#I almost passed out because I bent over to get something from under the sink while making scones

[wonkyjaw]

I’m fully losing itttttt.

I now have what’s sure to be a raging headache and my chest hurtsss. Because I had the audacity to put the baked oatmeal in the freezer and then shower.

[moonstruckme]

hi i lovelovelove your fics and i’m wondering if you are taking requests… if you could write a fic with steve and shy!reader who calls him a pet name or nickname for the first time ❤️

Thank you for requesting <3

Steve Harrington x shy!reader ♡ 710 words

Dew drops collect on your skin as you walk to Steve’s house. It’s a quiet morning, fog hanging in heavy clumps as birds call to each other through the haze. You hope Steve has coffee. 

You knock quietly. His footsteps banging down the stairs answer far louder. 

The door swings open to reveal your boyfriend with his toothbrush in his mouth, his hair all in disarray, and his clothes clearly only just thrown on. 

“Sorry,” he says in greeting, words garbled through a foam of toothpaste. “I thou I cou get ready in five min-us, bu—” Steve spits in the kitchen sink “—I couldn’t.” He gives you a sheepish smile. “You look really pretty.” 

Warmth kisses your cheeks. “Thanks, so do you,” you say earnestly. “I mean, you look nice. Your shirt’s on backwards, though.” 

Steve looks down at the tag poking up near his throat. “Oh, shit.” 

He rinses his mouth out with water from the tap, spitting again in the sink before setting his toothbrush down on the edge. When he pulls his arms inside to turn his shirt around, the process shows a sliver of abdomen that your eyes catch on before you drop them to the floor, flushing for real now. Steve combs his hair back with his fingers, walking around the counter to you.

“Hi,” he says, hand cupping the side of your neck as he gives you a spearmint-flavored kiss. “Coffee’s in the pot. Sorry I’m holding us up, I hope we don’t miss the sunrise because of me.” 

“That’s okay,” you say, though you hope you can still catch it. It’s all really just an excuse to spend time with Steve anyway. You move past him to the fridge, getting out the cream while he pours coffee into two thermoses to take with you. 

A piece of hair falls into his face as he looks down, and he swipes it back impatiently. It’s still pretty unruly from sleep; he clearly hasn’t had time this morning to give it the attention he likes to, and it warms your heart to think that he’d put that aside so you could get to go see the sunrise. It also makes you want to say to hell with the sunrise and comb your fingers through his hair until he’s happy with it. 

“I’m almost ready to go,” he swears. “I just had the worst sleep last night.” 

“Oh, really?” The areas under his eyes do look a little shadowy. The thought hooks your eyebrows upward. “I’m sorry, baby.” 

The word slips out of you so naturally, your voice bent and softened by sympathy, that for a moment you hope that Steve won’t notice. And for a moment, it seems like maybe he doesn’t. But then he sets the thermos down, dark brows twitching towards each other. He tilts his head to look at you. 

“Baby?” he asks, bordering on incredulous.

“Sorry,” you say automatically. You think your palms are sweating. 

“No, don’t be sorry.” Steve’s smile blooms slowly, better than any sunrise, and you can’t tell if he’s about to make fun of you. You think if he does you might have to cancel this whole thing. “It just surprised me. S’that something you wanna call me?” 

“I don’t know.” You can’t look at him. You use the coffee as an excuse, pulling your thermos toward you to start stirring in cream. When you’re done, you pass it over to Steve without glancing up. 

But he’s not having it. He sets the cream aside, slotting his fingers behind your ear with your cheek in the basin of his palm and tilting you towards him. He looks like he’s making fun of you, definitely.

Your heart hiccups.

“It just slipped out,” you confess. 

“Okay,” Steve laughs. “That’s okay, I liked it. Feel free to let it slip as many times as you want.” He slides his thumb along your skin, no doubt feeling its heat. His voice is sweet when he asks, “You about ready to go, baby?” 

You feel your forehead pinch painfully. “Don’t,” you plead. 

“I don’t know,” Steve says, though he lets you go to tend to his coffee, a small mercy. “I think you’ve really started something here. I could get used to this.”

[f0point5]

literally anything with Max, Emilia, and Daniel please I’m begging after yesterday 🙏🙏🙏

No because this almost turned into a Singapore crack fic lol. But I saved it.

And yes I did listen to the song so that I could check this whole thing could happen within it’s time limit. But also this could so easily have been Tenerife sea but I Daniel-ed it up lol.

Anyway I hope you enjoy it!

✨Set in April 2024✨

I’ll drink what you think, and I’m high

It’s getting dark later now. It’s 7pm and the sun in only now setting over the mountainside, turning the clear sky all manner of gold and peach and baby blue. It’s the first good weather of the month, which is what gave you the idea of sitting out on the rooftop patio. Daniel just happened to call Max as you were mixing a Bellini, which is how he’d got roped into what turned into what you’d dubbed a “Wine and Whine” evening.

So there Max sits, listening to Daniel talk about grape yields while you fiddle with the stereo. Max interjects at the right moments, but mostly he’s watching you bent over in a tight Missoni dress, trying to connect your phone Bluetooth to the speakers.

That’s how good the dress looks, Max thinks to himself. I even remember the name of the shop.

“So I’m like mate, I don’t know shit about grapes, that’s what I pay you for,” Daniel explains now. “And he’s looking at me like I’ve fucked his grandma in front of him. But I’m right. I drive cars for a living and I don’t even like grapes, that’s his job,”

“Yeah, but what if-“

Max is cut off by the sound of your squeal. He looks across the patio to see you bathed in golden light, sporting a bright grin.

“Danny, it’s your song,” you declare, teetering toward the boys on your wedge heels.

“She’s so pissed,” Daniel says through a chuckle.

“I heard that,” you shoot back, holding a hand out to him. “Now, dance with me,”

The gentle strumming of a guitar gives way to an American accent with a somber tone.

Daniel rolls his eyes but gets to his feet, taking your hand and pulling you along the concrete to the middle of the patio.

The music is not Max’s taste, not something he understands, but it’s…warm.

That’s how he feels watching Daniel pull you close, starting to sway you in small circles around the patio. He thinks about how both you and he needed Daniel before you needed each other, how Daniel had been your friend when Max was too scared to be, and he’d been Max’s friend even when it must have been like salt in a wound.

Daniel looks down and says something to you that Max can’t hear. Whatever it is, it is has you rolling your eyes in the way you do when you’re trying not to tear up. He watches you nod in what seems like agreement before shrugging your shoulders.

In the next breath, Max hears your voice singing along above the music.

“We all know, you tiptoed,” you sing, “up to six foot, in grill the grid,”

This pulls a deep, throaty laugh and a “fuck you” from Daniel, his head thrown back so much that he pulls you forward with him.

You’re singing at each other now, bodies shaking through laughter. The sound of a harmonica pierces Max’s ears as Daniel twirls you under his arm, your eyes catching the light of the setting sun as you turn.

Fuck. You are so beautiful.

“Max, come take over,” Daniel calls, beckoning him with one hand. “I need another drink,”

Max gets up and goes over to your swaying form just as Daniel lets you go. He pats Max on the back as he passes, turning to look at you both before he slips through the patio door, out of sight due to the reflection in the glass.

Your glassy eyes and the heat of your skin make Max think you’re probably looking at two of him right now, but he doesn’t mind, as long as you’re looking at him. He takes hold of you, fighting a smile at the way you sink into him in a way you wouldn’t with Daniel. Your hand slides around his neck and his instinctively goes to rest on the curve of your hip, bringing you so close he can smell your perfume and Sauvignon blanc.

In the background, the music picks up, the southern drawl a little more lively even though the words are still morose.

“I don’t get why you guys like this song,” Max says, guiding you out and then under one of his arms so that your back his against his chest. “It’s about a funeral,”

You let out an exasperated sigh. “It’s about a family,” you tell him, craning your neck to look at him over your shoulder.

Max nods, letting go of one your hands to spin you out and then back towards him. He catches you smiling at the effortless way he moves you around. He may not particularly like dancing but he’s been given three gifts in life. One is coordination. The second is control.

“It’s about the little things that stick with you about the people you love. The things about them that made you who you are,”

And the third is you.

He still doesn’t hear the song the way you do. He doesn’t see the world the way you do. But he knows he wants to listen to you explain the world to him for however long he’s in it.

“It’s about a funeral,” he says plainly, which only makes you shake your head.

“I love you, Max Verstappen.” Your words are as plain as his.

He wants to say it back. He even opens his mouth to try. But sometimes, like now, Max hates that word because it seems so wholly inadequate. He’s never been good with words anyway.

Instead, he kisses you, a kiss that tips you backwards, has you leaning into the hand on your back that holds you up. He can feel you smiling against his lips as he straightens.

When he pulls away, you follow him, placing one more peck on his lips before leaning forward to rest your chin on his shoulder as you continue to dance. Max notices then that the golden hues have left the sky, the colour now the same as the Japanese Cherry blossoms. He breathes in the scent of roses on your skin as he pulls you closer.

“What was he saying to you?” He asks quietly, his cheek moving against yours as he speaks.

“Who?” Your reply is lazy, almost a purr against his neck.

“Daniel. What did he say while you were dancing?”

Max doesn’t know how he can tell you smile at that, but he knows.

“Oh. Nothing,” you say. The music slows, and a woman’s voice joins the man’s against a single guitar. “He thinks we’re yuppies,”

[tarithenurse]

Playtime

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen Pairing/starring: Satoru Gojo x fem!reader Content: Smut, swearing, probably more in those genres. Read at your own discretion! A/N: Recently wrote the fic ”Tag” where Natasha Romanoff and reader are on opposite laser tag teams...and it got me thinking about what Gojo would do in a similar setting...and that got out of hand.

Playtime

Gojo had been riling you up all day: first in the morning where he insisted on joining you in the shower (lathering you up and then just leaving you there, covered in suds and horny as fuck), then on the ride to the activity centre, and now finally in the last couple of laser tag games where he’d seek you out, corner you and kiss your breath away...not to mention his wandering hands.

All in all, you are desperate.

That’s why you’ve decided to risk it as soon as the game started. Finding a secluded corner, you’ve sunk your hand into your pants, gently rocking as your breath starts coming in shorter and shorter breaths.

“What’s wrong kitty,” his voice whispers into your ear in the dark, somehow penetrating the loud music, “why so...distracted?”

Pulling your hand away, you glare at the smirking man. “You know what’s going on,” you snarl, “it’s your damn fault!”

You hate the fake gasp he utters but then he snaps his fingers and an odd bubble surrounds the two of you. You know that bubble, know what it means, and you arch an eyebrow at him. The flashes of coloured light are muted by purple, giving Gojo’s white hair an opalescent shine but you don’t have time to admire the play of colours as his hand darts out to grab your wrist, pulling you fingers to his mouth. Tongue darting out, he licks the still remaining lust off in a way that steals your otherwise recovering breath away again.

“I could smell my way to you, kitty,” he grin before spinning you around and pressing you over the box you’d been hiding behind, “I wonder if anyone else can too?”

You only have a brief moment to consider the conundrum before a big hand snakes around your hips and unzip your jeans, pulling them down without a fight from you. A finger swipes at your folds with only the thin and damp barrier of the panties in between. You can hear the deep breath, an inhalation Gojo always takes when he’s pleased with your arousal and you know he’s taking in the scent of you again.

“All because of me?” A finger slips past the fabric and delves between your folds in a long stroke, making you quiver beneath his hold on you. “Why, thank you for getting ready, babe.”

There’s the barely audible whisper of another zipper and the rustle of clothes, then you feel something blunt and warm press against your ass. A swift movement pulls down the last bit of modesty, still circling your ankles together with the jeans. An intrusive thought tell you that you must be looking ridiculous right now, clothes around your legs and, lo and behold, now also the laser tag vest and shirt askew to grant Gojo access to your breasts. It’s kind of uncomfortable but it doesn’t matter now that his hands are upon you, leaning you over the box as he aligns himself. A few strokes to wet his cock and then he sinks in to the hilt.

You can’t breathe, just hold on to the box below you as you get accustomed to the size of Gojo because he doesn’t grant you a moment but slides back out almost all the way before slamming back in. The box must be nailed to the floor or it would have shuddered at the force and you let out a low grunt.

“You take me so well, kitty,” he groans behind you.

Slowly, with each thrust, you manage to sync up your breathing so you won’t pass out but rather get to enjoy what’s happening and feel the excitement building in your core. He sneaks a hand around your hip to play with your clit, holding you bent down with the other so your ass pokes out and your cunt tightens around him.

It’s quick and intense.

Gojo manages to bring you to your peak in record time and your legs threaten to give out under you as he rams in the last few times before cumming and stilling himself. Your nerves are on fire and your muscles are tingling when your vision returns – you had seen white the moment he brought you to your climax.

Now you’re lying trembling over a box as Gojo redresses you, your combined juices making a mess for you to wear until you can get home and get a shower.

“Better, kitty?” he whispers as he returns the laser tag weapon to you.

You nod, still unsure if you can stand properly. Somewhere beyond the bubble a horn blares, signalling the end of the session.

“Perfect timing!” Gojo grins and begins to walk away but then turns to look at you, “I hope we can have a rematch.”

[sparky-is-spiders]

Hey. Hi. Remember this? Well I have more. After almost a month of radio silence. Anyway this entry isn't edited or polished at all, and was written when my brain was slowly melting into a puddle of goo, but if I don't have something written down and posted I'm going to lose my goddamn mind. It's been a rough few weeks, but getting to create and share with you guys has been a highlight of the past few months. For probably obvious reasons, I'm not bothering with NaNoWriMo this year, but I wanted to do something this November. I'm gonna try picking up some of the @/ailesswhumptober prompts, but I wasn't super inspired by the first one and I really wanted to finish this chapter of Werewolf Jon. So. Here we are. I hope you enjoy.

Warnings for: blood (mild I think?), injury, and Jon just continuing to have an absolutely terrible time. Fic under the cut.

Their brief, manic burst of energy carried them barely more than two meters from their door. It was their leg that gave out first, sending them sagging against the wall. They gasped from the wrenching pain, the way their flesh crawled and squirmed beneath the skin. It took everything in their power not to simply pass out. The hall swirled and shifted in front of their eyes, wavering in a way that made them feel sick. It would be so easy to turn back, Edinburgh might as well have been on Mars for all that they would be able to make the journey.

You don’t have a choice, they thought to themselves viciously. Tim will be back soon. Or the police will stop by. Or the neighbors once they see what happened to the wall. Keep. Moving. One slow, agonizing step at a time, their hand on the wall. (And they could appreciate it now, how huge the gashes were, how truly enormous the claws must have been, and the dark stains on the floor… were those footprints? They couldn’t have been human.)

Where their own energy failed, fear filled the gaps. There was no hiding this, no explaining this away. If they could be saved, there were few enough people at the institute who would be willing to step in to try, and likely none who would be capable of it. They would be lucky to survive even that long, really. No, they would not be quietly discarded. Not if they could make it to the elevator. Not if they could make it to the train. Not if they could make it to Jonah.

(Jonah… thinking about him always hurt far too much. He was a wound in them they just couldn’t stop picking at, that had never even closed long enough to scar. His name was threaded through their mind, their thoughts, their fear, always a part of them.)

The elevator was it’s own form of torture. They couldn’t keep moving, had to just stand there and wait because if they let themselves sink down to the floor they would never have the strength to get up again. Soon, soon the doors had opened, and they stumbled into the lobby. They let the wall support them again, barely registered the alarmed-looking neighbor staring at them, and finally staggered out the front doors.

As soon as they felt the sun on their skin, they bent over and retched. It was awful, crawling, swarming just below the surface and pushing up thin, needle-like claws. The blunt, smooth edges of in curled behind their eyes until Jon was certain they were going to lose them.

The presence of light had been a needling, nagging thing. A constant buzzing irritant swamped by their painful wounds. Now… now it filled them with a deep, wrenching sense of wrongness. It was anathema to them, to the monster festering in the bowels of their mind.

The pavement swam and twisted in front of them, their vision hazy. With a shuddering gasp, they closed their eyes. It barely helped.

Dizzy and blind, their ears ringing, it took them a few moments to realize that someone was shouting at them.

“-athan? Jonathan Sims? That you?”

Blinking open their eyes caused another wave of nausea to come crashing down on them. Still, there was room for irritation—what do they want—and fear—what do they want from me— to coil somewhere inside them. “I-that’s… who are you?”

“I’m your ride. Here to pick up one ‘Jonathan Sims’ on the request of a friend.”

What friend? Surely nobody at the institute would send an unconnected stranger to deal with them, but there was hardly anyone else they could imagine doing this. “I- what?”

The driver seemed unfazed. “Are you Sims?” she asked, her voice flat and almost bored-sounding.

“How did you know my name?”

She eyed him at that, annoyance seeping into the boredom. “Your friend gave a pretty good description. Guess he wasn’t kidding,” her gaze flicked over them, “you look like death, mate.”

Jon glared at her icily. They were beginning to strongly suspect that they knew exactly who had ordered that cab. There were only so many people who would be looking for them right now. There was only one person who would do this.

Why not just say he would call me a bloody cab? Sometimes Jon thought he might be the most irritating man they had ever met. Familiar irritation tipped over into longing, a soul-deep ache that had lingered for as long as they had known Jonah. Worse now, for how close Jon was to finally seeing him again. Gripping the railing, they hauled themselves upwards, although it took all their strength. Another wave of nauseous agony swept over them as they uncurled and stood. Beneath tattered bandages, infected flesh churned and crawled.

The few feet between the stoop of their building and the cab felt like they stretched on forever. Their injured leg threatened to give with every step. They stumbled against the door of the car, reached shaking fingers towards the handle, collapsed heavily into the back seat.

The driver barely waited for the door to click shut. The sudden motion of the cab sent Jon’s mind swirling and dizzy, and they closed their eyes tightly. They longed to sink through the seat, to let the exhaustion take over, but sleep proved elusive. Every bump in the pavement reverberated through the deep, shadowy veins snaking away from their wounds. Every stop and start sent their stomach churning. It took everything they had not to vomit.

***

Time blurred to the haze of tiredness and pain. It could have been seconds, or minutes, or hours, or years, lucidity slipping away, then returning just as gently. Jon wasn’t sure how much the cabbie had bothered to speak with them, suspected that they had said nothing at all for much of the ride, but at one point when they were more aware than not, she said, “You alright back there?”

They were stopped, although Jon suspected they were still a long ways off from Edinburgh. It had taken them a moment to parse the words they had heard, then another two to respond. “What? I… yes. I’m- I’m fine.”

“Riiight.” She dragged the word out, positively dripping skepticism. “Your friend better pay for that.” It was then that Jon registered the damp patch on their side. Gingerly, they felt the seat behind them with their hand. It was… wet, with something too cold and too viscous to be blood. Dull anxiety scraped the edges of their brain, but they just didn’t have the energy to care. “I’ll let him know,” they said. She chuckled, so Jon thought it had probably been the right response.

Awareness slipped away again, until they were again nothing but their wounds and the rot that lived inside them and the deep, aching need to have Jonah by their side again.

Almost there.

Almost there.

Almost there.

Almost

there.

Whumptober collection post:

[loveaffaire]

Love Language

Pairing: Boyfriend!Tom Holland x reader

Summary: Even though Tom tells you that he loves you all the time, he has several other ways to show you that he loves you—really just Tom being a very loving, caring boyfriend.

Warnings/tags: mention of the pandemic, mention of a surgery, pure fluff, boyfriend!Tom

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: This photo is the whole reason that this fanfic now exists because Tom is giving off strong boyfriend vibes, enjoy🥺

You stared out of the huge window as you stood in the cold kitchen, swirling the spoon in the cup as your pretty little boyfriend, Tom, walked in the kitchen.

“Baby” he said, “I woke up alone” he complained.

You looked back at him to answer, “I had to use the washroom and then I couldn’t fall asleep so I just got up”

Tom nodded as he walked to where you were standing and wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Why are you swirling the spoon in your milk?”

You let out a soft giggle, “I’m mixing sugar in my milk”

“Oh,” he frowned his eyebrows as he rested his chin on your shoulder, “don’t have too much sugar”

You walked to the kitchen sink to keep the spoon down as you turned around to take a look at Tom, “I’m 23”

“Sugar can affect anyone” he shrugged his shoulders as he opened the refrigerator to take out the ingredients to make pancakes.

“Touché” you said, sitting down on the kitchen counter.

“Did you take your vitamins?” Tom asked, raising his eyebrows at you.

“I forgot” you said and before Tom could scold you, you quickly said, “I’ll take them right now”

You scurried across the kitchen to open the small cupboard to take out your vitamins and gulped them down with the milk.

“I don’t mind reminding you to take them but what if I’m not here some day” Tom shook his head as he waited for you to answer.

“What do you mean by if you’re not here some day?” You stared at him stunned.

“No, no, I don’t mean it like that!” Tom hurried to you as he almost laughed, “I didn’t mean I won’t be here like that, I meant what if I’m at work”

“Oh”

“Yeah, like that,” Tom chuckled.

“You scared me” you frowned, gently hitting his shoulder.

“I worry about your health” Tom whispered as he gave you a small peck, “so don’t forget to take your vitamins, please”

“I promise, I won’t” you mumbled against his lips.

Tom taking care of your health and keeping a check on if you’re taking your vitamins is his way of showing you that he loves you.

•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•

Even though you consider yourself a huge introvert, the lockdown was kind of killing you. It has been a whole year in this lockdown and it was finally getting to you. The tragedies that were happening around the world because of the pandemic was breaking your heart and you thanked the heavens for keeping you and your family safe every time you watched the news.

Tom and you both had work from home now and even though you were thankful for being in the comfort of your home, the chair in your home office was starting to kill you and you desperately wanted to leave the house, even if it was just for a little while.

As you sat in your home office, typing away on your laptop, you huffed. It was so late and you were so tired, your back was killing you and you were pretty sure that your lip was bleeding by now because of biting on it too much.

You heard a knock on the door and then it was slowly pushed open, revealing Tom. He peeked inside of the room, his eyes landing on you as his lips stretched in a small smile.

“Can I come in?” He whispered.

“Yeah” you softly said, you twisted on your chair to face Tom as he approached you with a tea cup.

“I got you tea” he said, carefully putting down the cup on your table so as to not spill any liquid on your work stuff.

Your heart melted as you stared at his tired face. He bent down to give you a quick peck but you cupped his face in your hands before he could pull away. You gave him a chaste kiss, moving to his cheeks, you littered small kisses on his cheekbones.

“You just had a meeting, right?” You asked.

“Yes, I did” Tom nodded, his hands coming up to your shoulders to massage them.

“And instead of relaxing after it, you made me tea?”

Tom smiled against your lips, “I know you’ve been tired, just wanted to take care of ya”

You smiled as you pulled him down further, he was half sitting on your chair now, “if you keep doing that, I won’t be able to leave,” Tom laughed.

“I love you, thank you” you said as you nudged your nose to his, he softly giggled.

“Anything for you, I’ll do anything for you” Tom said sincerely.

You bit your lips as you stared at him lovingly, “stop biting your lip and come to bed when you get over with work” Tom said as he softly pulled at your bottom lip with his thumb.

“I’ll be waiting for you” he said as he got up, slipping out of the room and shutting the door behind.

Tom making you tea even though he’s just as tired as you is his way of showing you that he loves you.

•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•

“Hi baby” Tom gushed when you slipped under the covers.

“Hi” you whispered, laying down on the bed and opening your arms for Tom.

He moved closer to you, hiding his face in the crook of your neck and softly kissing your neck.

“You smell good” you hummed, your face pressed to his soft brown curls.

“I used your shampoo today” he whipped his face up to look into your eyes.

“And also my conditioner,” you said, taking another sniff of his hair.

Tom laughed as he agreed with you. He pressed his face into your chest as his hand snaked under your camisole.

“Tom” you muttered, pulling at his arm to stop him.

You had a kidney stone surgery months ago and that surgery left a pretty big scar on the side of your stomach. Even though it’s been 5 months to it, you still didn’t like how it scarred your body and Tom knew that very well.

You didn’t change your clothes with the lights on anymore and sometimes you wouldn’t even take off your night dress when Tom made love to you.

“What?” Tom huffed.

“Don’t do that” you said as you pulled down your camisole.

“Y/N, I told you, the scar is nothing to be worried about” Tom pulled his body up as he looked up at you.

“It’s ugly” you whispered.

“It’s not-” Tom sat up straight as he held your hand in his huge ones.

“Listen to me, you struggled with something and fought it, the scar shows that you’re brave. You were so strong to go through a wholeass surgery and you didn’t even cry, not even once”

You smiled as you heard Tom ramble, he went on, “hell, do you know I was crying in the waiting room and Harry was laughing at me. He said that if I’m crying about a normal surgery then I’d probably pass out when we’ll have a baby”

“We’ll have a baby?” You asked with your hand on your heart, he was just so cute.

“What- I mean- yeah in the future” you raised your eyebrows at him and Tom’s cheeks flushed red, “but that’s not the point, the point is that-”

Tom sighed as he lifted your camisole and you let him, he gently traced your scar as he bent down to give your scar a soft kiss.

“This scar isn’t ugly, it’s beautiful. Everything about you is beautiful” he praised.

“Okay, please stop” you said as you covered your face with your hands, “I’m gonna start crying”

Tom laughed as he moved up to your face and pressed a kiss to your lips. You hummed in the kiss, content with how the conversation ended up.

Tom kissing your scar and telling you how beautiful you are is his way of showing you that he loves you.

•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•

Tom always had this strong urge to cuddle you in the middle of his sleep so even when he would be in a deep slumber, he would always always always want to hold you as you both slept.

And that was what he was trying to do right now, he switched from his left side to his right side and stretched out his arm to find your body to grab and pull in.

But as he mindlessly felt your side of the bed with his hand, your body was nowhere to be found. He barely opened his eyes to peek, only to see your body almost hanging off at the side of the bed.

You must have moved on the further right side and now you were close to falling off the bed. As Tom realised that you were going to fall, he quickly sat up and scooped your body in his strong arms, pulling you away from the side of the bed.

“Tom” you mumbled in your sleep.

“You were gonna fall off the bed, baby” he mumbled back as he settled you in the middle of the bed.

He pulled the covers over both of your bodies as he wrapped his arms around you to cuddle.

You gently smiled in your half asleep state, “oh”

Tom sighed in happiness as he kissed your shoulder, his body relaxing as sleep took over him again.

Tom saving you from falling off the bed and on your ass in the middle of the night is his way of showing you that he loves you.

© loveaffaire

[eepy-pleepy]

It’s Not Everest (No Vacancy)

The neon “NO” is hidden behind an overgrown shrub, so Dean pulls the Impala into the motel parking lot before they can see that it is, in fact, lit.

“Awesome.” Dean says in a tone that clearly doesn’t think so, and whips the car around to pull back onto the dark road. They immediately hit a pothole and Sam’s head bumps the ceiling.

“Ow, wait, Dean, we didn't go check with the office, maybe they just left the sign lit because they can’t freaking see it–”

“No, Sam, every goddamn motel in this godless town is full up and I don’t particularly feel like walking into another musty fucking office just to have them tell me I need to learn how to read. It’s too damn late, I’m too damn tired, I’m just gonna find a pull-off where the cops won’t feel the need to be our 5AM wake-up call and we’re sleeping in Baby. Fuck it.” He emphasizes the last sentence by throwing the car into park, all seventeen feet of shiny black metal successfully hidden behind a bank of tall, scraggly shrubs off the shoulder of the road. Dean kills the engine and the early summer evening rises to fill the silence with the musical stylings of several hundred crickets.

“Dean.”

“We’ve done it before, Sam.”

“I know we have. What about Cas?”

Dean looks over at the passenger’s side. Sitting shotgun, Cas looks back at him, his eyes just a dark glint in the moonlight.

“I can just... keep watch outside.” He says.

“Bad fucking idea.” Dean snaps. “I wake up in the middle of the night and see you out there lurking, I might shoot you between the eyes. You’re staying in the damn car.”

“Dean, there’s not enough roo–”

“Look, Sammy, passing out is passing out, sitting or lying down. This is a molehill, not Everest. I just need my four hours, damn.”

Dean crams up against the driver’s side door, crossing his arms over his chest, leaning his bent knees against the back of the seat between himself and Cas. He’ll worry about bootprints on the leather upholstery when he isn’t so fucking exhausted.

“Jerk.” Sam mutters from the backseat, almost inaudible.

“Goodnight, bitch.”

“Goodnight, Dean. Sam.” Cas murmurs.

“Don’t make it weird, Cas.”

"Goodnight, Cas."

"Thank you, Sam."

Dean gives a little huff through his nose. Cas folds his hands in his lap and turns his head forward to watch the fireflies.

Dean doesn’t like it when Cas watches him sleep. Cas knows this.

But if he doesn't want eyes on him, he shouldn’t be drawing so much attention to himself. This is the fourth time inside of an hour that he’s shifted around, clearly uncomfortable with his sleeping arrangement, six feet of full-grown man trying to figure out how to make three feet work for him.

It's clearly not working out.

Dean's head has fallen against Castiel’s arm. He’s snoring gently, Cas can feel his breath warm through the sleeve of his trench coat.

He shuts his eyes. Pulls his focus down to just this, the upper lefthand side of his body. Feels the weight of Dean's head, the unyielding shape of his skull, the softness of his cheek. Cas turns his head towards him, just to better assess the situation. Not at all to feel the soft tickle of Dean’s hair against his nose and lips. That’s just an... accidental consequence.

Cas feels too big for his own skin. It’s something a multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent should be entirely familiar with, but this isn't the feeling of cramming a Chrysler building into a 5-foot-11-inch frame.

This is bigger than that.

The slump of Dean’s body across the seat means that his head is the only thing supported, and it has his neck at a bad angle. If Dean's an angry sleeper, he's even worse with a crick in his neck and Cas doesn't love the idea of being stuck in a car with that tomorrow. He can't pull Dean more flush against his side without the risk of waking him and sending him into a conniption of bruised heterosexuality, so instead, he carefully lifts his arm. It works perfectly: Dean slides forward, falling to lying down with his head in Cas' lap.

The effect is immediate. The uncomfortable pinch between Dean's brows smooths away and he takes a deep, slow breath, settling against his new pillow and sinking into an easier sleep.

Cas hasn't realized he's smiling, yet. It's a tiny, soft thing, the one he gets when he's looking at something precious.

He is.

The moonlight catches the sweep of Dean's eyelashes, the top of his cheek, the shell of his ear, gilding them silver. His lips are parted, plush and dark in the contrast of the pale light. He's slightly curled up on the bench seat and Cas knows it's to fit the small space but that doesn't mean it's not the most fucking endearing thing he's ever seen.

The short hair over Dean's ear is mussed from the way he was slumped like a grumpy turtle past the collars of his shirt and jacket. Delicate, Cas brushes it right again.

Dean shifts, pressing up into his ghost of a touch. Cas draws back, afraid he's been caught doing something definitely not on Dean's approved list of Things Just Friends Do, but Dean doesn't wake. Cas' hand hovers.

He shouldn't. He should return to looking out of the front windshield and prepare the diffusion for when Dean wakes up to find himself sleeping in Cas' lap. That's what he should do.

The trouble is, nothing short of a fucking catastrophe could pull his eyes away from this. Dean is so beautiful, so calm and easy in his slumber, and he's right here, safe and close and warm. Literally right in his lap.

Cas pets Dean's hair, feeling that dangerous constriction again, something so huge and profound it might very well burst him. Dean sleeps on.

"You should tell him."

Sam's voice from the backseat is so quiet it's barely a whisper, but it startles Cas like a gunshot. He turns his head a margin to find Sam watching him, head and shoulders against the back driver's side door, arms crossed over his chest.

"Did you say something?" Cas tries, matching Sam's barely-there whisper.

"You heard me."

"Tell him what?"

"You love him."

Cas turns his head further so he's not just looking at Sam out of his periphery. There's nothing accusatory in Sam's tone, quiet as it is, or in his posture, cramped as it may be. He looks back at Cas with nothing but the same easy camaraderie he's always shown him, like they're discussing a good book or the lovely weather, not a complete paradigm shift.

In his lap, Dean tucks one hand under Cas' thigh and nuzzles his face deeper against the fabric of his pants. Cas looks down at him again and feels ready to explode into several new galaxies.

"I can't." He breathes.

"Why not?"

"You know your brother, Sam.” Cas says, unable to stop himself from stroking light fingers through Dean’s hair again. “And I’m happy. I refuse to risk losing him in pursuit of something I don’t need from him.”

“You’re right, I do know my brother. Probably better than he’d like to believe.” Sam says. “And I think he might surprise you, given the chance.”

Cas looks back at Sam like he wants to argue, but then just closes his mouth, his jaw bunching. Sam gives a little shrug and sits forward, reaching behind himself for the door handle.

“Just some, uh… food for thought.” He says. “I’m gonna hit the head. I’ll take my time. No particular reason.”

“Sam.”

But Sam’s already unfolding out into the night air, the car rocking as his weight shifts. The crickets are suddenly much louder, invading their little bubble of quiet. In Cas’ lap, Dean twitches.

Sam shuts the car door and Dean sits bolt upright. His gun, dropped in the footwell before he fell asleep, is in his grasp in a blink.

“Sam's just gone to relieve his bladder.” Cas says next to him. Dean squints at him and sniffs, wiping at his groggy eyes, then flicks the safety back on. The gun hits the footwell again with a dull thunk.

"God. Like a damn cashew. You'd think with all that height there'd be more... storage."

Cas is carefully looking forward, and not at the red mark on Dean’s cheek that’s the same shape as the warm spot rapidly cooling on his thigh. Dean rubs at that side of his face.

“Was I…?” He clears his throat. “Uh.”

“Asleep? Yes. I thought that was the idea.”

“Lying on you.”

“You needed to stretch out.”

Dean gives a frustrated sigh. “No, Cas, man, that’s your personal space. You should have shoved me off.”

“It was easier on your neck.” Cas says, still looking straight ahead. “You weren’t bothering me.”

“That’s not the point. You gotta have boundaries.”

“What’s mine is yours, Dean. I have no qualms sharing everything I have with you.”

Dean scoffs, leaning forward over the steering wheel and tilting to pop his spine. “Jesus. You ol’ romantic.”

Cas turns his head to look at Dean. The slightly uncomfortable smirk slowly slips off of Dean’s face. His eyes drop to Cas' lips before he catches himself, and he makes a weak attempt to laugh the charge out of the air between them.

“Man, you gotta figure out your levels. Last person who looked at me like that had me thinking marriage."

“Dean, why do you say things like that?”

Dean’s shoulders shove up under his ears. “You turn eyes like that on some innocent girl she’s gonna up and devote her entire life to you, Cas, I’m just letting you know you gotta tone it down!”

“Why would I turn eyes like this on some innocent girl?”

“Because you’re doin’ it to me like you think it’s a normal thing to do!”

“Dean, maybe you need to figure out how to receive a signal without assuming the other person isn't aware of what they're broadcasting." Cas snaps, then subsides as something like fear flickers across his face.

Dean’s jaw hangs uselessly for a stunned moment.

"Cas. You–"

Cas watches him in the manner of a gazelle waiting for a sudden deadly movement. Dean's gaze flits to Cas’ lips again.

"You. Uh." He says eloquently, and his tongue darts out in a nervous motion. This makes his lips impossible to ignore, shiny and wet in the moonlight.

“It's not Everest." Cas whispers.

"It kinda fuckin' is." Dean says, hoarse.

“Forget it. You should go back to sleep.” Cas says, reaching towards Dean with two fingers. It’s his fighter’s instinct that makes Dean grab them before they can touch his forehead, but it’s something else entirely that bunches his other hand in the front of Cas’ coat and yanks him forward. Cas tumbles gracelessly on top of Dean, and Dean doesn’t give either of them time to think.

At the first touch of Dean’s lips, Cas melts. A tiny sound escapes him, not quite a sigh, not quite a moan, and he’s grasping Dean’s shoulder like it’s the only thing preventing him from falling into the footwell. Their mouths part with a soft, wet noise and Cas meets Dean’s eyes, almost too close to focus on.

His arm is pressed across Dean’s chest from his fall. He can feel Dean’s heartbeat, galloping like an outlaw with the sheriff on his tail, and he understands the feeling.

“Dean.” He croaks.

“Yeah.”

“Do that again.”

Dean nuzzles their noses together, nudges Cas’ mouth in a barely-there brush of lips. Cas touches Dean’s face, dizzy with it, feeling stubble rough on the skin of Dean's jaw. He presses forward, holding Dean’s face like the beloved thing it is, and kisses him reverently. Dean sinks against the door until he’s lying across the seats and shoves his arms up under Cas’ suit jacket, encircling his back.

The crickets play them a love song. It’s entirely lost on them.

When Sam returns, approaching the Impala with caution, he finds his brother asleep with his angel hugged against him like a large, man-shaped teddy bear. Cas glances up, clocking the motion of Sam leaning over to peer through the driver’s window, and there’s a smile on his face that Sam’s never seen on him before.

If happy was what he had been, then this? This is pure, unfiltered bliss.

Sam slides carefully into the back seat and shuts the door as gently as he can.

“I’ll save my I Told You So, but only because you look so cute.” He whispers.

“Sam.”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Read on Ao3

[taechaos]

Rightful Punishment

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!reader

synopsis: You do Jungkook's assignments in exchange for his affection. You don't even perform as well in your own subjects, but you don't care because all you want to do in life is make Jungkook happy. But it gets complicated when he gets a bad grade because of you.

genre: drabble, smut, college au

warnings: degradation, dubcon, exhibition

word count: 1.4k

"Hurry the fuck up," Jungkook grunts in your ear as you try your best to write the conclusion for his essay. He took you to the library before his Literature lecture when you told him you weren't finished with his assignment, and he keeps pestering you in a hushed voice because of his limited time.

You don't take Literature, but you're dealing with the pressure of his grades for him.

"I'm almost done," you whisper as you skim over the contents of the long text that you stayed up scribbling because Jungkook's professor is a man from the older generation when online documents weren't a thing. It's a pain in the ass, but you don't dare complain. When you're confident that you've summarized your - his conclusion in perfect detail, you brightly grin and show it to him. "I finished it!"

He doesn't bother reading it and only runs his eyes over your handwriting to make sure it's intelligible. "Good girl," the corner of his lips tugs upwards in satisfaction when he makes out your analysis of some short story.

"Can I have my kiss now?" your eyes gleam with hope as you shyly look up at him. He's hovering over you with a hand on the back of your chair, knees bent to see you work better. He shortly pecks your lips and pats your head before walking off with your essay secured in his hand as he starts to read it without bidding you farewell. Your heart flutters as you watch him leave, your fingertip grazing his lingering kiss on your lips.

You do Jungkook's assignments in exchange for his affection. You don't even perform as well in your own subjects, but you don't care because all you want to do in life is make Jungkook happy. With the blessing of having academic smarts, you waste it on a man who only loves you when you give him what you need.

That detail doesn't sink in your head, because it doesn't matter.

Your heart aches when you have to admire him from afar. He doesn't allow you to interact with him in public unless he's delivering you a pile of work, which is every two weeks.

But it's different this time. Your face lights up when you're sitting on a bench outside your campus with a few friends and you notice Jungkook angrily stomping in your direction as he throws away a torn piece of paper on the green grass.

A smile graces your lips as you raise your hand to wave at him before he yanks on your wrist and pulls you out of your seat to drag you away. The sun is shining down on the both of you, and you're enjoying his bruising grip on your hand while birds chirp happily in the background. You're in bliss and you resist the urge to close your eyes until he's dragged you into an empty spot under the shade.

"You stupid fucking bitch," he spits as he pushes you against the wall. "That essay you gave me was bullshit! Are you playing me?"

"What?" you panic as your lips part. You hate seeing Jungkook upset. "But I-I worked so hard on it-"

"Hell you did," he grits, "I got a fucking C minus. I kissed you for that essay, only to get a C?"

"I'll rewrite it!" you instantly compromise in an attempt to please him, "please let me do it again. I promise I'll get you an A this time!"

His most common grade: A plus. Jungkook wants to become a paralegal without working a day in his life, and you're so willing to be taken advantage of that he doesn't even feel bad. The only form of appreciation you receive is a kiss or praise.

"He's not accepting retakes," he grumbles with a subtle snarl. "It's only 5% of my grade, so he thinks it doesn't matter." He scoffs at the audacity of the professor and you. "Get on your knees."

You stop scowling at the ground out of disappointment in yourself at his command and immediately obey. Your eyes grow wide when he starts unbuckling his belt. "What are you doing?"

"Shut the fuck up," he orders as he unzips himself. "I'm putting you to use, you dumb whore."

Your heart pounds as you convince yourself that you deserve the insults he throws at you; you did something wrong. He's just giving you the rightful punishment, you think when he shoves his cock inside your gaping mouth. Your scalp stings when he grips your hair to stop you from moving as he thursts in and out of your cavern. A gag rips out of you at his harsh movements when he sinks his length down to the hilt and his balls smack against your chin.

"Can't even do one fucking thing right," he snarls as he sharply breathes in and out through his nose. "Gonna fuck your brains out if you even have any."

He starts groaning when you swirl your tongue around him, disregarding your brimming tears and aching jaw. "Keep doing that," he demands while panting, and you wrap your lips around his length as he keep thrusting into you with your tongue desperately licking the underside of his shaft. "Fuck, yes," he moans under his breath.

"I thought about replacing you," he reveals while running his fingers through your hair as his hips begin to stutter. "Find someone smarter who can get one good fucking grade."

The tears you held back start streaming down your face as your heart sinks. You grow more desperate and hold onto his thighs, rubbing them up and down and pull your mouth away. A string of saliva connects you to the head of his cock as you whimper, "please don't. I'll do better, Jungkook, please!"

"I told you to shut up, didn't I?" he growls as he yanks on your hair and you whine at the pain. "Make me cum and I'll consider keeping you."

You start nodding frantically and swallow the pleads that beg to erupt from your swollen lips. You know what to do when he nods at you without moving his hips, so you start to pleasure him with your hand on his balls and your tongue teasing the slit on his tip. Your other hand pumps his throbbing length, and you moan to please him further. You're so needy, so desperate to make it up to him, and he knows it; he gets off on it.

He knows you love him with all of your being, but he doesn't realize that loves you just as much, if not more. He just wants to use you, and you're not doing yourself any favors with how feverishly you're sucking him off.

It resounds in his ears, all the noise you're making in an effort to satisfy him. You don't even care you're in a public space, and it turns him on to the point of sighing at the thought of fucking you in front of everyone.

"Go faster, don't you even know how to suck a dick properly?" he taunts and you take his balls in your mouth as your hand pumps him swiftly. You know he's reaching his high as his breaths become more audible, and you return to his tip to leave kitty licks. He's groaning at how feverous you are, and it's not long before cum begins to ooze out onto your tongue.

You lap it all up as he continues to release in your mouth while moaning breathily, loudly. "Shit, shit, shit," he hisses when he grows sensitive, bordering on overstimulation, and he pushes your head away to stroke himself to spurt out all of his cum.

You try your best to catch all of it, but a few drops land on your face and you collect them all with your finger. When he's finished, he holds himself up by leaning on the wall you're pushed up against. You're staring at his jaw and the way his chest inflates with each breath from under him. You swallow all of his release and it tastes slightly bitter on your tastebuds.

After he collects himself, he adjusts his pants and buckles up without saying anything.

"A-Are you going to leave me?" you meekly ask, but he doesn't reply. Only when he walks away as if nothing happened do you feel the pain on your knees that scraped against the cement from the force of his thrusts. You wipe the spit on your mouth when you take in your surroundings. A few students pass by you in the alley, only a few feet away from your campus.

Even though he humiliated you, you still love him and with a dull ache in your heart, you hope he doesn't leave you for someone else.

And you can't help but yearn for another lesson from him.

[fireworkss-exe]

NUMBAH 5 CHANSAW HEATHERSSZZS

5. "Let's skip the small talk and just go on a date."

RRRRIIING!

Heather jolted out of her trance to see that her peers were already filing out of class, shuffling around each other in order to make it out of the hell called eighth period. Finally. Heather swiftly cleared her desk of her personal items, just as eager as her classmates when it came to the topic of school being over. The final bell meant freedom. And Heather Chandler was very much looking forward to that.

Heads turned as Heather passed through the halls, which were crammed full of students who milled about their lockers, conversing with their friends. Bleak compliments floated through the air as Heather breezed past. None of the praises came from anyone of value- as far as Heather was concerned, the vast majority of Westerberg High was comprised of ass-kissing sycophants who were only looking to improve their stations in the school food chain.

They were never worth her time, and they never would be.

There was, however, someone who'd always intrigued Heather- from the moment they first met and every point after that- and she was sitting, bent over a battered journal, on the nearly abandoned staircase not far from Westerberg High's front doors.

"God, Veronica, why are you always scribbling in that damn thing? Are you plotting to conquer the world or something? Because that's not going to happen anytime soon."

Veronica- a typically sullen-looking waif- looked even more desolate than usual as she looked up at Heather. "Hello, Heather."

"Hello, Sawyer," Heather replied, almost mockingly. She didn't know why, but within the past few weeks, her interactions with Veronica had become strangely rigid. Their fiery banter had become a rarity, replaced with idle, stiff conversation. Heather hated it.

"Well, what do you need me for?" Veronica inquired, begrudgingly standing up and tucking her diary under her arm.

"I'll be driving you home today, so no need to get on the bus," said Heather. "Sitting with the scum of the school doesn't suit you, anyway."

"They're not scum. Not everyone gets to be Westerberg royalty."

Heather rolled her eyes. "They're bootlickers, Veronica," she retorted, "and you don't want to be on a bus crammed with them. You may pity them for being nobodies, but they're not charity cases. As soon as you let down your guard, they start using you for your power. You'd be stained with loserness if you even gave them the time of day."

Veronica knitted her eyebrows together incredulously. "Stained with loserness?"

Heather glanced at Veronica for a moment as they walked through the school parking lot- and instantly regretted it. Veronica's hair had caught the sinking sun's rays, making it seemingly glow from within, and the shadows struck her facial features perfectly. The sight made Heather's face prickle with rage- was it rage? Surely it was. How could the newest member of the Westerberg upper class look prettier than the queen?

"I don't want Veronica Sawyer stained with loserness," Heather replied, quick to distract herself from the hatred burning inside her. "Not when I've improved you so much. Not when you've come so far."

"What, am I like your Frankenstein's monster or something? Are you the doctor?" Veronica joked, giving Heather a friendly little elbow as the latter unlocked her car.

When Heather looked up again, Veronica was beaming. Almost immediately, another wave of jealousy made Heather's face flush. She hastily opened the door to her cherry-red Porsche and slipped inside, hands shaking. "Just because you make weird analogies doesn't mean I have to go along with them."

An uneasy silence fell over the girls when they started driving. Heather switched the radio on the break the shell of nauseating stillness- and a Prince song was playing.

"Oh God, not Prince," Heather complained, but didn't turn the dial to change the station, instead taking it as an opportunity to distract herself from Veronica. "One of my exes was obsessed with Prince. He had all the records and, like, three posters in his room. He tried to take me to a Prince concert for my fifteenth birthday, and you know what I did? I slapped him. He deserved it. You can't just make a singer your entire personality and expect people to think it's normal. Oh, and then one of my cousins couldn't stop talking about-"

"Let's skip the small talk and just go on a date," Veronica interrupted suddenly.

"I'm sorry, what?"

Veronica looked almost amused. She smiled, and Heather felt another wave of anger wash over her. Well... it wasn't quite anger, but what else could it be?

"What I'm saying is, we need to go out sometime. Heather and Heather told me you've written 'Heather Sawyer' and 'Veronica Chandler' all over your history notebook. That's pretty telling," Veronica said, still grinning.

Heather's jaw dropped. "That's not true!"

"Okay, well, yeah, that part isn't true," Veronica admitted. "But they told me you really like me. So. I was wondering if you ever wanted to go out."

Shell-shocked, Heather let Veronica's words sink in. Her grip tightened on the steering wheel. Those bitches! Of course it was her subordinates, Heather McNamara and Heather Duke, that noticed the sudden stiffness in her conversations with Veronica.

Heather relented. "When are you free?" she asked, her voice sounding much weaker than she wanted it to. Her guts churned with anxiety. Was this some kind of cruel joke?

"Does Saturday night sound good?" Veronica inquired, one of her hands drifting to the middle console.

Relief flooded through Heather's veins as she placed her right hand over Veronica's. "Saturday night sounds good."

[not-me-simping-for-blasty]

Welcome Home - Bakugou Katsuki

Katsuki’s back from a mission, hardly through the door and already acting strange. it’d be a lot easier to figure out if he wasn’t so- well, himself.

—/—

Bakugou likes to pretend. Pretend that he’s tough, that he’s mean, that he’s prickly all the way through. And he might be, to others, but you’re not exactly others to him.

He loves you, and for Katsuki, love has always been something that weakens him. He needs it, you think, because he’s plenty strong already. So maybe it’s a good thing he goes so molten soft for you.

You think he’s softest now- when he’s just come back from a mission away, freshly showered and ready for sleep. He’ll creep up behind you, catching your around your middle. Searching fingers find the dip of your waist, settling there as he pulls you back against his chest. Katsuki doesn’t even really greet you, but that’s okay- he’ll place a feather-light kiss under your jaw and it’s always more than enough.

“Food’s almost ready.” You say lightly, leaning back against him. “Should be just a few more minutes, yeah?”

“No.”

“No- what? Aren’t you hungry?”

“No. Tired.”

“Okay.” You nod, turning in his arms. You’ve got your hands against his chest, and Bakugou pulls you forward even more, away from the hot stove behind you. “You should probably eat before you sleep though. Get your strength back, you know?”

“No. Ate earlier, ‘m fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.” He grumbles, very obviously annoyed. “I’m fuckin’ sure.”

You recoil a bit at his tone- but Katsuki doesn’t let you get very far. He keeps you trapped against his chest, one hand leaving your waist to turn the oven off. Whatever’s up with him clearly has him upset- you can see it in the crease of his eyebrow, the way his nostrils flare like a bull.

His moods are always unpredictable, but this behavior is even more so. Usually he’s pretty tame when he gets back home from a mission, he never really snaps. Not like he is now.

You try to give him some space, but he seems bothered by that too. Bakugou turns you back around, crowding you against the cooling stove. He’s all heavy weight and heat, solid against your shoulders and refusing to move. He drops his forehead into your skin, nuzzling at the junction where your shoulder meets your neck.

“Are you alright?” You ask hesitantly, raising a hand up to card through his hair. Bakugou melts into you at that, and it only worries you more. “Everything go okay?”

“Mhm.”

He’s noncommittal, voice hardly more than a grumble. You feel his eyes flutter against your skin, and he pulls you even further into him. Your practically draped in this hulking, mass of a man, breathing in the very air that leaves his mouth.

“Really that tired, huh?” You try again, scratching idly at his scalp. “I’ll finish the food, and wrap it up. Don’t worry about it, you can just go to bed.”

“No. Leave it.”

“I’m not just gonna leave it. It’ll get all gross sitting out overnight.”

“Jesus fuck,” He huffs once more, and you don’t have to see it to know he’s rolling his eyes. “I said fuckin’ leave it. So fuckin’ leave it!”

Your eyes widen- because you know he did not just speak to you that way.

Bakugou must regret it too, because then he’s hugging you tighter, ghosting his hands up and down your sides. “Didn’t mean it.” He says. “I’m just tired. Shouldn’t have snapped. Leave the food, I’ll clean it up later.”

You’re still a little annoyed, but you’re long past picking fights over his tone. He was just surly- and you still loved him in spite of it.

“Yeah- okay. It’s fine.” You agree. “You wanna take a nap then?”

He nods against your skin, but doesn’t really move. If anything he gathers you closer, hanging his head over your shoulder.

“Don’t sleep here.” You giggle, dropping a kiss to his hairline. “C’mon- I’ve gotta go clean up a bit first, and then we’ll go get in bed.”

“‘m already clean.”

“I didn’t say you. I said me. I’ve gotta get clean.”

He nuzzles his head in the crook of your neck, dragging his nose against the soft skin. “Smell fine to me.” He says.

“I didn’t- did you just sniff me?”

He just shrugs, and you can feel it against your back.

“Jesus, what’d they do to you, huh? Tired you out so much that you became a different person?” You laugh, turning in his arms. Bakugou lets you, settling his hands on the small of your back. “You’re never this soft.”

He seizes, squeezing your sides. “Shut up.”

“I legally can’t.”

“You can, and you fuckin’ should.”

“Hey- play nice or you’re going to bed by yourself.”

Bakugou doesn’t seem all too pleased by your joke, his strong arms tightening around you. When you look up at him, he’s glowering, jaw set and eyes squinted.

“Calm down, grumpy.” You smile fondly, patting his chest. “I wouldn’t do that to you. Well- not right now, anyways. I missed you too much.”

You hardly see his face go red before he’s hunching over, hiding in your neck. You can feel the heat rising in his cheeks, but you don’t comment. Bakugou already knows he’s done for just as much as you do.

“Wanted to come home.” He says. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Shoulda picked a different job then. Hero.”

He scoffs. “World would go to shit without me.”

“Yeah- it would, wouldn’t it?”

You feel his smile against your neck. Another second passes and then you’re gently pushing him off, brushing past to start towards the bedroom. Katsuki follows you, like a shadow, the entire way- hardly even a breath of space between you. Even when you start into the bathroom, grabbing at your face wash, he’s there too. He leans against the counter, holding a towel.

“So helpful.” You tease, turning on the sink. “Maybe you should go away more often.”

“‘m always helpful.”

“Mhm. Sure you are.”

You start your routine, working through the steps, and he just watches. Usually he’s in bed at this point, but for whatever reason, tonight Katsuki is choosing to stay instead. He stays and he stands- rooted in place just a few inches away, red eyes watching you intently through the mirror. Whatever had him so bent out of shape earlier apparently still has him arrested. If you didn’t know any better you’d even say that he was being clingy.

You motion for the towel, and Bakugou just does this funny little half-smirk. He pushes off the counter, nearing, standing just behind you and- he drops the towel. Over your head.

“Jerk.” You fuss, swiping the towel away. “I knew you were suspicious! Standing there- being suspiciously calm!”

He smiles, eyes crinkling in the corners. “Calm down, you baby. ‘s a towel. Not like I dropped a fuckin’ building on your head.”

“No, but you would.”

Bakugou shrugs.

“No! No! Get out. Get out of my bathroom right now.” You playfully scold, glaring at him through the mirror. He’s standing behind you now, just inches away. “And to think I told you I missed you. I take it back. I totally take it back.”

“No you don’t.”

“I do!”

“You don’t.” He says confidently, arms wrapping around your waist. “Already said it, dumbass. Can’t take that shit back now.”

“You are an ass, you know that?”

“Mhm.”

“No- you’re not supposed to agree!” You laugh, lightly elbowing him away. “Now, c’mon, let me go. Gotta brush my teeth still.”

“So brush them. Dunno why the hell you’re makin’ it my fuckin’ problem.”

“I’m making it your problem because you’re the one hanging off me like an overgrown toddler.”

Bakugou rolls his eyes, stepping back for a moment. He reaches for your toothpaste and toothbrush, one hand leaving your hip while the other stays.

“Here.” He says. “Everthing you need. Stop fuckin’ complaining and brush your damn teeth already.”

You catch his gaze in the mirror, but Bakugou really doesn’t seem to be relenting. He stands his ground, hardly an inch of space between his chest and your back. He looked ridiculous- you wondered just what the hell was wrong with him that night.

“Fine- have it your way.” You relent, turning on the sink once more. “But only because it’s been two weeks since you were last here to pull this shit. Not happening again, got it?”

He just smirks. Bakugou know’s he’s won. He always does.

You brush your teeth, and he hardly moves. He stands with his arms wrapped around you, holds your hair back when you lean down to rinse around your mouth. It’s almost nice- until he’s flicking water at you.

“Are you- are you being serious right now?” You glare at him. “I thought you were tired.”

“Yeah. I am.“ He starts, a slow smirk spreading across his face. It’s a look you knows means trouble of the exceedingly childish variety. “Tired of your shit.” 

“Bakugou Katsuki! What the hell has gotten into you?” 

He rolls his eyes, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He tightens his arms around your waist, averting his eyes. “Haven’t been around.” Bakugou says. “Had to save all this energy up. Couldn’t resist- ‘s not my fault.” 

“Is that- are you trying to tell me that you missed me?” 

“Is that what I fuckin’ said?”

“Well, no, not in those exact words. But don’t worry, I get what you mean. And it’s a little cute.” Then you spin in his arms, leaning back against the counter. You bring a hand up, flicking his forehead before he can dodge. “But try that water shit with me again, and I promise you’ll leave this bathroom drenched.” 

“You makin’ threats now? Hah?”

 “Absolutely. Think I got a little bolder while you were gone. Shouldn’t have left me alone for so long!”

Your joke doesn’t seem to land- at least not the way you want it to. His eyes squint, just a bit, just minutely, but you see it. Then he’s shaking his head, dropping his hands to the counter to cage you in against him.

“Didn’t- I wouldn’t-” He starts, before swearing under his breath. Bakugou takes a deep breath. “I don’t like bein’ gone all the time. Wouldn’t if I didn’t fuckin’ have to. If there was another way I’d-”

“I know. I know you would.” You place a hand on his chest, and he just looks thankful that you’ve been merciful. That you don’t make him say the words. “I was just joking. I’d never hold that against you, you know. It doesn’t matter to me that you have to go, just that you always come back to me.”

He just breathes deep, trying his best to meet your eyes. Bakugou never really was good at eye contact, always trying his best to hide from what he feels. You try your best not to let him though- you don’t want to leave him with any doubt about where he stood with you. Where he’d always stand with you, if you had anything to say about it.

Katsuki pats your head then, ruffling your hair while he bites his knuckle. He’s embarrassed, awfully so, but he’s trying his best yet again. “Don’t- you can’t just say shit like that.” He grumbles, but then he’s turning around, pulling you gently by the arm towards the bedroom. “I’ll always come back. You really think I’d let any of those idiot villains kill me?” 

“Nope. Not a chance. You’d strike ‘em dead.”

“That’s my girl.” He smirks. “Course I would.” 

He waits patiently while you change into comfier shorts, throwing one of his own sweatshirts toward you when he sees you start for the closet. You think it’s always a little cute- the way Bakugou, no matter how much he denies it, definitely has a thing for you wearing his clothes. Not that you’re complaining much, though.

When you finally slip under the covers, he is not far behind. You’re about to ask him what he wants, but he makes it very clear- by choosing to lie directly on top of you.

“You know,” You laugh a little, pressing a kiss to the shell of his ear. “It’s almost like you actually did miss me. You’re being awfully clingy tonight.”

“No- that’s stupid. Stop being dumb- that’s- don’t say that shit to me again.” He mumbles, digging his face further into your collarbone. You can feel his lips against your skin- the way his cheeks are puffed into a pout. “That word is fuckin’ banned.”

“You can’t ban a word.”

“The hell do you think you’re talkin’ to? ‘Course I can.”

“You really cant.”

“I can. Shut up.”

You only laugh a little bit, trying not to squeak when he hugs you tighter. Your sides have always been ticklish, and Bakugou knows this- as it is now, he’s tapping his fingers just under your ribs. Like he’s daring you to keep defying him. Knowing him, he probably is.

Bakugou grunts, grabbing at one of your hands. He catches you around your wrist, dropping your hand into his hair. You both know what he wants but you can’t help yourself from teasing him again.

“See?” You laugh, but start dragging your nails against his scalp anyways. “You’re just proving my point. You’re clingy.”

“I’m not.”

“So, what, you just wouldn’t care if I got up right now?”

“Nope. Get up. Leave. Now.”

You shake your head, but you decide to play anyways. You always do when it comes to him.

He’s got you trapped under him, a solid weight against your torso. Still, you try your best to wriggle out, pressing against his chest with all your might. But, solid muscle doesn’t exactly budge easy and you’re going nowhere fast.

“Let me up!” You laugh, pressing against his chest once more. “I thought you said you didn’t care!”

“I don’t. Idiot.”

“Mhm, then why are you keeping me trapped here, huh?”

“‘m not.” He smirks, hands falling back to your waist. Bakugou presses his thumbs into your sides, smirking when you start to squirm. “Not my fault you’re too weak to get up.”

“You’re a dick, you know that?”

“Nah- you love me.”

You can’t help the incredulous laugh that spills from you then. He’s right- no matter how much your pride would like to say otherwise.

Bakugou seems to know he’s right too. You can see it in the curve of his smile, the way his eyes are two shades lighter than they normally are. Nobody would ever believe you, but when he’s like this, with you, you swear Bakugou could outshine the sun.

“Say it, dumbass.”

“Say what?” You laugh, scrunching your nose up playfully. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do. Stop playin’ dumb.”

“I’m not playing anything. I’ll say it if you say it.”

“The hell am I supposed to say?”

You just laugh, brushing the blonde hair back from his eyes. Bakugou blushes at the gesture, but he doesn’t push your hand away. If anything he pressed forward. Until you get the message once more, and start dragging your fingers through his hair.

“I’m not gonna say it. Dumbass.”

“I thought you didn’t know what you were supposed to say?”

“Shut the hell up.” He flusters, voice pinched and embarrassed. “I’m not- ‘m not sayin’ it, alright?”

“I know, I know, god forbid you admit that you actually missed me, right?”

“Exactly.”

“You’re not- don’t agree!” You laugh, lightly tugging on his hair in warning. “This is the part where you’re supposed to say how lonely you were, and how much you missed me, and how I’m such an important and vital part of your life.”

You finish with a dreamy sigh, playing up the theatrics for nothing other than you’re own enjoyment. All your met with is silence. Pure silence and then-

“Yeah fuckin’ right- ‘m not saying that stupid shit.”

You tug on his hair. For real this time. Not much, but just enough to get him to jump a little. Just enough so you could giggle, shushing him with your hands rubbing down his back.

“Fine, well I guess if you won’t say that either,” You start, smiling coyly. “Then I guess I definitely won’t tell you that I love you. Because you wouldn’t care- obviously.”

“No- that’s- that’s different. You can say that. I’m allowing you to. Why do you always gotta make everything so damn difficult, hah?”

“Because- nice boys get to hear nice things, and you’ve never been anything short of the devil incarnate-“

“Hey!”

“What, gonna tell me I’m wrong?” You smile fondly down at him. “Besides, I thought you were tired. No exhausted person I’ve ever known argues this much.”

“I’m tired- not falling asleep. There’s a fuckin’ difference. I just wanted to lay down.” 

His face is red, but you hardly even get to see if before Katsuki is hiding once more. Still, even if the execution was lacking, the sentiment still makes you love him all over again. 

“And you are wrong.” He starts again. “‘m nice to you all the time!”

“Yeah. When I force you to be.”

“That’s- you’re not right.”

“I am. Say one nice thing to me. Right now, c’mon. Prove me wrong.”

You’re egging his on now, challenge dripping from your voice. It’s the sort of badgering that always works with him, and it seems to be working now too. He sits up, hovering above you and braced on his elbows. 

“Fine. I-” He struggles for a moment, face going a violent shade of red. “I-I missed you. Happy?”

Truthfully, it does make you happy. Happier than anything else, but you didn’t plan to let him off easy. Not this time. With Katsuki, there’s only so much mercy to go around.

“Oh- you missed me?” You tease. “The Bakugou Katsuki missed little old me? Fascinatin-“

He squeezes your sides, driving his thumbs into your hips until you’re squirming and giggling. “Shut up. Dumbass! This is why ‘m never nice to you!”

You want to respond, but his hands are at your sides, poking and prodding and tickling you into submission. It’s the worst kind of torture, one that feels entirely brutal, but then you look up at him. He doesn’t smile often- not as much as you always wished he would anyways, but he is now. Bakugou is grinning like mad, all sharp teeth and loud laughter. Eventually he stops, letting you catch you breath, but he’s still smiling. You’d love to say something, but you don’t. You know he’d wipe the smile right off his face if you did.

“Fine fine, I’ll- I’ll be quiet now. You win.” You say, a hand on your chest as you catch your breath. “I do have just a few last things to say though.”

“Jesus christ. What now?”

“I love you.” You smile. “And I missed you. And I’m so glad you’re home.”

He smiles changes then, from wide and unrelenting to something tiny and tight lipped. You think you’ve made a mistake, but then his eyes crinkle up. His eyes crinkle up and his cheeks pink, and you think he’s so beautiful then that it hurts. 

Bakugou Katsuki is rough and tumble, but when you melt him down, he really is softer than anything.

--/---

n e wayz,,, soft katsu n shit-head katsu are best katsu,,, i said what i said

alsoooooo lmaooo i took a break but im back now!!! 

[lipstickstainz]

true lies - s. r. (14/15)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Series Summary: Spencer is furious, when you rejoin the team after a year and after you left him, when he got arrested. Little does he know, that you leaving him was the only option to ever get him out of prison.

Chapter Summary: Leaving is the only option - right?

Warnings: angst, blood (but not much), break up, drug addiction (mentioned), alcohol consumption

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: hello lovies. I'm back and my mind is full of ideas! I hope you like it! gif not mine.

Series Masterlist

previous chapter

You watch the coffee in your cup as if it has all the answers for the future hidden in the caffeine. It's eight o'clock in the morning, and this is already your third cup of the sacred liquid, and you're sure it won't be your last. The shadows under your eyes are a sign of your nightmares that haunted you last night. The fact that you have them doesn't bother you, after all, you've been going through the procedure for months. What bothers you is the fact that you couldn't wake yourself up this time. You've gotten in the habit of pinching yourself when it would get too painful, but something stopped you last night. And the fact that you don't know what exactly bothers you the most.

"Y/N." Emily's voice pulls you out of your thoughts and you have to tear your gaze away from your coffee. "What do you think?"

All eyes are on you and out of nervousness you'd like to slide around in your chair, but suppress the urge. You haven't been listening for the last few minutes, too busy with your own thoughts and problems that you can't answer her. The case is supposed to be your last, and you're trying hard to enjoy it and value the time with your friends, but really you're just waiting for it all to be over. Most of all, you want to pack your things and leave.

You barely noticeably shake your head for Emily to continue, and turn your attention back to your coffee, which must be cold by now, but that doesn't stop you from drinking it down to the last drop. Without saying anything, you get up from your chair to get another one, paying no attention to Emily's annoyed look. As you fill your cup in the precinct kitchen, she stands right next to you.

"You're not being very helpful, Y/N," she says coolly as you take a sip. You know her manner is all pretense, because in reality she's incredibly concerned. She only needs to look at your face once to know what's going on in your head, but she doesn't address it. She knows you'll talk to her when the time is right. But you're not sure that will ever happen. "I've already assigned the tasks. You stay here and work with Spencer to gather all the important information that may be relevant to Penelope's research." The look on your face says it all. You don't want to spend any time with Spencer, and certainly not alone, but Emily gives you no choice. Before you can say anything back, she disappears out the door with the others.

With your coffee, which you now wish had a strong shot of vodka in it, you make your way back into the conference room, where Spencer is bent over the table, passing pictures and notes back and forth. You stop in the doorway and watch him for a brief moment, and only then do you notice the narrow, red scratch on his face that stretches from his cheek to his neck. You squint your eyes. It hadn't been there yesterday after all.

"What happened?“, you ask as casually as you can as you sit down and set your cup down on the table. As Spencer looks at you questioningly, you point to his face. "Looks bad." Indeed it does, though it's just a scratch. There's bloody crust in a few places, contrasting in color with his pale skin. Something really got to him.

"Cut myself shaving“, he replies curtly, glancing again at the pictures in front of him. You haven't seen him in two years, don't actually remember who he is exactly, but you still know when he's lying. And when to stop asking and let it go. When Penelope calls, you discuss some stuff and you see Spencer scratching over the wound until it bleeds, which he doesn't seem to notice, which is why you stall Penelope on the phone and grab his hand as soon as the line goes silent. Astonished, he looks at you before looking at his fingers.

"Come with me“, you say briefly and don't even wait for him to follow you. You approach an officer and ask for a first aid kit, which is immediately made available to you. Spencer follows you uncertainly into one of the washrooms, where you already put on the disposable gloves from the box - you don't want any bacteria to get on the wound - and wet a towel from the towel dispenser. Reluctantly, Spencer leans against one of the sinks, waiting for your instructions.

"Tilt your head to the side a little, please." You take the damp cloth and gently dab along the scratch to remove the dried blood. Spencer has to swallow at the touch and you see his Adam's apple bob, and really it shouldn't be that attractive, unfortunately it is anyway. You have to concentrate because this is the closest you've been to him in years. You breathe in his scent, feel his warmth through your gloves, and can barely stifle a deep breath.

"How do you know how to do that?“, he asks softly as you disinfect the wound, and Spencer has to pull himself together to keep from reacting to the burning from the alcohol.

You look at him briefly before turning your attention back to the scratch. „Experience“, you reply, spreading some wound healing ointment over it before taking off your gloves and disposing of everything in the trash can. You then put the first aid kit back together. As you turn around, Spencer is standing right in front of you.

"You didn't tell me you were having nightmares“, he whispers, and confused, you look at him. There's concern in his gaze, and if you're not mistaken, a little affection too, but you push the thought aside, not letting yourself have hope. Hope has only harmed you lately you have not moved forward a bit.

You look once more at the scratch, and then into his warm eyes. "You didn't cut yourself shaving“, you count one and one together and clench your jaws. He doesn't need to answer. You did this to him, you just don't remember. The reason you didn't wake up is Spencer. He was probably holding you, reassuring you so much that your body turned off its protective mechanism. It had certainly been the last time he did that, and you hadn't been awake to enjoy it.

"Why didn't you tell me about this?“, he asks, wanting to reach for your hand, but you take a step back. You don't want him to touch you. You'd prefer it if you weren't in this situation at all. You'd prefer that you hadn't come back at all. None of this should have ever happened.

"It's none of your business anymore, Spencer." Your tone is cool and something in his face changes.

"I thought we were friends."

You have to suppress a laugh. Two years ago, you could have lived well with being friends with him. You were prepared for it then, wished it on him, and meant it sincerely. Only lately you've been through so much that you can't even imagine it anymore. The two years had been hell, but you are sure that you can't live next to him without being able to be with him. You can't watch him and Max be happy together, and even though his happiness is everything you want, you'd rather he be happy with you. But you can't tell him that, it would be unfair and selfish. So you just look at him.

Then you reach for the small suitcase and push past him towards the exit.

-

You're glad when the case is over and you arrive back at Quantico. It's been a week since you and Spencer spoke, and luckily for you, you've continued to be spared nightmares, for which you're quite grateful. Not that Spencer is going to join you in bed one more time to calm you down.

As you walk from the airfield back to the building, you fall back a bit, watching the team joke and laugh with each other despite their fatigue. Most of all, you'd like to leave right now without saying goodbye. Rip off the band-aid, without anesthesia. Short and painless. But your plan is foiled when Emily suddenly walks up beside you and puts a hand on your arm.

"We're going for a drink." She raises an eyebrow expectantly. Apparently she's waiting for you to decline the invitation, and all too gladly you'd like to meet her expectations, but it's almost certainly the last night you'll see each other, at least for an extended period of time, and short and painless wouldn't be fair to her - your best friend.

You smile at her. "You're paying for the first round."

Her eyes widen in delight, but before she can say anything back, Luke, who has overheard your conversation, interferes. "We're going out for drinks?" A grin spreads across his face, almost reaching his ears, and suddenly the rest of the team pricks up their ears. Luke's gaze is fixed on you. "I bet I can drink you under the table by now, Y/N."

„You can’t“, Matt replies, and you see Rossi smile to himself. "Last time you did that, you almost passed out after four shots."

"JJ got the drinks. Maybe she mixed something in“, Luke tries to defend himself, but the blonde raises her hands.

"I'm not responsible for your kindergarten drinking. But I'd love to see you try to drink Y/N under the table." She smiles at you and winks, and you can't help but grin. It feels good to know that all is well between you and the team, even though they know with a high probability that you won't be staying. You'd understand if they were mad at you, but that doesn't seem to be the case. JJ looks at Spencer, who is being less than forthcoming. "You coming, Spence?"

He risks a quick glance in your direction before adjusting the bag on his shoulder. He knows this will be your last night. And that you won't see each other again after this. "I think I'll sit this one out“, he replies curtly, but JJ nudges him and he gives her a dirty look.

"You can't avoid it, Spence."

You'd rather he'd gone home.

The first drinks are on Emily, as promised, and the ones after that are on Rossi, and it's actually not long before Luke is sitting at the table with a glass of water, wishing he'd slowed down. You grin at him from the dance floor where JJ and you are swinging your hips, and he sticks his tongue out at you before putting his head in his hands and sipping water through the straw in his glass.

JJ reaches for your hand and pulls you close before wrapping her arms around your neck. "I'm going to miss you“, she almost yells so you can hear her over the loud music. You smile weakly at her. There's a glint in her eyes, probably from the alcohol, and only now do you realize how much you're really going to miss her.

"I'm going to miss you too“, you reply, risking a quick glance in Spencer's direction. He's sitting next to Luke, looking completely out of place. You look back to JJ and without further ado, she puts her hands to your cheeks and presses a kiss to your mouth. When she pulls away from you again, she just grins at you. "What was that for?"

"I want you to know that we love you. We all do. Remember that when you're lonely, and call if you need anything. You are and always will be a part of our weird family."

You wait a brief moment before pulling away from her and disappearing into the ladies' room. As soon as the door slams shut, tears stream down your cheeks and you have to hold onto the edge of the sink to keep from breaking down. You were aware of how much the others would miss you, but hearing it from JJ only makes it more real. By leaving, you're not only leaving Spencer behind, but everyone else as well, and that's so selfish of you that bile rises inside you and you almost throw up. You wish you hadn't had those last two drinks.

"Y/N?" You don't have to turn around to know it's Spencer. You recognized his voice and can see him in the mirror above the sink.He's standing behind you, unsure of what exactly to do, which is why he buries his hands in his pants pockets and looks at you silently.

You wipe the smeared mascara from under your eyes before turning and leaning against the basin. "This is the ladies' room, Spencer. You're not supposed to be in here.“

"I'm right where I'm supposed to be“, he replies, but doesn't move from the spot. He watches you brush your hair out of your forehead and wipe at your hot face to get rid of the tears. "You don't have to go. You know that, right?"

You look up from your shoes, straight into his eyes. "Yes, I do."

You want to leave the washroom, but his fingers curl around your arm, holding you back. "Y/N ..."

"I can't stay, Spencer. I can't look at you without knowing that someone other than me is waiting for you at home. I can't watch you be happy without me. It's okay, really. It's just that I don't have the strength to watch it anymore." The words just bubble out of you, and for some reason you can't stop. But it feels good to say it out loud, even though you certainly shouldn't. "I love you, Spencer. I'll always love you. But I'm at the end of my rope." You shrug in exasperation. "I have to think about me. I can only think about me." Spencer's face contorts painfully, but you can't stop. "To think that you're about to go to Max's and do God knows what ..." You shake your head, as if it might drive the thoughts from your mind. "I feel like I - I - I can't breathe. Like I'm going to die. And I just can't take it anymore."

Spencer's hand comes away from your arm at your honesty, but only to grab your hand and pull you against him. You bounce against his chest, wanting to pull away, but he holds you tight and presses you to him with his other hand. Carefully, he places his palm against your cheek and gently strokes your skin with his thumb. "Please, don't go."

You look into his eyes, which have filled with tears. "Why not?"

You can practically see him struggling with himself. He wants to say something, but can't find the right words, so he presses his lips together and lets his forehead sink against yours. All he has to do is say it, and you'd throw all your plans out the window and stick around. Just a few words. But he doesn't say them. "I can't ..."

You take a deep breath before pulling away from him, disappointed. „Goodbye“, you whisper, before leaving him alone in the washroom.

-

Spencer sits uncertainly at the kitchen table, watching the tea bag with lemon balm in the cup in front of him. He doesn't actually like lemon balm, but he needs something to calm his nerves and get the trembling of his hands under control as he sits there searching for the right words.

The last time he had felt this helpless, Emily had just left his apartment and he had been about to make some phone calls. The first call would have been to a man who would have given him a different number. The second phone call would have been to a woman who would have transferred him. And the third number belonged to someone who would have given him what he was only too happy to get.

Many years ago, he had sworn to himself that he would never resort to it again. That he wouldn't need it. He would be stronger than the desire to feel nothing more. The only thing that had stopped him was that you would never wish that for him. That you had helped him then, had stood by him. He didn't want it to be in vain.

Spencer hates feeling so helpless, even though he actually knows exactly what he has to do now. That's why he sits in the kitchen in the middle of the night, cup of calming tea in hand, not daring to look at the woman sitting across from him. But he doesn't need to say anything either. She knows why he was at her door at such a late hour. They sit in silence, neither quite knowing what to do. Neither of them has been in this situation before. Spencer is glad she's the first to speak.

"So that's it." It's more of a statement than a question. Spencer nods silently, whereupon she purses her lips. "Because of her?"

Spencer looks up from his cup and looks directly at Max. Then he shakes his head. "No, not because of her."

She raises an eyebrow. "But what? Don't you dare give me that 'it's not you, it's me' tour. I've heard that one before."

Spencer has to think for a moment, find the right words, before he answers. "I've lost her so many times. I wouldn't survive it another time."

The two have known each other long enough. Max knows he's not exaggerating or meaning it metaphorically. He has told her about his addiction, and she had been very grateful at the time that he was so honest with her, even though they hadn't known each other long. Spencer knows that all of this is not healthy and psychologically quite far from reasonable and Maxine knows what she has gotten herself into. But no one could have guessed that it would end this way.

"I'm sorry." Spencer's voice sounds hoarse and raspy. He stands up and makes his way toward the apartment door.

"I hope you make it." There's so much honesty in her voice that Spencer has to smile sadly over his shoulder.Maxine doesn't deserve this. None of you deserve this.

The walk to Emily's apartment is short, but to Spencer it feels like an eternity. The train is late, which is why he actually starts running, afraid of missing his chance. He runs until his lungs are burning and his bag is banging painfully against his ribs.The few people left on the streets look at him askance, but he doesn't care. He's panting, barely getting his breath and wishing he was a little more athletic, but as he sprints around the next corner he can already see the building where Emily's apartment is located.

For a brief moment he considers taking a break, catching his breath, but he can't wait another second. Hopefully he's not too late.

He's not surprised that he can just walk into the building, even though he doesn't have a key. He sprints up the stairs, and runs down the hallways until he's gasping for breath and standing in front of the right door, his head high. He bangs on the door with a clenched fist, hoping it will open and he won't be too late. He can't be late. He can't be late.

Finally, the door opens, and for the first time in years, he can take a real breath.

"Y/N."

- taglist closed -

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[fruitcoops]

could you PLEASE write the fic where coops break the bed bc I would love to read how that went down

I'd love to! This is a reference to part three of this fic, and the prompt was combined with asks for another jealous Sirius and seeing Remus in his game day suit for the first time. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for smut (including blowjobs)

The lock slid home and Sirius’ knees hit the floor.

“Wh—okay,” Remus laughed as Sirius fumbled his belt open and yanked the zipper of his dress pants—fucking dress pants, is he trying to kill me?—as far as it could go without ripping straight down the middle. Slender fingers combed through his hair; some of the shock must have worn off, because he could feel a growing bulge under his cheek as he nuzzled the dip of Remus’ hipbone.

“Nobody looks at you like I do,” he said, licking a broad stripe up the front of Remus’ boxers. They were the nice kind, soft and tight—he wanted to tear them off.

Remus, for his part, looked both baffled and quite happy. “No, they do not,” he agreed, giving the back of Sirius’ hair a light tug. “And nobody looks as good as you down there.”

“You’re goddamn right they don’t.” Without further ado, Sirius pulled his dick out of his boxers and did his best to inhale it.

“Jesus fucking—” Remus’ hand slammed into the wall with a sharp gasp. His knee buckled, but Sirius gripped his thigh and pushed it against the wall. “Holy shit, baby, give me some warning.”

Sirius leaned back and let the tip slide out through his lips for just a moment, reveling in the slackjawed awe on Remus’ face. “No.”

“What did I do to deserve this?” Remus’ voice cracked as he thudded his head back against the wall and began lightly rolling his hips per Sirius’ request, huffing each time Sirius tightened his hold on his ass.

“Game suit,” Sirius managed as he slid off to bite the hollow between Remus’ hip and thigh, drawing a whimper from him. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, shouting mine, mine, mine with each pulse. “Game suit and those fucking fans.”

Remus’ chest heaved as he took him all the way to the base again, holding Sirius by the hair the way that always sent lightning down his spine. He spread his knees slightly on the floor and palmed himself through his pants without breaking pace. “Are you—ah—are you upset or happy? ‘cause this is great and I’m not complaining but—oh holy fuck.”

Warm, slightly sweaty palms shoved him away by the forehead. Sirius made a noise of protest that turned into a grumble when his mouth was finally empty, and he batted Remus’ hands away. “What?”

“Two seconds.” Remus’ pupils were dilated so far they almost hid the pretty amber that turned dark with lust. “You look so good down there, baby, but I’m gonna come and I’m really confused why.”

“I want to make you come,” Sirius explained, moving back towards him only to be guided away again. Obviously. “Remus!”

“What is the occasion?” he asked, a little desperate. “What did I do?”

Sirius sat back on his heels with an irritated exhale and held up three fingers. “You, in general. Game suit. Fans. May I please finish what I was doing.”

If possible, Remus looked even more lost. “The fans? What about the fans? Why do they entail an amazing blowjob?”

“Because.” Sirius pulled his pants down enough to suck a mark on the thickest muscle of Remus’ thigh. He was salty and sweet and perfect. “Because they were looking at you like they wanted to eat you, and that’s my job.”

“I—” Remus opened and closed his mouth twice, then leaned back against the wall with an aborted muss of his hair. “Yeah, okay. I kind of want to get you off too, though, ‘cause you look like sin on legs in that blazer and I would hate to waste it.”

Sirius Black, why did you commit yourself to someone so selfless. He took his mouth off the underside of Remus’ dick and hauled himself to his feet, wincing at the protests of his plane-tired muscles. “Then we’d better get upstairs.”

“Upstairs? But—” Remus’ eyes widened and a slow smile spread over his face and he pulled his pants back up. “Yeah, yeah, okay, yes, right now.”

“Right now,” Sirius confirmed, taking him by the wrist to hustle them both up to their bedroom. He gave Remus’ ass a solid smack before scooting around him to flop backward on the bed, tangling their legs together until he could wrap himself around Remus and kiss him like he deserved. Hard and sloppy and so dizzying Sirius had to catch his breath when they broke apart. “Now.”

“Huh?” Remus coughed, still ruffled and red-lipped.

Sirius took his face between his hands and felt Remus go weak on top of him. “Fuck me. Right now. I’m yours, and you’re mine, and you don’t do this with any of those people undressing you with their eyes today.”

I’m the one that’s going to be walking funny tomorrow, Sirius reminded himself as he expertly unbuttoned Remus’ shirt and shoved both that and the navy jacket off his golden shoulders. Not the moon-eyed women twirling their hair, not the chiseled men with their fucking smirks, not the people in the comments marveling at that pretty face. Me. Mine.

Remus made a funny sort of whimpering noise as he pushed Sirius’ shirt open and attached himself to his neck, biting and licking in equal measure as Sirius divested them both of their pants. He leaned back to catch his breath, but Sirius reeled him back in by the blue tie still around his neck and tangled his fingers in Remus’ tawny curls, crushing them together while he pushed his hips up for any friction and basked in Remus’ moans. Mine. Yours.

“Lube,” Remus said against his mouth, breathless. The temperature of the room had to be a hundred degrees, Sirius was sure of it; they were both sweating already, but he couldn’t let go of Remus for more than a second at a time. He needed the contact. Needed the feeling of drowning in his touch.

“Mine,” he said, nipping Remus’ bottom lip before letting him go enough that he could reach the nightstand.

“Yours,” Remus promised. He kept one hand splayed over the side of Sirius’ neck as they kissed; the other popped the cap off the lube and hoisted Sirius’ leg further to the side. “Ready?”

“Go.”

He threw his head back when two—two!—slick fingers pressed against him, opening him at the wonderful intersection between a snail’s pace and an uncomfortable sting. Remus moved his free hand down to hold Sirius’ hip; his weight pressed him into the mattress, and Sirius was sure that he would burn up at any moment.

“Yes,” he hissed through clenched teeth when Remus’ fingers found his prostate. His ears began to buzz as Remus rubbed the pads of his fingers over it in relentless circles, not pushing, just giving him enough friction to go mad with it.

Teeth skimmed his collarbone and Sirius shivered when wet lips trailed over his nipple. “Get on your stomach.”

“Wanna see you.”

“Sirius.” Remus’ hand wasn’t damp when he curled it around Sirius’ jaw and guided him to meet his eyes. “On your damn stomach.”

Sirius was not proud of the half-breath sound that escaped him, but he wasn’t ashamed either. He got on his damn stomach, and he did it with a smile. “What now?”

“Hold the headboard.”

He obliged and felt Remus run a hand down the curve of his spine before sliding two fingers back into him. Sirius arched, grinning at the waves of pleasure rolling through his stomach. “We don’t have games for two days,” he said, flipping his hair back to look at Remus over his shoulder.

Amber eyes roved up and down his body with an appreciative gleam before Remus pressed a kiss to the small of his back. “I know. Hold on, baby.”

A shiver ran through Sirius’ limbs; he flexed his fingers on the wood of the headboard and sighed when something much more blunt than a few fingers pushed inside him in a slow, continuous motion. “Tabarnak,” he muttered, mouth agape as Remus found his seat and pushed down even harder on his lower back. His spine was going to ache in the morning, and he didn’t care a bit.

“Why were you upset about the fans?” he asked with a slow roll of his hips that left Sirius shuddering. “You know I don’t pay attention to that.”

“Comment section,” he panted, gritting his teeth against a loud moan. “And I could hear them when you walked by.”

“What were they saying?”

“Everything.” Sirius’ thighs trembled on the hard thrust that followed. “Everything, everything—how good you looked. That suit, Remus, I can’t handle it.”

A beat of silence passed, save for the creaking of the bed beneath them. “Say it again.”

“You looked—”

“Not that,” Remus interrupted, sliding his hands along Sirius’ sides and back down his thighs. “You want me to be yours? Then say my name.”

“Remus,” he breathed.

“What was that?”

“Remus,” he repeated, a little louder. It came out as a whine and Remus bent down to bite the junction of his shoulder as he gripped the headboard with white knuckles.

“Again.”

The word was punctuated by a yank on Sirius’ hips paired with a thrust that sparked fireworks in his eyes. “Remus!” he almost shouted, half in shock.

“Atta boy.” Strong arms wound around his abdomen, pulling him impossibly closer to Remus’ front as he rocked in and out and stole Sirius’ breath from his lungs. Feather-soft lips traced from one shoulder to the middle of his back, leaving open-mouthed kisses in their wake that were cold against the flames in Sirius’ gut. His arms were already shaking.

“Remus,” he begged, though he didn’t even know what to ask for. He was so hard it almost hurt—spreading his exhausted knees to try and sink down onto the mattress did absolutely nothing to help him. “Remus.”

“No,” Remus ordered when he tried to take one hand off the headboard and stroke himself to relieve the pressure. Sirius let out something akin to a sob despite the distilled joy and pleasure running riot through him. “Headboard. Now.”

“I am.”

Remus’ breath was hot against his ear. “Don’t get bratty with me.”

Sirius had never come untouched before, but he wondered if it felt like this. Unfortunately, he was still painfully close to the edge and Remus insisted on dragging over his sweet spot every—fucking—time, so he was stuck in a horribly fantastic limbo that bent every cell to Remus’ will.

It was exactly what he had been after from the second the front door locked behind them.

“Come on, baby.” Remus made a low sound in his throat as Sirius clamped down around him at the nickname and upped his pace by a degree. “Come on, you can do it.”

“Quoi—what d’you want?” Sirius asked, dropping his chin to his chest with a moan.

Fingers wound into his hair and pulled his head up again, gentle but unyielding. There was never any pain when Remus was in charge, only the feeling of being entirely encompassed. It didn’t matter what position they were in—Sirius could be on the bottom, top, sideways, anywhere, and still feel cared for in every aspect.

“Fucking love you,” he mumbled, voice breaking as Remus’ hand slid through his hair to trail along his neck and wind around his chest.

He could feel the smile pressing into his shoulder blade as Remus left a mark there between world-shattering rolls of his hips. “Love you, too. You know you can come whenever, right?”

“Touch me.”

“Tell me three things and I will,” Remus all but purred into the arch of his neck. Sirius nodded frantically. “What color was I wearing today?”

“Blue,” he managed through clumsy lips. “Dark blue, ‘s perfect on you, oh.”

“Two: how many times have I worn that suit?”

Sirius stifled a moan in the crook of his elbow. “Once.”

“Last question.” Remus licked the salt from the crest of his shoulder and Sirius’ vision went for a moment; he gripped the headboard like it was his only anchor on earth. “Who is the only person in the world I will ever love like this?”

“Oh, fuck, me.”

A palm, broad and callused, wrapped around his shaft and gathered the precome that had been dripping onto the sheets for a glide so smooth Sirius thought he was dreaming. Then the world caught up to him at light speed and he was gone, tumbling over the edge with a shout and throwing his weight forward while Remus guided him through every ripple down his back as he reached his own peak.

Crack—crunch.

Sirius yelped as his knuckles hit the wall, pulling back on instinct despite the fact that he had nowhere to go but down. Remus cursed into his shoulder and they hit the pillows in a mess of limbs and sweat; Sirius pulled his hands to his chest as the smarting pain began to fade. “Ow,” he said, bewildered and pitiful.

“Oh, oh, oh.” Remus pulled out with a slight wince and carefully took his hands, pressing kisses over the reddened skin before horror overtook his face. “Did I—was that sound your hands?”

“No,” Sirius said quickly, kissing his flushed cheek. “It wasn’t me. I think…”

Remus blinked at him. “Did we…”

“That was the headboard.” A smile tugged the edges of his mouth until Sirius gave in and began to laugh, shifting back onto his stomach for a proper look. Sure enough, the wooden board at the top of their bed was both sideways and several inches further down the wall than it had been when they started their venture.

“Oh my god,” Remus spluttered, still laughing as he tried to pull it back into the right spot. “Jesus, this thing is heavy.”

“We broke the bed,” Sirius snickered. It was so beyond unbelievable that he couldn’t help it. “After all this time, it finally gave in. Mon dieu. I can’t…I don’t even know where to start.”

“We broke the headboard,” Remus corrected with a grin. “Well, you broke it.”

“If you try to pin this all on me—”

“I had you pinned pretty well a minute—”

“Remus John Lupin—”

They dissolved into laughter, bordering on hysteria as they fell back onto the sheets. The headboard groaned at the impact, setting off a whole new round with no hope of letting them catch their breath.

“So,” Remus managed once his lungs were functioning again. He quirked an eyebrow at Sirius with a troublemaker’s smirk. “The suit?”

“The suit,” Sirius huffed, shaking his head. “I thought I was going to die.”

“Now you know how I feel all the friggin’ time.”

He sighed through his nose and stared upside-down at the cracked wood. “We’ll need to replace that.”

“Mhmm. And never tell the guys about it, ever.”

Sirius ran a hand down his face. “They’d bring it up at our funerals.”

“Is there a way to get just the headboard? Do we need to buy a whole new frame?”

His jaw crackled as he yawned, wrapping both arms around Remus to drag him over for a snuggle. “Those questions can wait until tomorrow. Or at least after a nap.”

“How about a shower and a nap?”

“Definitely a shower,” Sirius agreed, burying his face in the bend of Remus’ neck. “After a nap.”

“Come on, cuddlebug,” Remus groaned, giving him a halfhearted pull. “You hate the feeling of cum on your legs.”

“I just broke a plank of wood with my bare hands,” Sirius mumbled into his soft skin. “I can handle a few extra minutes of cuddles.”

[violetlilysunshine]

Flip These Lines

Boyfriend Harry Holland x Actress Reader

Summary: Helping Harry with some work usually comes with a little loving. 

WC: 1,544

Warnings: friendly teasing, suggestiveness, one sexual-ish joke

A/N: y’all asked for it. Plus it’s nice to break up all the Chris I’ve been posting with a little bit of Harry :)

MASTERLIST - Join my TAGLIST

“Hi!” you grinned as Tom opened the door for you.

“Hey, Y/N, c’mon in,” he smiled back, pulling you in for a one-armed-hug, “good to see you, ‘s been a while.” 

“Yeah, filming’s been crazy,” you answered, “glad to be back here though.”

“Well, Harry sure missed you. He hasn’t stopped talking about you since he got home last night,” Tom informed you, making you chuckle, “glad you guys got to reunite though, he’s much more tolerable now.” 

“Hey, I can hear you!” Harry called from the other room.

You laughed, shaking your head at Tom, “I’m glad we got to go out last night, but I missed you too, ya know?” you teased Tom, knowing Harry was still listening.

“Yeah? Missed you a lot,” Tom said, playing along with you, “what d’ya say we hang out later, maybe grab some dinner together?” 

“ALRIGHT GET IN HERE!” Harry yelled from the other room.

You and Tom laughed for a second before he held his arm out, gesturing you towards the living room. 

Harry flashed you a bright smile from his spot on the couch, he was resting against the corner, half on the back of the sofa, half on the arm; he had one leg tucked under the back cushions, the other bent over the edge with his foot resting on the floor. He opened his arm towards you, his smile widening even more.

You practically skipped over, sitting down in front of him and starting to pull your legs towards you.

“Ah,” he scolded, “no shoes on the couch, Tom’ll kill you.” 

You laughed lightly, knowing he was absolutely serious, putting your feet back to the floor, untying your laces, and toeing off your shoes, before pulling your legs up again and crossing them criss-cross-applesauce.

Harry was quick to lean forward, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. He had his laptop open on the cushion next to you, a text document pulled up.

“Watcha workin’ on?” you asked lightly, expecting him to not answer and close the lid.

“Oh just tryin’ to write a script,” he answered, snuggling into your neck, “actually,” he pulled back, “would you maybe want to read it? I’d love your input…” he trailed off.

You were stunned that he was willing to share with you; most things with him and work were kept very tight-lipped, either by his choice or the studios’. When you didn’t answer right away, he started to get nervous.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to, darling, don’t worry about it.”

“No no no,” you hurried, pulling the laptop across the couch and closer to you, “I want to,” you smiled, “just surprised you want to and can share with me is all.”

You hunched forward over the screen, resting your elbows on the cushion and your chin in your hands. He followed you, one arm still wrapped around your middle, the other on the trackpad as he scrolled around the screen. 

“Alright, so start here, love,” he whispered in your ear, “and don’t be afraid to make suggestions if it doesn’t sound good or doesn’t make sense or something,” he smiled, pressing a light kiss to your shoulder.

“Okay, babe,” you smiled, leaning back into him, taking the weight off your arms, and starting to read. 

His hand rubbed up and down your side gently, the other rested on your calf, as he hunched over you. He placed a few kisses to your neck and shoulder as you slowly read over the script. 

“So what’s the idea here?” you asked quietly, in your own little bubble as Tom, Harrison, and Jacob played video games on the TV mounted next you, “like what’s happening before this?” 

He explained a little bit, giving some character descriptions as well, before letting you read again.

You sat there quietly for probably about 10 minutes. Harry’s hands passed soothing touches to you; his lips tapped your neck, jaw, and shoulder occasionally. His eyes scanned the page as well, checking for typos and things like that because he might as well. You could feel his chest and stomach rise and fall against your back as he breathed, comforting and relaxing you. 

“Hey,” you spoke so quietly it was almost a whisper, “I think you should flip these lines,” you said pointing at the screen, “it’ll flow better and the tension will build smoother, ya know?” 

He reread the section, his hand ceasing its movement on your tummy as he focused: “Yeah, love, that makes sense, I think I like it better that way too,” he smiled, highlighting the text and flipping the lines around. 

“Okay, now I gotta read that again,” you giggled, scrolling back up to get into the scene again with the new order.

Harry chuckled at you, pressing another kiss to your cheek, “whatever you say darling.” 

He suddenly tightened his hold on your waist, giving you a small hug, “sorry,” he whispered quickly in your ear.

“For what?” you asked, turning to look at him.

“Don’t think I did that when you got here,” he smiled, “or this,” he said, just before pressing a kiss to your lips.

You giggled as you pulled back, “mmm I don’t think you did either.”

He smiled at you, nudging his nose against your cheek, “okay, back to reading.” 

You turned back to the screen, starting the scene over again and then continuing on. He smushed your cheeks together as he read with you, wanting to see the new section as well. 

You read past it, liking the new change a little better, and so did he. A little further down you highlighted a section and made a note, “sorry, this just sounds a little weird, could use some rewording.”

“You don’t have to apologize, love, I want your opinion.”

“Okay, well, just a note for later,” you smiled, “do with it as you wish.” 

He chuckled at you, “alright, darling, whatever you think.” 

You smiled, going back to reading, nearing the end of what he had.

Jacob tapped Tom’s leg, pulling his attention from the screen, “hey,” he whispered, grabbing Harrison’s interest as well: “look at them,” he said, nodding towards the two of you, hunched over the computer, curled up in each others’ space.

“I think it’s cute,” Harrison whispered back.

“God he’s so in love with her,” Tom smiled, shaking his head.

You were too focused on the script to be aware of anything else happening in the room; Harry, however, heard everything. His attention was caught as soon as the screaming at the game stopped.

“Can’t believe she’s getting to read the script that we don’t get to know anything about,” Harrison added.

“Yeah,” Tom said a little louder, pulling your attention away from the screen.

“What’s that about?” Jacob asked, nodding at Harry.

You weren’t sure exactly what they were talking about, but you clasped your hand over Harry's on your tummy, turning your head to focus on the conversation.

Harry didn’t know what to answer; this was something he told the boys that he ‘wanted to do on his own’, but he couldn’t help but bring you into the mix. 

“What can I say,” he answered them after a while, “you’re not as cute as her,” he shrugged, squeezing you lightly once more.

You smiled, sinking back against him a little further and he placed another peck on your cheek, just next to your ear. 

The three boys laughed lightly, shaking their heads and turning their attention back to the game while you both went back to working. 

You soon finished what he had written, but when you got to the end, you didn’t make any effort to move. You wanted to stay held in his grasp like this forever; you loved having him wrapped around you and were determined to soak up as much of it as you could.

“So what’d you think, darling?” he asked, pulling you to rest back on him as he settled against the arm again, “honestly?” 

“It was really good!” you answered, turning your head to look up at him, “can’t wait to see it on film,” you smiled, pressing a kiss to his jawline.

“Yeah? You think so?” he asked, doubting himself a little bit.

“Of course! It’s gonna be big, I know it.”

He smiled at you, about to say something in response, but Tom beat him to it, “would you two get a room?” he called, watching the two of you fawn over each other.

“What’du say?” he asked, passing you a wink.

“Mmm, sounds lovely,” you smiled, sitting up.

“Ewwww,” Tom groaned, scrunching up his face.

You and Harry both laughed loudly at that; you picked up your shoes and Harry grabbed his laptop before taking your hand and guiding you towards the hall. 

“We’ll try to keep it down!” he called over his shoulder, laughing loudly.

He led you into his room, gesturing you to get comfy on the bed as he turned to close the door behind the both of you, “pick a movie, love.” 

Just before the door latched, you heard a yell from Harrison, “USE PROTECTION!”

“DUDE!” Tom yelled in response, causing Harry to laugh again and finally close the door. 

TAGLIST: @xamourx @spider-barnes @hogwartsmarvelmommy @tulipholland @harryhollandsgirlfriend @cupids-crystals @sunwardsss @bvttercupbby @mcushvft @elishi03 @golden-hoax @mistakenpersonn

[oro-e-diamanti]

Quiet Music: Capriccio (Chapter 4)

In collaboration with @bethanysnow whose ask box is always open for questions, comments, and anything else about this story as well!

Catching the small flames of romance, starting to get turned on higher. They have a tour to do, right? Not spend all their time making goo-goo eyes at each other.....unless?

Content | Fluff

Pairing | fem!Reader x Damiano

Word Count | 8274

Taglist | @damianodavide @lizstans @unitermoonshine @its-afucking-mess @ethaneskin @dont-let-me-drown-in-you@vampirtet @lividisuigomiti @juststalking @tabi-toast @ethan-torchio-angelo @cheese-toastie-11 @thewitchinthemountain @ethanesimp @sofckinelectric @man3skin @daddydamiano @finelinejpm @superchrystaldrug @ginny-lily @nientedaridere @rainbowmarta @tiaamberxx @shaunthesheesh @enjcltaire @rocketqueen @aleksanderwh0r3 @dacey0eg @damianodavidhands @megann-duff @teatrodellavita @solasullabarca @fanfictionandfluff @makapaka11 @slave4yourlove @geklutst-ei @bookish0918 @mehrmonga @kanevill @butterfly-skinnylegend @lidiyabest @ccweasley @bluscryn @deluxeplanteater @ohtorchio @bidet-and-legolas @maybanksslut @katyldamusic @fedorable-killjoys

***

"Thomas," Y/n stared down as he entered the bus. "When I gave you my personal number it was meant for emergencies, not you texting me because you forgot what "sempiternal" means in the middle of the night. What were you reading anyway?!"

"Nothing." Thomas looked up at her from where he was sitting, wide eyes, feigning innocence.

Y/n shook her head, not believing the guitarist and his horrible poker face, but not being bothered enough to question him any further either. “Well, next time you have a question like that in the middle of the night, ask google instead.” She gave him a warm smile and a little pat on the head as she passed him by, moving down the hallway of the tour bus.

It had become a routine for her to stop at the stove first, starting the coffee for everyone, then having a look around as she was waiting for it to boil. Damiano was slumped over on a couch, his head in his hand and still half asleep. She wondered how little rest he had gotten last night, after meeting him out on the balcony at 2 am.

Had he stayed awake for hours, like she had? Had he been thinking about her, the way she had been thinking about him? He had flirted quite heavily last night and she wasn’t sure whether to attribute it to his sleepiness, or if he had meant it at all. She wasn’t quite sure what she was hoping for either. He was insanely attractive, and the attention he gave her made her heart beat in ways no other man had managed to do before. But this wasn’t the time or situation to turn into a bundle of nerves because of a boy.

Even if her brain had decided to play fantasies of him storming into her hotel room last night. Demanding to kiss her. Holding her face in his hands. Looking at her with those dark, hazel eyes, like she was the only person in the world. Probably smelling of sleep and cigarettes and all that made him inherently Damiano. She knew the smell well, it had been haunting her all throughout this whole fucking tour. But the fantasies kept coming, imagining him in love with her, even if she never truly believed in it. It was a nice idea, nothing more.

The sharp hiss of the coffee pot pulled her out of his thoughts and woke up Damiano from his half-slumber. Tired eyes trying to make out the source of the noise, smiling slightly when realising that caffeine was coming his way. Y/n quickly moved to get his cup ready, preparing it the way she had already learned he preferred. He readily held out his hand for the beverage, fingers briefly touching. She almost dropped it as sparks ran through her. She wasn’t sure if he had felt the same or simply hid it better. But as soon as the cup was safely in his hands, she turned back around. Back to the stove to take a deep breath and continue her morning routine.

I need to get over myself. This is a job. Getting fluttery over your boss is not gonna help get the job done. Ignore him. He didn’t feel anything. You need to work. Not imagine something that is never gonna happen. It's not gonna happen, Y/n.

She made quick work depositing the other mugs to Victoria and Thomas, before finding Ethan in the very back of the bus. Drum sticks in hands and absentmindedly tapping a beat on the table in front of him.

“Coffee?”

“Yeah, thank you,” he answered, absentmindedly. “Hey, Y/n, does this sound good to you?”

Ethan started to play out a beat, effectively ignoring the cup that had been placed on the table, as she sat down beside him to listen.

“I’m no musician, but it certainly sounds good to my ears!”

Ethan gave her a proud smile, putting his drumsticks to the side for a second to take a sip from his drink. Y/n, grabbed them immediately, beating randomly on the table.

“You know what? I may have to take you up on your offer of teaching me to play. Love how you guys always have stuff around, you’re just constantly thinking about music. I wish I knew how to play," she sighed.

“I can show you a bit of drumming right now, if you’d like?” He offered. “Just a bit of a rhythm on the table right here.”

He moved closer to her, taking her hands in his as she kept holding onto the sticks and tried to get her to play a little, easy beat, but the angle was awkward and her wrist was bent too much to properly tap along.

“Okay, this isn’t working,” he laughed. “Would you mind, um, moving between my legs?”

Y/n could feel another blush coming on. It may be just Ethan, but it IS Ethan and Ethan sure is pretty. She studied his face, unassuming, nothing but a welcoming smile. But she felt odd. She had only been working for this band for a few days, yet she’d already grown closer to them than any other client she had worked with before. Normally she’d do her job, get a quick thank you on the way out, and then just retire somewhere. Do uni work, wait for further instructions. This whole thing was new and as much as she was enjoying it, she wasn’t sure if she was crossing lines she shouldn’t as a personal assistant. Then again, what was the harm in a little lesson? It wasn’t like there was anything else to it. This wasn’t him trying to flirt with her, this was him trying to be a friend. She could do with a friend.

With a quick nod, she moved and sat down on the floor in front of Ethan. Nestling between his legs as he held her hand. Helping her get into position before backing up a little to give her more space. Grabbing her hands again with the sticks to demonstrate how she was supposed to hold and then hit the table. He leaned over her to watch what she was doing. She understood quickly, getting the hang of it and before she knew it Ethan had let go of her hands as she was successfully keeping the rhythm going.

“See? Natural talent,” he laughed behind her.

Neither of them had noticed Damiano walk down the corridor towards them until he stopped in the doorway.

“Ah, Dami! Look what Ethan taught me!” Y/n starts repeating the little rhythm with the biggest smile on her face, proud of herself and what she’d learned in such a short time. Ethan leant back, watching her with a smile.

“Good job, Y/n. Keep going and you might replace Edgar soon,” Damiano said, ducking into the bathroom with a laugh.

Y/n watched him disappear. Her heart fluttered as he left her sight. If he could just not be my boss, that’d be fucking great…

She stood back up to sit next to Ethan on the couch, shaking the thought off. “I see why you like drumming, it’s fun.”

“Thank you, I think so too. You enjoy being our assistant, by the way?” Ethan asked, looking at her inquisitively while finally continuing to drink his coffee.

“Actually, yes. Best job I have ever taken. I know your manager is an absolutely wonderful woman. Didn’t know she planned this position for me originally though, kinda scared me to be honest.”

“Are we scary?”

“No, no. You’re all lovely. You are the biggest group I’ve worked for so far, so there’s that. But…” Y/n moved to sit on her leg now, leaning closer to Ethan, starting to feel more comfortable around him. “You four are indescribably amazing people. My mum would probably call you ‘people after God’s heart’,” she imitated her mother’s Northern accent, making Ethan laugh.

“Shocking, I know, that we’re normal!”

Y/n smacked his chest.

“No! You are far better than anyone- no one on this bus is ‘normal’.”

“Even the driver?”

“Especially the driver.”

***

Damiano hadn’t meant to listen in, but standing behind the slightly closed door of the restroom, he couldn’t help himself, even if it was killing him. Ethan and Y/n would probably be really good for each other… The thought flashed through him. No. It wouldn’t happen. Not under his watch.

Last night had been a blessing and a curse. After finishing his smoke, he had stood out on the balcony for a little longer, imagining the conversations they would have been having if she had stayed out with him. Under the moonlight. Måneskin. Her hair down, she would probably go get another glass of wine. Coming back out to see him.

“What about you, amore mio? Working on more Shakespeare?”

“Yes. Always. I work hard for things I want, you know me. All work no play makes Y/n a happy girl,” she would snicker into her wine glass.

“What if I wanted you. What would I have to do? Never been shy about ... hard… work, either…”

“Why don’t you come and find out, the door is unlocked…”

With a heavy sigh, he moved to the sink to splash some water on his face, raking it through his hair. It was only early in the morning, he didn’t need to unscrew his head just yet. She was just a girl. Just some girl that worked for them. There were so many people on the team, she was simply one of them. But she was also a woman, with wants and needs and desires, and oh, how he would love to attend to every single one of them… Maybe I could be a need for her, for the beautiful woman just one room over. He screamed internally. He was done for.

***

By the time Y/n left Ethan to his coffee, Damiano was back on the couch with a pen and paper, gears visibly turning in his head. He didn’t even look up when she entered. See, just a guy, Y/n thought. Victoria was busy bickering with the driver about wanting to stop at a service station within the next hour. Thomas was scrolling through his phone absent-mindedly.

As soon as Vic had finished her conversation, she walked over to where Y/n was sitting, letting herself drop onto the seat next to her heavily, laying her head on her shoulder. “Y/n I want snacks.”

“I bought snacks, they’re in the cupboard.”

“But, fun snacks! Like you,” the bassist winked.

“As much as I love the compliment, Victoria, I am sure the driver will take us to the next petrol station after hearing your plea.” She kissed the top of the blonde’s head. “You can survive a little longer without sugary snacks.”

Victoria looked up at her with big blue eyes, wrapping her arms around the assistant. “But what if I can’t, Y/n,” she whined, pulling a dramatic pose. “What if I waste away without fun snacks.”

“Vic, love, nothing here will make you die because you haven’t had food. I provided all of you with breakfast - it was your decision to let Thomas eat yours.”

“And I don’t regret a thing!” Thomas shouted from his seat, all three of them breaking out into laughter. Y/n grinned, eyes falling back onto some of the papers in front of her, ready to get back into work. Victoria’s arm looped around Y/n’s as she snuggled into her shoulder with a pitiful sigh.

***

Goddamnit, not her, too.

Damiano had meant to start writing some more, lyrics and words and images flowing through his head in a chaos that needed to be tamed by pen and paper. But as soon as he had sat down Victoria had started moaning about snacks and her little interaction with Y/n had taken up all of the brain space the lyrics should have. His eyes kept focusing on the closeness between the two of them. The way Vic leant her head on Y/n’s shoulder, the way she in turn kissed the bassist’s head. So far he had only considered Ethan to be a concern. But now the thought of Victoria herself meddling was increasingly growing. So she might have had a boyfriend but that had been, what? Years ago? She had said? And the guy had been a dick. What if she’d just given up on men completely, deciding to exclusively date girls from now on? Fuck.

Staring at the way Victoria was now cuddling her, his thoughts ran wild. Was this still friendly? Was the smile she was giving Vic flirty? Maybe she hadn’t been returning his flirtations the way he’d been hoping because it was Vic she was interested in, not him?

Dwelling on these thoughts wasn’t going to help. Jealousy, envy, insecurity… as interesting as they would be as drag names, they weren’t going to solve the issue. Damiano felt stuck. Making heart eyes at a girl who was three feet away while she was none the wiser. Yet it was Victoria latching onto her arm. He wasn’t surprised. She was gorgeous, and funny, and cared about people. And Vic had a lot of good qualities he himself didn’t possess. Maybe it’s the boobs? His brain mused, but he shook it off. That wasn’t it, he was sure of it.

***

Victoria studies Damiano. His face would have been unreadable to anyone else, obviously lost in his thought. But she knew him well enough to understand that the look on his face was one of insecurity and upset. Not necessarily at anything in particular, just upset. Her eyes softened. Raising a brow at the singer. He simply shrugged, shaking his head, then taking the notebook he was carrying everywhere. Opening it up, staring at the words written there, but not adding anything. Yet his eyes never stopped flicking away to everyone else around him, obviously restless. What was up with him? If there was one thing Victoria hated it was one of her friends feeling off and her not being able to do anything about it. But she knew Damiano, and she knew it could be hard to get him to budge if he didn’t want to talk.

As their eyes met once more, she took the chance to mouth at him, “You alright?”

His eyes flashed at Y/n for a split second, he probably hadn’t even noticed it himself, before nodding with a tight-lipped smile, then looking back down at his pages. That was when it finally clicked in Victoria’s mind. It was about her. And from the looks he kept secretly giving her, the problem wasn’t dislike.

***

“SNACKS!” Victoria and Thomas all but yelled as the bus pulled into the parking lot of a little petrol station. The band ran out of the bus, stumbling over each other like a hoard of kindergartners, and Y/n couldn’t help but smirk at their behaviour. Following them in a much more composed manner.

By the time she entered the shop, all four members of the band had dispersed into different corners. Trying to figure out what to buy. Damiano was holding up two chocolate bars, obviously trying to decipher what the difference was with no knowledge of Swedish whatsoever, before shrugging his shoulders and taking both.

Y/n was still in the doorway, grabbing a basket and consulting a little list on her phone. As much as she loved to let them run wild, she would not completely have them overdose on sugar. No matter how much they wanted to. She still felt responsible for their wellbeing, even on their days off. Juice felt like a sensible choice.

Suddenly, she saw a hand appear from behind her, casually taking out some orange juice from her basket. She turned around in surprise, only to be faced with Thomas looking at her with wide eyes, obviously feeling caught.

“No healthy stuff from the petrol station!” He suddenly shouted, grabbing her whole basket now and running away with it.

“Thomas!” She flew after him before she knew what she was doing, almost running over Ethan as she chased the guitarist through the little store. With not much space available, they ended up going round and round one of the shelves, until Thomas unceremoniously crashed into a cooler when he didn’t manage to take a turn in time. Trying to bite back a smile, Y/n walked over, breathlessly asking him if he was alright, as laughter still bubbled out of her. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Victoria, giggling away, phone pointed towards them.

“Oh no, you’re not putting that on the internet!” Y/n pointed a finger at her in what she hoped was an authoritative gesture, but Victoria wasn’t impressed.

“Too late!” She squealed as she skipped away, out of reach, to pay for whatever she had picked out.

Thomas had gotten back up on his feet in the meantime, contents of the basket still spilled all around him, sporting a pout.

“Stop it with that face,” Y/n scolded, but she couldn’t keep the smile at bay. “Go pick out your favourite snack, you can add it to my basket.”

Thomas happily skipped away as Y/n quickly picked up the mess, then moved to another aisle finding Damiano there. He seemed to be debating over the crisps now, having moved on from the chocolate bars.

She stood to the side, her eyes flashing over him a couple more times than necessary. He was just too pretty. It was simply impossible to look away. Even now, no fancy clothes, no stage makeup, no grand performance, he was mesmerising.

Her brain couldn’t help itself, images and ideas flashing in front of her eyes. Going to a petrol station on road trips with their future kids. Them bouncing around, chasing each other over a candy bar. Her and Damiano trying to get them not to cause a mess, slightly annoyed, but always laughing along with them.

She looked at him again. In a blink, the daydream changed.

It’s past midnight. He’s in the same sweatshirt he’s wearing right now. Her arms wrapped around his torso. Looking up at that beautiful face of his. Him picking up condoms from the health section. Winking at her with that certain glint in his eyes. Smacking her arse on the way to the cashier. Filled with giggles and flirtatious glances and knowing what the night ahead would entail. The anticipation crackling around them.

Oh, to be that girl. The girl he looks at with lustful eyes. The one he wasn't to make a baby with. Not the one to be ashamed of.

***

Damiano had chosen what kind of crisps to buy long ago. He simply was too busy staring back at Y/n, who seemed to be lost in thought. Eyes focused on him, yet apparently not noticing him looking back. He could basically see the gears in her head turning, mouth slightly open, far away in her mind.

Whatever enraptured that beautiful mind of hers… He wanted to know - could he be that very thing someday? Be so involved in her thoughts that it caused her to finally slow down? Get her to relax. He kept daydreaming about the massage he had given her the other day. How she had melted into his touch. He wanted that again. But more. He wanted her sighs and her moans as he worked her body in any way she would let him. Hell, he’d be her personal roadie if she wanted.

Fuck, he was smitten. She was always so strong-willed, so passionate. That night on the balcony had done nothing to help his fantasies. Her teaching him how to dance? Bodies close to each other, breathing the same air… Whatever perfume she used, he wanted to drown in it.

***

Victoria had been on the way back out, snacks acquired, Instagram story uploaded, and ready to head back to the bus for the last two hours of the ride. However, she stopped dead in her tracks when Y/n and Damiano caught her eye. Both of them were staring at the other, yet neither seemed to realise it. Just lost in their own worlds. Vic frowned, not oblivious to the dreamy look on Y/n’s face or the way Damiano’s eyes kept flicking up and down their assistant’s body. Something was definitely going on here and she was determined to find out what exactly it was.

After Y/n had finally moved again, paying for the snacks, Victoria caught up with her outside the shop. Their driver was having a smoke, surely had more than enough time left for a little talk.

“Y/n, wait up,” Vic quickly jogged up to her, taking the shopping bag out of her hand and carrying it into the bus ahead of her.. “Let me help you.”

She was counting on the guys to be staying outside for a little longer, probably lighting up a cigarette each as soon as they were done snack-shopping.

“So…” She started, putting away the snacks alongside Y/n. “Saw you staring at Damiano in there.”

Great, this wasn’t subtle at all, she scowled at herself. Tact had never been her strong suit in these situations. She was far more likely to rush into a conversation, head first, too open, too honest, too soon.

“I- uh- I don’t know what you mean. I was probably just staring off into space.”

Okay, she was getting flustered. Victoria knew she was onto something here, but it wouldn’t be easy to get anything out of Y/n. She was way too professional and… uptight for that. And they didn’t exactly have any red wine on tap to get her to open up.

“You know, there’s no harm in it. He’s a very attractive man,” she said, playfully nudging Y/n’s side. “Pretty sure everyone’s had the hots for him at some point.”

“Well I haven’t, it's very unprofessional.” Y/n stubbornly replied and Victoria almost laughed out loud.

Sure, she hadn’t. That’s why she was staring at him like he was a drink of water in the middle of a desert. Or why she was getting all flustered every time he touched her. Or why she always seemed to gravitate towards him, whatever she was doing. But that wasn’t what Vic was going to say. It wouldn’t get them anywhere. She had learned that much about Y/n.

“All my friends used to have a crush on him in school,” Vic laughed, remembering their beginnings. “They’d just hang out whenever we were rehearsing, making heart eyes at him and complimenting his every move, but he never cared. He never even looked at them, just giving them a polite hello. Never paid them any attention because he was way too focused on the music we were making. He’s always been like that. Music has always come first. It’s why I think it’s so peculiar how interested he is in you.”

If Y/n had been flustered before, she was full-on blushing now, rapidly opening a random cabinet to hide her face, but Victoria had seen. Her eyes got wide, as if she had been struck by lightning.

“He’s not interested in me, don’t be silly. I work for him just as I work for you and we all get along. Nothing is going to happen if that is what you are worried about. I would never jeopardize the tour or our friendship. He doesn’t even see me like that, anyway, so it’s fine. It’s not like I’m his type, and like, I mean-”

“Hey,” Victoria turned more serious now. As much as she enjoyed teasing her new friend, she felt like she needed to let her know that she wasn’t kidding in this case. She put a tentative hand on her shoulder. Having the other turn around to have Y/n face her. “I’m serious though. I know it’s early days, but if you feel something for him? I’m not going to stop you. Neither is anyone else on this tour. He’s a great guy. And I’ll personally punch him if he isn’t. And I think you’re great Y/n. You deserve good things.”

For a second, Victoria could see a flicker of Y/n’s softer side, of her vulnerability. She felt compelled to pull her into a hug, but she feared making her uncomfortable, so instead, she simply pretended she hadn’t seen. Just like she pretended not to hear Y/n’s voice breaking just the tiniest bit when she said, “Thank you.”

***

The old town of Malmö was full of cobblestone, canals, and adorable old houses. When Y/n led them into the restaurant she had reserved for the evening, Damiano made sure to ask for a table by the window, enamoured by what looked to be the main square of the town and the people hurrying along. As he turned back towards the table, he noticed Y/n with a similar look on her face. Chin held up by her hand as she leaned on the table, watching the world pass by outside. A serene smile played on her face and he feared he was mirroring her expression when Victoria kicked his foot from under the table. Giving him a knowing smile and a raised brow. He shook his head, quickly grasping the menu to distract himself.

“Oooh happy hour!” Victoria squealed. “First round of cocktails is on me!”

Damiano almost let out a sigh - knowing fully well that when it came to an evening like this, they would not stop at a round or two. He was to be proven right.

About two hours later, the sun was on the verge of setting. There was a nice buzz going on, dinner eaten, while the drinks kept coming. Thomas was retelling a story Damiano had heard about a hundred times. Excitedly waving his hands around he only just managed to grasp one of the glasses before the guitarist knocked it over. Y/n was listening attentively - the only one out of the bunch to not have heard Thomas’ retelling before. Damiano couldn’t help but notice how her cheeks were slightly flushed, a sure sign that she’d had a drink. He thought she looked adorable. She’d look just as adorable under me. He quickly put the thought away, blaming it on the alcohol he had consumed. Apart from Y/n - who had been responsible enough to switch back and forth between cocktails and water - they were all on the edge of being drunk, laughing too loudly, talking too excitedly, being a little too affectionate.

It’s what he blamed his behaviour on, when he found his foot searching for hers under the table. Giving her just the slightest, playful kick to get her attention. She looked at him immediately, raised eyebrows, obviously wondering if he had touched her by mistake. So this time, he fully smirked, holding eye contact, as he nudged her again. A timid smile appeared on her face and he was convinced that she would be awkward. Pulling back, possibly scolding him any other time. But her slightly intoxicated state seemed to leave her more open to his teasing. He barely believed it when she nudged him back. Maybe we’re actually getting somewhere here.

“Um, excuse me?”

The whole table looked up at once at the timid voice. Only to find two young girls awkwardly and uncomfortable standing next to them, faces as red as tomatoes and eyes wide.

“Are you Måneskin?”

“We are, actually!” Victoria beamed, immediately getting up. “Do you guys want some pictures?”

The girls didn’t seem to manage anything but hectic nods, too excited and overwhelmed. Damiano smiled. It didn’t matter how big they were getting - having people coming up to them to ask for photos, so obviously in love with them. Still made his heart beat like crazy. He’d do anything for the fans.

Quickly, getting up from his chair as well, he pulled the other two along with him, taking a few photos with the two, exchanging some words and thanking them for their support. Looking back at Y/n, he noticed she was getting a bit nervous.

“Guys, we should probably move back to the hotel now,” she said and it was only then that he took a look around and saw the amount of people staring. Talking and pointing phones at them. It was obvious none of them were actual fans - just hoping to get a glimpse of something to put on their social media. Damiano nodded, rounding up the rest of his band and leading them out of the restaurant, ready to call for a taxi as Y/n went to settle the tab and then followed them outside mere seconds later.

“Right let’s get you back to the hotel,” Y/n decided as they finally managed to flag down a taxi. “But don’t worry, the night’s not over yet - bring your swimsuits, I’ve got a little surprise for you.”

***

Y/n was perched on a little tiled bench, laptop with work opened at her side. A bluetooth speaker ready nearby. She’d slipped the girl at the reception a little money and a signed picture of the band, which she had gratefully taken, to make sure they’d have the hotel pool to themselves that night. Y/n was aware that the band tended to really enjoy a nice dip in the water and she was determined she’d get them to let loose and relax a bit before more gigs were coming their way.

She didn’t notice that everyone had arrived until a flash of blond ran past her and jumped into a pool with a massive splash. It shouldn’t have been a surprise that Thomas would announce his presence like this. She still flinched for a second. Ethan followed not much later, with Victoria opting for the stairs ‘for hair-related reasons’ and Damiano pushing her in anyways. Following swiftly himself, as she grabbed his hand as she was falling. Y/n shook her head, amused at the four, and turned on some music as she watched them.

She couldn’t help but smile at the way they all acted like little kids on a pool day. But behaviour was one thing - the way they looked was quite another. Water was running down their bodies… okay, one body in particular. She would be lying if she said that Damiano swimming around in nothing but his little shorts wasn’t… well, breathtaking. Tattoos on full display, hair wet, glistening skin. He was smiling, laughing, trying to outswim Thomas. The way his physique moved through the water… He was in formidable shape. What she would give to be manhandled by this man.

Him pinning her to a wall, smirking, looking down at her like he was going to eat her. He rightfully just might. Telling her all the dirty thoughts he had when on stage. Making her look away in a blush, but grabbing her face. Tsk-ing, ‘no, no, no, good girls look at who is speaking to them’.

But no. Work called her name, just loudly enough to pull her out of her fantasy.

***

Opening the laptop, she immediately seemed to get immersed in her work. Damiano watched her with a frown on his face. This was so like her - making sure everyone else got taken care of and was having a good time, only to withdraw and bury her in her work again. He wished she’d take more breaks to just enjoy.

Every now and then she looked away from the screen, watching what everyone else was doing and contently smiling to herself. He couldn’t help imagining her watching over him the same way with their kids. His head was running away with the idea.

Him splashing around with the children. Her watching over them, staying on the sidelines, smiling the way she was now. Making sure everyone was safe and happy. Snacks in hand. Their daughter climbing out of the water, running over to her. The way her eyes would light up, arms open wide, not caring about getting wet as she hugged her. He knew she’d be the most perfect mum, just from looking at her. Nothing had ever been as obvious to him.

A splash of water over his head pulled him out of his thoughts. Apparently, Ethan had caught him staring. He shrugged it off.

“Y/n! Come swim with us!” Victoria called, moving to the edge of the pool. The assistant did nothing but raise a brow at the request, shaking her head.

“You kids go have fun,” she laughed. “I’m fine here, doing a bit of work. Just because you got a day off, doesn’t mean I do too!”

“Ah, you’re no fun, Y/n. One night won’t kill you,” Thomas groaned, diving back under the water.

“Well, I didn’t even bring my swimsuit, so it’s out of the question anyway. Now let me do some work.” She tried to sound strict but the giggle bubbled in her voice anyway, still tiny traces of intoxication in her speech. Damiano grinned at the thought of her still being tipsy, slightly wondering if it’d give him the chance to get her to let her guard down the way she had done the night before.

“Oh, rubbish, you party pooper!” Vic shouted back. “Your underwear will do just fine, it’s not like anyone is here to tell you off.”

Y/n shot a look at Victoria. A blush that definitely wasn’t caused by alcohol crept onto her face.

“I’m alright, you have fun.”

Damiano’s head spun, looking at Y/n sitting on the bench. The sheer idea of her joining them like that? Potentially seeing her undress? He was more than glad the water was hiding the lower half of his body.

“Get over here now or we’re dragging you in!” Thomas threatened, already halfway through heaving himself out of the water.

Oh, no way I’m getting out of the water right now, not like this.

“Oh fine! Fine, fine. If it will make you all stop worrying about me ‘not having fun’,” she laughed.” She rolled her trousers up as she moved to the edge of the pool, kicked off her shoes, and let her legs dangle in the water as she sat down. “Happy?”

“For now,” Vic laughed. “But don’t think you’ll always get out of things this easily!”

“Oh come on guys, leave her be.” Ethan decided to be the voice of reason once again. He swam up to her, hair all piled on top of his head in a bun. “Sorry about them - they don’t know when to quit.”

Y/n giggled at his comment.

“It’s cool, nice seeing everyone have a good time though.” Y/n tilted her head for a moment, looking at Ethan. Slowly she raised a hand to hold his face still, the other hand pulling something out of his hair. “There you go. Can’t have fuzz in those luscious locks of yours!”

A scowl appeared on Damiano’s face. He knew he shouldn’t be feeling like this, but the way she was looking at Ethan right now, that soft touch, made all the fantasies in his head shatter for a moment. Why wasn’t she fixing his hair instead. Fuck, he was being stupid. His attention was drawn away from the pair as a loud squeal escaped Victoria, who was currently being wrestled in the water by Thomas.

“Don’t you dare dunk me!”

Damiano didn’t even have to watch to know what happened next. A second later, a spluttering Vic emerged, a murderous look in her eye as she dunked Thomas in return. Their little fight turned chaotic, ending with the top of her bikini slowly floating away from her.

“Aw Vic, do you always have to be topless?!” Thomas laughed loudly.

“You dick! You untied it!”

Y/n instantly covered her eyes, avoiding Victoria’s half-naked body at all costs, looking down at her lap.

“Um - maybe someone should, uh, give her her top back?” She stammered.

Vic looked at the blushing girl, a smirk growing on her face as she whispered something at Thomas, pointing at Y/n, obviously hatching a plan. She swam up to their friend, gently grabbing her legs under the water.

“You are the only one that seems to mind, amore… Do you not like my tits?” Victoria teased, cocking her head to the side as she tried to catch Y/n’s eyes.

“No! No, I mean- That’s not what I mean. Um… I don’t know - is it just me or is it hot in here?” Y/n was a mess, tripping over her words.

“The only one that’s hot here is you, Y/n,” Thomas grinned, swimming off to retrieve Vic’s top, which he handed to her as he came back. The blonde held it up to her boobs in a fake-clumsy way, big eyes looking up at Y/n.

“Oh, I think I’m going to need your help with this, Y/n. Mind tying me up?”

Y/n looked like she was about to explode, her face once again covered in a deep red. With slightly shaking fingers, she moved forwards as Vic turned her back towards her, fumbling with the strings around her neck and her back to tie them up.

“Thanks, babe, you’re a doll!” Victoria grinned, taking the assistant’s hand and leaving a little kiss on her knuckles. It was the point at which Damiano decided he’d definitely need to protect her from his bandmates. If anything, it was his time to bother Y/n now.

As Damiano swam over, Y/n was still bright red. Her head was still lowered, picking at her nail polish, as she squeaked out a “hi”. You’ve got to put on the charm now, you can do it, he said in his head, hyping himself up as he looked back at her. He didn’t want to bring her into even more of an awkward situation, but his hands were on her legs before he even noticed, slightly stroking along the curve of her calves under the water.

“Don’t mind those fools,” he told her in a voice low enough that they wouldn’t hear. “They’re just trying to rile you up because they like seeing you blush. It is a nice sight, to be fair. Seeing you blush.”

“Well, it’s not like I have control over that. Um. Y-you look cool… I mean - good. You know? … fucking hell.” She buried her face in her hands, stifling a flustered chuckle. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me today. I apologise, I will just hide now, forever.”

Yet, the smile on her face hadn’t left since Damiano had arrived. She bit her lip nervously, looking at the singer. Staring at him, maybe trying to figure out what his intentions were. He wished he knew. “Your, uh… eyes… they’re pretty.”

“Don’t even think about ever hiding that face from me, yeah?” He pulled her hands back down as she once again attempted to cover herself. He briefly forgot his hands were wet, until she giggled and patted her own dry on her shirt as he let go. “Your eyes are really pretty too, Y/n, so don’t deprive me of them.”

She blinked a couple of times, taken aback by what he had said. “Alright, I can do that.” She barely noticed they were holding hands. Rubbing her thumb over his skin softly, keeping herself grounded in place by the heat his body gave off under the water. “You just gotta step in when they start taking the piss again, yeah?”

He moved in closer now, only letting go of her hands to grasp onto her thighs, trying to keep himself above water. He was desperate to move between her legs, but he wasn’t going to ruin the moment by taking it too far. Not yet. “Of course. But amore mio, what if I wanted to, uh, ‘take the piss’?”

She smirked. “Oh! Then that’s fine.”

Damiano was sure his heart wasn’t even beating anymore, it was fluttering. There was something about her… every time he watched her, talked to her, he felt like he was looking at her for the first time. Finding a new side to her. He wanted more, constantly craving to get closer, and in moments like these. When she let him in just a little bit, made him feel like he was just one small step above the others, he felt like it was all going to be worth it. The slow way he was working himself into her heart.

“Y/N HAS A TATTOO ON HER ANKLE!” Thomas suddenly shouted, popping out of the water and pointing at the assistant. Damiano was pushed out of the way by Victoria, who grabbed Y/n’s leg. Hoisting it up in the air, turning it to show her ankle. A black outlined hand giving the middle finger with long black nails stared back at the band.

“That is really pretty,” Ethan said softly, but Victoria scoffed

“Pretty? It’s fucking cool! See,” she turned back to Y/n, “you are rock ‘n’ roll!”

Damiano stared at the little drawing on her leg, fascinated to have found yet another side to her he hadn’t seen coming. He wondered if she would let him tattoo her one day, letting him grab her leg, smoothing over the skin, putting that kind of trust in him. He was determined to find out, sooner or later.

“I mean... you think you’re the only ones with tattoos?” Y/n smirked, almost in a cocky way. It was a good look on her. “That one hurt like a bitch-”

“That one?” Damiano threw in. “Does that mean there’s more?”

Looking over at him, she simply smiled, shaking her head. “Anyway, it’s late, we should be going to bed soon. I know - I’m not trying to parent you, but somebody’s gotta be responsible here!” She stood up, fixing her trousers, putting her shoes back on, and grabbing towels to pass around. “Come on, out of the pool. Comply and I will get you something special with your coffee tomorrow!”

***

After everyone had retired to their rooms, Victoria decided she needed another talk. Moving along the hotel corridor, she stopped in front of Damiano’s door, softly knocking. He opened hastily, his face dropping ever so slightly as he saw her.

“Not who you were expecting?” She asked with a smirk as she pushed past him into the room. She was glad they’d all gotten their own rooms for the night and didn’t have to share - no need to involve Ethan or Thomas in the little conversation she was aiming to have with Damiano. Victoria dropped down onto the bed, kicking her shoes off and getting comfortable, as the singer followed.

“What can I do for you?” Damiano asked, shutting the door behind her.

“How about explaining why you were all over Y/n in the pool?” A grin spread on her face. She knew she’d have to be much less careful with Damiano than she had been in the conversation with Y/n, but still needed him to know this was good-natured teasing. “Pretty touchy, if you ask me.”

“Well, we were talking. Don’t need to tell you everything I do.” He flopped onto the bed, grabbing a pillow to smother his face into. “Why?”

“Yes you do, I’m one of your best friends!” She didn’t hesitate in grabbing the second pillow to whack him over the head, before putting it back behind herself to lean against. “Just interested to know what you think of her. You know, because I’m your friend and I care. And I’m nosey, so spill.”

He started groaning into the pillow.

“If I told you I think I like her, would you shut up about it?” He turned his head to the side to look at the blonde. “I don’t know, Vic, she walked into our lives and…” His eyes grew distant as he thought about her.

“Wait, you actually like like her? I was thinking you were just attracted, you know the thrill of the chase and all that. Fuck, Damiano!” Her smile came back tenfold. “I love this!”

He shot up from his lying position. “No! No, you don’t love this! I don’t love this! I have no fucking clue what I’m doing! She is so sweet and kind and sensitive and I can’t stop thinking about her, it’s turning me into a brain-dead zombie. I could never actually win her over, I fuck up so much and- … I talk too much don’t I?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so flustered!” Victoria remarked in amazement. “You’re actually, properly, crushing on her! You should tell her.” She almost added if only for my amusement but decided against it. This was obviously tormenting him already, no need for her to rub it in.

“I’m not gonna tell her shit! She’s our assistant, for god’s sake. I already could be in so much trouble if she took something I said wrong. I could fall flat on my face and- … Vic, I know that you care and you want me to be happy. Which I love and appreciate. We are best friends, we really are. I would do the same thing if you had a crush on someone, but I just don’t know what to do,” he moans, falling back onto the bed. “I haven’t been like this since school.”

Victoria patted his head in sympathy as he buried his face back into the pillow. She wasn’t quite sure what to advise him in this situation. Sure, she would love to see her friend happy. And there was definitely something cooking under the surface of Y/n’s feelings. And, honestly, the thought of the two of them together? She was basically swooning at the thought. But she also knew it wasn’t her place to meddle. Right?

“I don’t want to make her uncomfortable. I don’t wanna scare her away.” He looked at Victoria with pleading eyes. “Has she talked to you at all? Have you picked up anything from her? Any hints?”

A sigh escaped her lips, but she knew she couldn’t help but give him at least a little push in what she hoped was the right direction. “Look, Damiano. I’m not gonna pretend like I didn’t notice she fancies you. Honestly, no surprise there. But I think we both know she’s not exactly the type to jump right into bed with someone. So take it slow. Show her you care. Woo her.”

“Woo her?! Like an old Italiano romance? I can do that… I think. Okay, what does she like… Y/n, what does she- She doesn’t really talk about herself that much, does she..” Victoria could see the gears turning in his head. “This was so much easier when I wasn’t invested… Why do I have to be invested, Vic?”

He looked at her with dopey eyes, before jumping up and pacing around the room. “Argh! She is making me go insane! I tried writing lyrics, but nothing is working. I just can’t focus when she’s around. She gets this look, especially when talking about her work and language.. At the pool, did you see how she looked at me?”

“You’ve written lyrics?! Now, you really got it bad, my friend,” Victoria shook her head in amusement. “But yes, I did. I told you, she’s interested. Can’t tell you how deep that runs, I’ve only known her for a few days myself and she is working for us, no way to ignore that. So maybe take a step back until you figure this out?”

“Yeah, you’re right. She works for us. That’s… that’s a giant, neon ‘no’.” He stopped walking, looking out of the window. “I need to cool it, don’t I? We’re on tour. What am I doing! We have fans and people who are looking forward to seeing us. We have gigs to play! Fuck.” He sighed, staring off into the distance. “We should probably sleep. No long drive tomorrow, but lots of interviews, right?”

“Don’t get in over your head about this,” she put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. She hadn’t expected this kind of outburst when she had knocked on his door earlier. “It’s the first week of tour. You got three more of seeing her literally every day. Concentrate on the job, then on her, yeah? Now let’s get some sleep. And I mean it - no pondering and smoking all through the night, you gotta rest!”

“You’re right, I don’t know what I was thinking. Thank you.” He pulled Victoria into a hug. “Thank god you’re here. Wouldn’t know what to do. Goodnight.”

She gave him a little wave as she left his room, only just hearing him mumble, “I have music to perform…”

***

As the night grew to a close, Y/n found herself in her own room, snuggling into a pillow. Glad that the next day would leave less free time. Drive to Copenhagen. Get everyone settled it. Maneuver them from interview to interview, although this time around Victoria would be a great help since she knew Danish. Then off to soundcheck, light dinner, the gig, sleep. No time to get lost in silly daydreams for once.

Yet, as sleep slowly crept up on her, she couldn’t help one last thought entering her mind.

I wonder if he is thinking of me.

[clareguilty]

A Tainted Rescue Part 2

hello! i cannot escape my own terrible ideas! Have more Heisenberg porn! Karl Heisenberg/Maiden Rating: Explicit | WARNING: dark content, explicit smut, big sexy evil guy doing bad things Word Count: ~2500

Lord Heisenberg lifted the maiden into his carriage and pulled her onto his lap as the mechanical horse took off away from the castle. She shook and cried in his arms, whimpering with every rattle of the wheels on the unpaved path to the Lord's domain.

"You're safe now," he promised her. "I'm going to take good care of you."

She clung to him, face buried in his chest as he ran his hand up and down her back in a slow, steady rhythm. Her breathing began to even out and her sobs turned to sporadic hiccups the farther they traveled from that horrid castle.

Lord Heisenberg was extremely proud of himself. He had managed to pull one over on Alcina all while getting a delightful new toy to play with. She was so precious, so perfect. He would have to make sure to spoil her rotten.

Just outside of the factory grounds, covered in overgrown plants, a small stone staircase led up to Lord Heisenberg’s house. He helped the maiden up the worn steps, holding branches out of the way as they ducked through the overgrowth. 

“I never actually use this place,” he explained. “I spend most of my time in the factory. But that’s no place for you. Now I finally have someone to come home to.” He kissed her knuckles as he led her across the threshold.

The lights were electric, and they turned on at a wave of the Lord’s hand. He chuckled at the maiden's awestruck expression.

The house was a mess, dusty and cluttered. It must have been months since the Lord actually stayed there. Narrow and tucked into the hillside, the two story was smaller than Lady Beneviento’s villa but still larger than almost any of the houses of the village. 

“Heh,” he laughed wryly. “Looks like this place needs a lot of work.”

He led the maiden up the stairs and to the main chamber. The room was sparsely furnished with just a low double bed, a wardrobe, and a writing desk piled high with books and papers and the same scrap metal that seemed to appear throughout the Lord’s domain. It was nothing like the opulent and immaculate rooms of the castle.

The maiden let Lord Heisenberg push her to a seat on the bed. He knelt in front of her, squeezing her jaw in one hand and forcing her to look him in the eyes. 

“I may not be as fucked as my witch of a sister, but let me make one thing clear. I am not above killing you. You will stay out of my factory. Understand?”

The maiden whimpered, tears once again threatening to spill over her cheeks. “Yes, My Lord.”

He released her jaw and patted her cheek lightly. “Good girl.” He shucked off his coat and draped it over the back of the desk chair. His hat and glasses were quick to follow. He sat beside her on the bed and unlaced his boots.

The maiden removed her own shoes -- the only things she wore that were intact. Her stockings were shredded, as were her skirts. She didn’t even have any drawers on anymore. The front of her dress was ripped down to her stomach, and she tugged the fabric over her shoulders and out from under her until it fell in a puddle on the floor. She was naked and bruised and marked. She felt filthy, used, ruined. But that was what the Lord said was needed to save her. If he hadn’t done what he had, she would be dead at the hands of the Mistress.

The Lord must have seen her numbness, her distress, because he pulled her into his chest and smoothed a hand over her hair. “Hey now,” he whispered. “She can’t touch you here. I’d like to see her try.” He sounded as if he would welcome the fight. “Let me make you feel good.”

He laid the maiden on her back and nudged her thighs apart so he could kneel between her legs. The sight of the damage he had done at the castle brought a smile to his face, and he pressed his fingers into the bruises that were blooming across her thighs.

With no preamble, he pressed two fingers inside of her, crooking them and stretching her open. The maiden whined and gripped the linens with white knuckles. The Lord was only spurred on by her reaction and added a third finger. He loved the way she tightened around him, and longed to feel it on his cock again.

Despite her inexperience, it was no time at all before she was dripping just from the motions of his fingers. He made sure to bring her right to the brink of pleasure, holding her just on that precipice as he pulled his cock from his pants and lined himself up.

He pressed into her slowly, lifting her hips to meet his and bracing himself over her on the bed. She was trapped beneath him, nearly bent in half as his cock split her open once more. It felt even deeper than before, and she couldn’t hold back her high, breathy whines as he began to move. He moaned as he drove his cock into her harder and harder on each stroke.

“You feel amazing. So soft. So tight. You’re all mine. Just for me.”

“All yours,” the maiden repeated. “Just for you.”

“Oh, you’re so perfect,” he groaned. “She didn’t deserve you. She could never have made you feel like this. Come for me. Come on my cock.”

He reached between them to rub her clit, determined to watch her eyes flutter shut and the moans that tumbled from her lips as she came undone around him.

And it was spectacular. She was so precious. To think she had never known pleasure like this before. He was going to be everything for her. Her saviour. Her king.

She clung to him as she came, shuddering and gasping as he forced her through the blinding orgasm. He continued to fuck her, determined to find his own end as well, but he noticed she was barely responsive. Poor thing, probably passed out from the pleasure.

The Lord didn’t let that stop him as he buried himself inside of her to the hilt. He loved watching his cock sink into her, splitting her open and twitching inside of her. He came to the sight of it, filling her as deeply as possible and rocking his hips as she tightened around him once more. Even unconscious, he was able to make her feel good.

Finally satisfied with his claim, he pulled out and arranged the maiden to lay beside him. “You need your rest. Tomorrow I’ll figure out what to do with you.”

-

Life with Lord Heisenberg was nothing like serving at Castle Dimitrescu. The Lord was crass and informal, just as quick tempered as his ‘sister’ but never directed at the maiden.

No. The maiden was given special privileges. She was his prized possession, swiped right out from under Alcina’s claws, and he loved to spoil her and dote on her.

He had never had a pet like her before. All of his own creations and gifts from Mother Miranda were mindless and bloodthirsty and horrific. But the maiden, she was beautiful and sweet. She was so devoted to him, her savior. He had freed her, given her everything, and now she lived to serve him.

Her new life was one of endless pleasure and indulgence. The Lord fucked her and filled her and marked her as his own. He loved to ruin her, to claim her. She was so precious, trapped in that castle and hidden away from the world. He wanted to show her every filthy experience she had missed.

She fit so perfectly around his cock, so warm and tight and responsive. He enjoyed her moans and gasps of pleasure just as much as he enjoyed finishing inside her.

He didn’t know he was capable of such softness. He was rough when he fucked her, sure to bite her and mark her. Bruising handprints blooming over her skin after he took her to bed. But he was also gentle with her at times. Praise and thanks and kisses to her hairline. There was a different kind of satisfaction to seeing her smile.

-

The maiden bowed her head as she offered Lord Heisenberg a glass of whiskey late one evening. He had been away at the factory for much of the previous days occupied by his work. The drink was a warm welcome. “Thank you, buttercup,” he pulled her into his lap. “I have something for you.”

He took a gulp from the glass before setting it aside and fishing around in his pockets.

“Aha! Here!” He procured two thick shining bands in his palms. They looked small in his grasp but were still a few inches in diameter.

The Lord grabbed the maiden’s hands. The metal rings levitated before closing around her wrists, fastening as though they were soldered together.

“They’re beautiful,” she breathed, twisting her wrists this way and that to admire the jewelry. “Thank you, My Lord.”

“Now everyone will know who you belong to,” he trailed kisses from her temple to her jaw.

The maiden giggled. “I don’t think there was any doubt of that before.” She was constantly covered in his marks, in his come. He loved to claim her as his in every possible way.

He would fill her until his seed was dripping down her thighs, smeared over her chest and her lips. Make her come until the only thing she knew was his name. He had found all her limits and he knew just how to push past them.

And now he had his steel on her.

She nuzzled against his chest, overwhelmed by the gift. No one at that wretched castle had ever shown her such kindness. Her lips peppered the skin where his shirt was unbuttoned, hands wandering over his chest and arms. She was still so uncertain about her desires. Alcina had certainly done a good job of brainwashing her.

But he had his own conditioning to do. So he whispered encouragement as she slipped between his knees and unfastened his belt. She was flushed and uncoordinated as she pulled his cock free from his pants. “Thank you,” she whispered again before wrapping her lips around him.

She was a good cocksucker, an eager learner and quick to respond to him. She had very quickly grown addicted to him, and he lived for it. Every time he would return from the depths of the factory, she was there craving his attention and his touch.

Now she was even more desperate. He had neglected her in favor of his work, and he regretted it when he saw how uncertain she had become. He would have to train her to handle his long absences. He certainly couldn’t trust anyone to watch over her while he was gone. She was too precious, they would corrupt her. Still, he enjoyed how she couldn’t seem to get enough of him, how dependent she was.

Lord Heisenberg relaxed and sipped his whiskey as she stroked and sucked his cock. He felt so powerful with the maiden on her knees before him. It made him crave more.

After several minutes, when his cock was shining from her lips and she was glassy eyed with lust between his knees, he cradled her head in one of his hands and pulled her onto his cock as deep as she could go. She submitted willingly, moaning at the way his fingers dug into her scalp.

He fucked her face, rough and deep, admiring the way tears spilled over her cheeks and spit dripped down her chin. Her obedience only turned him on more, and he came with a groan, pulling out before he could spill everything down her throat.

She was a filthy mess, come and spit smeared over her swollen lips. She cleaned his cock and blinked up at him expectantly.

“That’s a good girl.” He smiled as she melted at his words. One of her own hands had slipped beneath her skirts and she rocked down against it with a breathy moan. “Needy little thing, aren’t you? Can you wait for me? I promise I’ll give you a treat soon.”

The maiden immediately did as she was told, pulling her slick fingertips from beneath her dress.

“What do you say we wash up and call it a night?” He pulled her to her feet, leading her upstairs to the washroom.

The maiden had been delighted to find that the enormous bath upstairs -- though still smaller that Mistress Dimitrescu’s -- had taps that would run the water directly into the tub. A device of the Lord’s own creation heated the water along the way so that it steamed as it splashed into the porcelain basin. The maiden undressed the Lord with enthusiastic reverence, running her hands over his skin as she pulled his shirt from his broad shoulders. He slipped into the steaming water and sighed.

The maiden slipped out of her own clothes and climbed in as well. She lathered soap in her hands and set to work washing them both, massaging the tension from his muscles with her skilled fingers. What more could he possibly ask for?

He could tell how needy she was as she rinsed them clean. Her breaths were quick and short, skin flushed all the way down her chest and up to her ears. If they hadn’t already been in the water he was sure she would be dripping with arousal.

The Lord was tempted to try out his his new trick, but he wanted to wait for the perfect time. So instead he teased the poor girl with his fingers. She slumped against him, begging and pleading as he gave her everything just shy of what she needed.

He pulled her from the tub, drying both of them just enough before dragging her to bed. Laying back and pulling her on top of him, he grabbed her hips and ground her pussy against his length. 

“Please,” she gasped. She looked so cute, begging for his cock. He lined himself up and pulled her all the way down until her hips met his. The shock of being filled so suddenly, stretched around him, made her scream.

He lifted her easily, using her like a doll for his pleasure. She slumped forward over his chest as he moved her hips however he liked. Her broken gasps and moans of pleasure were like music to his ears. He wanted to break her, to see her totally undone by his hand.

She came around his cock twice before he finally pulled her all the way onto him and pumped her full. Even though his body was exhausted from his orgasm, he wasn’t yet sated. Some strange desire still pulled at him. He had already gifted her with the bracelets he had yet to use, but maybe there were other toys to be made in his workshop.

She would be perfect for him.

[starlessea]

Sea Witch (Daryl Dixon/Reader)

Era: S4 

Summary: You sing just like a siren, and it makes Daryl realise why some sailors chose to drown.

Words: 1521

Warnings: Language.

Daryl was bewitched. He'd tip-toed his way out of the cellblock like a ghost haunting the hallways - careful not to wake anyone. He'd always had trouble sleeping, and found himself sneaking out for a midnight cigarette more often than not. Though, he'd run out of them the week before last, and had only recently managed to find a soggy packet on yesterday's supply run. He'd been waiting for this, and his fingertips traced over the carton in his pocket - feeling antsy to breathe in that first breath of smoke.

Except, he had forgotten all about them when he made his way outside. It was dark, and usually Daryl would find a secluded spot in the courtyard to flick his lighter like it was a sparkler in the night, and let the ends of his cigarettes burn his fingers just so that he could remember the feeling. But tonight was different. 

He thought it must be the witching hour, because the world didn't quite feel like it had when he’d left it. The moon was out, and it cast a hazed glow over the fields, and made Daryl's hands look a lot paler than they were. Yet, the sky was clear enough that he could see the countless stars hanging in it - like peering sets of eyes staring down at him. Daryl wasn't the type of man to spook easily, but something about this night set him on edge.

Then, he heard it. He wasn't entirely sure from where, but he could definitely hear it nonetheless. The man took a few tentative steps, whipping his head around to try and find the source of the noise. He couldn't, but he kept searching in the dark, as if some strange magnetism wouldn't let him leave. Daryl was bewitched - but by what exactly, he did not know.

You stood in the watchtower, overlooking the rolling fields and the forest that concealed any world that may exist beyond the prison. It was like you all lived on an island, lost out at sea. You wished that were the case - and that whoever dared to try and come for you would drown in their manmade boats and leave you all in peace.

Everything had been calm since you'd taken down Woodberry, but you couldn't help but feel it was the calm before the storm. So, you watched. You peered into the dark like you expected to see something there, and counted down the minutes until you could switch your shift and rest your eyes for good. 

On nights like this, you felt an unease creep into your bones. You had no explanation for it, except the fact that everything felt too quiet. You didn't like that very much, so you decided to change it. Humming softly to yourself at first, you let your voice get gradually louder, as it got carried off by the wind like a ship to the current. 

"My heart is pierced by cupid-" you sang, the words coming out sweet and thick.

"I distain all glittering gold. There is nothing can console me-"

The breeze had died down, so that your voice rang clearer in the stagnant air, seeming to carry all away to that forest and beyond.

"But my jolly sailor bold." 

Daryl thought he'd gone mad. He paced around the courtyard like a fish bobbing around a lure - except, he couldn't see the lure dangling right in front of him. His cigarette remained unlit between his lips, and was mostly unsmokable from how much he'd chewed it between his teeth. The song was unlike anything he'd ever heard before, and he couldn't let himself return to his cell until he found out who sang it. It was strange; he felt more trapped here, outside, than he had done within the prison.

The moonlight allowed him a good enough view of the area, but he could see no other figures aside from his own shadow. He wondered if he was stuck in the midst of a dangerous game - but he felt himself too far gone to turn back now. The man spat the cigarette out from his mouth and stomped over it with his boot, grumbling under his breath about how much of a waste it was.

He turned on his heels, ready to call it a night - albeit a disappointing one. Then, he heard it again, and Daryl Dixon was no quitter.

"His hair it hangs in ringlets, his eyes as black as coal-" you continued, staring out into the abyss like you expected to see a ship break through the misty fog and drop anchor at your gates.

"My happiness attend him wherever he may go."

Then, you saw him. A figure stood below the watchtower, looking up at you like they'd just stumbled upon the new world. You let your words trail off and squinted, trying to get a look at whoever it was.

Daryl stood triumphantly at the base of the tower, having found the source of the siren song. He hadn't expected it to be you - but that was probably intentional. Daryl batted all thoughts of you away like they were oncoming attacks, not letting him alone for more than a minute. He really did feel bewitched by you, by your unassuming smile, or the way you laughed at other people's jokes that weren't his - and how he wished he'd been the one to tell them. He hadn't thought you'd been the one singing, but that was only because he tried to think of everyone else it could be, first.

"Who ya tryna lure in?" Daryl called up at you, and you flinched.

You hadn't expected for the shadow in the dark to be him, but you couldn't say that you minded, either.

"Jesus, Daryl!" You yelled back, resting your hand over your heart. "You scared me."

It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't entirely the truth. You'd seen him before he'd even called out. The only thing that had scared you was realising it was Daryl. The man left you utterly speechless on a good day, and you wondered whether tonight was a good night.

"Nah, ya scared me." He grumbled in response, keeping his voice loud so you could still hear it.

You couldn't make out any of his features from where he stood, but the moonlight illuminated enough that you could see him looking straight up at you - like you were the beacon atop of a lighthouse.

"Thought my time was comin' to an end." He remarked, and you stifled a laugh. "Jus' wanted a cigarette an' I got the sea witch over here singin' some creepy shit."

You felt your cheeks burn, suddenly feeling too tongue-tied for someone who'd spent the night pouring over all the lyrics and melodies you could remember. It was like you'd used up all your words on your songs - leaving you silent for longer than you'd like.

"It's not creepy!" You argued, after a few seconds, but the man already knew.

Daryl wasn't sure why he'd said that, and suddenly wished he could take it back. He glanced up at you, leaning on the railing of the tower as your hair draped over the edge of it. To him, you almost seemed like an apparition - standing there against the ghostly moon like you were made to exist for this night.

"Ya got a pretty voice." He mumbled, wanting you to know what he’d really meant to say.

You bent further over the guard, trying to hear what the man had muttered into the night. 

"What?" You shouted, calling out to him. "I can't hear you from down there."

He remained silent, or maybe you'd just missed what he'd said again. He felt so far away from you, and you wished he'd just come closer.

"Are you going to come up?" You prompted, but felt your heart sink as he quickly shook his head.

"Nah." He replied. "Don' fancy drownin' tonight." 

You raised an eyebrow, not having the slightest clue what he meant. The man didn't give you much time to mope, however, as he called back up to you before he left.

"Maybe tomorrow." He said, and you watched the angel wings of his jacket catch the light as he turned around.

"Okay." You smiled to yourself. "See you around, Sailor!"

And so, Daryl returned back to the cellblock for the night, thumbing over the near-full packet of cigarettes in his pocket. The prison was as quiet as it was when he'd left, and he wasn't sure if any time had even passed since he’d been gone. The man slumped back onto his mattress and felt himself drift off to sleep like a boat adrift over waves, feeling more tired than he’d done in a long time.

Daryl fell asleep to dreams of peering, starlit eyes and a sea witch who stood among them, and you continued to sing until another figure was lured to your watchtower - this time, to take over your shift.

A/N I was listening to this cover of Jolly Sailor Bold whilst writing this. It’s honestly so enchanting-

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