak you extra pudding cups from the cafeteria and bring you an extra heated blanket because you could never stay warm. If you needed a new IV, he held your hand to ease the anxiety. He kept you company and made you feel less alone in such a sterile and intimidating place. And when he noticed you had trouble sleeping he chose to sit with you to help you fall asleep. You couldn’t help the butterflies that built in your stomach.

It became a sort of routine. He checked on you during evening vitals, even if someone else was doing them, and you were always still awake. He would then come and sit with you and chat for a bit, telling you different stories until you eventually fell asleep.

Some nights when you were extra restless he would help you walk the halls.

“The doctors have to see you’re stable enough before you can be discharged. Plus, maybe it’ll tire you out.” He suggested.

He would help get your IV pole ready so you could walk with it. He helped you into your slippers and eased you out of bed after passing you your robe.

Walking the hall slowly, Tom knew he had to remain professional, yet he found a few excuses to graze his hand across your back to ‘steady you’ when you turned corners or he thought you were looking tired.

“It might take me a while to get back to my usual jogs in the park, huh?” You laughed in spite of yourself.

“You’ll get there. Baby steps.” He encouraged, as you turned around the Nurse’s Station. You missed the faces the other night shift nurses were giving you both, but Tom was sure to subtly flick them off. “So, do you like running?” He asked as you headed back towards your room.

Throughout your late nights together, he told you of his three younger brothers and his dog named Tessa. You spoke about what you would do when you were out of hospital. He talked about his friends and flatmates and the adventures they had. He told you many stories, but each morning when you woke up he was clocked out and the day shift nurses were there.

Tonight was your last night. You’re set to be discharged tomorrow and while you are ecstatic to go home, you’re going to miss one thing about this place.

“I bet you’re too excited to sleep tonight. I don’t know if my stories will even help.” Tom said as he sat down next to you.

You smiled up to him sweetly.

“What are you looking forward to the most once you get out of here?”

“Sleeping in my own bed.”

“Well that’s no surprise.” Tom laughed, a contagious sound making you giggle as well. “Isn’t there anything you’ll miss about this place?”

“Yeah.” He smiled “There’s one thing.”

“What’s that?” He asks.

“The pudding cups.”

“Ahh the pudding cups of course.” You giggled while fiddling with the IV line.

“They just don’t taste the same in the outside world.”

His smile grew wider as you giggled.

“No, but really. As much as I give this place grief and say I’m ready to get out of here - which I am,” You gave him a pointed look to which he held his hands up in mock surrender, fully believing you, “it hasn’t been too terribly awful I guess.”

“Oh, well, I’m glad we could make your stay not too terribly awful.. I guess.” He teased. “Do you have anything exciting to look forward to once you’re a free woman?”

“Nothing huge planned, really. The doctors did say to take it easy.”

“That’d be wise.”

“Yeah. I’ll just lay low for a while. My sister said she may try to come visit me though so that would be nice.”

“Oh that would be nice. She’s your older sister right?”

“Right. She moved away last year to be closer to her boyfriend.”

“Ah. Do you like him?”

“Sorry?”

“This boyfriend. Do you like him?”

“He’s alright, I suppose. He makes her happy.” Tom nodded along.

“And do you have a boyfriend that makes you happy?”

“N-No. No I don’t. Not at the moment.” You began fiddling with the IV cord again.

“No boyfriend or not a boyfriend that makes you happy?” He asked.

“Neither.”

“Well that’s a shame.” If the heart monitor was connected you would’ve been screwed. “I just mean someone needs to look after you once you get home. I hope this sister comes through for a visit. You’ve got to take it easy.”

“Oh I’ll be fine.”

“I’m sure you will be.” He smiled.

“How has your shift been tonight? Busy?” You asked, fighting back a yawn.

“A bit busier than usual. There was a slight emergency earlier which is why Shelley handed out meds tonight. Sorry I didn’t come around.”

“It’s alright. I know you have other patients.”

“Yeah, but none like you.” You were sure he said that to all of his patients. After all, you’ve heard similar lines ever since you went to the pediatrician as a child. But it still gave you butterflies.

“Are you getting sleepy?”

“A little. But it’s okay.” He gave you a pointed look but continued to talk anyway. “It’s the last night. One final request for storytime. Make it a good one.”

You thought for a moment before asking your question.

“Do you ever wish that life turned out differently? That you never had your accident and you could’ve followed your dreams to be a dancer?” You asked while turning on your side and getting more comfortable.

“Sometimes. At least, I used to. But I think I’ve accepted it now. And I really can’t see myself doing anything but this.” You nodded taking in his answer “I look at it this way. If it wasn’t for my injury then I never would’ve changed my career path and found my love for medicine. I never would have made so many of the friends I’ve made or the memories I’ve made. I never would have met you.” He finishes with a sweet smile.

“That’s a very positive way of looking at it.” You told him. “Be honest, are you a therapist during the day?” He laughed out loud.

“No. I’m not. I guess I’m a big believer in ‘everything happens for a reason’.” You nodded while covering a yawn.

“So I’ve been curious to ask you,” He began, “Do you usually have this much trouble sleeping? Because you can get help for that you know?” You smiled at him.

“What? I thought a night nurse talking to you was the cure?” Tom smirked and shook his head. “I’m kidding. No, I normally don’t. It’s just the stiff sheets and hospital sounds I think.”

“Darn hospital.” He rolled his eyes and joked. “So this time tomorrow you’ll be sound asleep in your own bed then?”

You knew it was meant to be a happy statement, but you were a little sad at the thought of not having any more late night chats with Tom.

“Yes. Thank God.” You forced a smile.

You felt another yawn coming and tried to hold it back. It was already past the usual time that you fell asleep.

Tom could tell you were exhausted so he launched into a story from nursing school, hoping to lull you to sleep.

You yawned your way through listening, trying to soak up every last moment with Tom. In the morning he wouldn’t be here. You’d leave and likely never see him again.

When he finished, your eyes were half open and he wondered how you were still awake. Or maybe why.

“Why are you fighting it? The point is to sleep. Give in.” He told you gently after another yawn.

You looked up at him, half asleep and rubbing your eyes, not finding the confidence to tell him the true reason you were trying to stay awake.

“I’m happy right now.”

He smiled down at you.

“I am too. But you need your sleep, darling.” You weren’t sure what to say and you didn’t have much energy left in you anyway. “How about this. I’ve probably been in here too long as it is. Let me go check in at the Nurse’s Station and then I’ll come back and check on you soon and see if you’re still awake okay?”

The thought that he was leaving gave you a sad feeling in your stomach. You tried to remind yourself that he was just your nurse. Nothing more.

“Okay.” You smiled at him, sleepily, while settling further into the bed.

He stood up and instead of walking towards the door he walked closer to you. He grabbed the thin, white hospital blanket and pulled it closer around your shoulders.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He whispered before he walked to the door.

“Tom?” You called out just before he opened it. He turned around with an expectant look, “Thanks for everything.”

Even though the room was dim you could see his smile.

“You’re welcome, Y/N. Get some sleep.”

You don’t remember much after that. You don’t know if Tom came back to check on you. You just remember falling asleep with a smile on your face.

When you woke up the following morning it felt like any other morning in the hospital.

The hallways were much louder. Beeps, chatter, and phones were constant. The lights were brighter.

But you were quickly reminded that it wasn’t any other morning. You were going home today.

The door creaked open and Tanya, one of your regular daytime nurses, poked her head in.

“Oh good you’re up.” She made her way inside and over to the gloves. “How’d you sleep?”

“Pretty good. Thanks.” She gave you a smile, something hidden behind it.

“I’m sure.” She said quietly to herself. You gave her a questioning look. “Oh I just mean I’m sure you’re excited to get out of here.”

You nodded as she took your vitals one last time.

“Everything looks good. What do you say about getting this IV out?”

“I say that sounds amazing.”

She took it out and bandaged up your arm while informing you of how the morning would go.

“Dr. McCoy is making rounds now then he’ll be by soon to go over your discharge. You can get dressed whenever you’re ready. If you need help, buzz me. You’ll still have a breakfast tray come, but you don’t have to eat it.” She gave you a wink while taking off her gloves.

“Thanks Tanya.”

“Of course, sweetie. And in case I don’t see you before you go, you’ve been a wonderful patient. Take care of yourself.” You smiled at her as she left you to change into some leggings and a sweatshirt.

You were packing your remaining things into your bag when your doctor walked in.

“Y/N! How are we doing today?”

“We’re doing great because we’re going home.” You smiled while taking a seat to rest for a few minutes.

“I know you’re excited.” He laughed before explaining the conditions of your discharge. You had medicines to take, a follow up appointment, and strict instructions to rest for the next few weeks. After signing some forms he left you with a stack of papers. “Is someone coming to pick you up?”

“Yeah my neighbor should be here within an hour.”

“Sounds good. Don’t hesitate to call us or come back in if you have any trouble or questions.”

“Will do. Thanks.”

A few minutes after he left a nurse brought in your breakfast tray. There wasn’t much of a point for it but since your discharge wasn’t technically until 10:30 am you were still a patient during breakfast.

You took the pudding cup that you requested with every meal off the tray before sliding it away. Smiling to yourself, you tucked it away in your bag. All you had left to do was wait for 10:30.

Tanya came in to check on you again and told you to buzz the Nurse’s Station when you knew your ride was here. At 10:27 you had a text from your neighbor that they were out front in the pickup zone. So you hit the call button.

“Yes?” Linda, the scariest dayshift nurse, answered.

“Um hi. Tanya told me to buzz in when my ride was here so I could go down.”

“Okay we’ll be right in.”

Not even a minute later you heard your door open. Expecting to see Tanya or maybe even Linda you looked up.

An audible gasp left your lips when Tom stood in your doorway with a wheelchair.

“I hear someone needs a ride?” He smiled as he made his way closer to the bed.

“Tom. What are you still doing here?”

“I pulled a double.” You wanted to ask why, but decided against it. You were still in a little bit of shock from seeing him again. “If you’d rather I can go get Linda to walk you down?” He pointed back towards your door.

“No! No.. I’m just surprised s’all.”

“Well come on. I thought you’d be running out of this place once the clock hit 10:30.” Glancing up you saw it was now 10:34. Your neighbor is probably tired of waiting already.

You grabbed your discharge papers and reached for your bag when you heard, “I got it.” Smiling at him, you sat down in the wheelchair. Tom placed the bag around his shoulder and kicked the brakes off the chair. “Ready?” You nodded up at him.

He rolled you out of the room that felt so small for a final time. You passed the Nurse’s Station and waved bye to the staff. He turned by the elevators and when you looked up at him in question, he read your mind. Looked down at you he said, “We’re taking the staff elevators.”

When you made it there he hit the button, turning you around and backing you in once the doors opened. He hit the button for the Lobby and leaned up against the wall of the elevator, briefly glancing at you, as you rode down together.

“Well you made it. You’re a free woman.” He smiled shyly.

“Yippee.” He met your eyes for a moment before looking back to the floor. The dynamics felt different. It wasn’t like your late night talks together.

“Listen, Y/N.” Tom began as he stood up from the wall and faced you. He was about to continue when the elevator ding cut him off, signaling you had reached your destination.

Maybe that was what was different. You had reached your destination.

You had a fun time talking with Tom and entertaining each other when you were both up late at night. He was fun to get to know and you enjoyed having someone care for you. He was easy to banter with and certainly easy on the eyes. But your time at the hospital was up. You knew it would be eventually. You wanted it to be.

Tom was a nurse. He was just doing his job. He was helping take care of you. He was being nice. He was trying to make your stay more comfortable. There was nothing to read into.

Your time being his patient was up and your time with him was up.

You tried to remain realistic, but the sadness still crept up as he rolled you closer to the door.

Once outside, you saw your neighbor exit the car and wave you over. Tom steered in the direction and slowed before rolling to a stop and hitting the brake locks on the wheels.

“Hi, I’m Taylor.”

“Tom.” They shook hands as Tom passed off your bag for Taylor to put in the backseat.

“I’m sorry for the circumstances, but it really has been a pleasure having you as a patient and getting to know you, Y/N.” Tom admitted as he walked around to face you. He grabbed the papers from your lap. “Take care of yourself, okay?” You had shared many smiles with Tom, but this one felt sadder.

“I will. Thank you for everything, Tom. I mean it.” You reached up and squeezed his hand. He gave you a light squeeze back while smiling down at you. Taylor returned from the backseat of the car and Tom turned to them.

“These are her important papers about follow up appointments, medications, what to do at home, all of that so please make sure she doesn’t lose any of them.” He emphasized the point.

“Got it. Thanks.” Taylor held onto the stack while Tom turned back to you.

“If I can’t handle a few papers on my own, then maybe I shouldn’t be going home yet, Tom.” You laughed.

“I know, I just wanted to make sure they made it home with you.” He walked closer. “You ready to get in?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. He helped you up, supporting you just as a precaution. Once seated, you took a moment to catch your breath as you pulled the seatbelt down. He met your hand, taking it from you to buckle you in.

“You good?”

You nodded with a smile, “Just a little tired. No biggie.”

He looked you over before returning your smile, though his didn’t quite reach his eyes, “If you need us, call us. Otherwise go home and rest.”

This was it. This was goodbye.

“Thanks, Tom.”

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

He shut the door. He walked back to the wheelchair, released the brake locks and headed inside. He looked back only when your car was driving away.

“Here’s those papers that are so important.” Taylor handed you the stack after they got in.

“Thanks.”

“So how are you feeling?”

“Better. Thanks.” You felt them looking at you as they joined traffic.

“You sure? You sound like you feel awful.”

You try to remind yourself to forget the sweet and attractive nurse and start moving forward.

“Yeah. Yeah I’m okay.” You decide to distract yourself by reading through your discharge paperwork, when something caught your eye. On top was a sticky note with the hospital’s letterhead. You were sure it wasn’t there before. Looking closer it read,

Y/N,

In case you need someone to talk to when you can’t sleep.

555-5555

P. S. I have a connection to some pretty good pudding cups too.

Tom

The smile that grew on your face was undeniable. All the feelings you suppressed came flooding in. He wasn’t just being nice. He actually liked you.

One thing you knew for sure was that even though you would be in your own bed tonight, you still would be up, talking to a very special nurse.

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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

Text

Never Have I Ever - Harry Styles (part 2)

i quite liked this story and thought it totally had potential for more, so i’ve cooked up a part 2, continuing the idea. i have no clear plan with this, just enjoyed taking the story further, but i might turn it into a proper series if you guys are enjoying the concept!

pairing: Harry x actress!reader

word count: ~3.2k

SERIES MASTERPOST

masterlist

The car comes to a halt and you look up from your phone after being so occupied with texts you’ve been ignoring all afternoon.

“We’ve arrived, Miss,” The driver, Lawrence informs you in his usual, polite manner, looking at you through the mirror.

“Oh, thank you so much,” you breathe out grabbing your purse from the seat next to you. “I don’t think I’ll take too long, I’m not really in the mood to party,” you let him know, quickly running your hand through your hair before getting out, already knowing paparazzi is waiting for all guests at the entrance probably.

“Had a long day?” he asks with a soft smile.

“Kind of,” you sigh nodding. “I’ll text you when I’ll feel like heading home soon, alright?”

“Perfect. Have a great night, Miss,” Lawrence nods.

“Thank you,” you nod at him before opening the door and getting out of the car. Strategically, Lawrence stopped just a few buildings away from the club, so you wouldn’t be attacked right away, emerging from the car. This gives you enough time to fix your dress and avoid your private parts to end up on the tabloids. Not something you want to include in your career, if you’re being honest.

Shutting the door closed you head towards the club that has quite a long line of people waiting outside, though you have no idea why. If they are not on the list, there’s no way they’ll get inside, it’s a private party.

As you approach the entrance, people start to recognize you quite quickly and you hear your name coming from all direction, but you just flash a smile in their way, continuing to walk with the intention of getting inside as fast as possible.

Just as you expected, paparazzi are already waiting at the entrance and they start flashing their cameras in your way right away, throwing all kinds of questions at you that are left completely ignored.

The bouncer checks your name on the list and lets you inside without a fuss and you’re happy to leave the madness behind and mingle in the crowd of familiar faces.

Tonight is the celebration of the birthday of a good friend, a quite old friend of yours. Florence and you met quite some years ago, when both of you were only trying your luck in the industry, working hard to make yourselves a name. Now you are both are in the inner circle of Hollywood, piling iconic roles on your resumes together. So much has changed, people keep coming and going in your life, but the two of you managed to stay close and keep each other grounded when it was needed.

You keep saying hello to the people you know as you make your way through the guests, hugging a few guests, asking if they have seen Florence and they all point towards the bar. Unsurprisingly, you find the birthday girl right there, with a group of people circling around her as the bartender places a row of shots to the counter and her eyes light up at the sight of all the alcohol.

“Not even surprised you are already plastered,” you grin at her and she squeals upon seeing you join the little circle. Throwing her arms around you she jumps at you mumbling her greeting.

“I’m so happy you’re here!” she breathes out, clearly over a few drinks at this point. “I feel like we haven’t seen each other in ages!”

“It happens when we are both working on a movie at the same time, in different cities,” you chuckle giving her a look.

This past month has been rather busy, you were in Atlanta finishing up filming your latest movie while Florence was in Palm Springs, working on Don’t Worry Darling, she barely made it back to the city to her own birthday party, apparently they wrapped filming just two days ago so it was a close call.

“You have to take a shot with me!” she urges, already grabbing two shots from the bar and handing you one of them, not even waiting for your answer.

“Cheers to the birthday girl!” you hold your glass up after everyone else grabbed a shot, everyone around wishes her a happy birthday again before sending down the alcohol.

You can’t help the grimace that pulls on your face as the liquor burns down your throat. It’s been a while since the last time you had anything other than a few glasses of wine, it’ll take some time to get used to the stomach churning taste.

As the host of the party and the birthday girl, Florence’s presence is in high demand, so you don’t get to spend too much time with her, but you don’t blame her. Ordering a longer drink for you, sticking with some tequila based cocktail as you mingle in the crowd of guests.

Luckily, there are quite a lot familiar faces and you don’t have to linger around the club on your own. You move to a booth at the side with Sydney, a producer you and Florence both worked together previously. She is pretty new in the world of films, but she surely is a talent and you can’t wait for everyone to realize what a blessing she and her art is. You’re joined by her girlfriend, Emma and the three of you are deep in conversation, sharing the funniest stories that happened to you lately and surprisingly, you are genuinely having a good time. You really weren’t in the mood for a party after such a long and frustrating day, having scrunched in three auditions to one day because your manager messed the dates up. When you finished with the third ones, you wanted nothing else than to just sink into a nice bath, have a glass of wine and go to bed early, making your friends’ point of you being a grandma quite valid. However you didn’t have the heart to cancel on Florence, but now that you’ve had some alcohol buzzing in your system and some good company, you don’t regret coming at all.

Once you get to the end of your drink you head back to the bar to have another one, not feeling like leaving just yet. Pushing your way through the people, some keep saying hi to you and you greet everyone back with an instinct, even if you don’t know them. Something you’ve grown to do over your years being in the spotlight.

Standing in line, just like everyone else, you patiently wait to get to the front, when you feel someone bump against you from behind.

“Excuse me—Oh! If it isn’t my favorite Never Have I Ever game partner!”

Your eyes are met with a pair of green ones and a dimpled smile, you can’t help but chuckle as you turn to greet Harry.

“Hi there! Long time no see!” you smile as he pulls you into a side-hug and stands with you in the line.

“You know, maybe you would’ve seen me earlier if you actually gave me your number,” he comments with a sly smile and you have nothing to defend yourself with, he is completely right.

That day the two of you met on The Ellen Show you were actually planning to give him your number, but once your part of the filming ended your manager called you about something urgent and you couldn’t wait for him to finish as well, leaving the studio without ever giving him the chance to even ask for your number. You felt guilty and a little disappointed, but thought your paths would sooner or later cross somehow and it seems like you were right.

“I’m sorry about that. I had some papers to sign before the office closed, I had to leave,” you apologize truthfully and he nods understanding.

“S’alright. I was a little bummed, but I get it.”

“So what are you doing here?” you ask, moving forward in the line, getting closer to the front. Harry gives you a quick look that you can’t quite read before answering.

“I uhh—Florence and I filmed together last month.”

That’s when it clicks. She told you and you read about it, but you tend to forget these kind of things, not having enough capacity to keep everything in mind, only restricting it to the most important stuff.

“Oh, right! Yeah, sorry. Totally slipped my mind. Sorry, I sounded like I live under a rock,” you awkwardly chuckle, feeling a little ashamed that you didn’t remember, when Florence even mentioned it herself before she travelled to Palm Springs, but you were running on caffeine and protein bars between takes, it’s a luck you didn’t even forget your own name after those busy weeks.

“No, s’alright. Nice to know not everyone is drowning in the content that’s been put out of me lately,” he chuckles lowly. “You look lovely, by the way,” he nods at you, eyes running down your body quickly, before they return to your gaze.

“Oh, thank you,” you breathe out looking down at yourself, as if you forgot what you were wearing. It’s a little, black Gucci dress, quite vintage with some embroidered floral patterns along the slightly daring neckline. “It’s Gucci,” you tell him with a knowing smirk.

“Oh!”

“Know you are obsessed with it,” you add with a chuckle, seemingly surprising him with your knowledge about him.

“Someone did some research about me then?”

“I’ll admit, I might have searched your name one of those nights after I had a nice glass of wine.”

“And what else did you find out about me?” he arches an eyebrow at you, making your cheeks heating up. You shouldn’t have admitted that you searched him, he’ll think you’re some kind of stalker, which you are not, you just like to catch up on things sometimes. Though you are clearly a fan of his music and you know about his career vaguely, you haven’t been keeping an eye on him that closely lately, only because you didn’t have the time. However after meeting him at the taping, he was stuck on your mind for days before you gave in and checked out what he’s been up to lately and went through some in-depth articles about him from the past years, closing the line with his latest Vogue issue.

“Nothing shocking,” you simply answer and luckily, you are next up at the bar. You ask for another cocktail and Harry chimes in, adding a beer to the order.

“I hope you know I won’t let you leave until you give me your number this time,” he smirks at you cheekily, making you chuckle.

“I never said I would give it to you.” Wanting to play a little you shrug innocently, earning a stunned look.

“Making me work for it? Alright,” he nods, trying his best to hold his grin back.

The bartender comes back with the drinks and Harry is quick to whip his card out and pay for yours as well. You’re not surprised when he follows you back to the booth to Sydney and Emma. They both greet you with bright smiles upon arriving with Harry.

“This is Sydney and Emma. Syd and I worked together a while ago. Ladies, this is—“ You start the introduction, but Sydney cuts you off quickly.

“Harry Styles. You don’t have to introduce him to us,” she chuckles shaking hand with the fourth guest at the table. “I was a big One Direction fan,” she adds with a chuckle and that’s a new information. As a former fan girl, she is holding herself quite alright in the presence of her idol.

“Oh, nice!” Harry beams, genuinely looking delighted at the information.

“Her playlists have at least one One Direction song on them still this day,” Emma laughs shaking her head, while Syd just shrugs innocently.

The four of you are quick to engage in a conversation about music, mostly about what you listened to when you were teenagers and you are having some laughs at the odd taste you all used to have.

“I think my most played song was Crazy by Britney Spears. I was obsessed with that song,” you admit and Emma groans throwing her hands in the air.

“I loved that song! Even learned the choreography!” she shares, making everyone laugh around the table.

“I bet you did too,” Harry grins in your way over his half empty beer.

“Totally did not,” you scoff with a pretentious grimace that makes it clear that you in fact did.

“I would give an arm to see you dance to that song,” he sighs with an amused grin and you just chuckle, taking another sip from your drink.

At one point Florence joins the booth, buzzing from all the birthday shots she’s been constantly taking, but making sure you all are having a good time.

“I see you guys met again!” she beams looking at you and Harry sitting next to each other. “Y/N, wanna hear something funny?” she smirks at you with glistening eyes.

“Always,” you chuckle softly.

“Once on set, I caught Harry stalking your Instagram.” The man in talk almost chokes on his beer as Florence starts laughing, clearly enjoying how she just busted her co-star, but you are having a blast at how nervous her comment got him and you find the story quite flattering.

“Flo, I think you had enough to drink,” Harry tells her, urging her to leave the booth, but she is way too caught up in getting him into trouble.

“Are you ashamed she now knows you were checking out her sexy photos for that perfume campaign she did last year?” she continues, giving away even more details. Your eyebrows run up as you look at Harry, who is desperately trying to avoid your burning gaze.

“Oh, so you’re a fond of my pictures?” you tease him, his cheeks turning redder with each passing moment.

“I mean… You looked really good.”

“And quite half naked, only covering myself with a huge perfume bottle,” you add chuckling, enjoying it probably a little too much than you should, but Harry has been so confident, flirting with you, it’s funny to see him so flustered all of a sudden.

Harry lets out a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his neck while Florence taps his shoulder, saying something that sounded like ‘good luck, man’ before she moves over to the next group of people.

“I wasn’t stalking, your profile just popped up and—“

“Harry,” you stop him with a chuckle. “It’s fine, I was just messing with you.”

“Way to make me a wreck, Y/N,” he shoots you a narrow-eyed look, but you can see the smirk pulling on his lips.

“If it makes you feel better I checked your profile a few times too,” you admit and once again, he seems surprised.

“It does make me feel better,” he nods, his sly smirk growing wider with each passing moment he spends staring at you.

Though you’ve been enjoying the night so far you are running low on energy, so when you see it’s already past midnight you send a text to Lawrence letting him know you are planning to leave soon.

Luckily, Florence is at one of the booths near yours, so you excuse yourself from your table, walking over to her to say your goodbye.

“Leaving already?” she pouts, returning your hug.

“I’ve had a long day, I wouldn’t want to be the grumpy guest to ruin others’ night,” you tell her with an apologetic smile and she nods understanding.

“I’m happy I saw you. We need to do something sometime soon!”

“Sure thing. I’ll have a looser schedule in the upcoming months. Call me whenever you are around and free,” you tell her kissing her cheek and giving her hand a soft squeeze. “Happy birthday once more.” “Thank you babe!” she cheers as you let go of each other.

Walking back to your booth you say goodbye to Sydney and Emma, making the same promise to meet up with them sometime soon. When you turn to Harry he is already up on his feet and offers to walk you out.

“Just to the exit. There are a shit ton of paparazzi outside,” you tell him and he nods, placing a hand to your lower back, ushering you through the crowd. The two of you stop near the exit since Lawrence hasn’t replied to you that he has arrived and you definitely don’t want to wait outside.

“So, are you gonna leave without giving me your number this time as well?” he asks tilting his head to the side as he hides his hands in his pockets lazily.

“Maybe I’m just trying to see if fate is gonna throw you in my way again,” you tease him, but reach for your phone in your purse. “Send yourself a text,” you tell him handing him the device.

He doesn’t try to hide the satisfied grin as he types his number in and sends a quick text to himself so he has your number. Handing it back you just take it and check if Lawrence has texted you. Right at that moment the screen lights up with a short ‘I’ve arrived, Miss’ text and you slide the phone back into your purse.

“Well, it’s been nice seeing you again, Harry,” you say your goodbye and stepping closer you engage in a short, but tight hug.

“You too, Y/N,” he smiles down at you. “Never have I ever had the number of an Emmy nominated actress’ number,” he smirks making you laugh.

“Drink up, Styles,” you tell him cheekily before you walk away, out of the club.

Lawrence is parked right in front of the building and you try to shield your vision from all the flashes as you get into the back seat as fast as possible.

“Hello, Lawrence!” you greet the man in a very delighted mood and he senses the change in you.

“Had a great evening, Miss?” he asks as he leaves from the club and heads to your apartment’s building.

“I did,” you nod biting into your bottom lip. Reaching into your purse you pull your phone out to check the text Harry sent himself.

You can’t help the chuckle that leaves your mouth when you see the short message he sent to his contact that he just saved under Harry S.

“I promise I won’t ghost you.” That’s what the text reads and as you are looking at the conversation you see the bubble popping up that signals that he is typing right now.

“So nice of you. Please keep that promise!” His text appears on the screen and you chuckle under your breath.

“Cheeky.” You write back.

“Maybe, but now I have evidence. Don’t even try to put me on your ghosted list!”

“Will think about it…” you write back with a sly smile before you lock the phone and put it away, letting your head rest against the back of the seat, eyes closing as you can’t wipe the smile off your face.

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