#I can almost hear her giving me shit for not breaking in the brim of my hat

[spicyraeman]

my most self indulgent drawing yet - hick Lae'zel + human ver

inspired by this post

[soulofapatrick]

Not What I Thought - Henry Fox x Male Reader

Summary: You meet Henry at Philip and Martha's wedding to find you're both as enthralled by the other as the other

Words: 2.1k 

Warnings: None really, almost smut but interrupted

Notes: Henry and Alex from RWRB have taken over my life 🤣🤣🤣

Y/N��s POV

To say that I wasn’t absolutely shitting myself would be a lie as I step out of the limo with Alex, my older brother, and Nora, the vice president’s daughter. Usually, Alex and Nora would take this job but mother wanted me to start getting out into the spotlight and making a name for myself as Alex is about to start running the campaign in Texas and June has officially become a speech writer for the Whitehouse while I’ve done nothing. I’m only just eighteen and I have the whole world knowing my name which is rather daunting, but, not as daunting as this…

Buckingham Palace is fucking huge, and gold and full of fancy shit that I don’t know the name of. I’m not even sure why I said yes to this. Alex is grumbling and rolling his eyes about how snobbish and pretentious Prince Henry is while Nora is basically bouncing as she walks, full to the brim with excitement, as she drags my stumbling self behind her to line up and greet the royal family as they enter the hall. Or ballroom. I’m not sure, all these rooms are too big to distinguish them. 

Prince Philip and his new wife, Martha, look to be the snobbish ones, noses upturned and voice articulate as they shake hands with every important member of governments and royal connections in this line. He looks at us three like we’re the dirt under his shoes and shakes Alex’s hand like he has the plague before skipping me entirely and greeting Nora with a little better attitude. Next is Bea, the middle child and the wild child from what I hear. She’s pleasant if somewhat reserved but she greets the three of us like we’re long lost childhood friends reuniting and it leaves a warm feeling in my chest even if I don’t actually swing that way. She’s waltzing Nora away before anyone can say anything and suddenly I’m face to face with beauty. 

Prince Henry. He stands tall - taller than Alex - and regal amidst the opulent surroundings of Buckingham Palace. His blond hair impeccably styles, the locks sweeping messily back from his forehead with natural elegance. The subtle curl at the ends softens his appearance, giving him an approachable air despite his royal stature. The rich hue of his hair contrasts perfectly with his fair, porcelain complexion. His eyes, a light shade of blue that seems to hold a depth of emotions, are set beneath finely arched eyebrows. They radiate a mixture of curiosity, kindred and a hint of despair - a combination that makes it hard to look away. 

His features are finely chiseled, with a strong jawline that adds a touch of masculinity to his ethereal beauty. His lips, full and oh so inviting, seem to hold a natural grace that could effortlessly break into a smile or a quick teasing grin. His tailored suit fits him like a second skin, emphasising his lean build and hinting at a strength beneath the refined exterior. The way he carries himself, with an air of confidence tempered by genuine interest in those around him, makes it easy to see why he captures the attention of all who meet him despite Alex’s stories of how entitled and narcissistic he is. 

As his voice reaches my ears, it’s warm and inviting, breaking through the nervousness that has settled within me, “Good evening,” He says, his tone polite but not distant, “I don’t believe we have had the pleasure of meeting before. May I have your name?” 

His hand, when he extends it for a handshake, is warm and firm, his grip confident yet not overpowering. There’s a sincerity in the ay he clasps my hand, a fleeting connection that carries a sense of genuine interest. As his blue eyes meet mine, I can’t help but feel that beneath all the rumours I’ve heard and the expectations, there’s a complexity to Prince Henry that is both intriguing and captivating. 

“Y-your majest- Oh no! Your royal highness-“ Alex facepalms from beside me, watching me fumble over my words as my brain displays images of Henry pressing me up against the nearest wall and having me any way he likes, “Y-Y/N. It’s Y/N Claremont-Diaz.” 

“Well,” His eyes seemed to have darkened as they sweep over me once, not in the same way Philip did, and oh fuck me. I am not going to make it through this evening if he keeps looking at me like that, especially when he leans in close, breath hot against my cheek, “I hope to see you later.”

As quickly as he appeared, Henry is gone, and Alex is at my side, steering me toward the bustling ballroom where the after party is in full swing. Amidst the crowd, Alex seems to vanish in search of alcohol, leaving me to navigate the sea of unfamiliar faces. My eyes find Nora, her laughter blending with Bea's in a way that suggests they've been friends for years. I decide to do what I do best, explore without getting seen, blend into the shadows and find a quiet spot where no-one will disturb me, except maybe Amy who is my PPO for the day. Deciding to retreat into my comfort zone, 

I slip away quietly, becoming a shadow in the corners of the palace. It doesn't take long before I stumble upon a room, a hidden oasis amidst the grandeur, filled with books. Floor-to-ceiling shelves line the walls, laden with leather-bound volumes and dusty tomes. The soft glow of sconces illuminates the space, casting an inviting warmth that contrasts with the glitz and glamour outside. I step further into the room, running my fingers over the spines of the books. It’s mesmerising, the sheer collection of knowledge and stories tucked away in here. For a moment, I forget about the grand event unfolding just beyond these walls. I lose myself in the comfort of solitude and the intoxicating scent of aged pages. 

Just as I’m lost in my thoughts, the door creaks open, and I spin around to face the intruder, expecting to be Amy or Alex, having found me finally. But the sight that greets me is anything but ordinary. Henry stands there, his presence no longer commanding but somehow ordinary, like another person in the streets. His blue eyes meet mine, and there’s a shared understanding that in this moment neither of us are from royalty or fame, we are just Y/N and Henry. 

“You are an enigma, nothing at all how I imagined.” He tells me, quietly closing the door and making his way over to me, gesturing to the sofa. I sink straight into the plush cushions, Henry sitting on my left, one leg tucked under himself and arm flung over the back of the sofa, expression open and I have to adjust my seat imagining pushing him back and kissing him breathless. 

We exchange banter, light teasing, and the kind of easy conversation that’s reserved for moments of genuine connection. Henry’s flirting is subtle, a glint in his eyes and a playful quirk to his lips. It’s a dance of words that feels both exhilarating and comfortable, as if we’ve known each other for far longer than just a few hours. 

But then there’s a pause, a fleeting moment where the air between us changes. It’s as if time is holding its breath, our eyes locked, and the room is charged with a palpable tension. And then, in an instant, the atmosphere shifts again. It’s a surge, a magnetic pull that neither of us can resist and as if guided by an unseen force, we’re both leaning forwards, closing the distance between us. Our lips meet in a kiss that’s hesitant, testing the waters to see if awe are both wanting the same thing. It’s a slow exploration, a gentle press of lips that converts a shared curiosity and a mutual yearning. There’s a softness to the touch, a tentative dance that feels both intimate and tender. 

The hesitation doesn’t last long. As if a dam has been breached, the atmosphere between us surges with an irresistible pull. Henry’s lips mould against mine with more urgency, his hand finding it’s way to the curve of my cheek as if he’s trying to memorise every contour and scar. I respond in kind, my fingers threading through the soft strands of his hair, a silent invitation for him to come closer. And he does. The kiss deepening, a dance of desire and longing, a magnetic force that draws us closer until there’s hardly any space between us. 

I feel the shift as Henry’s hand traces the line of my jaw, his touch igniting sparks along my skin. And then, suddenly, the world tilts as he pushes me back onto the sofa, not dissimilar to the way I was picturing doing it to Henry. There’s a controlled urgency in his movements as he claims over me, body hovering just out of touch and the sensation is electrifying. Our lips collide once more, a collision of passion and aching want. It's a fervent dance of tongues and shared breaths that leaves me dizzy and craving more. His hands, exploratory and confident, trace the contours of my chest and shoulders. The path they leave in their wake is seared with fire, a trail of sensations that has me arching into his touch. 

As the kiss deepens, I can’t help but let my own desires take over. My hands, emboldened by need, glide down his back until they reach his waist and I pull him down to close the achingly large gap between us, drawing a whimper from me as his hips brush against mine just right. 

“Jesus, you know exactly what you want, don’t you?” Henry pants, breaking the kiss to focus his gaze on my shirt with an annoyed expression. His lean fingers with the buttons on my shirt, his touch almost impatient in it’s eagerness to explore what lies beneath. He looks breathtaking, hovering above me, honey hair mused and blue eyes glazed with want and abandon. 

I can’t stop myself reaching up and tangling my hand in those locks, grumbling, “You talk to much.” Before yanking him down into a bruising kiss. My hips raising up to meet his, causing a delicious friction that has me swallowing the sounds Henry makes, his hips rocking to meet mine. 

“Y/N, I told you not to-oh my god.” Amy is turning around and walking back outside, closing the door with a meaningful clearing of her throat. Henry is scrambling off of me and to his feet, eyes wide as if he’s realising what we’ve done and there’s a sinking feeling in my gut. I sit up, adjusting myself, the suit pants doing not much to ease he uncomfortableness and trying to make myself a little more presentable, keeping my head bowed away from his royal highness. 

“Oh no, no, no,” Henry is appearing between my legs, doing nothing to help my problem, those fantasy inducing fingers gripping my thighs higher than they should be, “Y/N Claremont-Diaz, you are a pleasure and I do hope we can see each other again. I would…” He pauses, looking up at me through hooded lashes and his right hand shifting even higher and a strangled sound escapes my throat, “I would like to see more of you.” 

“Fuck.” I’m letting my head fall back, the dull pain from the couch frame helping ease my raging erection that is currently being groped by someone I never thought. I think I get whiplash when Henry pops the button on my suit pants, “Hen- fuck… Henry, Alex is looking for me…. We don’t… we don’t have-“

“There you are Y/N!” The door bursts open and Alex stops short, eyes wide and jaw almost hitting the floor before he screeches, “HENRY?!” 

“Alex-“ 

“OF ALL PEOPLE? YOU PICK HENRY?” He’s staring bug eyed while Henry is still kneeling there, worry on his soft features. 

“Get out.” I grumble at my older brother who just rolls his eyes and focuses his gaze on a very red in the face Prince. 

“You hurt him, I hurt you.” Then Alex is gone with a half hearted slam of the door. 

I’m gripping Henry’s chin between my thumb and forefinger, guiding his gaze to mine to see the same nervousness and intensity in them. He parts his lips when my thumb ghosts over his plump bottom one and I think I die and go to heaven right then and there. 

“Where were we?’ He murmurs, guiding my hand to his hair again and yeah, I’m dead. How the fuck did I get the Prince of England to want me back in the span of four maybe five hours? I’m not gonna question it, just gonna take it as it is. 

Fuck Me.

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

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[1427]

When the Levee Breaks (pt. 3)

Daryl Dixon x OFC

The one in which a stripper that used to know Merle and Daryl shows up at the Atlanta camp. Daryl’s feelings are complicated but mostly he hates her. Right?

Chapt. Setting: The CDC, Daryl’s room. 

Chapt. Warnings: degrading and sexist language, season 1 Daryl, sexual themes, descriptions of nudity, (idk, Daryl’s being kind of a jerk and a perv but not nearly enough of one to really need a tag) 

Word count: 3k 

A/N; Daryl’s POV 😩🤷🏼‍♀️, also he’s not a reliable narrator; I think it almost goes without saying that he’s wrong about the OC’s intentions like 90% of the time.

17+ mdni 

“Truth” 

Got no idea why I agreed to play this goddamn game. Or how I let Beatle two feet in the damn door in the first place. 

She’d just barged in, demandin’ I share this dogshit girl-whiskey with her, like the needy fuckin’ bitch she was. Bad enough I shared at dinner and let her sit next to me. Bad enough I been lettin’ her talk at me for the last few days, seemingly non-fuckin’-stop.

 Not like I’m nice about it or nothin’, but I could get physical. Could scoop her up and put her right outside this door right now and lock her the fuck out. But I dont. I ain’t even sure why. Probably cuz the headache she’d holler about it would be even worse than the one she’s already givin’ me.

And for some reason, like always, I cave. And play truth or dare like we’re goddamn little kids. Bitches, right? Always fuckin’ somethin’. 

“Name one thing you genuinely like about me.” Starin’ at me, waitin’ for an answer like she didn’t just ask the most fish for a compliment ass shit I ever heard. Her eyes twinkling in the low light of the bedside table. Sitting on the ground, between two beds. Like goddamn little kids. 

“Nothin’.” I laugh despite tryin’ to keep a straight face. Cuz fuck me, there should be somethin’, right? Somethin’ I can say I like ‘bout her. 

I look over to see her reaction, she’s actin’ annoyed like I owed her the fuckin’ compliment. “That’s not how you play the game, Daryl.” Her voice, maybe I’m gettin’ used to it or somethin’, because right now it just didn’t seem as loud and grating as it usually does. “Plus, it’s bad manners.” 

Talkin’ about bad fuckin’ manners; as she says it she tries to snake her tiny fuckin’ fingers onto my hand to weasel the cigarette I’m smokin’. Like I’m gon’ just let her have it. I pull it back and take a drag and look at her like she’s lost her damn mind. 

She persists, ignorin’ that she’d just tried to take something else from me without askin’, “Answer the question.”

“I did.”

“No, for real.”

“I did.” A smile cracks on my face as I look her dead in the eye.  

And she fuckin’ smiles back at me like I wasn’t being 100 percent fuckin’ honest that I don’t like a goddamn thing about her. Fuckin’ stupid fuckin’ bitch. 

Well… there is one thing. 

“Fine,” I drag the cigarette again letting it sit between my lips while I twist off the cap of the girl-whiskey, tryin’ to distract myself while I throw her a bone. “Ya do, actually, got a nice set a’ tits on ya.” Takin’ a big drink to swallow down my pride. Why do I give in to this shit?

Her face gets all pink and stupid. As if she’s never heard that before. As if she didn’t hear it 20 times a night for years. Nah, she gets all flushed and googly eyed like she’s never heard it before in her whole goddamn life. 

Her hand’s in my fuckin’ face again, to get some of the whiskey this time. I hand her the short of my smoke instead. Which she takes, like she always does. Like she had been finishing almost all of my smokes over the last few days. I take another big drink of my own pride before handin’ her the bottle too. I can’t believe I’m playing this fuckin game, “Truth or dare?” 

“Dare.” Now I have to think of somethin’ to tell this stupid little girl to do? God this was just a game for her to play egomaniac while hoggin’ the booze. The way her tongue touches the glass first, guiding her lips to the brim, reminds me that I don’t want to fuckin’ share. I rip the bottle from her greedy fingers while she’s in the middle of takin’ a sip. 

Let her get a taste. Usually do. Probably why she keeps following me ‘round like a lost puppy. Always pickin’ up my half used trash like she owned it. Like someone who’s not good for nothin’ and not good at nothin’. 

Well, except that one thing Beatle was good for. 

“Dare you to take your tits out.” Lookin at. 

“And just sit here and play this game with my fuckin’ tits out?” Like it’s so unbelievable. 

“Yup.” A big grin breakin’ my face. Just waitin’ ta see if she’ll actually do it. Probably fuckin’ will. 

“But that’s awkward.” She’s whining again, and I roll my eyes, she’s un-fuckin’-believable. 

“I don’t care.” I don’t. 

Beatle sighs, extra loud, and looks down at her top. Like for some reason all of a sudden she’s fuckin’ shy about her tits. As if the bad half of Georgia hasn’t already seen ‘em. She looks back at me like I’m gonna change my mind or somethin’, but I just stare at her. Enjoying the silence. Maybe even enjoying the dumbstruck look on her face, the blush that hasn’t left. Definitely enjoying her pale white skin slowly revealing itself as she pulls the hem of her shirt over her head. 

And then she sits there in her bra like she’s too fuckin’ stupid to remember what I’d dared her to do. “Naw, I said tits out.” 

“But Daryl, I - “

“I don’ care.” I smile into the bottle while I take a sip. Finally makin’ her fuckin’ uncomfortable for once. Quieter than she’s ever been in her whole fuckin’ life. And her eyes get even wider, so I use her own words against her, smiling, “‘That’s not how you play the game’.” 

Beatle grabs the girlwhiskey right out of my hands and takes a swig. Shoving the bottle back before I even react.

And mostly I ignore the fact that my heart is starting to beat in my fuckin’ ears. That my throats getting dry. Yeah, Beatle was good for lookin’ at, but I didn’t like to admit just how much I liked to look at ‘er.  She’s unclasping her bra slowly, too damn slowly and it’s pissing me off cuz it’s not like it’s something new. I already seen ‘em. But she always has to be a tease about every little fuckin’ thing. 

Somethin’ about it is different this time. Maybe cuz its just me and her. And that only happened one other time. That time. 

But her tits out now? Just us here, like little fuckin’ kids. I’unno. I try not to dwell, I’m just enjoying seein’ a nice set of tits, right? Skin so pale I know if I ever touched her, the second I did, it would turn red. Nipples almost the same color as her skin, just barely pinker than the rest of her body. A real cocky laugh leaves my throat before I knows it’s coming. 

“Happy?” She says, staring me down. 

I raise my eyes from her chest to meet her stare, “We done playin’ this stupid game?” 

“No. Truth or dare?” 

Don’t know why I thought maybe that was the end of the game. Kind of forgot we were playin’. She tries to put her arms up to cover her chest but I grip her wrist and tear it away from her body. No fuckin’ chance was she gonna cover herself up now. She owed it. It was her fuckin’ dare and she wanted to play this stupid game, so she’s gonna play by the goddamn rules. 

Her face gets even fuckin’ pinker, and she huffs, forcing her hands to her sides. “Its cold. Truth or dare.” Like I care if she’s cold. It only makes me look down at her chest again. Nipples hard and perfect. Bet that’s why she’d even said it. Bet she’s getting off on the fact that I wanna to see. That she’s making me want it. 

I don’t want it. Not in any way she’d want to have it. “Dare.” 

As soon as I see that sick smile spread across her face I knew she was gonna say something fuckin’ stupid. Shoulda picked truth. “Take your cock out.” 

What the fuck? In between shock, amusement, and anger. Her stupid happy face cracked into the biggest smile I seen on her since the shitty titty. Since she was all moon eyes and dopamine days. “Fuck no.” Obviously not. What the fuck? For what?

“But that’s my dare. It’s the same shit as you telling me to take my tits out.” 

Oh. 

“Naw ‘snot.” Shaking my head I drink more of the girlwhiskey and hand her the bottle again. Sharing absentmindedly, “I’ve seen your tits like a hundred fuckin’ times. You never seen my cock before.” 

“Yeah I have.” 

She’s fuckin’ lying. Doesn’t matter, the way she said cock with her tits hangin’ out. The way we’re talkin’ about it. I start thinkin’ about the dumb face she’d make if I did pull it out right now. Thinkin’ about the expression she’d make if I buried it deep inside her, hard and fast and all at once. Thinkin’ bout it makin’ her cry. Fuck. 

‘m too drunk for this. Thanking Christ that I’m actually drunk enough not to get a hard-on about it. She wants to talk about my dick? Fine.

“Yeah? When’d ya see it?” I smile and look over at her. Bare chest, vulnerable, eyes lookin’ from side to side tryin’ to come up with somethin’ to say so that I’ll take my fuckin’ dick out, “That’s what I thought.” 

“Oh, come on, Daryl, this isn’t fair.” Whining again. Gon’ give her somethin’ to whine ‘bout. Fuck. Stop. 

“Why do you wanna see my cock so bad?” Nah, shouldn’t’ve asked that. Too late. Good, made her shut up for a second again. 

“Cuz I wanna know if it’s really as small as Merle said it was.” 

I laugh back in response. Hard. This little girl was really just sayin’ anything she could. Maybe she wants it. 

Don’t know how it took me so long to see it. Guess I always see it. Lately. Since she showed up again. Followin’ me around. Lingering gazes. Dumb shit. Bet this is how she’d act with anyone. Bet this is how she was with Merle when I wasn’t around. Shoulda remembered how slutty and desperate she got sometimes. Almost like a full-on repeat of the last time I saw her. 

Threw herself at me like some bitch in heat, like I didn’t catch her with Merle the week before. Like I hadn’t… what the fuck ever. Fuck this little girl and her desperate cunt. 

What does she even expect to happen? I pull my dick out? And then what? Dumb little girl doesn’t even know how to seduce a man. Doesn’t make any fuckin’ sense. My head hurts. “Merle didn’t say. that.” 

“Yeah he did. Said you had a micropenis. I never seen one before, show me.” 

Jesus Christ.

”Merle was fuckin’ with you.” 

“Prove it.”

I smile at her sad attempts instead of puttin’ her down like I probably should, “Fine, truth.” Knew I should have just picked truth from the beginning. 

“How big is your dick?” She didn’t even need a second to think about it. Like it was the only thing in her stupid fuck-deprived mind, smile back on her face like it never fuckin’ left. 

“Shut the fuck up, Beatle.” But I’m still smiling, dragging my smoke, lookin’ at her and her tits out of the corner of my eye. She tries to cover herself up again, and I watch my hand move with a mind of its own to pull her arms back down again. My mouth, with a mind of its own decides to tell her, “It’s big.” 

“How would you know? Maybe you should show me.” Jesus Christ, this girl just doesn’t let the fuck up. 

“‘M not takin’ my fuckin’ dick out, quit askin’.” Shoving her, harder than I mean to. She goes down to the floor, almost feel bad. But she ain’t even mad.  

She’s laughin’ so hard I start laughin’ too. I push her to the ground, deny her pathetic advances, and she’s still laughin’. Goofy. “You tell me your dick is big and expect me to ask less?! Stupid.” 

She’s right, was pretty stupid. Don’t even know why I told ‘er. Like somethin’ inside was tryin’ to get out.  These thoughts of her lookin’ up from beneath me, stupid face all mixed up in pain and need. Of her doin’ exactly what I ask her to, for fuckin’ once without talkin’ back or fuckin’ whining. 

“Share” her voice cuts through my thoughts and her hand is in my fuckin face again. But this time her chest is on full display and I don’t know what the fuck comes over me but I actually give it to her. Fuckin’ tits. The one thing that might actually be able to hypnotize me. 

“How big?” I open my eyes to just look at her. Is she serious?

“Thought we were playin’ a game, Beatle.”

“Yeah, I’m trying to. You decided you’re too good for it. Like everything else.”

“Truth ‘r dare?” 

“But it’s your turn!” 

“Naw, you lost your turn. Truth ‘r dare?” 

“Truth.” She says it like she’s so fuckin’ full of herself. Like she tricked me or somethin’. 

I take my cigarette back from her and decide to ask her somethin’ I actually wanna know, “You and Merle ever fuck?” 

“What?!” Like she’s surprised by the question. Like it hasn’t been plaguing me since I walked in on ‘em, clothes half on - her on her hands and knees on the ground while Merle answers the door. Shouldn’t bother me none, who she slept with back then. Probably fucked every guy in the bar the day I met ‘er. And every guy every time since.

“You and Merle. Right? Obviously. Tsch.” The only thing that was holding me back from already believin’ it is that Merle never acted like a guy that sealed the deal. Always fuckin’ blowing smoke up this bitches ass. You don’t do that if you’ve already stuffed it. 

“No.” And she really has the nerve to say it as if she’s disgusted. 

“Yeah fuckin’ right.” 

“I wouldn’t let Merle suck snake venom out of my tit.” I laugh, and she sounds genuine. But I don’t think I believe her. “Did he tell you we did?” She asks. 

“All the fuckin’ time.” I drag my smoke, blowing it out into the air thinkin’ about all the times Merle talked about Beatles sweet pussy. Never believed ‘im at the time, but over the years after she’d disappeared… started to believe it was true. Hell, it woulda made her leavin’ make more sense. 

“Well, Merle was fuckin’ with you.” her voice sounds angry, and her fingers are angry when she rips the cigarette right from my lips. 

I grab at her wrist before she can bring it to her mouth. Movin’ my face down to her hand, and I take the cigarette back into my mouth. Just barely letting my lips touch her fingers as I do. 

She swallows while lookin’ at me, and I feel the tension. Tension I probably woulda got lost in a few minutes ago but now all I can think about is her and Merle. “Saw you in his room once. Half naked on the ground. Don’t fuckin’ lie to me, Beatle.”

I blow the cigarette smoke right in her face. Makin’ me think about her again. Makin’ me remember all that dumb shit that happened before. “Wouldn’t fuck you even if you didn’t fuck my brother.” 

“I didn’t - that wasn’t!” She’s panicked, trying to think of some fuckin’ excuse. Some lie. 

In her desperation I feel two palms flat on my chest and she actually fuckin’ shoves me, “Hey, watch your fuckin’ hands, slut.”

“Watch your fuckin’ mouth!” And there it is, that fuckin’ voice. Any amount of a good time I’d had been havin’, good and gone. But she just keeps goin’. “Never slept with fuckin’ Merle. Never touched his crusty ass with my fuckin’ pinky.” She stands up, “don’t fuck me, like I give a shit. Micropenis little bitch probably couldn’t even get it up.” Maybe, if she’d said it a few minutes earlier I’d have wanted ta prove her wrong. Maybe if she had some fuckin’ tact or grace or fuckin’ anything a woman was supposed ta have she’d have fished her goddamn wish. 

Beatle? Beatle didn’t have two wings to rub together. Beatle didn’t have shit besides an aggressive attitude and a nice rack. 

“Definitely couldn’t get it up for you.” I look down the bottle as I drink more, waiting for her shrill-ass reaction.  

When I don’t hear nothin’ I look over and there’s that fuckin’ look again. Real tears this time. Drunk bitches. Always doing shit like this. 

“Go t’sleep, Beatle, yer drunk.” I’m tryin’ to keep her from cryin’. Last thing I fuckin’ need right now. 

She sits down on the other bed, “can I sleep in here?” 

“Don’ give a shit where ya sleep s’long as it ain’t with me.” 

Beatles face contorts like she’s about to start fuckin’ sobbing, but she stops herself, lowering herself back into the bed. Eyes already closed. “Thanks.” Dumb drunk bitch, fuckin always. 

“Whatever.”  I stand up off the bed and finish my smoke, putting it out on the dresser. Pacing the room realizing how drunk I really am. 

Beatle’s either already asleep or really good at pretending, and she’s pulled the covers up over herself. I walk over to her and pull the sheet down past her breasts before throwing myself in my own bed and passing the fuck out. Beatle was good for lookin’ at. And apparently when I ask her to take off her clothes, she actually listens. 

That’s the thought rolling around in my head when I fall asleep. Why did she listen?

pt 4

A/N; sometime around Sophia there will be more revealed about the instances Daryl keeps referring to. There’s the time he found her in Merle’s room half naked, the time she came onto him, and that other time he won’t talk about (the time she was topless and they were alone). EVENTUALLY all this stuff is out in the open, and talked about. Well. Argued about. But. We’ll get there. :)

[silviakundera]

Joy of Life Episode 26 and 27 liveblogging

This is my first watch, so don't tell me secrets ;)

LMAO the country's literary dignity depends on Fan Xian 💀 well just recite a couple Li Bai and you got this

Dad: this legendary scholar won't make trouble for a junior!

Northern Qi: 🔪 FINISH HIM 🔪

I adore every scene of ML with Uncle Wu

A mom story!!

ML planning his break in and tormenting Wang Qinain at the same time. That's multitasking

Every one is obsessed with the Qi Hall happenings but ML. There are going to be so many plots that they're just overlap with each other and destruct lol

ML stripping all his weapons at the door 😂

Second Prince and ML enjoying being clever at each other. Damn I almost ship it , which would be SUCH a terrible life choice and probably means 2P dies or betrays ML shortly 🙈

My new friend CP showing up to be the straight man in this comedy of manners

This banquet is filled to the brim with ML's enemies like he's Caesar and this is the Ides of March.

lmaoooooo even a disciple of the framed up Si Gujian

UGH Royal Princess. But I am enjoying her being unable to predict him. and I think him not making a move was getting to her a little.

This was 🔥 🔥:

2P: "How about us making a bet? Let's see who Fan Xian will support in the end."

CP: "What are we betting on?"

2P: "Our lives."

asffghjkl the performances. the way the camera stops. POETRY. (chef's kiss)

Master literary guy, not bowing to ML: (bet that was just DEVASTATING) ML: likely did not notice

Chen Pingping is trying to figure out what horrible predicament is about to occur. He's just like me!

idk what drama the emperor is trying to create. OH NO. Second Prince, what r u doing????? he's barely holding back his smirk. just fucking around and now he's got CP in on it. Guyssssssss let him live

Royal Princess is obviously the one who met with Zhuang when he went "missing", I just don't think ML cares too much about his literary rep

Second Prince springing to action cracks me up. Frankly unnecessary backup.

Episode 27

LOL Guo is honestly too much of a petty loser to despise. dangermousie I get your affection for the character now

oh yaaaaaassssssfddfdddd ML gonna get loaded and start reciting the chinese poetry greats HELL YEAH DO IT BOY

IT'S POEMS TIMES 🍾🍾🍾🍾🍾🍾

emperor: holy shit that IS her kid

Second Prince is fucking LIVING for the spectacle. A troll at heart.

Dad, hearing about this nonsense: *sigh* that is definitely her kid

I just cannot support this break-in caper. Can we not?

So is he actually going to get the key?????

Wait, he has to sneak in and then out and then in AGAIN

This is a terrible fucking idea. These 2 wanna give me an ulcer.

Why even spy on Zhuang and Royal Princess? Ok nevermind he learned some sweet gossip! She gave up Yan Bingyuan 😱

Fan Xian got shot for troubles but tbh he was asking for it so do I feel bad for him, NO

[mimi-ya]

brewed ~ trafalgar d. law x reader

3,500 words | she/her reader

summary: you swear the regular at the coffee shop was going to overdose on caffeine one day

masterlist

“Two hot mochas, an iced caramel latte, three scones and a Trafalgar.”

You pause, looking up from the cups you’re writing on, “A what?”

It had been several hectic weeks since starting at the small café in the middle of downtown. You were thankful to have the job, even if it came with some quirks.

There was Sanji who baked all the pastries in the back, and Luffy definitely who ate more than he served. Nami, who was always sweet talking her way into free drinks for her and her blue haired girlfriend. Zoro who always came in after his morning run, never for himself but to order a whipped cream pup cup for his dog, Chopper.

But a Trafalgar was a new one.

“Here a little early today, Shachi.” Sanji takes the cups from you hand, expertly beginning to brew the espresso and froth the milk.

The man dressed in scrubs smiles, “Captain had an emergency amputation, hasn’t even left the hospital.”

“Hope he can get some rest before his next shift.” Sanji places three of the beverages into a holder, before turning to you, “Watch (Y/N), this is an order you’ll want to know like the back of your hand.”

Sanji plucks the largest cup offered out of the stack, pumping in a generous amount of caramel, and then filling almost three quarters of it with pure espresso. Using a stirrer, he gives it a few quick twirls to melt the caramel before topping it off with milk that is steamed way beyond the regulated temperature.

“Raspberry scones okay today?” Sanji asks, covering the drink with a lid before passing over the holder.

“You know they’ll eat anything you make!” Shachi laughs, picking up the drinks and accepting the bag of pastries, “I’ll see you again soon!” He says, before leaving the store.

“That looked like the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen you make.”

“That was a Trafalgar.” Sanji wipes down the counter, “Usually gets two a day.”

“What!?” You nearly scream, “Whoever is drinking that is going to an early grave!”

Sanji shrugs, throwing a rag over his shoulder, “I wouldn’t worry too much, Trafalgar is one of the country’s leading surgeons. Works at the hospital down the street.” He nods out the door, “Runs his operating room like a tight ship.”

“He went to med school and still drinks that much caffeine?”

“Keeps me in business.” Sanji shrugs.

And Sanji wasn’t wrong. You end up making at least one of those disgusting drink every shift, offering it up to whatever scrubbed up nurse stops in.

.

You’re busy arranging the pastries to look more presentable after Luffy swiped a couple for his break when you hear the door chime open, “Be with you in a second!” You call, wiping of your hands before heading back to the register, “Hi there! What can I get for you?”

The man before you just stares with an unimpressed gaze, his eyes peeking out just from under the brim of his hat.

“Did you need a minute to look at the menu?” You offer when he doesn’t say anything.

“No.”

An awkward laugh escapes your lips, “Alright, well just let me know when you’re ready to order.”

“I want my usual.”

“Uhm, okay.” You tap the register screen to the drink menu, “And that is?”

“Why would I know?” He snaps.

You’ve dealt with a lot of shit people as a barista. Pretentious dicks who think they’re artisanal coffee experts but probably couldn’t tell the difference from coffee to the shit that comes out of their ass. Haughty parents that load their kids up on caffeine just to dump them on whatever poor nanny they’ve hired.

But this asshole? This asshole takes the cake. From his lack of greeting to the scowl that hasn’t left his face from the moment he walked in.

“Don’t you fucking drink it?” You shoot back, enjoying the way his eyes widen in surprise. Probably the first time someone’s ever had the courage to lay back into him, “Or has your sour personality dried up all your taste buds that you don’t know what you’re putting in that shit mouth of yours?”

“Tch.” He quickly turns on his heel, almost colliding with the person coming through the door.

“Heya Traffy!” Luffy smiles, trying to loop an arm around the man. But he just shoves Luffy out of the way and storm out of the shop.

Luffy looks over at you with a pout on his face, “What’s his deal?”

You sniff, crossing your arms, “Hell if I know, and I hope I never have to find out.”

“Shi shi shi!” Luffy hops the counter, clearly forgetting the six times Sanji has told him to stop, “That’s funny (Y/N), but Traffy will probably be back tomorrow.”

“And why’s that?” You ask, honestly not that interested as you start to wipe down the counter.

“To get his special drink! I don’t think any other coffee shop will make it for him.”

Your hand stops mid wipe, a feeling of dread forming in your stomach, “Wait.” You turn around, “That wasn’t Trafalgar, was it?”

Luffy swallows a mouthful of muffin (when the hell did he swipe that?) “Sure it was! That’s what I said, Traffy!”

Well shit. You’re totally getting fired now.

.

But then a week passes, and nothing happens. A scathing review was never left on the internet. Sanji hasn’t mentioned losing his best customer. And you still have your job.

You almost think you’re in the clear until one slower afternoon the door jingles open in single of a customer. But your bright smile drops the moment you see who it is.

Trafalgar is standing with his hands dug into the pockets of his white medical coat.

The professional thing to do would be to get started on his drink now that you know it, maybe even offering an apology for your actions last time.

But instead, you say, “What can I get for you?” Expecting a repeat of last time, but then he pulls out a crumpled piece of paper.

Clearing his throat, he reads off, “A triple espresso caramel latte with extra caramel, extra espresso and as hot as you can get it.”

You have to hold back a laugh because you’ve never heard someone order their drink like they were reading out of a dictionary. But he must pick up on it because his cheeks go a little pink and his hand fists the paper, “Well?” He snaps.

“Alright, alright.” You raise your hand in apology, grabbing a cup from the stack to get started.

You can feel his eyes on you while you’re working, but each time you look over his quickly glance away.

“One Trafalgar, extra hot.” You say, placing the drink on the counter.

He almost freezes reaching for the drink, eyes narrowing as he looks at you, “So you did know.”

“Not at first.” You shrug, “Luffy filled me in after you threw a fit and stormed out.”

He has the decency to look a little ashamed, “I, uh, I apologize for that. I usually don’t have to say my order.”

“I can tell.” You tease, nodding to his hand still holding the scribbled, “You get someone to write that down for you?”

Trafalgar’s face sours and this time you do let out a loud laugh, enjoying his embarrassment.

“Well next time just say you want a Trafalgar and I’m sure I can figure it out.”

“It’s Law.”

“Huh?”

He shifts on his feet, “My name, it’s Law.”

“Oh.” You blink, “I’m (Y/N).”

“I know.” And his eyes fall to your nametag when your brows furrow in confusion.

“Oh! Right!” You wave your hand, “Well, I’ll be seeing you around Law!”

You swear it looks like he wants to say something, but instead shoves a couple notes into the tip jar and is out the door.

.

Law becomes a regular fixture in your schedule. Picking up the drinks for his team more often, popping up during the slow times, sometimes even finishing his drink before he leaves.

He’s a little odd, really awkward, but pretty cute. Especially when he came in one day when he must have gotten off shift. Instead of his scrubs and coat he’s downed in a tight black shirt, piercings lining his ears and what feels like miles of inked skin on display.

And you’re just thankful he didn’t say anything when you stuttered over your words that afternoon.

“(Y/N)-ya.”

“Law.” You greet, a smile on your face as he steps through the door, “Coming or going from the hospital?” Even though it’s ten in the morning you can never be too sure with his schedule.

“Coming.” He grunts, “A twelve hour shift.”

You tut, pouring out the espresso of his drink, “Well I’ll be sure to make this one extra special for you.”

“Don’t think that’ll be a problem if you’re making it.”

Your head shoots up at his compliment but then you laugh, “I’m sure you say that to anyone who isn’t Luffy.” Capping the lid, you push the drink towards, “Honestly I don’t know why Sanji keeps him around.”

“Thanks.” Law mutters, which you find a little strange, because he always takes the bait to rib Luffy whenever he can.

“Well, enjoy the coffee!”

Law picks up his drink, almost turning around to leave before he thinks better of it, “Would you like coffee?”

“Huh?”

“Coffee?” He repeats himself, “Would you like some?”

A confused look fills your face, “I mean, if I wanted some, I could just make one.”

And then strangely Law’s face falls, “Right.” He mutters, this time actually exiting out the door.

Weird.

“Vivi.” A voice pipes up from the bar seating, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a worse display of flirting in this entire coffee shop.”

“I think you’re right Nami.” Vivi nods, “And we watch Zoro and Sanji fall all over themselves almost every morning.”

“What the hell are you two talking about?”

“Oh my god.” Nami cries, grabbing the girl beside her, “She doesn’t even know! Vivi, she doesn’t even know!”

“I know.” Vivi rubs at Nami’s shoulder.

You roll your eyes. Nami was always dramatic, it was usually about the cost of her lattes, but this isn’t anything new, “Tell me what I don’t know.”

“He was asking you out!” Nami shouts, “And you just let a rich doctor slip right through your fingers!”

“What?”

Vivi nods sympathetically, “I think he was.”

“What, no. He- I think I would know. He wasn’t- it’s not like that! I mean-”

“I think she’s in denial.” Vivi whispers.

“You two don’t know what you’re talking about!” You shout back, slapping a rag onto the counter before storming into the back.

Nami and Vivi had no clue what they were talking.

Law didn’t like you. You don’t think Law liked anybody. You just made him coffee.

So what if he hung around while he drank it. And it didn’t mean anything when Luffy said he’s only ever seen Law smile around you. And Sanji had to be mixing up the numbers when he said Law’s purchases increased during your working hours.

Besides! It’s not like you would even care if he did.

It’s not like you watch the door waiting for him to show up every day. Or like you spend a little extra care on his drink. Or daydream about what his tattooed fingers can do. You definitely don’t think about that.

And you’re going to prove it.

But you can’t.

Because Law doesn’t come back.

Not the next day, or the day after, or the following week. It’s almost been a month and you haven’t seen him. Instead, it’s back to Shachi picking up the drinks, and at least you know he’s alive because who else would drink his nasty concoction.

You don’t even have his number so it’s not like you can text him. You suppose you could leave a message on one of his cups, part of you would rather spit in it, but you’re standing your ground. You didn’t do anything wrong! So why should you be the one to reach out?

But with each passing day you realize maybe you’re just destined to make his coffee for the rest of his life.

That is until someone slips face first and spills their scalding hot tea all over their arm.

“Oh my god!” You gasp, quickly flying around from the bar to help the man, “Are you alright?” You offer your hand.

And as you’re trying to help him to his feet, he stumbles on the now wet floor, toppling back over and painfully knocking his head on the edge of a table.

“Sir!” You fret, trying to help him up, “Don’t move, you might be concussed!”

You quickly duck into the back, grabbing an ice pack. You’re glad to see the man hasn’t moved, just pressing a hand to where you’re sure a nasty bump is probably forming.

“Here.” You offer, “Are you okay? Is there someone I can call for you?”

He surprises you by all but shoving his phone into your hands, “Will you call my son?”

“Uh, oh okay.” You respond, a little frazzled to see the phone is already dialing.

“Hello?” The voice answers, clearly irritated.

“Uhm, hi, hello!”

“Who is this?” The man sounds confused but just as equally annoyed.

You glance back at the man who’s watching you intently, “I’m calling for your father. He uhm, he slipped and hit his head. I think he might need someone to help him home. We’re at the All Blue café in downtown.”

You’re met with silence, and you briefly wonder if the man heard you.

“Are you able to-”

But you’re cut off with a growl, “I’m on my way.” And then he hangs up.

“Oh.” You pull the phone away, offering it back to the man, “I think he’s on his way. Is there something I can get for you, uhh, sir?”

“It’s Cora.” The man gives you a blinding smile, motioning to the chair, “Would you mind waiting with me until he comes?”

.

Law was not having a good day. Scratch that. He wasn’t having a good month.

He could chock it up to whatever lies he told himself, but it all started with you.

Law thought the two of you were on the same page, had even been reassured by Sanji and Luffy. Not that he really took the latter’s opinion to heart. So when you turned him down, it stung.

It stung like hell.

Law had decided he would just never see you again and that would be that. Shachi went back to picking up the coffee and Law worked on erasing you from his mind.

Easier said than done. Everyone had noticed the change in his behavior. Even Cora pestering him with questions about you, and why hadn’t he heard any new stories lately.

It’s not like he talked about you that much.

But he realized what an idiot he’s been this whole time when he finally heard your voice again after nearly a month. The swooping in his stomach and the stuttering in his chest. But what he wasn’t expecting was it to be from Cora’s phone.

And that’s when he knew Cora was up to something.

Luckily, he was almost done with his shift. Something he’s sure Cora was aware of, Law thinks bitterly.

And if he thought just hearing your voice was rough, he was sorely underprepared for seeing you again.

There you were. Sitting across from his father in the little coffee shop as the setting sun shined in. Laughing at who knows what with a giant smile on your face. It strikes Law just how much he missed that sound.

“Law! You’re here!”

Shit. Law curses to himself, having been too distracted by your beauty he was out in the open for Cora to spot.

Law pointedly doesn’t look at you, doesn’t want to see what ever emotions are crossing your face.

“What happened?” Law says through clenched teeth, noting how Cora looks fine.

“Oh, you know.” Cora waves, “Just clumsy me.” And then a smirk pulls at his lips as he looks back towards you, “But the lovely (Y/N) was able to help me. Do you two know each other?”

If Cora was any more obvious, he’d be wearing a flashing sign.

With clenched hands, Law’s eyes slide over to meet yours and he feels like even more of a mess this close to you. But then he feels like the rug is ripped out from under you when he sees the scowl on your face.

“Hello Trafalgar.”

“(Y/N).” Law grunts, hating that you’ve reverted back to his surname.

“You do know each other!” Cora exclaims, “Well you two catch up, I need to run to the restroom quickly.”

Immediately your concerned hands reach out, “Are you sure you’re okay? You might-”

“Don’t worry about me!” Cora waves, “I’ll just be a moment.”

And then it’s just the two of you.

Law shifts from one foot to the other, pointedly looking anywhere but you.

“Good to see your caffeine habits don’t run in the family.”

Law’s eyes dart to you, because are you really trying to make small talk right now?

“Although he did want his tea as hot as your usual, which I probably wouldn’t have done if I knew he was going to spill it all over himself.” Your twinkling laugh grates on his nerves in the best and worst way possible.

But Law just scoffs, looking back towards the restrooms. What the hell is taking him so long?

“Alright asshole.” You push yourself up from you seat, “I don’t what the hell I did to be getting the silent treatment, but I can take a hint.” You brush past Law, but not without a hard shove from your shoulder.

Law reels back, more so in surprise than anything else, “The fuck are you talking about?”

“Me?” You whirl around, hands on your hips, “You’re the one that up and disappeared for a month and when I finally see you again you can’t say more than two fucking words!”

“Well you made it pretty clear you wanted nothing to do with me when you blew me off.” Law snarls.

“Blew you off?” You nearly scream, “What the fuck is that supposed to mean!”

“Oh I don’t know (Y/N)-ya.” Law rolls his eyes with sarcasm dripping from his voice, “When I asked if you wanted to get coffee and you turned me down!”

“You asked me to get coffee?” All the fight leaves your body for a moment before it kicks back in thinking about his stupidity, “How the hell was I supposed to know you meant together?!”

Law immediately colors with embarrassment and indignation, “What else was it supposed to mean!”

“Well gee.” You drawl, “Maybe that you wanted coffee from this fucking coffee shop?”

Law quickly turns his head, looking at the wall. Well, when you put it like that.

A quiet but exasperated laugh escape you, “I thought I did something to make you mad.”

“No.” Law quickly interjects, looking back at you, “I was trying to respect your answer.” He definitely doesn’t mention that it also twisted his heart to even think about you after that. Couldn’t imagine what it would be like to see your face every time he wanted coffee.

“How about you ask again?” You ask with a teasing smile.

Law’s eyes widen, “Do you want to get coffee, with me?”

“No.”

Law opens his mouth, a rude remark on the tip of his tongue until you press a finger to his lips.

“But.” The grin widens on your face, “I would love to get dinner with you.”

“Now?” Law asks hopefully.

With a surprised laugh at his forwardness you nod, “I was off the clock an hour ago anyway.” And then you glance over your shoulder, “But shouldn’t we wait for your dad?”

Law scoffs, grabbing your hand and pulling you with him, “I’m sure he’s already snuck out the back.”

BONUS

Zoro steels his nerves, even gives Chopper a pat on the head for good luck while pointedly ignoring the witch and her girlfriend starring at him from across the shop.

“Marimo.” Sanji greets, “Just the usual?”

“Do you want to get coffee with me?” Zoro rushes out in one go. If it worked for the doctor, it’s gotta work for him.

“You don’t like coffee.”

“But you do, right?” Zoro adds, doesn’t the shit cook own this place?

Sanji’s face screws up in annoyance, mumbling to himself as he writes something on the small cup of whip cream for Chopper before shoving it into Zoro’s hands.

“Yes, I like coffee you idiot. But I’m not going to go on a coffee date with you.” He sneers before pointing at the cup, “Don’t lose that.” And then he spins on his heel and retreats to the back.

Zoro’s a little confused but then he looks down to see a phone number scrawled onto the cup. A smile breaks out onto his face, well that is until a voice pipes in,

“Vivi? Why is everyone in this coffee shop romantically inept?”

[kaijime]

watch your mouth

includes. osamu miya x f!reader

cw. corruption kink, virgin reader/first time, osamu wants to breed u <33, dubcon, kitchen sex? [it’s in his shop so?], fingering, pierced dick [prince albert piercing], vaginal penetration, size kink, praise kink, tummy bulge, breeding kink, slight dumbification, creampie, thigh slapping?

wc. 3k

a/n. my piece for @seita’s corrupt-a-virgin collab, thank you for letting me join!!

osamu miya likes to think he follows a strict routine. he wakes up early, shows up for his job, works, and goes home, waiting for tomorrow to arrive and the cycle to repeat itself.

but ever since you've entered his restaurant, you've become a part of his routine.

he sits behind the kitchen counter, watching in admiration how you tend to the customers. he'd be lying if he said he wasn't staring at your ass, but it’s not a lie if he doesn't say it right?

"samu?" there's that nickname again, the one you deemed him ever since that interview for the part time job. "this customer says you forgot to give her a part of her order"

"no i didn't"

"yeah, look" you approach him with the receipt in hand, pointing to a small part of the inked writing. "see?"

he can't see. or at least he can't see the receipt. he's too focused on you, pressing up against him. he knows you're not at fault, but you couldn't be that innocent.

you couldn't be innocent enough to not know the things you were doing to him, the things you were making him feel, the urges that blossomed with every lingering look and longing touch you left on his body. you just couldn't be.

right?

yet, even when his idiotic brother dropped by his shop and shamelessly started flirting with you, you, it seemed like you didn't catch onto what he was doing.

"what's the freakiest place you've ever had sex in?" the fake blond asked, and osamu would've stopped him, if he wasn't curious to hear the answer for himself. still, he doesn't drive his full attention away from the counters he's been wiping, seemingly focused on the simple task.

you chuckled awkwardly under your breath. "that's inappropriate, tsu-"

"c'mon, tell me" he bumps his elbow against yours "can't be that bad"

"no i-... i've never uhm..." osamu can tell you're stumbling and stuttering to find an answer, so he lends you a few helping words.

"'tsumu” he calls "will ya stop harrassin' my employees?"

"'m just talkin' to her samu, no need to make a big fuss" he downs the last of his food and leaves, supposedly in a sudden rush.

it doesn't seem like it’s been hours since then, but the moon hangs low, and the crickets sing outside the window in spite of the late hour. despite the passing of time, not a single word has been said between you and your boss about the conversation you had with his brother, and every minute that passes only seems to thicken the tension between the two of you.

"shit" you mumble, mostly to yourself. you didn’t expect him to shoot up from his place, bent down searching through the lower cabinets.

"watch yer mouth" he says, an evident frown on his face, where he would once smile at you and nod in greeting.

"sorry" you reply, lip pouting slightly while you cleaned off your finger with a paper towel "just got a papercut" the blood tints the paper red and you wince at the stinging sensation.

"here" he holds out his hand to examine yours, even though you already cleaned most of it off, there's still a slight trickle of blood. he wipes it out with the towel he always hangs on his shoulder.

as he cleans your hand, he can't help but think about how it'd look so pretty wrapped around his cock. it would certainly bring more relief than his fist after all this time he's spent thinking about you while stroking himself late at night.

it’s not the first time thoughts like these cloud osamu's mind, but this time he's a little less discreet about it. he stares at your hand like he wants to devour it, and you'd be a fool not to notice it.

"samu?" you call out to his faraway mind, and he snaps out of his thoughs, loosening his grip around your hand.

"right" he mumbles, clearing his throat "sorry"

"thank you" you almost whisper, if he wasn't so close to you, he probably wouldn't have heard it.

he turns and goes back to the cabinets, thinking about what you answered earlier. you'd never what? had sex? were you that uncorrupted?

it would make sense to him, and it would help ease the pain of seeing you let his brother flirt with you like he wasn't even there, but those are all selfish reasons he wants to believe, and he's too scared to ask.

apparently not scared enough.

“what were ya talkin’ about with my brother” he asks, nonchalant as ever, making your breath hitch as you turned around hesitantly.

“we were just chatting” you say, the slightest purse on your lips that tried to relieve the nervousness of the conversation.

“sorry about that” he apologizes. “he can be annoyin’ sometimes”

“oh no, he wasn’t” you lie, clenching around the table cloth you held in your hands. even if the talk had been going smoothly, you still felt on edge after the question his brother left you thinking about. “he was really friendly”

“really?” his hands find comfort in his pockets, and if you’d looked close enough, you would’ve seen the slight smirk in his lip, one that indicates how eager he is to hear what you had to say. “then why didn’ you answer his question?”

if only you knew how much it mattered to him, to know if you were a pretty untouched virgin or not. osamu miya likes to go for girls like you, college girls who look for a quick cashgrab as a part time employee, innocent little girls who unknowingly fall for his charms and next thing you know he’s ruining them with his cock.

but you feel different, you feel delicate. like a pretty piece of porcelain he might break if he continues to toy with you under his calloused hands. yet, he can’t help but think about how perfect he finds your body. perfectly ripe and ready to be filled to the brim with his seed, the perfect age to be plump and round with a child. his child.

“does it matter?”

oh, it does, especially when he pins you against the counter and grips your cheeks between his thumb and his index finger. “samu?” you ask, displaying that innocent look on your face he’d grown to hate.

“i told ya to watch yer mouth” his hands roam down your body until they grab at the back of your thighs. “now jump”

“samu i- i’ve never done anything like-“

“i said jump” hesitant with your actions, you jump and wrap your legs around his waist as he settles you on the shop counter, where he takes off your pants and runs a finger over your clothes slit.

“please” you grip his wrist and beg in hopes for him to stop, but he slaps it away, pinning them behind you with his other hand. he slides your panties down your legs and plays with your clit, circling the nub with his fingertips and watching as your expression changes from one of fear to pleasure.

“please what?” his breath shudders against your neck, where he nuzzles his head and finds comfort in your scent. he slowly inserts a finger into your hole, scanning your face and searching for any signs of discomfort, despite him practically forcing you into this position.

you’re not strong enough to answer him, too lost in the way his fingers feel inside you. you’d been too afraid to do anything by yourself, but god did it feel so good when you gave yourself up to him, slightly bucking your hips into his thrusting fingers and arching your back into his frame.

he’s fond of every little expression you make, the bite of your lips, the clench of your thighs around his hand, and the tilt of your head, willingly granting him access to the skin, all for him to mark, bite and suck. all for him to claim as his.

“d’ya like it?” he asks, putting another one of his fingers to use inside your tight walls, feeling them clench and suck his fingers back inside every time he was close to taking them out.

“yes! yes! i-i... mmh!” you can’t even finish the sentence, not only because you’re sobbing and clenching around his digits uncontrollably at the foreign yet pleasurable sensation, but also because his lips suddenly enclosed yours in a hungry kiss.

he didn’t even have to put up a fight with you, pleased to find you let him do whatever he wanted with your mouth. his tongue tangles with yours in a passionate clash of lips, until he pulls away at the feeling of your hips wildly bucking against his hand, a sign of your inevitable orgasm approaching.

“feels weird ‘samu! ‘s-‘samu please!” the implication of your sensations being new to you made his cock strained against his pants, threatening the thick fabric of his jeans to snap if he grew even harder. the tight knot in your stomach finally snaps when he curls his fingers, sending you into ecstasy as your vision blocked out and you moaned uncontrollably loud.

still, after everything, osamu hasn’t forgotten where he is, and he knows his shop isn’t a decent place to lose your virginity. so he puts you down with shaky legs and slips up your panties, catching you before your trembling thighs can treason you and make you fall.

“do ya have a car here?” he says, grabbing his keys from the counter and puts a hand on your hip, guiding you over to the door which he locks before he continues to walk to his car. the dim lighting of the parking made this the perfect spot, if he were to fuck you in his car, no one would see it. but he has self control, or at least he tells himself that.

“no, my friend usually picks me up” he hums an answer and opens the passenger door to his car.

“i live a few minutes from here” he explains “wanna come over?” he asks, fully aware that he’s taking a leap of faith and you could just refuse him. but that’s not the case, and he’s more than happy to see you hesitantly get in his car and put your bag in your lap, covering yourself as much as you can since he ‘forgot’ to give you back your shorts.

the short ride to his house is awkwardly silent, and terribly torturous. his hand had found home in your thigh, and it had only sent an ache between your legs like you’d never felt before, prompting a clench from your thighs every so often.

he wasn’t lying, he only lived ten minutes away from his shop, but the distance seemed so much longer when his lingering touch would leave you high with the need for more.

“you ready?” he asks, holding the door open for you again as he waits for you to take his hand and get out of his car. he’s quick with hoisting you up and wrapping your thighs against his hips, carrying you to his doorway and leading the way to his room. there, he gently placed you on the bed and stripped off his clothing, taking off the apron he should’ve taken off at the shop, his shirt, his pants and—

“eager?” he can see the wanting look in your eyes, he’d be a fool not to notice it. his voice only startles you out of your thoughts, enough to make you stand up and take off your shirt as well, now fully exposed to him if it weren’t for the bra covering up your tits. there’s only so much he can hold back, but right now, with those pretty puppy eyes you unintentionally give him, he just can’t help it when he takes off your bra and slightly suckles at your nipple, circling his tongue around your perky nub and watching your face warm up in embarrassment.

he takes you to his bed again, this time while he plants kisses all over your neck. he’s hungry with the way he nips and bites at the skin, leaving a trail of teeth marks that would need to be covered up in the morning. in the morning, because right now, you couldn’t be bothered to care about anything else other than the way he rutted against you.

his cock already seemed big when he hadn’t taken off his briefs, so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when he slipped them off and rubbed his tip against your clit, right?

he was huge, thick tip dripping precum, with a girth that looked too big to be real, pulsing against your pussy. he positions it against your drooling hole, using your slick to lube up his tip and feeling— metal?

you sit up, leaning against your elbows to see the prince albert piercing that runs along his tip, metal jewelry threatening to slip into your pussy, but you put a hand on his chest to stop him.

“i-it won’t fit!” you kick and shake your thighs around him, only for him to put your ankles together and fold your legs over his shoulder, pinning you down and slipping in the pierced head of his cock. you wince and gasp at the sudden stretch, silenced by his mouth clashing against yours, eagerly nipping at your bottom lip, desperate to drink in all your saccharine moans.

“good girl” he praises, slipping in inch by inch of his cock into your tight virgin walls “fuck- this tight little cunt is suckin’ me in, want ma cock princess? yeah? gonna stuff ya full of me ‘til ya can’t even speak, you’ll just be a dumb baby for me”

“hurts!” your words only drive him closer to shoving himself in one smooth thrust, but he holds back, he sees how much you struggle to take barely half of him, he wants to make this good for you to. he wants to make your first time your best time, the one you’ll remember and think about if you ever fuck another man. he wants to mold your insides to fit his cock perfectly, he wants to train you to be his perfect little girl who won’t find another way to get off if she doesn’t have his cock, he wants you to depend on him to always make you feel good.

“‘s ok princess” he leans down, folding you into a mating press as he kisses your neck and slips in the last of his cock, covered in a thin layer of white sheen. “my good girl, creamin’ around me” he mumbles against your ear while he starts a slow pace into your pussy, carefully rutting his hips into you, almost afraid he would break you. “so pretty”

“please!” you sob, tears stream down your face despite his carefulness, it would break his heart, but he can feel the way your own body betrays you, clenching around him and pulling him in for more of the delicious sensation of his cock dragging against your walls. “so big! c-can’t take it!”

“sure ya can, look” he puts a hand to your tummy, guiding you to do the same as he puts his hand over yours. there’s a small bulge, that appears and disappears whenever he thrusts in and out. “you’re takin’ it so well princess, keep yer hand right there” his other hand starts working tight circles against your clit, making you throw back your head at the sudden sensation.

“no! if you do that i-!”

“what are ya gonna do? cum? clench around my cock like yer doin’ right now every time i praise ya?” you fist the sheets to your sides, anything to relieve the aching between your legs and the tight knot that keeps forming in your stomach again.

“please don’t!” you desperately paw at his wrist, only to be slapped away and for him to increase the speed of his cock, rutting into your with more force. suddenly, the head of his piercing hits a different spot, one that left you gasping for air and arching your back against the mattress. “ah! right there- right there ‘samu!”

“yeah? you like it when i fuck ya right there?” he parrots, angling his hips at the same spot over and over, abusing it until he’s sloppily thrusting into you, on the verge of cumming and spilling all his load into you. “my pretty girl, moanin’ like a bitch in heat, all because i’m makin’ ya feel good”

“yes ‘samu! please please, please m-make me feel good! wanna cum, please!” fresh tears roll down your cheeks as you scream and beg for him, unwillingly rutting your hips against him as you cum around his cock, your high too much for your sensitive body as you whine uncontrollably when he doesn’t stop. you’re too overstimulated to say a word, gone too dumb on his cock to even realize that you’re babbling little nonsense words about how good you feel, and how much you want him.

“dumb lil’ thing” he says, giving one sharp, final thrust before he empties his load between your legs, deep inside you, careful not to move you too much in fear of his cum spilling out of your clenching hole.

he’s right, you are a dumb little thing, because as soon as he pulls out you’re desperately bucking your hips, blindly searching for him in hope he would fill up the sudden emptiness in your pussy, unintentionally spilling all his hard work between your thighs.

“no!” he grunts, slapping your thigh and grounding you to the mattress as you wince in pain, dark color blossoming at the skin where he’d placed the spank. “look what you’ve done, bad fuckin’ girl” he says, the sudden tone shift sends a tinge of fear all over your body, and you’re reduced to nothing but a kin to a stray puppy, a terrible look of guilt in your eyes, even if you don’t realize what you’ve done wrong.

“look at the mess you made” he mumbles, flipping you over and placing ass up “now i’m gonna have to fill ya up all over again”

©️ kaijime 2021 | all content belongs to kaijime, do not modify or repost

[phdmama]

I have a prompt!

Domestic drarry + your smoothie recipe 😌

(Argh so I did this and lost it, so this is a recreating!!)

This is, pretty much entirely SOOC (aka not particularly edited) and I hope it makes you smile! xox

~1100 words, Teen, no cw apply as far as I can tell!

“Why,” Malfoy shouts as he storms into the flat and lets the door slam shut behind him, “does your mother not only think we’re dating, but is telling me that I’m not taking good enough care of you?”

Harry presses a hand to his thundering heart. 

“What the fuck, Malfoy. You just scared the shit out of me. And what now? My who? What?”

“Your mother,” Malfoy enunciates. “Molly Weasley. Just cornered me at the coffee shop to tell me that you’re looking too thin and it’s my job to take care of you. The job that I am, apparently, not doing to her satisfaction.” He pauses and then hisses, “What the fuck, Potter?”

Harry stares at him. “Back the fuck up,” he says firmly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Malfoy drops onto the couch next to him. “I was at the coffee shop. Here, by the way,” and he thrusts out a grease-stained bakery bag. “I got you a croissant.”

“Thanks,” Harry says, completely lost now.

“And Mrs Weasley was there, and you know how she terrifies me, Potter. She said hello. She hugged me, told me, and I quote, ‘she couldn't be happier,’” — his air quotes are vicious — “but that you’d been looking too thin and now that we’re partners…” His voice trails off and they stare at each other.

“What,” Malfoy says precisely, “the fuck did you tell her?”

“Um,” Harry says, thinking back to his usual Friday night supper with the whole Weasley crew. “I told her we were partners now.”

“At work,” Malfoy says urgently. “Did you say the words ‘at work,’ Potter?”

“I, err.” Harry slumps back. “I mean, maybe?” They blink at each other. “Probably not, actually. You know I’d been up for like, three days straight on that fucking stake-out and then Arthur gave me gin.”

“So, you were drunk?”

Harry sighs. “I was a little drunk.”

There’s a long pause as they both contemplate the horror of having to break Molly Weasley’s heart as she’s spent the last ten years trying to get Harry wedded and bedded, and at this point, apparently, she’s not picky. 

“I think,” Harry says slowly, scrunching up his face as if that will help his memory, “I said something like, ‘oh hey, I’ve got news, Malfoy and I are partners now.’ And then I had to wee so I went to the loo.” 

“You didn’t think,” Malfoy says icily, “about how that might sound? How the term ‘partners,’”  —  again with the savage air quotes — “might be open to interpretation?”

“No,” Harry says honestly. “I knew what I meant. And also, gin.”

“Gin,” Malfoy echoes morosely and heaves a sigh. “Okay, fine.”��

He gets up and wanders into the kitchen.

“Um,” Harry calls after him, “what are you doing?”

Malfoy pokes his head back out. “My job.” He gives Harry a critical once-over. “She’s not wrong, actually, you are looking a little peaky, so I’m going to make you a smoothie. Eat your fucking croissant.”

“Will it be that banana peanut butter smoothie?” Harry asks eagerly and he can almost hear the eye roll from the kitchen.

“Fine,” Malfoy says, and a few minutes later, Harry hears the blender go on and then, after it quiets, the sounds of drawers and cupboards being opened as Malfoy finishes prepping what is truly the most delicious smoothie Harry has ever had.  “I’m not fucking bringing it to you, you come in here and get it.”

“Fine,” Harry says and heaves himself to standing. 

He walks the three metres into their postage-stamp-sized kitchen to accept the mason jar filled to the brim with the creamy concoction, complete with reusable straw because Malfoy cares about the ocean and stuff. He takes a sip, and then another, because Malfoy’s banana-peanut butter smoothie is actually the best thing he’s ever tasted, and then sets the jar aside, moves in close, cages Malfoy in up against the counter.

“We should tell them,” he murmurs, before pressing his lips to that specific spot on Malfoy’s neck, the one Harry knows makes Malfoy weak. “Molly. Kingsly. Everyone. We should tell them.”

Malfoy groans as his head tilts back, an involuntary reaction at this point to the heat of Harry’s mouth on his skin. One hand reaches out and anchors onto Harry’s hip. 

“Don’t fucking stop.”

“I won’t,” Harry murmurs, pressing kisses and sharp nips into Malfoy’s delicate skin. “I just can’t hide it anymore. How I feel. What we are.” He boosts Malfoy up onto the kitchen counter, experience having taught them both that it’s the perfect height for Malfoy to wrap his legs around Harry’s waist. “Please, Draco. Can we? Can we tell them?”

“Yeah,” Draco whispers and pulls Harry impossibly closer. “Yeah, we can tell them.”

So Harry kisses Draco and thinks things like I love you and always and I will never not choose you, and then, because Harry Potter is many things but stupid is not among them, he drinks his smoothie and blows Draco right there in the kitchen, and imagines getting to have this. Getting to keep this. Forever.

Draco is leaning back, bracing himself on his elbows, chest heaving as he tries to recover. 

“I think,” Harry says seriously, “I’d marry you for the smoothie alone.”

“Fuck’s sake,” Draco gasps, “It’s literally not that difficult, Potter.”

Harry sits back on his heels, shrugs and wipes his mouth, grabs the jar and takes another drink. “It never tastes as good when I do it. Face it, Draco. I need you.”

Draco tilts his head down and gives Harry a look, that familiar look that’s part exasperation, part amusement, and all affection. “You’re just too damn lazy to make it yourself.”

Harry snickers. “Maybe so,” he agrees. “But after all, apparently it’s your job to keep me from wasting away, and this smoothie is a goddamn good way to do that.”

“If that’s my job,” Draco wonders, as he hops down from the counter and yanks up his joggers before running a gentle hand through Harry’s messy curls, “then what’s yours?”

“Mine?” Harry asks as he gets to his feet and pulls Draco in for a quick, possessive kiss. “Mine is to love you for the rest of your life.” He pauses. “And, mine, obviously,” he adds and the dazed look on Draco’s face sharpens into something closer to joy.

“Obviously,” he agrees.

For the rest of that life, Harry will think back on this moment as the one that changes everything. The moment where the rest of his life truly begins, but for now, he's not thinking about any of that. He has a boyfriend to kiss and a smoothie to drink.

He's got his priorities sorted.

[tvgals]

𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐏 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊.

synopsis: eddie hears some nasty things about y/n from jason, and when they have an argument, things are quickly resolved.

-drabble [?]

cw: BLACK READERS ONLY! IF NOT BLACK YOU WILL BE BLOCKED! arguments, rumors, jason being a dick, eddie having trust and abandonment issues, the boys of hellfire loving you, enjoy <3

EDDIE LOOKED ACROSS the lunchroom, looking for any sign of his girlfriend. that is until his eyes fall on you, but you’re not with your usual group. you’re with the little clique of the basketball team. you said you hated them, so why would you be with them now?

“yeah, and- eddie, are you listening?” dustin asked, noticing their “club president” was focused on something that wasn’t the cult of vecna. “what? yeah of course.” eddie blatantly lies, not even giving the question a second thought.

“no you aren’t! you’ve totally been focused on y/n!” dustin accuses, being completely right. eddie just shakes his head. “i mean, have you noticed y/n has been with jason and his shitheads lately?”

“dude. why does it matter? i know you don’t like them but you know y/n doesn’t like them either.” mike butts in, looking at your uncomfortable expression when talking to the basketball team. his thoughts were nothing short, you look very uncomfortable, and he was right. he looked back at eddie who was getting up from his seat and walking over to the table that sat you and the rest of the team.

“hi eddie!” you greet, yet, you get the back of his head. “jason, i need to talk to you.” says eddie, watching as jason gets up, still laughing with his friends, and then turning to follow him out of the cafeteria.

“what do you want from y/n?” says eddie. “what? i mean sure she’s beautiful but i don’t want anything from her yet.” jason says smirking. yet? what does he mean yet? you’re for eddie and eddie only. “yet? what do you mean by that?”

“i mean i’m gonna end up fucking her one of these days. that she’s already been sucking me off. that’s why you always see her with me.” what the fuck? you would never do anything like that right? right?. eddie stayed silent for a few moments, contemplating what to say. his thoughts were racing, thinking all the awful things that you could be doing with jason. but, you always say he’s yours and you’re his. you’ve been to almost all his gigs, he taught you how to play guitar for fucks sake.

“y/n would never do anything like that. she loves me.” eddie argues, twisting his rings around his fingers. “sure. she thinks you’re a freak too. she says it all the time. she doesn’t love you, she just felt bad for you.” jason says, with a shit eating grin on his face. was this the moment that set eddie off? hell, he doesn’t even know. something fired him in his stomach, causing him to lunge at jason. eddie was seeing red. not even noticing the background noises of some random sophomore noting everyone of an ongoing fight on the back of the hawkins high campus. “holy shit!” lucas yelled, running towards the two. “eddie! get off him!” you yell, hearing your heartbeat in the background of your racing thoughts.

“eddie, please!” you yell, trying your hardest to pry at eddie’s leather to pull him off of jason. it took almost what felt like forever, but you and some of the hellfire members, pulled eddie off of jason and let him cool down. not without glances and stares from everyone else though.

“control your freak!” jason yells, walking back into the school. “eddie. what happened?” you ask frantic, inspecting his bruises. eddie sends glares at the rest of the hellfire club, signaling to leave the two of you alone. once everyone else dispersed, eddie seemed to almost break down at the seems. “eddie, you can tell me what’s wrong.” you reassure, caressing eddie’s cheek with your thumb and pulling his face up. “please” you add.

“have you…have you been doing anything… well, things, with jason?.” eddie almost whispers, tears brimming his eyes aching to escape. he almost doesn’t wanna hear the answer. “what?. why would i..huh?” you ask confused, pulling away from eddie and standing up. you were blatantly confused. why would he think that? jason was just a desperate asshole who didn’t get any fatherly love at home. “have you been doing things with jason.” eddie says, more stern than before. “what? why would you ever think that? do you not trust me?” bombarding eddie with questions. he knew he never should’ve asked this. it was stupid. “no, he just. said some shit..” eddie said, shaking his head. “obviously if you had to ask you don’t trust me. eddie, please. what’s going on?” you pry, sitting next to him and taking in his features. has that scar always been there? all the little freckles and beauty marks.. he’s so beautiful.

“it’s just.. people have left me so many times i just., can’t believe you’re here with me.” eddie confesses, rubbing his forehead, whispering a little “ow” when he pulls to hard, lifting a scar from his cheek. “what can’t you believe sweetheart? i love you for you, the fact you listen to my music, the fact you taught me how to play guitar and didn’t get pissed every time i messed up. you’re the sweetest boy i’ve ever met.” you tell eddie, resting your head on his shoulder, intertwining you two’s hands. “so please eddie. believe me when i say, i love you.” you whisper. drawing hearts on eddie’s hand with your thumb. you were content in the wilderness. the indiana cicadas buzzing in the midst of the humid spring. eventually, you heard the sniffles of a now crying eddie. “ah shit. don’t want you seein’ me like this.” eddie chuckles, feeling you hug his middle section.

“i love you eddie.”

[dracoscene]

Hi friend! Just ran across your work and I love it!! 😍🤍 would you be willing to write something angsty where the reader overhears him talking to Blaise about how clingy she is and decides to give him space only to find out he was taking about Pansy? And then all is good and there so much fluff and love 💕

Crossed Wires | Draco Malfoy x Reader

Contains: angst, kinda mean Draco, FLUFF

A/N: Thank you so so much for the request, hope this is close to what you wanted!

Word count: 1.6k

_______________________________

"She's pathetic, Blaise."

You came to a halt when you heard the familiar voice of your boyfriend.

"No matter where I go, she's there, all the time. Like a bloody dog." His voice was filled with pure hate. It felt as if the blood in your veins froze as the words fell from his lips.

"What do you expect mate, this girl is head over heels for you. Don't you see the drool on her chin everytime you're within a five mile radius of her?"

Draco scoffed at his friend's words. "It's repulsive."

Repulsive. You weren't unfamiliar with those kind of words coming from him. He almost used them on a daily basis; when students ran past him in the hallways, when Crabbe and Goyle stuffed their faces with pastries at dinner, when first years cried after Draco had just threatened to hex them, or when Potter just so much did as breathe. What you were unfamiliar with, was him using those words in connection with you, and it made you feel sick to your stomach.

A tap on your shoulder ripped you from your thoughts, making you flinch. You turned around to see Pansy standing behind you with her hands up.

"Woah there, didn't mean to scare you." She laughed, waiting for a response that didn't come.

Pansy cleared her throat as she re-adjusted the bag on her shoulders. "So, do you think Draco and Blaise are here already?" Shit. It totally slipped your mind that the reason you came here was the study date the four of you agreed on having before dinner. You watched Pansy silently as she took a few steps forward to look around the bookshelf you two were standing next to.

"Found them!"

You didn't care to move, all you wanted to do was just turn around and get out of there, dreading to face Draco after what he'd just said. Still, you followed Pansy to where the boys were sitting.

Your heartbeat skyrocketed when you spotted the blonde already looking in your direction, the annoyance in his face very much visible. Your eyes met for a moment before you felt the urge to look away, feeling small under his gaze.

Confusion was growing inside of Draco when you took the free space on the couch next to Blaise and not him like you usually did. It felt weird doing so, but you were too embarrassed to sit next to him right now, knowing that he probably wouldn't want you to anyway.

Blaise's eyes alternated between you and Draco, trying to figure out what was going on when Pansy dropped her bag with a loud thud before making herself comfortable next to Draco, grinning. "Well then, shall we begin?"

Minutes went by like hours, the only sounds being the turning of pages and the occasional scoffs coming from Pansy when she didn't understand something in the Potions book.

"Draco could you help me with th-"

"No."

Draco didn't even bother to look at the book in front of him. His eyes had been burning into you from the second you sat down next to his friend. You shifted in your seat, staring at that one sentence in your book that you were trying to read for the seventh time now, but you just couldn't focus long enough. Your cheeks were on fire, feeling utterly intimidated by your boyfriends stare.

After what felt like an eternity, Pansy and Blaise started packing up their books. Draco didn't even move a muscle.

"See you at dinner then." Blaise stated before leaving the library with Pansy by his side. You hurried to gather your stuff, trying to catch up to them, but a firm grasp on your wrist stopped you.

"Why are you ignoring me?" Draco's voice was stern, but you could still make out a hint of insecurity.

"I wasn't ignoring you, I'm just.. tired I guess? Oh and I've been having this awful headache all day and I don't really want to bother you with that so I think I should just g-"

"I'm not stupid, y/n." he cut you off. "I know when something's up with you. What is it?"

You didn't know what to say. Confronting him about what you heard would've been the mature way to handle things, but you were hurt. Hurt about the way he talked about you, and especially how he did it; behind your back. So, you removed your hand from his grasp and looked up at him. "I'll go now. I know you don't want to have me around anyway, so don't act like you care."

You left, leaving Draco completely baffled. If you wouldn't have been in such a hurry to get away, if you would've looked a little more closely, you might have seen the effect your words had on him.

He did care. A lot.

__________________________

Draco knew you probably wouldn't want him to sit next you during dinner, that's why he did exactly that. He wasn't just going to let this go, so he plopped down next to you.

Your whole body tensed up, and Draco noticed.

The poor boy was confused as ever, you could almost see his brain working with high speed, thinking of every encounter and every conversation with you he had that day, trying to figure out what in the world he's done that made you avoid him.

Confusion turned into frustration real fast when he just couldn't seem to think of anything.

"This is ridiculous, y/n." his voice was barely above a whisper, but the desperation in it was loud and clear. "Will you just tell me what the bloody hell is going on?"

Draco's eyes followed your every move as you turned to look at him. "Can we go somewhere else?" your voice was shaking and you could feel a lump forming in your throat.

He gave you a quick nod before standing up and taking your hand to lead you out of the Great Hall. Pansy called out his name when you two walked past her, but Draco simply waved her off.

The laughter and chatting of students stopped when the doors closed behind you. He led you a little further away with your hand still in his. You felt your heart pounding in your chest when he turned to look at you, it was beating so fast you were scared he might hear it.

"Will you talk to me now?" his thumb started caressing the top of your hand when he saw how nervous you were, as an attempt to calm you down. "I need to know what's going on, did I do something?" "What happened?"

Tears fiilled your eyes when you replayed the words in your head.

"She's pathetic."

"Like a bloody dog."

"Y/n?" his soft voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

"I heard what you said." You tried your hardest to keep your composure. "In the library, about how I'm always with you and how pathetic you think that is." Your voice broke at that last part.

Draco's face fell when he realized that you thought his words were directed to you. Thinking about how hurt by his words you must've been made his heart break.

"Darling." he breathed out, gentle hands cupping your cheeks as he used his thumb to wipe away the single tear that fell from your eye. "I wasn’t talking about you."

You furrowed your brows as confusion replaced the hurt look on your face. "Huh?"

"It was Parkinson I was talking about, she's been bothering me the whole bloody day."

You felt your face heat up in embarrassment, the color of your cheeks became a crimson red, which you tried to hide as best as you could by covering your face with both of your hands.

Draco let out a laugh as he took your hands into his and pulled you into a hug, his head resting on yours. "I'm so so stupid, oh my god." your voice was muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

"Sometimes." he chuckled while rubbing soothing circles on your back with his hands. "You should know better than to think I’d ever talk about you like this, love."

"I know, I'm sorry." you lifted you head and looked up at him through wet eyelashes, hands resting flat against his upper body.

"Merlin y/n, I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you." he planted a kiss on your forehead, lingering for a second before you buried your face back into his chest. Your arms draped around his waist, holding fast onto him.

The creaking of doors made Draco's head shoot up, looking in the direction of approaching footsteps. His face turned into a sneer as soon as he saw Pansy turn around the corner, looking for him.

"Draco why aren't you in th- oh. Am I interrupting something?" Her gaze landed on you.

You felt the muscles in Draco's arms flex around your body as he pulled you even closer into his chest like he was trying to protect you from her prying eyes.

"For fucks sake, Parkinson. Get lost." he snapped at her, voice brimming with venom. This was all it took for Pansy to leave as fast as she came.

Draco scoffed before he let one arm fall to his side, leaving the other one around your waist to keep you close.

"Pathetic, isn't she?" You leaned into him, smiling. Draco couldn't help the laugh that escaped his lips at your statement.

"Hey" he grabbed your chin, lifting it so you were looking at him. "I love you, always will. You know that, right?"

You gave him a reassuring nod before planting a kiss on his lips. "Love you too, Dray. More than anything."

[hotwings0203]

Meeee. I want a longer version of the voyeur deku and bully kacchan. but in kacchan's pov tho. 💜💜💜👀

My dear anon. You ask and so you shall receive 💓

Pt.1, Pt.2

Tw: implied gangbang, stalking, implied noncon

If there’s one thing Katsuki Bakugo hated more than Deku, it was you.

No, actually, scratch that.

He couldn’t stand you around Deku.

As his childhood friend-or rival, whatever the fuck you wanted to call it, Bakugo knew Deku like the back of his hand.

He knew how he liked his breakfast, eggs runny with cheese and pepper sprinkled in the middle. He knew how crazy he could be as a fanboy for All Might, collecting over 500 antiques of the hero. He knew how he liked spring better because then he could stand under the Sakura trees and close his eyes in bliss while the petals floated softly down on his face.

He knew how he liked to steal your panties and jerk off to them.

He knew that his favorite position to watch him rape you from the front so that he could see every expression while you were filled to the brim with cum.

How the fuck could you be so blind?

Did you not notice the way your undergarments slowly started to vanish, one by one? Did you not realize who’s handwriting it was when you found yet another threatening yet lewd note in your locker? You had to actually be brain dead to not catch on to how he was always the last person out, just to trail behind and watch how your ass swayed when you walked out of the classroom.

But no, apparently you were even more stupid than he thought.

Because instead of correctly matching a face to actions, you thought him, Bakugo fucking Katsuki was the one doing all of this.

He supposed he couldn’t actually hold it against you though. I mean, he was the one slipping a hand up your shirt when you were walking out said door, he was the one who was shoving you against the lockers right when you were about to unlock it and find the notes, and he was the one who tore your panties in two, dangling them in front of your face while you pleaded for him to give it back. He never did, of course, he simply threw them over his shoulder and proceeded dragging you away so he could fuck you in privacy.

But he guesses there wasn’t much privacy if he was being watched all the time.

It was actually pretty typical of Deku. To leech off of what he left behind and try to claim it as his own. First his All Might obsession, then his shoot style, and now you? It’s pathetic, but typical.

He should’ve realized it wasn’t the shadows moving in the corner of his eyes when he was buried to the hilt inside your warmth. When the hairs stood at the back of your neck in the showers, it wasn’t because he was fucking you dumb, it was because someone else’s moans were in synch with his.

But it’s okay, because he knows and you don’t. He knows how the dweeb looks at you, how he sports a tent in his pants when you innocently lay a hand on his shoulder, he knows why your window is broken even though you fell asleep with it intact.

He catches Deku one day. He catches him red handed like the little rat he is.

It was so easy, too, the green haired little shit follows him around like some lovesick puppy anyways. Sometimes he can’t tell if he’s following you or himself.

You walk home from your night classes one evening, when the night is darker than your own shadows and the stars barely dust across the sky. No one else is around, and so you clutch your bag a little more tightly against you whenever you hear a leaf or a start car rustle in the trees surrounding your path back to the dorms.

Bakugo knows your schedule, of course. You take English and Statistics in the morning and save Quirk Training for the evening when you’re the most tired-a stupid plan, in his opinion.

Or at least he thought, at first. Turns out that you’re the easiest to follow when you’re spent and covered in bruises from being thrown against rocks and burned by fire from class. He wishes he could’ve seen you in person when that all happens, but it doesn’t matter when you’re stumbling down the cobblestone path towards your dorm, deaf and blind to any person that might be right behind you.

You just want to go home, he can accept that. Especially when he can so easily trail after you, merely 20 feet away on the same path as you. No one would suspect he’s up to no good from the leisurely way he strolls with his hands in his pockets, and he would bet his entire life that you wouldn’t waste a second to turn around and check your surrounding in favor of hurrying up to your room so you can sleep the aches away.

He might be subtle, but Deku isn’t.

The fucker hides in the bushes and almost crawls like a bug in the foliage after his two favorite people. It’s not even a clever disguise because his hair is three shades lighter than the leaves on the thickets.

Bakugo can hear the twigs snap and rustle as he bumbles around trying to be inconspicuous. He rolls his eyes and turns around, a deep scowl on his face.

“You’re not fooling anyone you bastard. Get the fuck out here right now before I blast you away.”

It doesn’t even take a full three seconds before Deku’s head meekly pops up and he gives a weak smile.

“H-hey Kacchan. Nice to see you here, I just dropped my papers-“

“No you didn’t. How long have you been following us?”

Deku blanches and slowly lifts his eyes to meet Bakugo’s. His mouth might’ve tried to open and refute the accusation, but when he saw the subtle smirk in the latters eye he found himself caring less about being caught.

“Howd you know?”

“You fuckin’ kidding me?” He scoffs and takes a quick glance back at you to ensure that you hadn’t walked too far off. You were still slowly trudging away, an easy distance for him to cross. “You’re about as stealthy as my quirk you freak.”

Deku laughs nervously and scratches the back of his head, also trying to quickly turn his head to see where you are.

“You likin’ the show so far?”

“Huh?” The green haired boy snaps his head back to him, blushing furiously now.

“You heard me. And don’t pretend to be so scandalized, you’re not holier than thou.”

The low voice to an almost predatory tone makes Deku drop the act. He straightens up a bit taller and his eyelids lower, his brows raised in a mocking sneer of some sorts. His lips curl and his teeth gleam in the moonlight, almost looking like fangs.

Bakugo has to remind himself for a moment not to back up a step.

“Yeah, I’m likin’ it.”

“I knew it. I bet you watched us every time we fucked, you bastard. Next time I’ll make you pay for front row seats since that’s where you always seem to be.” He crosses his arms and stares Deku down.

But the other doesn’t cower. Instead, his expression morphs into that of a weird hopeful look.

“I wouldn’t exactly say fucked is the right word. I’d say raped is better, Kacchan.”

It’s the utter confidence and ease in which he says this that makes Bakugo do a double take, his scowl breaking for a moment.

But he regroups. He knew this little shit was weird and fucked up, but he didn’t realize he was twisted beyond repair. In reality, he knew he was actually having sex with you without your full consent but hearing it from a guy like Deku made it so much worse.

It made his heart pound a little faster, while it made Dekus mouth water.

“Yeah? You liked watching me motorboat and fuck her tits? You liked hearing her scream for me, scream to get away from me too?”

And even in the shadows from the trees he can see how hard the degenerate nods his head eagerly like a dog waiting for its bone.

Even though he doesn’t like how the glint in his eyes darken with each vile word coming from his own mouth, he can’t help but go further down this rabbit hole and see how much Deku can take before he snaps-he’s never seen him so hungry for something before, except for when he would be around All Might.

So he eggs him on.

“I bet you got off on watching her struggle underneath me, didn’t you?” It’s less of a question and more of a statement to which Deku confirms.

“I did. I got off so many times I thought I’d have to get it checked out. But honestly, I think you could do better.”

Katsuki wasnt expecting that response.

“Who the fuck are you to-“

“Have you ever really savored the look of fear in her eyes? Have you ever tied her up and really played with her?”

His voice gets stuck in his throat as Deku continues.

“She’s pretty when you fill her up, but I can’t help but wonder..what would she look like with every hole plugged?”

He has no right looking so shy and nervous when such filth leaves his salivating lips. A drop of spit falls to the cobblestone and as Bakugo grimaces and steps back a bit, he realizes that he has not given his childhood rival as much credit for being a creep than he actually is.

“No fucking way. You better not be suggesting you get in on any of this action. She’s fuckin’ mine and I’ll be damned if I have to share her with some useless fuck like you.”

“I promise I won’t be useless, Kacchan. I’ll make sure to keep her moving at all times. She won’t stop bouncing when I’m with her, please, please let me give it a try too.”

And when he doesn’t look convinced, Deku rambles on like a madman. “I’ll even gag her with her own bloodstained panties so that she can shut up and I can focus better. I won’t ask you for her pussy either, I’ll take her ass or throat instead if you want!”

Katsuki wishes he didn’t hear the childhood boyish eager in his voice as he spoke.

He also wishes his dick didn’t get quite so hard when all of that was said.

“God, just shut up already, she’s getting farther now. Okay look, I’ll let you give it a go this one time only so that I can fuck her in peace without you staring at my ass the entire time.”

Dekus eyes light up and he lifts a leg over to step over the hedges. “Really, you mean it? I can fuck her too?”

Bakugo snarls and turns away, heading towards the same path you took. “Whatever, just don’t think this is gonna be a regular kind of thing. I worked hard to get myself a toy and I’ll be damned if you fuck it up for me.”

And when they both join the other towards you, there’s a moment when you glance back that you think the shadow that has been following you this whole time has turned into two.

[yuujism]

Spoiled (fushiguro megumi x reader)

REQUEST:  Can I get a dom megumi x fem reader fic where the reade is being a HUGEEE brat & megumi has no choice but to break her

| PAIRINGS:  dom!fushiguro megumi x fem!reader

| WARNINGS: rough megumi, brat reader, dom/sub, lil bit of dacryphilia oop, explicit language, degradation, unprotected sex (be safe)

| WORD COUNT: 1,647

A/N: so... back to uhhh megumi having a thing for making you cry uhmm 😳 i kinda see megumi as a more soft kinda dom?? idk if that makes sense because he really likes to please you but when you get too need or too annoying he just snaps and goes feral?? yeah anyway lol i hope you like it and it’s what you expected! enjoy!!

Megumi was usually patient with you.

He knew you were quite loud at times when you were with him, reaching the point of being needy, always wanting his attention on you and only you. Even if these occasions weren’t common, He always spoiled you whenever you wanted, rewarding you with the best orgasms of your life. 

However, the moments when you wanted his full attention on you became more and more recurrent lately.

Your small hands made their way under Megumi’s shirt, caressing his bare chest as your lips pressed against his neck while he was studying some book about curses. You wanted him. You heard a small, deep sigh and you smirked; It was working. In the other side, Megumi began to feel something igniting inside of himself, a feeling that came close to how he reacted when his friends were noisy.

Annoyance.

“Please~” Your hands came out of his shirt, walking around him until you were in front of him. You were brave enough to take his book out of his hands, placing it on his desk as you sat on one of his knees, legs on each side of it. You smiled in your mind, praising yourself for wearing a skirt that day. His eyes met with yours, a stoic expression you were too focused on changing into a pleasure one. “Megumi, I need you.”

What was it? He couldn’t find the words to describe you right now.

And as he watched you run your hands over his torso until they were about to reach his jeans, a serious expression never leaving his face, jaw clenched, it finally hit him. The words came to his mind as you tried to get some friction for relief, moving against his thigh like-

 “A spoiled brat.” 

Before you could even react to his poisonous remark, one of his hand was already holding you by the back of your neck, pushing you towards him as his lips captured yours roughly. Megumi swallowed each of your moans as his free hand guided your movements against his thigh, already feeling the wetness passing through your underwear and staining his jeans.

When he pulled away, you lingered for more, to stay close to him like that again, but Megumi had other plans. His hand grabbed your chin, his thumb making its way inside your warm mouth as he pressed you down even harder, all the friction going directly to your clit and filling the room with your muffled moans.

“You always have to get away with everything, don’t you?” Megumi’s voice was low and full of annoyance, watching as your tongue played with his thumb and some of your saliva started running down your chin. “Look at you. Can’t even keep your fucking drool inside your mouth. Are you that desperate?”

You could only shake your head no and something inside Megumi snapped. So you were just going to interrupt his study session and then pretend like you were all innocent? He’s had enough with you being needy and he was going to show you.

The way Megumi manhandled you to the bed was new to you, already missing the friction you were getting by his thigh. He placed you on your knees and you looked for support by placing your hands on the headboard, feeling his heavy presence behind you as your skirt was lifted to reveal your underwear and ass.

“Fucking brat.” Megumi let out an almost animalistic growl when his fingers traced your clit over your clothed cunt, his thumb playing with your entrance as you clenched around nothing, whining as your hips pushed back subconsciously. “You’re this wet already from riding my thigh? God, you really wanted to get fucked, didn’t you?”

He wasn’t giving you a chance to answer his question, expertise fingers pushing your panties to the side to finally slip two fingers inside your core, the stretching sting making you moan loudly in pleasure. The squelching sound of your wetness being fucked by his fingers was lewd, and Megumi took notice of this as his free hand unzipped his jeans.

“You’re so messy I could just slide my cock inside you, make that pussy cream all over me.” Megumi brought his chest to press against your back, fingers curling inside you and rubbing that sweet spot you both knew too well. He smirked against your ear as you pushed your head back, a sob coming out of your mouth. “Tell me how much you want my cock to fuck you raw.”

You could feel it. The way the tip of his hard cock was already pressing against your ass cheek. The way Megumi was so turned on he was annoyed. And you could also already feel the way he was going to ruin you. He was already ruining you with his fingers and words alone.

“Megumi, I-I want your cock, please!” You looked over your shoulder at him, tears prickling around your eyes as his fingers kept abusing your cunt, hips trying to meet his thrusts. “Please, Megumi, please I...” A throaty moan interrupted your own words as his fingers slipped out of you suddenly, leaving you with emptiness.

“Not so brave now, huh?” Megumi mocked you as his cock started pushing against your entrance, sliding inside you to the brim in a swift motion. Tears started running down your face thanks to the stretch and the pleasure you were feeling, not being able to hold back your moans anymore and Megumi loved it. “Go on. Tell me how desperate you are for a good fuck.”

His hips started thrusting slow and deep, making you feel every inch of his cock sliding in and out of you. Megumi smirked when he could already see your juices coating all over his shaft. You could only tighten your grip on the headboard, face falling down as your hips pushed back, trying to feel more of him.

“No, no.” His hands gripped your hips, not allowing you to move anymore and you almost complained but you knew better than to do that right now. “You think you can just interrupt me,” This particular thrust went harder, making you go forward and letting out a yelp. “ride my thigh like a desperate slut,” He almost slipped out of you before thrusting again, punctuating his own words with his movements. “and think you can just take control while I fuck you?” Another thrust had you whining loudly, trying to look back at him with a blurry sight by your tears.

“M-Megumi, I’m sorry, please, I need your cock I just-“ The sight of your pink cheeks covered by your tears almost made him explode right there and then, hands gripping your face to make you look at him as his hips started slamming against you in a quick pace. 

“That’s it, baby. Cry for me.” Megumi moaned, his fast and deep thrusts had the tip of his cock rubbing against the sweet spot inside of you as you struggled to keep your eyes open, balls slapping against your ass. “Take my cock like the slutty brat you are.”

And, oh, were you enjoying every moment of this. The way his hands were gripping your face so roughly and the way his cock kept abusing your cunny was driving you insane. Your hold on the headboard was getting weak and when Megumi let go of your face, your body gave up, falling to the mattress, head pressed against your pillow.

Megumi’s hands gripped your hips tightly enough to bruise as he kept fucking you hard and fast, your sobs and moans only pushing him to keep going. You were close. And he could feel it by the way you were clenching around him.

“Tell me you love my cock.” One of his hands grabbed you by the hair, pulling your head back so he could hear you moaning his name more clearly. When he was only met by the slapping noises of your bodies and your loud cries of pleasure, Megumi circled his hips inside you, making you roll your eyes to the back of your head. “Say it, brat. And you better keep crying.”

“I love- love your cock s- much” You babbled out, hands fisting the shits as he kept with his ravishing pace. Megumi couldn’t help but let out a chuckle, watching you get drunk off his cock.

It was just to much. You were so close and gone you felt like passing out if he kept fucking you as hard as he was. Your pussy clenched around him, almost as if your body didn’t want to let him go for even a second, hips trying to meet his movements. You almost screamed when his hand snaked under you, reaching your clit to rub circles around it.

“You gonna cum? Gonna cream all over my cock as I keep fucking your bratty cunt? C‘mon, baby. C’mon, cum around me.”

And his encouraging words plus the attention in your most sensitive part were enough to make you see starts, cumming around him like he told you too as his name fell out of your mouth like a mantra. His hips stilled deep inside you, enjoying the moment of your clenching walls.

“Good girl.” He kissed the back of your shoulder as you were coming down from your high, your cunt sensitive enough that the smallest movement of his cock inside you threw you into overstimulation. And the way Megumi turned you around still impaled on his cock made you cry out, legs wrapping around his waist “But I’m not done with you yet.” 

“F-Fuck!” You moaned as his fingers met your clit once again, arching your back and trying to pull away from his touch.

“You wanted my attention, baby,” Megumi smirked, hard cock throbbing inside you as he slipped out again. “And that’s what you’re going to get, you spoiled brat.”

[missinghan]

cold sun ⤖ han jisung

❖ genre : soulmate au; fluff; angst

❖ word count : 2,6k.

❖ warning : slight swearing

❖ summary : in a world where one will lose something if their soulmate doesn’t reciprocate their words of love once they turn sixteen, jisung is willing to take the risk so you won’t have to bear the burden.

❖ note : i just realized how i always tend to write for jisung when i'm down :')) anywho this piece is a little different than what i usually come up with but i hope y'all enjoy it ♡

It’s the first day of the week.

“Hey, Y/N. I like you!”

And Han Jisung is really annoying.

Those words come out so easily. It's casual in a way that makes you bury your red nose deeper into the soft fabric of your scarf, which makes your footsteps quicken unknowingly as his voice chases after you loudly. Either way, this isn’t the first time Jisung has said so. In fact, it’s become a habit for him to remind you every other day.

There’s no particular reason why. Or at least that’s what you think.

It’s the end of the week. Jisung decides to hang himself upside down on your bed while you’re stressing over a presentation. “Hey, Y/N.” A cold winter breeze comes rushing against the perplexing glass of your window, shaking the frame violently before all motions come to silence.

Until, “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,” he creeps up from behind you and chirps into your ear.

“What?” you let out a groan of displease when tempting warmth embraces you whole, prompting you to drop your attention and looking over your shoulder.

Jisung pouts, “You didn’t answer me.”

“It’s because you’re annoying,” you sigh.

“Answer me when I call your name,” he pulls you in a fraction tighter, careful enough not to hurt you but firm to not let you slip away at the same time, and cradles your neck warmly, “So I’d know that you’re still here with me.”

“Alright, stupid.”

The all too familiar gummy smile returns instantly. “Hey, Y/N?”

And you can’t help but roll your eyes. “Yes, Jisung?”

“I like you,” he giggles into the hug, “I like you a lot.”

Han Jisung really is annoying.

He’s annoying because he talks too much. He’s annoying because of how he always asks for your notes after a gaming night with Felix just to nap in class. He’s annoying because he’d drop you in a heartbeat for a single slice of cheesecake from Jeongin’s mom’s bakery. He’s annoying because of how well he can get along with everyone.

Chatty, down-to-earth, easy-going with a lovable smile—attractive, very attractive.

It’s the week after that. “What...happened?”

“He lost his voice,” Jeongin sighs, looking like he genuinely wants to facepalm himself against concrete while walking with an incoherent Jisung to school; expressive hands with his mouth agape and all.

You tilt your head, “...for real?”

“For real.”

After a few seconds of eyeing Jisung struggling with converting what’s in his head, you exhale deeply and quickly rummage through your backpack, “Just stop, you look ridiculous.” And he does just that, zipping his mouth metaphorically and giving you those typical puppy eyes. “Here, use this.”

His eyes light up like stars when you rip off a page from one of your notebooks and offer it to him along with a pen. Truth is, you’re expecting something as predictable as ‘I like you’ or ‘It’s alright it’s just the worst cold I’ve ever caught’. But then, what’s displayed on the piece of paper right now only baffles you.

Park is going to murder you if he sees some uglyass tear in your Ochem notes :)

A forced grin splits your lips open. “Not if I murdered you first and then the entire school and then myself.”

The first genuine smile blossoms on his lips when you give him a mini-sized notepad and pencil the day after—his sixteenth birthday.

And Jisung decides this is it.

It happens when the sun hasn’t even come out yet and the irritating blue light from his phone reads 5:32 AM.

It happens when he sees your reclined figure leaning back against his mattress, his pupils tracing your delicate features. Perplexed emotions fill his eyes to the brim, fulfillment bursting within his chest when you stare right back at him with such purity. So pure that it seems you can do no harm to him and neither can he.

“Hey stupid,” you murmur quietly, shoving a notepad and pencil against his chest, “Happy birthday.”

Jisung gives you a bright smile, opens his mouth, and snaps it close mere moments later. Sixteenth birthday. Early in the morning. Tired grins. The fondness of being so disgustingly in love.

He can’t help but lean in and caves into the taste his soul has longed for as long as he can remember.

Two weeks have passed since Jisung has lost his voice.

Nothing has differed if you’re being completely honest. Han Jisung is still annoying. His lack of ability to speak doesn’t appear to be a problem to him at all. He loves chatting with people even though he’s more of a listener now. But with the small notepad you gave him a few days ago, being socially active is the norm for him even now.

Thanks to his rather short-period experiences of observing people’s expressions and how their features contort in certain ways when they’re feeling certain emotions, Jisung catches onto your mood more quickly during bad days to help you release your inner turmoil by scribbling down something stupid on the notepad. It’s kinda nice like this, you’d think to yourself sometimes.

Other times, you’re more scared that you might have forgotten what his voice sounds like.

“No wonder you got a fucking cold. Stop taking midnight showers already.”

You wave Jisung over when he closes the wooden door to your bedroom, droplets dripping from his hair as he scratches his stomach tiredly. His hair is a mess when he lazily crawls onto your bed, the cushion beside you dips slightly.

His index finger pointing at his post-shower head and a shit-eating grin are all you need to snatch the white towel around his neck.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” you mumble while rubbing the cotton fabric into his hair, “But you’re awfully upbeat for someone who’s lost their voice. Can’t you at least pretend to be sad about it?”

A noise of protest escapes his throat like second nature as your eyes carefully read the quick movements of his mouth. “And can you not be so mean to someone who’s lost their voice?”

A faint smirk creeps its way up to your lips. “Still like me now?”

Jisung thinks hard for a few moments before jumping out of bed to snatch his notepad from your studying area. Of course, I like you. I like you a lot. Your heartbeat momentarily spikes at his scrawny handwriting. Just when your gaze is averted away to cool the blush on your cheeks, he tugs at your sleeve again and points at a different mess of scribbles. You’re more gentle when I’m like this. And you’d always find me if I ever got into trouble. What’s there for me to be sad about?

“Annoying little shit,” you swallow your pride and let him settle his head against your chest.

His presence melts into yours during the hardest hours of the twenty-four, heartbeats on heartbeats and warmth on warmth. Your one regret is that you’re unable to register his tears that night, only the incoherent, breathless hiccups almost as to desperately call out your name.

It’s been a month since Jisung’s lost his voice. And the night when he kisses you for the second time, his notepad is long forgotten next to your pillow.

I-can’t-talk. Give-me-a-break.

Jeongin. Cheesecake. Please? Pretty please?

I’ll fucking kick you.

Wait, there’s homework?!

...so you’re telling me LMAO isn’t how French people laugh?

“This is what you’ve been doing during breaks huh…” you mumble under your breath while lazily flipping through the papers. The occasional ‘I like you’-s do pop up every two pages or so, which is more than enough to make you smile like an idiot. But that is until a peculiar paragraph yanks your attention by its neck and tosses it against a brick wall.

Mom, promise me you’re not going to cry.

He made auntie cry?!

I lost my voice for real now but it wasn’t supposed to be like that at first. I just wanted to mess with Y/N and freak her out for a day.

I’m seriously going to punch him.

She was a lot softer toward me after that, you know. I know it’s extremely selfish of me but I just can’t help being so happy. I’m sorry, mom. I really am.

Han Jisung you fucking idiot.

I was going to surprise her on my birthday by saying ‘good morning’ out loud but nothing came out. My voice was gone.

Guilt, anger, remorse take over you. You knew nothing of this. You never once questioned for a logical reason behind the loss of his voice and kept moving onward as if it’s not that big of a deal. You didn’t suspect it as a kind of prank, either. But you still care, all this time! You have been doing everything in your power as a way for both you and Jisung to treasure himself even if he can’t speak anymore.

I went to a check-up last week. Nothing came up. I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.

However, without fail, the obnoxious part of you will keep wandering back to the concept of soulmates that has been engraved so deeply into the society you’re living in. It makes no sense to you that Jisung lost his voice for no reason right before his sixteenth birthday. This explains it all now.

It’s going to be okay, mom. Because I have Y/N. I know she would come running toward my side over and over again even if she can’t hear me anymore. I really don’t know what I’d do without her in my life.

Jisung knew the penalty for being the first to exchange any words of love yet he still did it. And you were too busy overlooking that stupid pride of yours to say those three words back.

It’s getting to the point where I’m starting to forget what I used to sound like. I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.

Jisung fixes the strap of his backpack, looking up at his mom after slipping into his sneakers. She ruffles his bed head and hands him a small white box with Jeongin’s bakery’s signature logo on it.

He tilts his head in faint confusion, peering at the box of pastry in his arms.

“Give it to Y/N on the bus, okay? Her parents aren’t home right now. You know how she would always skip breakfast when they’re out of town.”

His eyes light up instantly in realization and Jisung nods, preparing to bid her farewell. Just then, his front door comes flying open. It can’t be a mere acquaintance because there are very few people other than his parents and himself who know of the spare key hidden under the welcome mat.

As Jisung turns around, he’s keenly aware of your teary eyes already trained on him. Which in hindsight, makes no sense. As a result, panic rises within the hollowness of his chest, his lips falling agape but no coherent words come out.

“Y/N, sweetheart,” his mom flinches, slightly caught off guard, “Is everything okay?”

A scowl stretches over your contorted features as you shut the door loudly. “What the hell is this?” you question, shoving the familiar notepad into his chest. “A prank? A prank?! Do you think that this is funny?”

Jisung’s frantic eyes move to read the paper and every single color on his face drains tremendously. He easily recognizes the peculiar paragraph by how much lighter the ink is compared to the rest of the messy lines because his pen was running low and his hand couldn’t stop shaking.

Your voice.

His eyes avert back to look at you. His brows furrow timidly and shaky breaths burst from his lips almost like a desperate cry for help. There’s too much he wants to say, too many things to explain, and too many questions running through his head that he can’t process what to do next. He might just overwhelm both you and himself.

I need to hear it again.

And you might not stay by his side this time.

“Okay, don’t answer me then, I guess,” you chuckle lowly, dipping your head and turning around.

Jisung grabs at your sleeve instinctively and drops the pastry box, his gaze empty and all too knowing. Sorrow glazes over his starry eyes when it starts becoming hard to breathe properly. The outlines of his lips are moving non-stop yet nothing comes following after that.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” you rasp out and tug at his hand. Then it hits you. He’s like this because of you. Jisung lost his voice because of you.

His mom cuts into the conversation, “Y/N, you don’t understand!”

“I’m sorry, auntie,” you smile sadly and take off running into the streets.

You, in the midst of your self-loathing and guilt, allow your feet to go wherever they want as your vision spirals into a blur. A single droplet threatens to fall when a forceful hand yanks you back to reality.

It takes Jisung a moment to regain his regular breathing pace. And when he finally gets it, all he can do is call out to you with the same inaudible sounds and the same desperation in his eyes. It seems as though he’s fully aware that the prank was the stupidest, most irrational thing he’s ever done. But there’s more to the ocean within his eyes than just remorse.

“I already told you,” you clench your jaw and slap his hand away, “I don’t fucking know what you’re saying!”

A deep sigh. “Why am I mad? Of course, I’d be mad! It’s because of me that you lost your voice! It’s because I like you, too! Yet I never said it back… You lost your voice because of me! Don't you get it? Why can't you just hate me for the sake of it?!”

You miss his voice. You miss it a lot.

You want to hear it again. You want to hear him call you by your name. You want to stay up late and talk about anything to the ends of the Earth and back with him. You want him to be the obnoxious, chatty Han Jisung you've always known.

You miss how annoyingly loud he is.

“Y-Y...Y/N…!”

Jisung collapses onto his knees, a hand on concrete while the other is on his neck. His chest rises and falls unevenly, muffled noises of discomfort echoing deep down from his throat. Despite that, what you heard just now, is his voice.

“Answer me when I call your name. So I’d know that you’re still here with me.”

“I promised you, didn’t I,” you spread your arms and smile warmly, “That I’d always answer when you call my name. As long as I can still hear you, I will come running toward you over and over again. Doesn’t matter what it takes, doesn’t matter where you are.”

Jisung lifts his head and tears come rolling down on his cheeks. His throat feels swollen when he stutters with difficulties, trying to convey what’s in his head, “Y-Y/N, don’t- don’t go! Please don’t leave me...!”

“Come here,” you close your eyes with the widest grin on your lips, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Only when Jisung grows closer and throws his arms around you, sobbing into your uniform do you convince yourself that all of this isn’t a hallucination. The hug is a lot stronger than what you’d expect. First of all, you nearly fell over from the impact and your arms are pinned so tightly to your sides that you feel like your ribs are going to snap.

Everything is so overwhelming that all you can say is, “Ow.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles into your hair and loosens his arms a bit so you can loop your hands to the nape of his neck and hair.

“You’re so annoying, Han Jisung.”

He purses his lips, sniffling, “You tried to make me snap on purpose. Meanie.”

You quirk a playful brow, “Still like me now?”

“Yeah,” Jisung smiles, “A lot.”

Because he knows that he has you. Until every last star in the galaxy explodes as a supernova, Jisung has you.

[shelbazoidz]

Lady Dimitrescu x Reader, Teacher AU (WIP)

 because I have no self control or shame apparently

Your pen works over the previous day's homework as the clock ticks on the wall. Periodically you'll look up and see Cassandra with her brow furrowed as she erases something. She asked for the first ten minutes to work on the math problems on her own before you helped her. That hadn't been your initial plan but the twelve year old made a convincing argument so you let her work. Although it didn't look like it was going too well. Since there were five more minutes left you still respected her wishes.

"This is stupid!" The sudden outburst nearly makes you jump as you look up from your papers.

"What's wrong Cassandra?" You ask, moving from around your desk.

"Bela and Dani get to go do fun things after school and I'm stuck here because I'm too dumb to do math." Cassandra sits back in her chair glaring down at the worksheet as if it's taunting her. There are frustrated tears brimming in her eyes.

You squat down next to the desk. Her pencil is gripped so tightly you think it might break. You slowly take it from her hand and gently put it down.

"Cassandra, look at me." You say softly but firm enough that she eventually looks up at you with watery eyes.

"You are not dumb. Everyone struggles with something and that's perfectly normal. Okay?"

"Okay." She replies, still sounding sad.

"Can I tell you a secret?" You offer and she brightens a little.

"Yes."

"I struggled with math all the way until college." Your admission has her giving you a suspicious expression.

"You did? But you're a math teacher?" She says a little confused, still looking as if she didn't believe you.

"It's true." You laugh lightly at the questioning gaze. "I finally fell in love with it my first year of college and knew I wanted to teach by my second."

"I don't get people that like math." She looks back to the paper on the desk.

"How about we work through this first problem together?" You test and she chews on her lip before nodding.

"Alright." There's a smile that returns to her face as you start going over the problem.

The rest of your time together goes smoothly and Cassandra is actually able to do the rest on her own by the time you go through the first few together.

"Cass!!" A voice calls and you both look up seeing Daniela come bounding into the room with Bela trailing behind her. "Time to go. Mother is picking us up today." Her words make Cassandra beam. You stand from your seat as she quickly packs all of her things. Once she swings her book bag over her shoulder you grab the keys to your room and motion to the door.

"Come on girls, I'll walk you out." You go down the hallways with the chattering girls in tow, holding open the main door as they file past you. There's a car waiting out front. A woman is leaning against it and your mouth goes dry at the sight of her.

Your mind hadn't even registered that you'd be meeting Lady Dimitrescu right now. The other teachers had mentioned her a few times, always sounding a little fearful. You thought it was ridiculous you had to add 'Lady' to her name, but they urged you that it was a necessity. Now that you're looking at her you couldn't imagine calling her anything else.

She slides the sunglasses off her face and makes eye contact with you. All thoughts leave your mind when that enchanting gaze is on you. Her face is partially shadowed by the hat on her head and you swear it looks like her eyes were glowing for a moment but as soon as you blink it's gone.

"Mother!" Bela shouts, the three girls dash towards her. Lady Dimitrescu smiles fondly at them as they crash into her.

"Hello girls. How was your day?" She greets and is immediately bombarded with three voices talking at once. "Alright alright, I can only listen to one story at a time. We can chat on the way home." She says kissing each of them on the cheek before the girls gleefully pile into the back of the car.

Her eyes look to you again and she comes over. It strikes you how insanely tall she is. She has to be the tallest woman...no person you've ever met. You actually have to tilt your head up to meet her eyes when she's in front of you. It takes all of you to not outright stare at the perfectly tailored white pants suit she's wearing.

"Thank you for walking them out." She says with a smile.

"It wasn't a problem." You reply, surprised at how flustered you are. By the smirk on her lips you know she notices but she doesn't comment on it. Instead her eyes scan over your own attire and you shift a little under that piercing gaze. Something flashes in her eyes but it's gone so quickly you can't figure out what it was.

"Are you new? I don't believe we've met." She meets your eyes again.

"I started a few weeks ago." It's taking all your brain power to remember how to speak.

"You did now?" The velvety smooth tone of her voice has your mind going places it really shouldn't be right now. "What is your name?" She asks.

"Ms...Ms…" You practically forget your own last name when the scent of her floral perfume fills your nose. Eventually the name tumbles out of you. She repeats it, the sound makes your heart flutter a bit.

"Ah, so that's you. It's lovely to finally meet you. I'm Lady Dimitrescu. My girls have spoken fondly of you." She holds out her hand and you pray yours isn't sweating as you take it.

"I'm glad. They're wonderful to have in class." You reply trying to keep your voice steady.

"That's good to hear." She looks down at her watch and frowns slightly as if annoyed to have to leave. "Well I'm looking forward to seeing you again."

"Me too." You reply almost too quickly, mentally kicking yourself. She smirks at you again before placing her sunglasses back on. Wordlessly she walks back around the car and elegantly slides into the front seat.

You didn't know it was possible to be elegant doing something so simple.

She gives you another nod, the girls waving happily at you from the backseat. You smile and wave back as they pull off.

"Holy shit." You finally let out a breath.

Any more interactions with Lady Dimitrescu might actually kill you.

(This is actually out now if y’all are interested)

[volleychumps]

Requesting cheating angst with Kuroo, Iwaizumi, Akaashi, and Atsumu? Rip my heart apart please😌😌♥️

oH SHIT let’s do a remix on the fluff for this one post, everybody- I’m in an angsty mood so uh, eskettit :( I couldn’t make it past Akaashi’s scenario and I had so many breaks, so proceed at your own risk, everyone! 

Turn and Keep Going. (Kuroo, Iwaizumi, and Akaashi) - angst -

TW: CHEATING, CURSING, ANGST- no fr I ugly cried and I wrote it

Kuroo

“Y/N. Where do you keep the extra towels again?”

You didn’t mean to see it. In fact, if you had the choice on whether or not you did- 

you would have chosen not to. 

The phone in your hand became tightened in an iron-clad grip as a chuckle with a nervous tinge to it slipped Kuroo’s mouth, and the world seemed to drown out for a moment. As if the world around you submerged into the water of the sea, where everything you could hear was jumbled as a strange heat flooded your vision, choking your lungs with the salt of the ocean. 

“Y/N?” The garbled voice was questioning now as your eyes stayed glued to the screen, of the naked set of breasts and invites, even worse- 

the accepting replies. 

That was all it took for you to flinch away from the hand that Kuroo had carefully set on your back hunched over the device, the towel he had been using to dry off his hair falling to the floor in a heap of material as the raven-haired boy finally entered your bedroom from his post-practice shower. 

Still, the phone remained tightened in your hand so tight to the point where your knuckles were turning white. 

“Why are you going through my phone?” The accusatory edge to Kuroo’s voice had risen, and so did you to your feet, the device hitting the floor next to the towel as you fight to keep your head afloat.

“How long?” Your voice cracked, no matter how hard you fought the breaking feeling spreading across your chest as Kuroo seemed to still completely, and you didn’t need to look at him fully in the face to know how utterly guilty he looked. 

“W-What do you-?” 

“Don’t.” Your voice was soft, refusing to meet the captain’s eyes now, not knowing just who was standing in your room. 

Not knowing just who was the man now holding your face in his hands, urging you to look at him with his own flood falling on his cheeks as his words remained garbled. Still, you let him. 

“Baby. Kitten-fuck. I don’t know what you think you saw, but I love you! I wasn’t completely there when I-” 

“Fucked her?” Your voice hadn’t risen, eyes glazed over in a haze as Kuroo’s voice hitched. 

“No. Nononono- Y/N, kitten-” 

“T-Tetsurou?” The name felt foreign on your tongue as your head finally rose to meet his, willing everything inside you to hold it back as Kuroo held you tighter, as if his arms would salvage what was falling apart. 

“Get out.” 

“Y/N. Please.” His voice fell to a whisper- 

and the dam broke. 

“I SAID GET THE HELL OUT.” You screamed, falling to your knees as your arms wrapped around yourself, knowing you were all you had in the world at the moment. You saw his legs approach you, before hesitating and turning the other way, clenched fists creating bloody marks in his hands from his fingernails as he complied. 

“And Tetsurou.” You spat just as his legs stall in the doorway, watching as Kuroo’s feral and playful eyes that once painted every edge of your universe seemed to be fighting to remain stable. The captain heard those words, and couldn’t fight the sobs beginning to wreck his body as the voice he loved echoed in his ears with parting words- 

Your voice didn’t crack this time. 

“Don’t come back.” 

Iwaizumi

“She’s a nobody.” 

You jump at the sound of the voice, humorless chuckle slipping your lips as Iwa steps to your side, dark eyes looking tired and void of any light that might had once lit up his dark irises. You look out at the landscape, still looking straight forward as the ace settles next to you, hanging his forearm across his bent knee. 

“How did you find me?” 

“It’s been two years. I know you, Y/N.” Iwaizumi’s eyes bore into your side profile, and more sarcastic giggles make their way past your lips as you hug your knees to your chest, jabbing him where it hurts. 

“Funny. I really thought I knew you, Hajime-” 

“Don’t you start with that shit.”

You lazily finally meet Iwa’s eyes, causing the ace to feel the lump growing in his throat at the amount of light drained from the look of them, mirroring his own. Iwa moistens his lips, trying to get his head back on track as the heat tinges at the sides of his eyes. 

“We love each other, don’t we?” 

“Yeah. We did.” 

Iwa flinches at the past-tense term, feeling his breathing hollow out at the sound of it. 

“We must’ve at some point, right?” All cried-out, you watch the sun seem to slowly sink into the horizon in a mix of color as your eyes soak in its’ prettiness, as if the light from the sun would somehow bring the gleam back to your eyes-

but every time you closed them, all you saw was Iwaizumi fiercely kissing another girl in the passenger seat of her car, fist clenched in her hair as he kissed her with anger from the fight he had with you-

“You do. You love me.” The denial sunk in as you laugh. And you laugh some more as if that were the most idiotic thing in the world. “And I love you, Y/N- princess, we can make this work and get through this-!” 

“I don’t want to, though.” You cut him off, drawing circles in the dirt as you remember the nights teasing Iwa for showing too little emotion- not knowing that the most you would get out of him would be after he stuck his tongue down another girl’s throat. 

“Don’t you get that?” You shake your head, smiling as if you can’t believe it, shoving Iwa’s attempt of holding you off of you as you raise to your feet, soaking in the colors as they fade to a more dark color palate. 

“I don’t give a fuck about some nobody, don’t you get that?!” Iwa’s on his feet now too, and you finally begin to crack as you look out to the horizon, a familiar heat flooding your vision as you smile. 

“Hey, Hajime.” You ignore his cry, prompting the dark-haired boy to look in the same direction you were. “This is where it all started, didn’t it? Where you kissed me, and promised that you would always protect me, right?” 

Iwa’s own eyes brim with frustration as the stinging heat from earlier takes over, feeling the mix of regret and heartbreak begin to settle in as you turn and give him a smile. No sarcastic intention behind it as you close your eyes, Iwa’s eyes widening at the sight of something he’d never get to see again. 

“I guess you really don’t know me, after all.” You smile to the point where its’ painful, spinning on your heel. “I came because I knew you’d find me, not to fix whatever this is, but-” 

You’re turned around now, the sun fading into night as you will your legs to keep walking. 

“To say goodbye to you, Hajime.” 

And so, the dark-haired ace watched as you walked off into the distance and out of his life for a problem he created, yells of frustration enclosed in his throat and the need to punch something ever-so prevalent- 

as the sky above now swirled with dark pigment. 

Akaashi

“Don’t. Don’t go, please.” 

“Keiji, let go.” You tug your arm in an attempt to make the messy-haired boy release you, trembling when he pulls you into his chest, burying his head in your neck as the hot tears hit your skin, prompting you to bite your lip and fight the urge to hold him back as your own eyes burn. If he wouldn’t let you go, then-

You can’t help the vicious words from slipping. “She’s waiting, you should go to her, shouldn’t you?” 

“Stop. D-Don’t say that-” 

“Am I wrong?” Your voice remains stable to your surprise, causing Akaashi to tighten his hold on you even more. “The girl who came out after you in your shower...who is she?” 

“No one! No one, Y/N, you were so far for so long, and-” 

“And what?” You question emotionlessly. “You have needs? You were lonely? Cut the bullshit.” 

“Do you know what it’s been like?” Akaashi’s voice is soft with an angry edge as he pulls back, still holding you in his arms as if to keep you there for an eternity, and for a minute, time does stop- 

and you soak in the reality. Life tore you two apart, distanced yet together, far away yet still part of the same relationship. The blue-eyed boy would never be able to rewind the clock and keep you as his no matter what life hurled- 

“Let go.” 

“Fuck if I do.” 

Your strong exterior begins to crumble as Akaashi watches with now widened eyes as the viciousness drains only to be replaced with sorrow, relief filling his heart when you hold him back just as tightly, your chin resting on his shoulder as your grateful he won’t be able to see what kind of expression crosses your features. 

“Keiji.” You whisper almost child-like, causing Akaashi’s heart to swell with hope until the next words make his heart stop. 

“Eat healthy, will you? I know Bokuto likes to drag you around to all these places, but too much ramen isn’t good for you-” 

“Y/N?” 

“And please, for god sakes, make sure you remember to pick up your suit from the laundromat on Thursdays, I know you’re presentations are usually on Fridays-” 

“Y/N.” 

“Oh, and don’t forget- you always make it a point to drop by Konoha’s for a guy night on the fourth of every month, so don’t drink too much because it gives you a massive migraine in the middle of the night-” 

“Y/N!” 

“And Keiji?” You pull back, corners of your mouth pulled back as you cup his face gently, leaning your forehead against his as Akaashi Keiji freezes in shock as the love of his life, his future, his world- 

Smiles a wordless goodbye, capturing his lips as Akaashi wonders how to turn the hands of time, forcing the laws of nature to bend for his selfish desires as his arms slacken- 

“Be happy.” You whisper, retracting your arms and hands before stepping out of his now weak grip, brushing past him with a finality in your steps as time refuses to stop, Akaashi fighting every instinct on forcing you to stay with him- 

letting you go as the hands of time continue to move along with your steps away from him, the setter lifting a hand to his mouth before he falls to his knees and looks up to the sky- 

wishing he had more hours, minutes, and seconds to see that smile for just a bit longer. 

“Yeah. You do the same, love.”

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

LMAO GO READ SOME OF MY FLUFF IF THIS MADE YOU SAD I’M SORRY 

General works: @takemetovalhalla @kasandrafaye @savemesteeb @dreebbles @yams046

[nastybuckybarnes]

In a Heartbeat  -  Seven

Pairing: Fireman!Bucky X Reader

Summary: You’ve always been careful with your heart. With your condition, you don’t exactly have any other choice. The last time you let someone in, you paid the price. A price you don’t plan on paying again. Until Bucky comes in and shatters your carefully crafted world.

Warnings: Angst, Language, Injuries, Fluff, Fluff, FLUFF

Word Count: 4.1K

A/n: Here she is! Part seven! I’m gonna write a little epilogue but the fic can very well end here! I love this series with my whole heart and soul omg

Series Masterlist

~*~

He’s numb.

So damn numb.

Nothing even matters. His ears are ringing, the bright lights bouncing off the linoleum floors are fucking with his eyes but he doesn’t care because you’ve been in the operating room for hours and all he wants is to see you, to make sure you’re okay.

No one’s said a single thing to him about whether or not you’re okay, and it’s taking all of his self-control not to break down that door and see for himself.

A heavy hand lands on his shoulder, jolting him from his thoughts and bringing him back to the loud sounds of the waiting room.

He furrows his brows at Steve, confused out of his mind until he sees Tommy in his other arm, head resting against his father's shoulder and a casted arm hanging limply at his side.

“Hey Tommy, how you feeling?” The brunet asks, his voice rough and hoarse with lack of use.

The six-year-old only whimpers softly in response, burrowing further into his father’s neck.

“He’s okay. Doctor’s got him on some painkillers. Said it was a clean break from pounding on that window.” Bucky stands up, rubbing his nephew on the back. “You’re a hero, buddy. Just like your daddy.” Tommy sniffles and nods, the sight breaking the man’s heart.

“You should head home for the night, Buck. Shower, rest, then come back in the morning.” He clenches his jaw and swallows hard, shaking his head.

“I-I can’t, Steve. What if... what if she comes out and I’m not here? Or what if...” He trails off, not even wanting to entertain the idea of the other option.

“I saw Nat on her way down here. Ask her for an update and then go home. You’ve had a long day. And when she’s out of surgery she's gonna be upset to see that you’ve exhausted yourself out here in the waiting room.” Steve has a point. Both men are still in their fire gear, having rushed to the hospital directly from the fire.

It’s after midnight now.

“I’m taking Tommy home. Take care of yourself tonight, Buck. If not for you, then for her.” He nods, eyes on the floor as the blond leaves, his son curled up against his side.

“Barnes? You’re still here?” He looks up at the sound of Natasha’s voice, desperation evident on his face as she walks over to him.

“I’ve got no update other than she’s unstable and that they’re doing everything they can. It’ll be another few hours before she’s out of surgery and even then, she’s going straight to the ICU and won’t be awake for at least a day or so.” He lets out a terribly shaky breath but nods, rubbing his eyes then pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Y-you’ll call if there are any updates, right? I’m just gonna pop home and shower and sleep for a few hours but I'll be back first thing in the morning.” She nods, taking his hand and squeezing tightly.

“I’m off for the rest of the night, so I’ll be sticking around bugging the nurses for updates whenever I can. Might even bribe an intern with good coffee, not this hospital shit.” Bucky chuckles softly, shaking his head.

“Okay.” He takes a step towards the exit then hesitates, looking back at the redhead for a. moment. “Do you think she’s gonna make it?” He asks, his voice soft and broken and nearly lost among the sea of people.

Natasha swallows hard and avoids his eyes, taking a deep breath before answering.

“The doctors are doing everything they can.” A rehearsed answer. An answer she gives to relatives to let them know that they shouldn’t expect much.

He says nothing, only gives her a firm nod, then turns and leaves the hospital.

Hot droplets of water rain down on him, washing away the stench of smoke and the physical reminder of the events of the day. But no heat and no water pressure will wash away the sorrow in his soul. The absolute unadulterated fear that grips his bones and seeps into his bloodstream. That is something that won’t be washed away by any amount of water and suds.

His movements are mechanical, scrub, rinse, dry, dress.

The sleep that finds him is restless and fitful, filled with nightmares that will haunt him for nights to come. Every thought, both waking and otherwise, are occupied by you. Your face, your smile, your laugh, and the thought that he may never experience any of them again.

He's back at the hospital at six-thirty, coffee in his metal hand because his flesh one is shaking too much.

Just as he’s walking to the reception desk, he sees Natasha walking towards the waiting room. Her face is unreadable when she sees him, but he notices her take a deep breath.

“What is it?” He asks, not bothering with pleasantries.

“She’s out of surgery. She’s still unstable, hasn’t woken up yet, but she’s been out for about three hours. She probably won’t wake up until this evening.” He takes a few deep breaths then nods, a bubble of relief hugging him tenderly.

“Where is she?” Nat sighs and turns on her heel, leading him towards your room.

“James, I’m not going to sugar coat this for you. She’s not doing well. There’s still a fair chance that she won’t wake up.” She stops, looking up at him with vulnerability in her eyes, tears brimming.

“What is it?” He’s nervous, his heart feels like it’s going to explode.

“They’re saying she needs a transplant. That her heart won’t last for much longer and if she wants any hope of surviving more than a couple years, she’ll need a new heart.”

The air leaves his lungs in a whoosh, almost as if someone punched him in the gut. He stumbles back a step, coffee dropped and hands coming to the tops of his thighs as he hunches over, trying to catch his breath.

“That’s a best-case scenario. Worst case is she... well... we should’ve said our goodbyes. But she’s strong. She’ll pull through. She has to pull through.” That last part is whispered so softly that the brunet almost misses it.

“Nat,” his voice breaks, it cracks and splinters and shatters in pieces on the linoleum that he doesn’t have the energy to pick up. He can’t pick himself back up. Not if you might not wake up. He just can’t.

“Sit down, c’mon.” She helps him lean back against the wall, sliding down until he’s seated, arms draped over his knees and his head hanging heavily between them.

He can’t breathe.

A sick voice in his head screams that this is what you must’ve been feeling, this terrible tightness in your chest, this inability to draw in a single damn breath. It’s unbearable and for just a moment he realizes he wouldn’t blame you if you gave up, if you just let it take you. But he shakes that thought from his head and instead focuses on you fighting. You need to fight. If you can pull through, then they can find you a new heart and you’ll be okay.

You’re going to be okay.

You have to be okay.

~*~

Everything feels still. Dry. Bland.

If you could pin it to a colour, that colour would be beige.

Everything feels beige.

You’ve been awake for a little while now, gathering your bearings and trying to remember what happened. The last thing you remember is the fire bell... Wanda telling you not to go... and then running back into the building to find Tommy.

Tommy.

Your heart picks up in speed, pain flaring through your chest at the action, and an alarm starts beeping rapidly.

It takes only seconds for the door to open, nurses and doctors flooding into the room and checking the various machines around you while you grab at the front of your hospital gown uselessly, trying to alleviate the pain.

“(Y/n), I need you to take a big breath with me, okay?” A doctor says, her brown eyes focused on yours. You nod, inhaling with her for a moment then exhaling. You do this a few times and the machine gradually stops, your heart slowing as whatever they injected into your bloodstream takes effect.

Nurses slowly trickle out, leaving just you and the doctor.

“Well, you sure know how to make an entrance,” she says with a smile, looking over your chart.

“What can I say, Doc? I’ve got a flair for the dramatic.” Your voice is weak, far weaker than it should be, and that alone scares you.

She chuckles softly, smiling at your words before tucking the chart under her arm and looking at you straight on.

“You being alive right now is an absolute miracle,” she says softly, taking a step towards the bed then motioning to the chair beside it, asking wordlessly if she can take a seat.

You nod, taking a few deep breaths as you prepare to hear whatever news she has for you.

“Your heart stopped twice on the way to the hospital, and the second time we almost couldn’t get it going again. Your heart is weak, and what you endured nearly ruptured your left atrium and you had severe lacerations of your ventricles. It is most comparable to a very severe heart attack, and you’re lucky to have survived.”

She doesn’t look like she’s delivering good news. No, she should be happy if you’re lucky to have survived. That fact alone puts you on edge.

“What is it? What... what’s wrong with my heart now?” You know it can’t be good judging only by the look on her face. It’s a look you’ve seen far too many times.

“With the rate you’re going, your heart will give out completely in three or four years. And it won’t be a pleasant process. You’ll be in pain, bedridden and hospitalized because you won’t be able to move. The only alternative is a transplant.” The world around you shifts from beige to grey, the clouds dark and the room sorrowful.

Your ears start ringing, loud and painfully and it takes everything in you not to rip them right off.

“S-so that’s it then? I’m gonna die in three years if I’m lucky? I’ve only got three years left?” She sighs and looks down at her hands, “the only other option would be to put you on a waiting list for a new heart, but we cannot guarantee that you’ll get it in time, but it’s worth a shot.” You shake your head, tears falling from your eyes and splattering on the ugly blue hospital blanket.

“I don’t want a new heart! I don’t want to go through a process and get my hopes up over something that I won’t get in time.” You sniffle and shove your face in your hands, the steady beeping of the machine next to you making you want to cry even harder.

“I’ll give you some time, (Y/n).” The doctor gets up and leaves, a sad look on her face as she turns to the pair waiting anxiously outside your door.

Natasha pushes herself to her feet, her eyes wide with curiosity and desperation.

“I recommend you give her space. She’s... processing everything,” Doctor Palmer says softly, giving Natasha a sad smile before walking away to handle her other patients.

Nat exchanges looks with Bucky then slowly walks to the door.

“Just give me a minute to see how she’s doing, okay? I’ll tell her you’re out here waiting, I just wanna see if she needs anything.” He takes a deep breath but nods, understanding that Natasha would be able to tell, if only from a medical standpoint, what you need.

You keep your face in your hands, tears wetting your palms, as the door opens again.

“Beans?” Nat’s voice makes you stiffen, sniffling and wiping your eyes before peeking up at her.

Her heart shatters in her chest at the sight of you.

Skin dull, eyes heavy and sunken. She’s seen a lot of sick people before but never would she have put you in the same category as them. Now though? Now, you look the part.

“I uh... I heard the news. Bugged the nurses for updates and they finally caved.”

Your bottom lip wobbles and then a sob bubbles out of your chest.

Nat’s face falls and she slides onto the bed beside you, pulling you into a tight embrace while you sob.

“Oh beans,” she whispers, smoothing your hair away from your face.

“I don’t want a new heart!” You cry, tears soaking her shirt. She hugs you, holds you tightly while you cry out your frustrations, your sorrows.

It’s agony.

She has so many questions, so much she wants to say, but she knows better.

She holds her tongue, wanting you to be in a better headspace before she talks to you about your options. It’s too soon. The wound is too fresh.

Bucky sits impatiently outside of the room the whole time, leg bouncing and flesh fingers trembling.

Natasha comes out of your room a short while later, sniffling and wiping at her cheeks.

“What’s happening? Is she okay?” The redhead nods, taking a few deep breaths.

“I’ve seen a lot of sick people, Barnes. A lot of them. But seeing her... seeing my friend so weak and tiny...” She shakes her head, looking up at him with glossy eyes.

“I’m scared, Buck.” Bucky pulls her into a hug, his own breaths shaking.

“It's okay. It’s gonna be okay.” She sniffles again then speaks, “she’s asleep again. She should be good to see you the next time she wakes up though. I’m sure she misses you.” He squeezes his eyes shut but nods, trying to mentally prepare himself to see you in such a fragile state.

~*~

Bucky doesn’t know how to feel.

He doesn’t even want to feel.

Helpless.

That’s the word that sums it up the best.

Seeing you on that hospital bed, tubes attached to your face, arms, and chest, he feels absolutely helpless.

“Hey,” he murmurs, smiling gently when you look up from your book.

“Bucky... Hi.” Your voice is raspy and hoarse, and he has to take a few shaky breaths to stop from crying.

“You mind if I sit?” You shake your head, motioning to the chair beside your bed.

He takes a seat and looks at you closely, his eyes welling up with tears.

“How ya feelin, pretty girl?” You huff a breath out through your nose then shrug, trying your hardest to stay strong in front of him.

“I uh... I’ve been better, I gotta say.” He chuckles weakly then nods, sniffling and dropping his gaze for a moment.

“Nat uh... Nat told me what the doctors said. About your heart and stuff. That’s... intense.” It’s not the best word but it’s the only one he can find.

You blow a breath out through your mouth and nod.

“It’s scary,” you whisper, not looking up from your hands even when he takes them in his.

“I’m scared. I don’t want to be put on a waiting list only to not get one in time. And there are people who need a new heart more than I do. People who want one more than I do.” He furrows his brows and cocks his head to the side in confusion.

“What do you mean, you don’t want a new heart? Why wouldn’t you want one?”

You sigh heavily, “because, James. This is my heart. It’s the heart that I’ve lived with for my whole life. I don’t want a new one because this one is mine. This is the one that’s dealt with heartbreaks and betrayals. This is the one that’s gotten me through the bad days and the good. And this is the one that chose you. I don’t want a different one. I wanna keep this one. And don’t you dare tell me that my days are numbered if I keep this one because my days are numbered regardless.”

You finally look up at him, fire in your eyes as you express everything that’s been going on in your mind.

“We’re all gonna die someday, and it may not be the way we expect or the way we want, and we won’t ever be fully ready for it. But it’s gonna happen. I’d much rather know that I spent my life doing what I wanted on my terms. If my days are numbered, I'd rather enjoy them than spend them waiting for a heart I may never get. My heart’s still got a few years left in it. Careful years, yeah, but years no less.”

Tears stain his cheeks and he nods, sniffling twice then pressing a kiss to your hands.

“I’m not going to try and change your mind, Doll. The choice is completely yours and no matter what you decide to do, I’ll stay by your side through all of it, I promise. You’re my girl, my best girl, my only girl, and I want you to do what’s best for you.” You squeeze your eyes shut, having mentally prepared yourself for him to put up a fight, not for him to be so supportive of your decision.

“I love you, (Y/n). And I’m gonna cherish every fucking moment that you let me spend with you because I love you. I thought,” he pauses, pulling a hand back to scrub the tears off of his cheeks only for more to fall.

“I thought I’d lose you before getting a chance to truly tell you. But I’m not gonna waste any more time because life is a precious gift. I love you, (Y/n). So much. To the fucking ends of the Earth. I love you and I don't want a day to go by where you don’t know just how much I love you.”

You whimper, his confession making warmth spread through your body and tears rain down your cheeks.

“I-I love you too, James. With every ounce of my heart, I love you. And I don't want to let you down and I never want to hurt you.” He closes his eyes, content to bask in the weight of your words for a moment longer, a private, intimate moment.

He eventually settles his head on the bed next to your hip, and your fingers find their way into his luscious brown locks, twirling the thick strands around mindlessly.

“When are you getting discharged?” He asks, his voice muffled by the bed.

“I’m not sure yet. Doctor Palmer said she wants to keep me here for at least another week or so to monitor my heart and take me off the medication, and then maybe some more time after that depending on how weak I am.” He nods, nuzzling against you some more.

“I’m not going back to work ‘till you’re out,” he says matter-of-factly.

You only giggle, shaking your head.

“James, that’s not even plausible. You’ve got bills to pay. Besides, you’ll get tired of being here. I’m gonna spend most of my time sleeping or bugging the nurses for some real food.” He lifts his head, eyes full of vulnerability.

“I just don't wanna leave you and then...” He trails off but you understand his concern.

“I’m gonna be okay. Doctor Palmer says I’m doing okay. I’m sure Nat will continue bugging her for updates and she’ll let you know if there’s anything concerning happening. But I’m gonna be fine, I swear.” He watches you for a moment longer before nodding and pressing his head against your thigh.

A thought bubbles into your mind and you tug gently on his hair to get his attention.

“What happened to Tommy?” You ask, voice tight and filled with apprehension.

Bucky only smiles gently.

“Lil guy’s a hero. He busted that window open, that’s how we found you two. Broke his arm but he’s okay. Says he looks like me so he likes it.” A smile finds its way onto your face at the idea of Tommy looking up to his uncle so much.

“He’s already gotten everyone at the firehouse to sign it, and I’m sure when he’s back to school he’ll get everyone there to sign it too. But the lil guy’s a hero. Gonna make a good firefighter.” You nod, mind flashing back to those last few moments in the school.

“I was so scared, James. I-I couldn’t protect him and I didn’t know what to do.” He reaches up and strokes your cheek gently, shushing you softly.

“It’s okay, pretty girl. It’s okay. Everyone’s okay.” You take a few deep breaths and nod, trying to calm down before your heart rate picks up too much.

“You need to worry about yourself, and not everyone else. Focus on getting better, okay? And then, when you’re ready, I’m gonna take you out on a date and show you just how much you can enjoy life, okay?”

You nod, smiling at him.

“Okay.”

~*~

“Miss (Y/l/n)!” Tommy runs at you full speed, nearly knocking you over when he barrels into your legs.

Bucky’s quick to steady you, opening his mouth to reprimand his nephew but you stop him, raising a hand to cut him off.

“Hey, Tommy! How’s my little superhero feeling?” He pulls back and smiles up at you.

“I got another cast so now my arm looks just like uncle Bucky’s!” You glance at the new blue cast and smile brightly.

“Look at that! And you’re a hero just like him too, huh?” He nods excitedly then digs around in his pocket for a moment.

“Here!” He hands you a sharpie then points to a blank space on his cast.

“I made sure to leave room for you to sign it!” Your face softens and you crouch down in front of him, signing your name and drawing a small picture.

“Thank you, Tommy.” He nods, glancing over his shoulder as his dad calls his name.

“C’mon Tommy! You gonna help us move or are you gonna help miss (Y/l/n) get organized?” He looks between you and his dad then runs over to the moving truck, excitedly grabbing whatever his little arms can carry then bringing them into the house.

Bucky wraps an arm around your waist and presses a soft kiss to your temple.

“You ready?” You look up at your new house, then over at him, nodding without hesitation.

“Absolutely.”

The moving process is long and tedious, and after seven hours of lifting, unboxing, cleaning, and organizing, you’re about ready to call it a day.

“Pizza’s on its way, and Nat ran out to grab some beers,” Bucky says, coming up into the master bedroom. Concern immediately colours his features as he sees the way you’re sitting. You’re on the bed, hunched over with one hand on your mouth and the other on your lower abdomen.

“(Y/n)?” He asks, coming to a crouch in front of you and trying to get a look at your face.

You take a few deep breaths then nod, opening your eyes and offering him a weak smile.

“You okay?” You nod again but he seems unconvinced.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” You take a deep breath and reach for his hand, squeezing it gently.

“I uh.. not really. I wanted to tell you in a better way but I guess this is as good as it’s going to get.” His heart is in his throat, absolutely terrified of what you’re going to tell him.

You’ve been going to the doctor a lot more frequently, and your energy levels have plummeted.

He knew you didn’t have time left but it hasn’t even been six months since the fire.

You pull his hand to your stomach and rest it there gently, eyes finding his as you wait for it to click.

He stares at his hand in confusion, that confusion melting away as he realizes what you’re telling him.

“Wait, are you...?”  His eyes are wide, eyebrows raised and heart pounding.

You only nod, tears welling up in your eyes as he launches up and wraps his arms around your frame.

“Oh my god. Oh my god! I’m gonna be a dad!” You giggle wetly, tears of joy falling and getting soaked up by his shirt.

“We’re gonna have a baby.” He pulls back, hands on your small baby bump.

“How far along are you?” He asks, cradling the bump delicately between his hands.

“About three months. And the doctor said that they’ve already got a birth plan ready, and different pills for me to take to calm my heart.” His glossy eyes look up at you, so full of love and adoration.

“I can’t believe it. I...” he stops, leaning in the gently kiss your lips then pulls you into another tight embrace.

“Thank you, (Y/n). Thank you.”

[wizkiddx]

hiiiii i love your stuff - could u do one where the readers ill but they have stuff to do and tom has to look after her. maybe if they were just friends before too but both pining? thankuuuuuuuuu

should I be writing this instead of revising? clearly fucking not. Did I make this little blurb req ridiculously long purely to procrastinate? Of fucking course.

but also this was v cute! I assumed u meant famous!reader, sorry if that's not what u were after at all anon x

summary: Tom Holland turns into the readers knight in shining armour when they get ill during promo

warnings: fainting / feeling ill

///////////////////

It couldn’t be today. Of all days, why today? You’d been at home for two weeks doing absolutely nothing, before this trip. And yet it’s when your itinerary is packed to the brim, people moving heaven and earth just speak to you. Two weeks of unrelenting press for Marvels next big ensemble movie. 

Your manager was speaking to you, reeling off a run down of todays activities but instead of listening you nodded along blankly - head rather cloudy with this heavy mist that was not shaking off, no matter how hard you tried. 

“You got that Y/n/n?” Lucy pointedly spoke, eyes almost physically knocking you backwards as if her eyeliner was battery rams. Fumbling with your thoughts, your answer wasn’t particularly cohesive earning you just a disappointed head shake. 

“I um… yeh I think. Who-who did you say I was paired up with?” 

“Y/n please for the love of god. Tom, like I said the past fifty times.” And to be fair to Lucy she wasn’t wrong. It was the first major major promo tour for the both of you and after just two days so far - you were both exhausted. She was more than allowed to be a bit short tempered. 

“But we-we hardly know each other? The chemistry won’t be there and-“

“As I said, I tried to re-jig it but Kevin is of the mind that acting is your job.” Her tone was sharp but as she glared across the opposing seats, in the little mini van Marvel had hired for you as transportation, her eyes softened. Lucy had been so wrapped up in her own stress she may have overlooked quite how gingerly you were sitting. By the time she had arrived at the hotel, your stylist had already managed to half save your ghoulish looking face, with sunken under eyes and tired skin, so it wasn’t so blatantly obvious how crap you were feeling.  “Is everything okay with you?” 

It felt pretty puny to say that the jet lag from flying to Tokyo had been weighing you down further than you wanted, or that the local cuisine top chefs had kindly prepared for you last night wasn’t siting well in your stomach. To be honest, even you thought it was just your body being a bit overdramatic. So in response, you put on your best happy-go-lucky face feigning a smile.

“No no I’m fine, just want to give the best interviews I can and you know…. I’m awkward as hell as it is, then pair me with the most talented actor that I share about two minutes of screen time with…it’ll be interesting.” 

The way Lucy reacted with a weird slow nod, eyebrows furrowed, meant it was quite apparent you had perhaps overplayed that one. Had you not been so over the day before it even began, you would’ve tried again to give a more believable act. But as you were, you turned your attention back out to the bustling streets of Tokyo and the high rise buildings bordering each pavement. 

You didnt have a problem with Tom, far from it in fact. Tom was hilarious and the times you had met him, you’d both built up this weird and sarcastic competitiveness with each other. It was a game of who could get the last laugh, each of you pushing each other with the Mickey taking just a little further. Of course, not in a malicious way, just the way you’d both lived pretty similar but parallel careers - when everyone drew comparisons between the both of you, it was nice to make it a joke. 

Like Tom you’d also started out on stage, had a ‘big break’ movie as a kid and then spent your teenage years on and off film sets - till marvel happened. Then everything blew up to epic proportions, changing your life forever. Actually, it was so similar to Tom’s story, plus the fact you were also from the south west of the UK. It was bizarre your paths hadn’t crossed more - He probably could’ve been a useful ally in the the whole ‘becoming famous’ thing. 

And yet, you could probably count on two hands the amount of conversations you’d had with him. 

Now that, that was the issue. Right from the beginning you learn what the press want and when you are publicising a movie you cater into it too. They’d all be asking for the insider scoop on set; what pranks you’d pulled on each other; what was the most annoying thing about each other. Which is hard if you’d only had 5 or 6 days actually on set together. 

By the time the cab had wormed its way through the Tokyo traffic and you arrived at the PR hotel, it was already 9:30 - making you 15 minutes late (blame it on the traffic). Instantly then you were ushered straight to the interview room for the evening, no chance of green room chat or grabbing a drink before. The place was stuffy, everything was draped with black curtains except the poster board that Tom was already sitting infront of. 

He’d scrubbed up well, no doubt about it. He was wearing statement-ish burgundy suit trousers, teamed with a black knitted but collared shirt thing - that was clearly tailor made for the man. As soon as he noticed you scurry into the room, his face broke out into a warm smile, jumping up to greet you in a friendly hug. It was brief, and as you pulled back you accidentally bumped your head on one of the overhanging lights. No doubt someone had spent a ridiculous amount of time configuring them so they were positioned perfectly, which you had just ruined with your big head. 

“Oh shit!” Tom just laughed in response, shaking his head slightly as he lead you the two steps across to your pre-positioned seats. 

“Making an entrance as always I see!”

“Yeh, you know me, a bit of chaos just to keep everyone on their toes.”

“Oh is that why you’re ‘fashionably late’” With a playful wiggle of his eyebrows, you just rolled your eyes, fidgeting on the chair to find a position that didnt aggravate  your stomach so much.

“I’m ready now though! What did I miss? Just having to pretend to be your friend for 15 minutes?” You stressed the words as though the thought of conversation with Tom was the absolute worst thing in the world - which you definetly didnt think. Scowling like you’d insulted his dog Tessa, it was almost visible how the cogs were turning in his head looking for a comeback. Unfortunately for him though, he was quickly shut up but the organiser bringing the first interviewer in . 

For what would, no doubt, be a long day. 

////

Everything had started off so well, the banter was flowing between you and Tom, no major spoilers revealed that meant Marvel would have to make the journalist disappear. It was once you hit an hour of back-to-back interviews that everything started to crack bit. Because yes, it had only been an hour but that was enough to exhaust you on this particular day. When Tom joked around you got slower and slower, similarly the  energy was zapped from your own answers. It’s not very compelling when someone says ‘you have to watch this movie’ in a monotonous voice with sullen eyes. 

As the interviewers were swapping in and out, Tom actually lightly nudged your shoulder.

“Everything alright? We’re trying to sell tickets and you’ve got a face like thunder.”

“Oh no-no sorry I just, I-um.”

“You want some water?” Now looking at your with more concerned eyes, as if he was just nervous he’d actually offended you for calling you a boring bastard. And you would’ve picked up on it and alleviated his concerns, if it weren’t for the fact your eyes were glued on the water bottle he was holding out to you. You were thirsty. You knew that, that wasn’t the conundrum. What you weren’t so sure about was whether your stomach would accept it, or more violently reject it. In a very non ‘we’re-trying-to-sell-a-movie’ style. 

But the lightheaded fogginess in your brain won out, as you nodded jerkily, taking the bottle and taking a little swig - too cautious to take anymore. 

Now concerned with how Tom thought you were being a Debby-downer too, you managed to perk yourself up for the next four interviews. They were easy, asking questions without any activity and though you did rely on Tom beefing out and adding to your answers, it was okay. Then the next interviewer came in, who you recognised as being from the BBC, Ali Plumb, that had interviewed you a number of times. From the way Tom jumped up to give him afirendly bro-hug, you guessed he also was familiar with him. As soon as he took a seat the cameras were already flashing with the red light, demonstrating his 7 minutes had already started. 

“Guys! It’s been a while.” 

“How are you Ali?” You started it off with the pleasantries, Tom echoing, before the speccy dirty-blonde asked his first question. 

“So the last time I spoke to you guys the universe was in chaos, Peter Parkers on the run and Aurora Blake was trying to strip her own powers, so I guess my first question is how are you both doing? We can use this as a therapy session if you guys need.” His very typical nerdy joke made Tom laugh, nodding as he leaned forward and repositioned a bit. 

You didn’t share the same humour though, more focused on this invisible blanket of stuffiness that seemed to have been thrown on top of you. It made you feel groggy, incredibly hot and so unbelievable nauseous. The lights weren’t helping either, it felt like you were pouring with sweat from your forehead. You thought Tom was answering Ali, even if you couldn’t really hear  - everything had merged into a deafening roar. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, unconsciously making you fumble yourself to standing, desperate to get somewhere with fresh air. The last thing you saw before your vision tunnelled into darkness was Tom, reaching out to try and catch you. 

Because next thing you knew, you were on the floor, wires from all the cameras and lights digging into your back as you looked up to see Tom on one side and Lucy on the other - both wearing a similarly panicked expression. You knew you hadn’t been out long, seconds if that, going by the fact everyone else was in the ‘oh my god’ phase of panic. It was a bit weird how calm you where, but then again all your life you’d been the ‘class fainter’. Waking up on the floor was something you were long since used to. 

“Y/n? You awake?” Rather stating the obvious Tom asked the question as you bent your head up - allowing you sight of all the concerned facing oggling you. With a defeated sigh, you flopped your head back. 

“If this is a dream then it’s a real bloody nightmare.” This time Tom didnt seem to appreciate your joke, looking at you without almost dumbfounded eyes, as you blinked repetitively and groaned. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Lucy appeared to want to lecture you, which to be honest wasn’t the most time appropriate. You were still on the floor, legs crumpled up under you, so ignored her. Instead you pulled yourself up into a sitting position, taking a moment to blink away the blotchy haze that threatened to takeover your vision once again, whilst the pair above you both cautiously rested their palms on each of your shoulders -trying to be useful. The room still felt cramped and stifling, as everyone around were no doubt looking at you. 

It took a few minutes but your body seemed to get over itself, sitting up normally and trying to make small talk with Ali - who, by the way, was still sat awkwardly in the chair. Still nestled on the floor, your back up against the chair you had been siting on as you raved with Ali of the Harry Potter theatre show. In a natural lull in conversation, Tom perked up - from the door where he’d been muttering with the organiser as Lucy bit her nails nervously. 

“Y/n you need to go home.” 

All of you knew what Tom said was impossible. Not being egotistical, but you were too important. Although you hadn’t been paying masses of attention for Lucy’s run down of your itinerary - you knew it was packed. 

So you just looked up and rolled your eyes at Tom, earning yourself a strong glare, before locking the organiser in eye contact.

“How many have we got till lunch?” 

“Um this gent here” He gesturned toward Ali, who was almost squirming in his seat now “then two more.”  

“And then lunch?” 

“Yes, then you have a personal appearance at a dinner, so transport will be coming to pick you both up.” This poor guy seemed obsessed with the clock and his timetable, looking at your with a mixture of panic and frustration. You should know this stuff, you should’ve listened to Lucy. 

“How fars the drive?” 

“At this time probably an hour and a half.” 

The plan was clear in your head, you’d sort yourself out in the car and be fully fine by the afternoon and evening engagements. Plus you felt almost fine now. So with a sigh, you hauled yourself up onto the chair, patting for Tom to sit back down. 

“It’s half an hour and then I’ll sort myself out at lunch - come on their waiting.” The way Lucy pouted showed she disagreed somewhat, except a stern look kept her from protesting, as Tom walked toward you. 

“Are you sure you don’t loo-“

“Let me stop you before you insult my appearance.” Snickering slightly at his worried face, you laughed it off , knocking his side with a gentle murmur of ‘don’t worry about me’. 

In fact after that little episode you did feel a little recovered, which meant you were properly noticing the change in the boy sat next to you. Throughout the remaining three interviews he’d done a complete 360 from earlier. Rather than trying to get little digs at you, he had become fiercely protective - jumping in if a questions wasn’t particularly appropriate or relevant to the movie ( meaning when an awfully crap man asked what underwear you’d been able to wear in your suit) ; taking the heat of the conversation as well as just watching you like a hawk. Each time you answered his beady brown eyes were watching you from the side, you got the impression it wasn’t only just because of the risk of spoilers. 

Quite remarkably, you survived the rest of the day pretty well, after a power nap in the car on the way over - even if it was a bit difficult when you had your manager watching you like a hawk from the seat across. It was as if Lucy had never seen anyone ill before, she seemed concerned that you were going to spontaneously stop breathing and die at any point. 

Though by the time all the official business at the dinner was done, your body and willpower had reached the end of their tether. You and Tom were both on a round table, surrounded by 6 CEOs and execs of what seemed to be a multimillion pound business enterprise. With the language barrier meaning you had to speak through the two people on the table who were fluent in both japanese and English, the conversation was already pretty jilted. Though to be fair, the six did seem to be enjoying the evening - something you werent able to reciprocate. Thankfully, five minutes after the main course dishes had been collected, Tom spoke up from his position opposite you.

“This has been lovely and we really appreciate your time and generosity but me and Y/n have a really early start tomorrow so I think we should probably get back to the hotel.” You swore in that moment you could’ve kissed him, and it looked like Tom could tell - by the way your shoulders sagged and you let out an exhale of pure relief. Apparently even if you’d managed to convince the hosts you were enjoying the evening, Tom easily saw through the performance. After some hurried goodbyes, Tom led you out of the hall with his hand hovering over your lowerback, trying to make sure your exit was as discreet as possible. 

Away from the bubble of chatter and activity, in the deserted hallway, Tom stopped you - lightly holding both hands on each of your arms. 

“Wheres your team?” 

“Um Luce is back at the hotel, she was trying to see if she could reschedule any of my stuff tomorrow.” You winced at the way he sighed, realising you were all on your own in some random business event hall in Tokyo.

“Harry -my brother- is waiting in the car at the front - is that okay?”

“No Tom, don’t worry abo-“

“Yeh well I am and I think you feel ten times worse than you’re letting on.” He spoke harshly, like a school teacher telling you off - except the hint of a kind smile at the end was a dead giveaway. 

“You sure?” 

With a relieved nod (Tom had thought you might be a bit more stubborn - you obviously were really really ill) he wordlessly shrugged his suit jacket off, wrapping it round your shoulders. He muttered something about not wanting you to catch a chill but to be quite honest you were a bit distracted by the woody cedar smell of Toms aftershave that enveloped your senses. Maybe it wasn’t so bad being fussed on by him? To be fair he wasn’t wrong either, you were in a strapless evening dress - you would’ve preferred to be in joggers, but Marvels press team had other ideas. 

After a quick pit stop at the toilets, the two of you managed to make an unnoticed escape out the building - into a big SUV which had seconds prior pulled up onto the steps. You literally melted into the nearest window seat, body hunching over as you probably crumpled Tom’s jacket beyond belief. 2 seats along from you, a frizzy haired boy gave you a sympathetic smile, which you returned weakly whilst muttering a ‘hi’. Meanwhile, Tom pulled the sliding door shut, sitting across from you. 

“Oh Y/n this is Harry and Harry this is Y/n.” In unison both of you replied with an ‘I know’ eye roll. Your response was somewhat more shocking to both Holland boys, you could tell from the way they had this whole nonverbal conversation with their eyes - they were very clearly brothers. Needing to explain you continued. “I like to keep tabs on my castmates, I’ve seen you on Toms instagram.” That had both boys smirking, Harry presumably just because you knew who he was; Tom more smugly, you’d just given away you slightly stalked him on instagram. 

Silence reigned for a moment, as the driver put his foot down slightly. 

“How you doing?” Tom asked. 

“Mhm…” you thought for a second, how to eloquently describe the sensation. 

“shit.” 

Both boys chuckled a little and even though you had closed your eyes in an attempt to dull the throbbing behind your temples, you could feel the eyes on you. 

“You want the music off?” Harry asked, referring to the indie-rock coming quietly out the speakers of his laptop, which was resting on his lap. With a shake of your head you refused, even if really silence probably would help your head, you were already causing the two Hollands enough trouble - no need to bore them during the journey back into central Tokyo, especially when you weren’t the most enthusiastic company ever. 

Thankfully the music stayed on a low volume, whilst the car seemed to settle into a comfortable silence. With a long exhale you fluttered your eyes open, seeing Tom focused on his phone, before you rested the side of your head against the black-out glass. Taking some relief from the cool glass, you huddled further into the corner of the car against the door.

Floating in the space between sleep and wakefulness, you were kind of aware of your head occasionally bobbing and jerking about - but really didn’t have the energy or willpower to do anything about it. Instead, the thing that perked your attention was hearing some supposed-whispering from inside the body of the car.

“I know she said she didn’t care but she was clearly lying-“ 

“Like you know! You’ve been desperate to try and spend some time with Y/n- maybe you poisoned her just so you could be all knight-in-shini-“

“Turn. The. Music. Off.” Tom sounded scathing now, and with a grumble from your other-side the cheery drum beats ceased.

“Happy now?” …and Harry was sarcastic. 

“Swap places with me.”

“What?”

“Just do it.”

“Why?”

“So she can lie down.” 

“Well no because you would still be in the way if we swapped.”

“Yeh but she can lie on my lap idiot.”

“She can lie on me.”

“She doesn’t know you!”

“Well for 1, barely ten minutes ago she said she did know me. And 2, she doesn’t know you any better!”

If this was their version of whispering, you would love to hear what volume ‘shouting’ was. There was no reply for a short while, you imagined the two brunettes locked in some intense staring match.The next time Tom spoke he sounded more defeated - almost begging. 

“If I admit you beat me at the driving range the other day will you-” 

“I KNEW IT!” Harry yelped, the volume making you jerk, eyes flying open before reflexively closing because the light was too bright. There was a little mutter of an apology, then silence again. 

Once agin you must’ve drifted off because it felt like absolutely no time had passed when a firm but gently hand on your shoulder nudged you awake. 

Sure enough the boys had swapped position, Tom now sitting along the seat from you, Harry looked a little sulky from across the way. It was Tom who was reaching over, a gentle and peaceful smile on his face.

“You wanna lie down? Don’t want you to strain your neck.” He wasn’t wrong, adding to the throbbing headache, the cloudiness in your brain and the unsettled feeling in your stomach… now your neck hurt. Just bloody great. 

Had you been your normal witty and perceptive self, you might’ve teased Tom as to why him and his brother had done a switch - but everything hurt and all you wanted to do was sleep for a hundered years. So with squinting eyes you jerkily nodded, missing how Tom chuckled to himself. The guy undid your seatbelt, then sat back to let you balance the back of your head on his thigh, looking up at the roof of the SUV. Already your eyes were closed again, you kicked off your slip-on heels and bent your legs up to lean against the backrest - occupying the position you had been sat in before hand. You felt his hands reposition the jacket, pulling it round so it was now like a blanket tucked under your chin. 

To be fair it was much more comfortable than sitting up and you weren’t even aware of how quickly you dropped back into sleep. 

Though it wasn’t quick enough to miss Harry’s very sulky sounding comment, presumably meant only for Tom’s ears. 

“Still think you’re being fucking creepy bro.” 

<33 lemme know what u think! (would make me feel less guilty for not doing all the work I rlly should be doing aha)

tagging : @hallecarey1 @crossyourpeter @hollandfanficlove