#I haven’t written in a single week and I already feel rusty what the fuck man

[love-charmed]

@striigon teehee

“You look troubled, Matija.” She has manifested like the curl of smoke burning away from the wick of a candle. A curled spine, all sinuous, unearthly grace — and nothing less than a predator wrapped in silk. The smile she gives belies such a fact, disguises the millennia of banked power writhing through her twisted veins. He wouldn’t be fooled. Never was, after that first glorious meeting. Delicate chin slips into her palm, propped against the bar top, calm, assessing. “Perhaps I can be of help…?”

[in-my-feels-probably]

Older Art spoiling his 20 something yo girlfriend that goes to Stanford. She looks up to him and listens to him and does whatever he says and basically lives for his praise.

I Feel So High School (Every Time I Look At You)

Request: Older Art spoiling his 20 something yo girlfriend that goes to Stanford. She looks up to him and listens to him and does whatever he says and basically lives for his praise.

and: art being 10ish years older than reader? that’s all i got. go crazy

Hi! Challengers has been on my mind literally since the day it came out, and I think I've read every single fic on here about it, so I figured I’d give it a shot writing one myself. First of all, I combined your requests, hope that’s ok. Second, this is my first time writing for Art, so please bear with me while I try and get the hang of writing his character. I haven’t written a fic in weeks, so my skills are definitely a little rusty. Please be kind! Anyways, I hope you like this. Let me know what you think, and thank you for the request :)

(Warnings: none? idk, maybe very vague mentions of sex, art is divorced, swearing, i guess the age gap taboo. let me know if i missed anything)

—

You should have known trying to explain your situation with Art to someone else would’ve been difficult, but finally telling your roommate everything was just as humiliating as you thought it would be. She always had a knack for nosing her way into your business, and not even you were immune to her federal level detective skills when it came to getting information out of someone. 

“And I’m seeing him today,” you finished your rant as you sucked in a breath, wincing as you waited for the bomb to drop.

But it didn’t. Your roommate just grinned, standing up and walking over to your closet. You watched with a confused look on your face until she turned to you, already elbow deep in your clothes.

“So…you have a sugar daddy?” your roommate asked, trying to stifle a laugh as she rifled through your closet to help you find an outfit. “No judgment, I’m honestly jealous.”

You picked a pillow up off your bed, launching it at her when she smirked as you flushed. “I don’t have a sugar daddy! I have a…well—ok, I don’t know what we are. But he’s not my sugar daddy.”

“No, he’s just an ex pro tennis player with a famous ex wife who was also a pro tennis player that he had a perfect little girl with, complete with a house in the Hamptons. Now, he’s…what, exactly? A coach? A commentator? Part of Stanford’s glorified alumni? No, I’ve got it! I know what he is — hot. In a beekeeping age, recently divorced, kind of way.”

You rolled your eyes, standing up to help her look through your closet. “He’s only in his thirties. You’re making him sound archaic and washed up.”

“Look at you, gushing over him,” she grinned as she finally landed on something for you to wear, quickly handing it to you. “At least he has good taste. You’re hot, too.”

Your roommate turned around while you quickly changed, sitting down at the foot of your bed. She talked over her shoulder as you got dressed, her voice full of curiosity.

“So, how did this all happen anyway?”

You sighed, shaking your head. “Remember alumni week with all the guest lectures and presentations a few months ago?”

“You met Art Donaldson during alumni week? What the fuck! Why didn’t you tell me? I wouldn’t have skipped all my classes that week if I thought I was gonna pick up a trophy husband instead of being forced to sit through a mind-numbingly boring presentation from some guy who used to go here that I’ve never heard of.”

“Sucks to suck, babe,” you grinned, finished getting dressed. “I’m good, you can turn around now.”

She quickly turned around, patting the spot on the bed next to her.

“How did this even happen? I’ve never seen you step foot on a tennis court in your life, and I know they wouldn’t have asked him to speak in a graduate lecture.”

You sat down next to her, nodding. “He did a seminar down at the courts for the kinesiology majors or something like that. They were learning about sports related injuries and how to treat them. He told them about how he hurt his shoulder a few years ago during a match, and he talked about all the physical therapy he had to do.”

“You’re telling me you sat through a kinesiology lecture? On a tennis court? When you don’t even study kinesiology?”

“Absolutely not,” you laughed, leaning back against the headboard. “He told me about it that first week while he was here.”

Your roommate giggled, grabbing your hand and squeezing it. “Oh my god! Okay, okay. Spill. Now. I want to know everything.”

You playfully rolled your eyes, but started ranting again anyway. 

—

In truth, you didn’t really know what your relationship with Art was. You’d met when returning alumni who’d gone on to excel in their fields came to campus for guest lectures and demonstrations.

In a total mortifying cliche, you ran into Art in a hallway while you were rushing to a lecture that had already started ten minutes earlier. You would have been on time, but your roommate accidentally locked herself out of your dorm, and the RA wasn’t answering their phone. She had an exam she needed to get to, which—in her own words—“trumps your boring book lecture.” You had no choice but to turn around and save her, making the trek back across campus to let her in. That’s how you ended up running face first into Art, your bag and all your things scattering across the floor. By some miracle, at least the halls were empty.

You quickly kneeled, scrambling to pick up all your things. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going. I’m late for class.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, kneeling to help you.

It was then when you looked up, and you felt your heart jump into your throat. Art Donaldson—famous alumni and world renowned tennis player—was crouched right in front of you, handing you half empty tubes of chapstick, a pair of headphones, and a stray pack of gum. Oh god, you thought to yourself. Why me? Why today? You quickly cleared your throat, standing up.

“God, sorry. Thanks…Mr. Donaldson.”

You cringed as you said it, the title of Mr. feeling off as it rolled off your tongue.

“Mr. Donaldson?” he raised a brow, shaking his head. “No, just call me Art. Uh, you know who I am? Am I actually still recognizable here? I figured no one off of the courts would have any idea who I was.”

You glanced down at his shirt, pointing. “You’re wearing a name tag.”

Art paled, raising a hand to awkwardly scratch at the back of his neck. Good one, he thought to himself. Very humble. He cringed to himself as his cheeks flushed, a small smile on his face.

“Right. I knew that.”

You smiled, pulling your bag back over your shoulder as you let out a little chuckle. “I know who you are. Stanford never lets us forget about their prized students.”

“Ah,” he nodded, grinning. “In my day, it was Reese Witherspoon and Jennifer Connelly. Although, Reese dropped out halfway through her degree, so they don’t talk about her much—”

“And Jennifer left Yale to come study here,” you finished. “That’s one they do still brag about.”

Art smiled, leaning back against the wall as he looked at you. You suddenly became very aware of your situation, tearing your eyes away from him to look down the hall where your class was. Art’s eyes followed, and he straightened up, clearing his throat.

“Am I keeping you?”

“No!” you said all too quickly, biting your tongue for a second before you forced yourself to calm down and continue. “Uh, my class already started. It’s not really important, he doesn’t count attendance anyway. And, to be honest, he’s pretty dull. He managed to make Jane Austen boring.”

“Not Bazin’s class, is it?” Art asked, making you raise a brow.

“Yeah, it is. How’d you know that?”

Art smiled, letting out a little laugh. “That’s why I came this way, I wanted to see if Professor Bazin still taught English here. He was a dinosaur even when I graduated. I’m surprised they still let him teach.”

“If they actually read the end of term course evaluations they make us fill out, they wouldn’t,” you mused, making Art grin wider.

“I guess I should let you go then,” Art shrugged, glancing down the hall. “Wouldn’t want you to miss out on something you could use in your scathing evaluation.”

You glanced back down the hallway at your classroom, but you couldn’t get your feet to move. You weren’t sure why, but you didn’t want to go just yet. 

All you did at Stanford was go to and from class and stay on top of your studies. It was monotonous and boring, and you were always up to your neck in papers and projects. Other than your roommate, you hardly had any people left you talked to or hung out with. They all graduated with their undergrad degrees, and you moved on to your graduate studies. Your education was important to you, but it got lonely. You almost never took risks anymore. But as you glanced back at him, that’s what you did.

You took the risk.

“Or…you could save me from my misery?” you stuttered out, an awkward smile on your face.

Art looked at you with an amused expression, tilting his head as he waited for you to continue. You swallowed, fiddling with the strap of your bag.

“My classes are almost all entirely in this building. I’m sure you’re sick of talking about tennis, but between here and my dorm, I don’t think I see enough sunlight in a day to keep me going. Maybe you could walk with me somewhere that actually sees the sun? Doesn’t have to be the courts or anything, although I can say with full confidence that I’ve never actually seen that part of campus and I’m in my graduate studies. Uh, maybe you’ve got somewhere in mind? Or you could let me buy you a cup of shitty cafeteria coffee? I promise I’ll refrain from asking you about your career. But, as I’m sure you can tell just by looking at me, I don’t really know enough about tennis to ask anyway.”

As you rambled on, horrified by your own rambling but determined to put yourself out there, Art smiled. 

He’d met a lot of girls over the years. Some girls who had a genuine interest in him but didn’t last, and some who saw his fame and fortune as a one way ticket to an easy life. 

None of them mattered. 

He had married Tashi, head over heels from the first moment he saw her. He had a kid with her, a career with her, a seemingly picture perfect life with her. It didn’t even occur to him to look at other girls until his marriage started to strain under the weight of his career, and he’d almost forgotten what it was like to look at a girl for the first time and feel that sickening but addictive feeling of butterflies fluttering around in his stomach. After the divorce, it felt so foreign to him that he didn’t even try. He had resigned himself to being a single father who co-parents and lives the rest of his life comfortably and quietly.

But here you were, rambling on with flushed cheeks and bright eyes trying your hardest to ask him out, and he couldn’t be more captivated.

There was just something about you. You were pretty, obviously. Anyone with eyes would’ve been able to see that. But there was something else, too. You were still young and not entirely pessimistic yet, with your whole career ahead of you. Probably no more than a few heartbreaks under your belt, able to muster up some sort of courage to fight for what you wanted. He used to have that, and he missed it — admired it, even. As you finally cut yourself off and looked up at him with mortification written across your face, Art saved you from further embarrassment with a smile. 

“Um…coffee sounds good,” he said with a shy smile. “Not from the cafeteria, though. If it’s as bad as it was when I went here, I’m not gonna let you waste your meal card money on it. There’s a cart outside of the athletics center, I stopped by it this morning. It’s still good.”

Trying your best to mask the shock you were feeling by his answer, you quickly nodded. “Oh, okay. Sounds good.”

You spent the entire afternoon with him. Coffee turned into lunch, and lunch turned into a long walk. Although you both had things to do, neither of you wanted to say goodbye and go on with your day. You skipped the rest of your classes for the day, letting Art show you around campus. He took you to all the places you had never been, and you kept quiet and let him show you anyway when you passed somewhere you had already been a hundred times. He was polite and asked you about your major and career goals, even managing a graceful smile when it was his turn to tell you about his career and how it unfolded after he graduated. He was careful to leave out the end, but he found himself comfortable enough to tell you about the first few years. You asked what you could, but you really didn’t know enough about the sport to ask much of anything.

“I’m boring you to death, aren’t I?” he asked when there was a lapse in silence after you passed a poster with his face on it for a Wimbledon campaign.

“No, not at all!” you replied, tilting your head up towards the poster. “I’m just wondering how you managed it.”

Art cocked a brow, turning towards you. “Managed what?”

“Not becoming a complete asshole,” you shrugged, making him burst out laughing. “I’m serious! You’re not the first celebrity to come here during alumni week. The difference between you and them is that you didn’t show up and immediately start bragging about how successful you had become. As far as I can tell, you’re the same as when you graduated. That seems pretty rare.”

“There’s not much to brag about,” he shrugged, too humble for his own good.

“A career Grand Slam isn’t worth bragging about?” you asked, turning away from him when he gave you a confused look. “Okay, fine, I may or may not have Googled you back in the restaurant while you were in the bathroom. I was running out of things to ask you, and I figured I should know something about tennis. Anyway, I was impressed.”

Art just chuckled. “I’m flattered.”

After walking a few more minutes, the street lamps turned on. It had gotten late enough in the evening that they were starting to light up around the darker parts of the campus. It was your cue to stop walking and look around, both of you realizing how long it had been since you started talking.

“I guess I should be headed back to my dorm,” you said, a hint of disappointment in your voice. “My roommate is probably freaking out by now. She knows I never really go anywhere after class without her—and yes, I heard how pathetic that sounded as it came out. She’s probably gonna call campus security if I don’t show up soon.”

Art nodded, knowing you were right. And yet, his feet didn’t move. Neither of you made any attempt to leave, still standing under the soft light of the street lamps. Art looked at you with soft eyes, absentmindedly reaching to fiddle with his wedding ring with his thumb before he remembered it wasn’t there anymore. Finally, he cleared his throat. 

“Well…I guess this is the part where I ask you for your number.”

“It was nice meeting you, too—” you started, doing a double take once his words registered. “Wait, what?”

Art let out a nervous laugh, shrugging. “You bought me a coffee, it’s only fair that I do the same. I’m here all week. Maybe you’d want to do this again sometime?”

“Uh, yeah! Yeah, that sounds good,” you replied, trying your best and failing to sound as nonchalant as you could.

Art smiled and pulled out his phone, opening his contacts. He handed it over to you, watching as you typed in your number before handing his phone back to him. You fought the heat pooling in your cheeks, fiddling with the strap of your bag. Art grinned, breaking the silence. 

“Go find your roommate. Tell her to call off the search party.”

You chuckled, nodding. “I’m on it. Well…bye, Art.”

“Bye, Y/N. I’ll text you,” he replied, enjoying watching you shuffle back and forth on your heels. 

He made you nervous. And for some reason, he liked that. He’d spent practically the last decade of his life perpetually nervous. It was nice to know someone else felt the same way. 

He watched you go as you turned around and headed back to your dorm, a distant but still familiar warmth in his chest. He’d only known you for a few hours, but he could already tell he liked you. By the time you made it back to your dorm and managed to come up with an excuse for your roommate who immediately interrogated you the second you stepped through the door, your phone was ringing. You excused yourself to the bathroom with a bashful grin on your face, answering the call.

—

You spent the better part of a week with Art when you both had time between your classes and his seminars. 

It felt surprisingly easy and normal talking to him. Your small talk about your careers and plans turned into more personal topics, and then you were talking about anything and everything. You were fully aware of the age gap between you two, but it didn’t bother you nearly as much as you thought it would. If anything, it was part of the draw to him. He was also kind and friendly, with a surprisingly self deprecating sense of humor that made you laugh. Not to mention the fact that he was drop dead gorgeous. You had to actively make sure he didn’t catch you staring at him when his head was turned. He made you want to actually giggle out loud, which is something you never thought you’d do over a guy.

By the end of the week when it was time for him to leave and go back to New York, you both were dreading saying goodbye. 

It was late in the evening, about an hour before he had to leave to catch his flight. He’d finally taken you to the courts, once again only lit by the street lamps overhead. It was the first time all week he’d stepped onto the court and actually wanted to be there, not surrounded by onlookers who knew every nook and cranny of his life and career. Instead it was you, the sweet pretty girl who made him genuinely laugh when you asked him why the points system would ever use the term love to describe a lacking score. 

He fiddled around for a while, teaching you a few serves and how to hold the racquet to hit the ball. Eventually he was on the other side of the net, watching you giggle and chase after the few balls he’d softly serve your way. He could hear you panting and the sound of your shoes skidding across the court, but your laughter was too sweet to make him stop. 

Finally, you stopped to take a break, sitting down on the bench. “Don’t look at me, I might cough up a lung.”

“Very impressive,” he smiled, passing you his water.

“Thank you,” you grinned, motioning between him in the court. “Go on, let’s see what you’ve got. I’m down for the count, but I’m sure the ball machine will be more than happy to fill in for me.”

Art smiled, watching you grin at him with flushed cheeks and glowy skin. If anyone else was asking, he wouldn’t have done it. He wasn’t interested in showing off his skills, or lack thereof to put it more accurately as of late — he’d stopped training as intensely after the divorce, no new tournaments waiting for him to come and win. But the look on your face when you asked was just one he couldn’t say no to. Plus, your knowledge of the sport wasn’t that vast. You probably wouldn’t notice if he slipped up anyway. And if you did, you’d be too kind to make him feel bad about it.

“If you insist,” he groaned, but he was still smiling to himself as he moved to the other side of the court.

You watched him play for a few more minutes. He really was something to see. Every movement he made was smooth and graceful, a far cry from the stumbling around and huffing and puffing you had been doing. Every ball hit its target, every serve lining up exactly where he wanted it to. As silly as it sounded, you actually had to prevent yourself from clapping once he finally slowed down and turned the machine off.

“Look at you go,” you smiled from the bench, handing him back his water as he walked back over.

His cheeks flushed pink, and he was silently praying you couldn’t see it from under the low lights. He was too busy getting all flustered to reply to you, and it made you smile. It was silent for a long moment as you stared at each other, before he finally stood up. You followed him, a sinking feeling in your gut as you realized that it was probably time to say goodbye.

It had been a week you had never even dreamed would’ve happened to you, and yet it did. The one risk you decided to take had led to the most fun you’d had in your entire time at Stanford. You didn’t want to see him go.

As you looked up at him with soft eyes and a melancholy look on your face, like you were looking to him for all the answers, Art felt a sharp tug in his chest. He found himself immediately wanting to fix it, wanting to make you smile again — smile because of him. He’d have done anything in that moment to get you to laugh again.

So, against his better judgment, he leaned in and kissed you. 

It was a spur of the moment decision, one he almost immediately regretted. But then he felt you sink into the kiss, your hands coming up to his waist to steady yourself. He cupped your cheeks and pulled you into him, unable to stop the smile spreading across his lips. 

And that was all it took — he was falling, and falling hard. 

—

That was months ago now, and yet, Art still found reasons to visit you. 

When there was lapses in tours, or it was Tashi’s week with Lily, he always somehow found himself ending up coming right back to you. He’d pick you up from your dorm, and you’d spend the entire day with him. On weekends, you ended up in whatever hotel he was staying at, telling your roommate you were going back home for a few days. When you weren’t together, you were constantly texting or calling. He even sent a postcard once when the ATP took him to Europe. It was cheesy, but you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face all day when you got it in the mail. 

You hadn’t exactly put a label on the relationship, but it was clear to the both of you that you meant more to each other than either of you cared to admit out loud. Quite a bit more, actually.

And Art wasn’t stupid — he knew what your relationship looked like. 

Recently divorced, a younger woman by his side. If they knew, the media would paint him as one of two options: an easily manipulated victim of a gold digger, or a washed up athlete who split with his wife that was now taking what he could get, the younger and prettier the better. 

But that wasn’t it at all for Art.

It wasn’t just sex, or a new pretty face. You were something different. A breath of fresh air. Someone who didn’t care about his career or money or fame. You had no interest in what he could offer you, or what you could get out of him. You never made him feel pressured to do anything or talk about anything he didn’t want to. He’d spent so many years craving a sense of normalcy and peace. Time and time again, he’d wanted to go to Tashi and beg for a break in his routine. But, always too afraid to disappoint her and everyone else watching him, he stayed quiet. He never got a break. As odd as it was to say, that’s what you were to him when he met you — a break. A minute to breathe, a moment to relax. He always felt that way around you.

Simply put, he was head over heels for you. He didn’t think he’d feel like that for another woman after Tashi until he met you, and it shocked him how easily the feeling came to him.

And it wasn’t just him that had fallen. 

You practically hung on every word he said, and soaked up every ounce of praise he gave you. You had never been with someone like him before. Someone so experienced and sure of himself, but just as gentle and patient as he was sure. He made you laugh and smile, and he made you feel safe. For whatever reason he had taken interest in you, you didn’t care, you just didn’t want it to stop. You clung to it, enjoying it while it lasted.

And if either of you had anything to say about it, it would last.

—

By the time you finished explaining your relationship with Art to your roommate, she was already pushing you out the door. 

“Go, go, go,” she squealed, tossing you your keys. “Wait!”

She wrapped her hand around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks as she glanced down at the outfit she chose. “Is that a new dress? Did he buy you a dress? Oh my god, please tell me he has a brother.”

“Not sure,” you grinned, smoothing your hand down your front. “Show up to alumni week next time and find out.”

You were already pressing a kiss to her cheek and rushing down the hall before she could get out another word, giggling as you made your way to the stairs.

On the drive over to the hotel, the nerves in your stomach were making you nervously tap your fingers on the steering wheel. You must’ve got caught by every stop light, making the trip even longer. You were practically vibrating once you finally pulled into the parking lot, grabbing your bag and hurrying inside before your nerves got the better of you and made you stand like an idiot in the lobby, trying to muster up the courage to get in the elevator. You coasted on autopilot as you forced your feet to lead you upstairs to his floor, all the way down to his door. You only came back into your body when you raised a hand to knock on the door, pausing to take a deep breath.

Just knock, you thought to yourself. You’re a big girl. Just knock.

You had barely even knocked twice on the door before the door swung open, and you came face to face with Art. Your breath hitched in your throat, and you took a second to take him in. Still as pretty as you remembered, and every bit as alluring. You could feel yourself melting. 

The feeling was mutual. 

Art let out a sigh of relief, like it was the first good breath he had taken in weeks. A genuine smile crept onto his face as he reached for you, practically making grabby hands like a child. 

“Come here, pretty girl.”

You tried and failed to stifle a giggle, immediately burying yourself in his chest. You let out a hmph as you pressed your cheek against him, your arms wrapping tightly around his waist. You could feel his thumb running along the bare skin of your arm, his lips pressing a kiss to the top of your head. He nudged the door closed with his foot, tugging your bag from your shoulder and setting it on the floor without even letting you go. He was warm to the touch, and steady against you. He hummed into your hair, squeezing you tighter.

“There she is,” he murmured, letting out a small laugh. “My girl.”

“Hi, baby,” you giggled, the sound making his heart soar in his chest. 

He slowly walked you backwards to the bed, supporting most of your weight as you laid down. He was quick to follow, burying his face into the crook of your shoulder. His arms hooked lazily around your waist, his weight pressing you into the mattress.

This is what you both had been waiting for. This feeling, this moment. Just this.

“You look very pretty today,” he whispered into your skin, pressing a kiss where his lips rested. “All this for me?”

The humor in his voice made you grin, your fingers running through his hair. “Couldn’t let you be that pretty all by yourself.”

Art smiled, pressing his face further into your neck as he let out a breath. You tightened your grip around him, holding him close. You let your eyes close, resting your cheek against the top of his head. 

A comfortable silence fell over the both of you, as easy as it ever was.

—

A/N - Hi! So sorry this took so long to get out, thank you for your patience. I keep rereading this and editing it over and over, I’m not totally happy with it. But something is better than nothing, and I’m tired of staring at, so here you go! Hope this is ok, let me know what you think :)

[shitpissboi]

Alone Together

Summary- The holidays are always hell, and sometimes you just need to be alone together with your boyfriends and your dumbass friends. 

Word Count- 3476

Pairing- Katuski Bakugou x Reader x Hitoshi Shinsou 

Warnings- Swearing, detailed use of marijuana, stalker behavior (kinda, just given as a backstory at the very beginning), aged up characters.

 A/N- Hello everybody! This is actually the first fic that i’ve written in well over a year, so forgive me if my writing is still a little rusty! I hope you like this fic, and thank you for taking the time to read it! :) (Edit: Honeslty thank you so much to everyone that’s interacted with this post! I did not expect it too get so many notes, so thank you all!🥺🖤)

You sighed as you walked into your apartment, the stress of the past week weighing heavily on your shoulders. This entire week had been awful, not only had you been made to work over time almost every day this week at the cafe, a new regular has apparently made it his sole mission in life to make your life hell after you rejected his advances. He had asked for your number last week and you politely declined, telling him that you already had two wonderful boyfriends that made you extremely happy.  

Ever since then, he had made sure to come into the cafe every time you worked just to make your job as hard as possible. Calling you names, commenting about your appearance, making you remake every single thing he ordered several times, just to name a few things. Coupling all of that with everything else that happened this week, it would be safe to say that it was one of the worst weeks you’ve had this year. All you wanted to do now was curl up with your boyfriends, smoke, and watch trashy television. 

Said boyfriends were already on the couch as you walked into the living room, lavender locks leaning against the back of the couch, one hand using the remote to look for something to watch, the other hand running through the messy blonde hair that was sitting in his lap. Your other boyfriend was sprawled out across the couch, laying his head in sleep deprived man's lap as he was texting away on his phone, only the former noticing your quiet entrance. 

“Hey Kitten, how was work today?” The former asked, altering Katsuki to presence. He looked up from his phone the same time Hitoshi looked away from the TV, both of them noticing something was wrong right away. Katsuki immediately sat up and moved to the other end of the couch, leaving just enough room for you to sit comfortably in between the two men. You plopped onto the couch and threw your head back and just groaned, earning a small chuckle from the two.

“That bad Teddy Bear?” Katsuki asked, repositioning you so your head was laying on his lap and your legs were on Hitoshis. You just nodded your head and pushed your face into his abdomen, trying not to cry out of frustration.He ran his fingers through your hair as Hitoshi started to rub your sore feet, helping you to relax. 

“I don’t really want to talk about it.. Can we just smoke and watch shitty TV please..?” The lavender haired man smiled softly at the pout in your voice, carefully moving your legs to get up before you could even finish what you were saying. 

“Of course we can baby. We're gonna have to call Tape Face though, your shitty boyfriend smoked the rest of it last night.” The pomeranian growled out teasingly, effectively bringing a laugh out of you. 

“He’s your boyfriend too Katsuki.” You laughed, sitting up straight and stretching. You watched as Hitoshi walked back into the living room, carrying all the things you would need for the nights sesh. You smiled up at him gratefully and pulled out your phone, quickly texting Sero and asking if he was busy. Hitoshi set up the items on the table then sat down on the chaise part of the couch, pulling you to sit in between his legs. Katsuki had gotten up to get drinks and snacks for the three of you, making sure to also grab your favorite. Hitoshi started to scroll through Hulu, settling on My Strange Addiction for now, when your phone started ringing. Sero’s name flashed on your phone, answering it immediately. 

“Hey mami! What’s up beautiful?” You laughed as you felt Hitoshis grip tighten around you, Sero has been your friend since you were little kids, growing up in the same neighborhood. If he wasn’t dating Denki when he first introduced you to the Bakusquad then they would’ve thought you guys were together with how much you two flirt. 

“Hey Sero. I know it’s late notice but could you make a delivery tonight, preferably soon?” 

“Of course (Y/NN), your week not getting any better?” He asked, genuine worry seeping into his voice. 

“No, it hasn’t. And a certain SOMEONE,” You looked up at Hitoshi and nudged him with your elbow. “Smoked the rest of what we had this morning and didn’t bother to restock.” He simply rolled his eyes at you. 

“You know, if you keep being a brat, then i’m gonna have to teach you a lesson, Kitten.” Hitoshi teased. 

“Shinsou Hitoshi! You can’t say things like that on call!” You pouted, hitting him lightly in the chest. You could hear Sero, and Denki since they were always together, losing their shit over the phone. You growled and put the phone back to your ear. 

“You know I was gonna invite you guys to smoke with us but I don’t like to hang out with fucking bullies!” You growled into the phone, but started laughing as Kaminari immediately started to back track and apologize, making Sero laugh even harder.

“Just your ass over here already, and bring Kiri and Mina too if they want, we haven’t hung out as a group in forever.” You rolled your eyes as you heard Denki runoff in the background, yelling at Kiri and Mina to get their asses ready, then hearing a loud thud, making your and Hitoshi look at each other curiously. 

“We’ll be over in 20 minutes babes... God dammit Denks how many times do I have to tell you not to ru-” The phone quickly hung, making you two roll your eyes yet again, you swear that over excited dumbass is one of the only things that can make Sero lose his never ending patience. You gently threw your phone onto the coffee table and relaxed back into the purple haired man. He kissed your forehead and wrapped himself around you tightly, allowing you to fully relax into his embrace. 

-

About 25 minutes later, a knock startles you from your happy daze. Seeing as Katsuki had taken Hitoshi’s previous position, Hitoshi your position against Katsuki, and you snuggled into Katsuki’s side, you got up to answer the door. As soon as you opened the door you were trapped by a hug from Sero. You relished in the hug for a couple seconds before pulling back and letting him, followed by Denki, Mina, and Kiri. Denki and Kiri immediately made a bee line for the couch, fighting over who would get a hug from their best friend first. (Hitoshi and Katsuki respectively.) 

“Well it’s nice to see you guys too, damn.” You mumbled, laughing a little at the end as you see your boyfriends immediately get annoyed with the two loud intrusions. 

“How much you wanna bet they’ll be dead within 30 mintues?” Mina said, pulling you into a side hug.  

“I give it 20. Tops.” Sero stated as you hug Mina back, leaning into the peck she gave you on the cheek before going to wrangle Kiri in before Katsuki tried to blow him up. 

“How’re you doing babes?” Sero asked, turning toward you while he slid his backpack off. 

“I’m okay right now, a lot better than earlier. I’m so fuckin ready to get stoned though.” You chuckled, rubbing the back of your neck with your hand. 

“I’m just glad that you're feeling better. I swear the next time that bastardo shows his face i’m gonna beat his ass.” He growled, cracking his knuckles to try to be intimidating. 

“Get in line Tape Face! Now get the fuck over here so we can get this started!” Katsuki yelled, making you let out a small giggle. Sero followed you into the living room where the chaos had already started. Denki was being half heartedly being consoled by Mina as he cried at Hitoshi for cuddling Katsuki and not him. Meanwhile Hitoshi was glaring daggers and Kiri, who was sitting in your previous spot, and addimently talking to Katsuki. 

You simply rolled your eyes and sat at the end of the chaise, Sero sitting in between your legs on the floor. He pulled a ziplock bag out of his backpack and grabbed the grinder off the table, promptly starting to break up the bigger nugs and put them into the grinder. You reached around him and grabbed your bong and a water bottle, pouring some water into the bong. Hitoshi had noticed you guys sit down and grabbed the bottle out of your hand when you were done, trading it with a lighter. Not even a couple minutes later Sero was handing you the grinder and you opened it, starting to pack a bowl while he got the stuff ready to roll a blunt.

You packed the bowl as full as you could and held the lighter to the bowl, starting to inhale. About 10 seconds later, when the chamber was sufficiently filled with smoke, you pulled the bowl out and inhaled again, relishing the feeling of the smoke settling into your lungs as you passed the bong and lighter to Sero. You held it for a couple more seconds before slowly letting the smoke out, feeling yourself relax with the exhale. You took the bag sitting next to Sero and continued to grind for him as he took a hit before passing it to Hitoshi. 

You watched Hitoshi take a hit as you continued to twist the grinder back and forth, smiling when he grabbed Katsuki by the collar and exhaled the smoke into his mouth. Katsuki blushed furiously, always being caught off guard when the younger man did things like that, and angrily buried his face into his neck. Hitoshi smirked as he looked down, handing the bong off to an unsuspecting Kiri. (Kiri, Denki, and Mina seriously didn’t realize you guys started until they were dead ass handed the bong-) 

Pulling your attention away from your lovers, you handed the full grinder to the man below you, seeing that he already had a blunt wrap split and emptied out. However he just handed the grinder and the tray to Hitoshi, knowing the exhausted man can roll a much prettier blunt than he can. Your head snapped up as you heard Denki start coughing and watched as Mina ripped the bong out of his hands.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to cough into the bong Denki! I swear every time you hit a bong you cough into it!” She yelled, using the sleeve of her shirt to wipe the water off the outside of the glass instrument. 

“You're still coughing into the damn bong Kaminari?!” You exasperated, staring at him bewildered. It’s been a good couple months since you had all been able to get together, and in that time he had finally decided to move in with Sero. Sero was the second biggest stoner you’ve ever met, just being beat by Hitoshi, and his favorite thing to use was a bong, you would’ve thought he had taught him by now. 

“No matter how many times I tell him he still does it, so now I make him roll a blunt or use a pipe.” Sero shrugged, moving so he could sit between his boyfriend’s legs instead. 

“It’s not my fault my lungs are so bad! Whenever I fry myself it fucks up my lungs!” He whined, leaning forward and draping himself of the latino dramatically. 

“Which is exactly why you should learn how to use the fucking bong, idiot.” Katsuki spoke up, seemingly over his flustered state for the moment. Denki just whined dramatically, causing you all to sigh in irritation. Mina rolled her eyes and took her hit before passing it off to you. You gripped it tightly and stood up on the couch, very carefully going over to Katsuki and sitting in his lap, his arms immediately wrapping around you and his chin resting on your shoulder.  

You held the bong against your lips and went to light the bowl only for Katsuki to snatch it from you, making your lean away and glare at him. He smirked at you and flicked the lighter on, bringing it to the bowl. You rolled your eyes and smirked, putting your mouth back to the bong and inhaling as he lit it for you. You inhaled for a good 15 seconds before he pulled the bowl away, allowing you to inhale the smoke into your lungs. You handed the bong off to him and watched as he leaned it, very clearly wanting you to share the hit with him. 

You smiled at the secretly needy man holding you, softly tangling your hand with the hair at the base of his neck and gently pushing him forward. You tilted your head and let the smoke flow from your parted lips into his open mouth before sealing your lips together. Your lips molded together perfectly with his, the rest of the smoke seeping through your nose before you pulled away, still smiling. 

You looked on as he opened his eyes, a soft smile settling onto his features before he exhaled fully. You closed your eyes and leaned against him, contentment washing over your body for the first time during this hell week. He chuckled and leaned back against the couch again, taking you with him. You listened to him take another hit and felt as he inhaled and exhaled, feeling the smoke blow across your head as he blew you. He handed the bong off and let his head rest on the back of the couch, slightly tightening his hold on you. 

You heard Kiri take another hit as Mina, Sero, and Denki started another fight, letting out a giggle and Katsuki and Hitoshi let out a groan at the same time. You felt Katsuki reach up but paid it no mind until Hitoshi spoke up.

“Hey! That’s no fuckin fair Katsu! You can’t just turn off your hearing aids and leave us to suffer!” Hitoshi let out, holding the frash blunt in the side of his mouth while he signed for Katsuki. Your eyes snapped open and you sat up, giving the blonde your own glare, starting to sign for him. 

“Suki! You said you were going to leave them on this time!” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest when you were done using your hands. 

“I’m not gonna listen to these shitty extras fight the whole time, so until they shut the fuck up, i’m leaving them off.” He signed, a satisfied smirk on his face. 

“You’re such a fukin asshole suki!” You grumbled, making sure to not sign to him. He just stuck his middle finger up at you and laughed. You just turned away and looked to Hitoshi, taking the blunt out of his mouth and grabbing the lighter. He tried to grab it back but stopped when he saw the mischief in your eyes, sitting back to watch you. You lit the blunt and took a long drag, passing it to Sero on the ground before climbing on Hitoshis’s lap. You gently grabbed his face and opened his mouth slightly with your thumb. 

You let the smoke fall from your lips and past his, watching as he sucked in the hit before dipping down to kiss him, raking your right hand through his hair. He pushed up into the kiss, making sure to make a show of grabbing your ass, opening his eyes slightly to lazily glance over at Katsuki, smirking to find him growling at you two. 

“Oh come on, get a room you horny lil freaky fucks.” Denki called out, making you burst everyone but Katsuki and Hitoshi burst out into laughter, the latter just deadpanning. You fell too the side to the side of Hitoshi, bumping into Katsuki’s still crossed legs, pulling yourself up when you calmed yourself down. 

“What in the fuck did you just call us?!” You asked, noting that Katsuki was signing to Hitoshi and asking what in the hell Denki just said. Said man just shrugged, leaning back against the couch. 

“A horny little freaky fuck.” He stated as if it was the most normal thing in the world, causing Mina, Kiri, and Sero to start laughing again. Katsuki had turned his hearing aids on again at this point and had heard what he said. 

“If you call my boyfriend and girlfriend that again i’m gonna kick your fucking ass dunce face.” Katsuki rumbled, grabbing his friend by the collar. You just laughed and reached over to his arm, lacing your hand with his and pulling it back to you, kissing the back of it and wrapping it around yourself. He tightened his grip on you and used his other hand to hold Hitoshi’s, growling at Denki. 

Denki yelped and jumped off the couch, lowering himself and trying to hide behind Sero, crying Katsuki not to hurt him. Sero just mumbled a “Fucking idiot”, and pulled the yellow haired man against him, leaving his arm around his waist. By this time the blunt had gotten back around to Katsuki and he took his arm off you to take a big hit, moving to lean against the arm of the couch so he could continue holding his boyfriend's hand. 

The blond passed the blunt to you when he was done, and you quickly started to inhale, smiling at the familiar burn in the back of your throat. You inhaled for a good while before passing it over to Hitoshi, laying back so your head was now in your other lovers lap. He automatically brought a hand up to your head and raked it through your hair a couple times before simply resting it on top. 

You closed your eyes as it finally started to hit you, allowing you to fully relax into your lover. You tuned out the rest of the conversations and background noise easily, focusing on the feeling of Katsuki’s hand on your head and Hitoshi moving so he was laying on your lap while still holding Katsuki’s hand. The blunt got passed around a couple more times before it was finally done, the bong getting thrown in here and there. You had ended up in a position where sitting up against the back of the couch and his legs apart as you sat between them and leaned against him and the arm of the couch. Hitoshi had crawled between the older man's legs and laid his head in your lap, practically purring as you pet his hair.

You were brought back down to reality when Hitoshi got up to grab a drink and change the TV, putting on something funny and didn’t need to be thought about too much. You sat up to, much to your blonde lovers grievance, and reached toward Hitoshi with a pout. He just let out a chuckle and grabbed your favorite drink and snack off the table, handing them to you as he got comfortable in your lap again. You happily took a sip of your drink and set it next to you, making sure to screw the cap tight, before opening your snack.

You munched it absentmindedly and leaned back against the arm of the couch, smiling up at the blonde and offering one to him. He looked around before begrudgingly opening his mouth, allowing you to place the tasty treat inside. You giggled as he grumbled and looked away, still not used to his friends seeing him act “soft”. You heard your other boyfriend let out a laugh at the explosive hero, genuinely happy that he still continues to try and open up to those close to him, especially after the last couple being rough on everyone.

The holidays brought stress to everyone, the spike in crime making the heros (Kirishima, Denki, Katsuki, and Hitoshi.) over work themselves more than usual and become even more exhausted. While you, Mina, and Sero all had to deal with the wonders of working retail and food service during this time, always seeming to get stuck with the absolute worst customers that would threaten your job and life. 

The last month has clearly taken a chunk out of everyone, and the almost always rowdy group was just thankful to finally get a restful and relaxing night. Even if the group was full of impulsive ideas and even more impulsive decisions, they never felt more safe than when in each other's company, mastering the art of being alone together when it was truly needed. You smiled as you came to this realisation, knowing that no matter what happened or what obstacles would be thrown your way, as long as you had your boyfriends and your friends, everything was going to be alright. You are going to be alright.

Masterlist

Posted 12/19/2020

[winchesterxxi]

Tolerate It (Din Djarin x Reader)

Rating: PG-13 my dudes. 

Type: Angst and some undercooked tasteless fluff cuz I’m a mess and extremely rusty.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Unrequited love, because that’s all we have these days and that shit hurts.

A/N: Based on Taylor Swift’s “Tolerate it” because I deadass listened to that song for the first time and could just picture this scenario ALSO I’m extremely rusty. As in, I haven’t written jackshit like this in over a year. Pardon this crap, but i was really emotional and in need to project onto a newly released song.

✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸

I sit and watch you reading with your head low

The three of you were sitting in the cockpit. The Mandalorian resting his head against the leather of the pilot chair as you sat behind him, The Child in your arms, entertaining itself by tugging and twirling some of your hair strands as you smile down at him and wiggle the occasional finger against his side making him laugh.

This adorable green creature didn’t even phantom about your existence 4 months ago and now you would kill and get killed for it. And admittedly, the same goes for the man resting with his back to you.

I wake and watch you breathing with your eyes closed

I sit and watch you.

You were a servant at the tavern where he was set to meet the Client and hand over the child, which was all part of a bigger plan, you later found out. Just like him and his team,  you got trapped when the stormtroopers and deathtroopers surrounded the building and opened fire, killing the Client and sending a bullet flying dangerously close to your head. When Mando, as you called him,  found a vent into the sewers he made sure that you were not left behind.

And that started it for you. He directed no more than 10 words in your direction between entering the location and offering an escape once it was crumbling down, but he was willing to save your life. Once out of danger, the questions started: “who are you”, “what’s your name”, and “don’t you have a place to go”. You told him then, the answers to all of those questions. And you also explained how, given that you were a servant you didn’t actually have a place to go back to. 

So he did a logical thing. Or at least, then and there, it was a purely logical thing. A pro-quo, if you will. He offered you a place to stay,  in return of you working as some sort of a makeshift assistant of his own; someone to look after The Child when he couldn’t and proceed basic maintenance to the Razor Crest when needed.

And you accepted. You know, the logical thing.  Or at least , then and there, it was a purely logical thing.

Though small, you had your own bed in the lower part of the ship giving you some privacy, occasionally disrupted by The Child that insisted on being cuddle against you in order to fall asleep or when there was an emergency that required your help, but, even then, Din wouldn’t just barge in; He’d always knock and make sure you were okay with him opening the door.

You told yourself that he was just being respectful - giving you the privacy that he hoped you’d retribute, which you always did. When it came to such things, you’d tip toe around him, not asking too many questions and only talking when spoken to or when you wanted to break an incredibly heavy silence. You respected The Way.

I notice everything you do or don't do

Eventually, you started to pick up through his body language traits and quirks of his personality that you couldn’t capture through the enclosed and hidden facial expressions: how he’d always lay The Child against his left arm while on a hunt as to work the weapons with his other hand, how he’s close his fists whenever he realized that he was about to shoot someone; or how after encasing any creature in carbonite, he’d always look over at his capture for a few moments in silence, before rolling his shoulders back and walk away, without uttering a word.

And those little things started to change with time. Changing, as in, new instincts and unconscious movements came to be concerning you: small things, like he’d never walk you in front of him, so as to be on the lookout to any danger or making sure to deviate any conversation that a badly-internationalized creature might want to direct at you.

Eventually, it became bigger. Or at least you thought. He’d make sure that you were covered whenever you fell asleep anywhere that wasn’t your bed; he started to crack jokes with you and have the occasional fight over whose time it was to bathe the kid, like an old married couple.

You're so much older and wiser, and I I wait by the door like I'm just a kid

I greet you with a battle hero's welcome

Lay the table with the fancy shit And watch you tolerate it

One day he’d be like that, and the next, he’d come back after a hunt in which it was too dangerous for you to go, and you’d been waiting all day (when it wasn’t a whole week) for him to come back, not injured and very much alive, and he almost wouldn’t acknowledge you, going straight into the fresher and locking himself in there.

Every time you’d be at the ready with cloths in your hand, prepared to clean any blood splatter or to wrap any open wound. But he’d dismiss you and lock himself away, somewhere in the ship.  

If you didn’t know what mixed signals were before, you sure as hell knew now.

I take your indiscretions all in good fun I sit and listеn, I polish plates until they gleam and glistеn

One day, you had enough.

It was dark night already, and Mando made a lousy entrance through the main portal, struggling to push ahead of him a man much larger than him, draped in canvas coverings.

“Just walk.” Mando grunted, at the same time as he pushed against the man’s back. You were just sitting there, as always, first aid at the ready by your side, watching the scene unfold, unbothered. That is, until you caught the man’s eye.

While you were out building other worlds, where was I?

“Last time I heard you were a lone rider.” He wickedly grins at you. “But maybe that was all talk and you were just keeping this all to yourself.”

You slowly sit upright as your body tenses up. Mando doesn’t utter a word.

“Who’s that pretty thing anyways?”

“No one. Keep walking.” He grunts, pushing the man once more and away from you.

No one. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have been so bothered by that description because, truth be told, he was probably trying not to get you involved in any unnecessary interactions with that disgusting being. But it’s as if those words were the final straw you needed to snap out of this passiveness you’ve held on to for the past few months.

“You know virtually everything there is to know about me, my life, and my planet. You gave me shelter and I owe my life to you. But I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s The Way.”

“Oh would you shut the fuck up with that, already?”

“You don’t talk to me like that.”

“Does The Way say that you have to be an asshole 90% of the time. Shutting out the world around you whenever you just don’t feel like dealing with them. I never even got a single thank you for rewiring the central system which prevented us from freezing to death.”

“You won’t even acknowledge me every time you come back from a hunt and you just told that guy that I was no one. Those were the exact words you used.”

“I ditched the very peaceful and stable life that I had because I wanted to help you. I have done nothing but be loyal to you for the past few months, doing everything you ask me to, yet here I am begging for footnotes in the story of your life.” 

You are too close to him, almost pressed against his chest. He steps past you, brushing against your shoulder, leaning over the cockpit’s panel, his hands supporting him. He answers, with his back facing you, like he always seems to do these days.

“If it was so peaceful, maybe you should go back to it, because obviously you weren’t cut for this life.”

“What, I wasn’t cut for The Way?” you walk in his direction, blood boiling and fists curled by your side.

“Exactly.”

“Fine, maybe I’ll go.” And in that moment you could almost swear his face dropped, even if you couldn’t see it. Taking advantage of the moment you step in his direction, tilting your head up, summoning all your strength “But first tell me it’s all in my head.”

“What?” he is caught off guard, turning to face you.

“Tell me that you haven’t stared more than a couple of times. That your heart didn’t drop to the bottom of your stomach when I almost drowned in the Mamacore cage. Tell me that you don’t need my help and that I mean nothing to you.  Tell me that I am taking up too much of your space or time.”

“You can’t know if I stare at you.” Really? That’s the one thing he chose to answer?

“That I can.” you straighten your back, trying to look taller.

“How would you know?” comes the distorted voice through the helmet speakers.

“The same way that you don’t need to have eyes in the back of your head to know when someone is coming at you with a sword or pointing a gun at your head.”

He is silent but you can hear his breathing through the helmet - how it’s slightly accelerated.

“Din.”

“What was that?” you furrow your eyebrows, thinking that he only uttered a random sound.

“Din Djarin. That’s my name.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. He finally told you. It took almost a whole bloody year but he told you. He trusts you that much.

“Din and in D-i-n or Dean as in D-e-a-n?” you genuinely ask, walking over to the control table leaning your lower back against it. Din mimics your action, turning around and leaning himself against it, next to you.

“I just revealed to you a piece of information that I have never told anyone and you’re worried about the spelling.” he scoffs crossing his arms.

“I’d like to know what name will be written on my death certificate if I ever get killed because of you.”

He laughs. He actually laughs. Suddenly the heavy and tense atmosphere that was being held between the both of you dissipates as you both relax.

“You have quite the sense of humor.”

“And it only took you 7 months to find that out AND tell me your name.”

Then, silence again. But this time it isn’t uncomfortable. Not like the one there normally is. It’s as if you’ve quite literally cleaned the air. It is now comfortable to just be in his presence, nothing else. Not like it wasn’t before, don’t get me wrong, but you always needed something else, something more. But now? You were content.

“Sorry about what I said earlier, the you’re no one part.”

You smile up at him “It’s okay.”

“No it’s not, you said it yourself, I was an asshole.”

“No I shouldn’t have --” he cuts you off.

“You should. You are right. I just...” “The real reason why I dismiss you so much is because I am scared.” Now that catches you off guard.

“Scared of what? Of me? Because trust me you have fought with creatures much more --”

“No, I am scared that if I let you in, I’ll end up going the wrong way. I’m scared that if I let myself look at you when I want to or if I let myself give in to how much I want to come back to you at the end of every day that I’ll end up destroying all this discipline that I’ve insisted on myself all these years.”

Wow. You have to steady yourself with your hands with this information that just hit you right in the chest.  “If I let myself give in to how much I want to come back to you at the end of every day” those words echo in your head and make your heart beat faster. Does he really feel that way about you?

But you decide with your better judgment not to push that particular point as the simple fact of him revealing the tiniest bit of his true feeling has already pushed him much farther than what he was willing to.

“I never asked you to take off your helmet.”

And little do you know that maybe you two are more similar than what meets the eye as now it’s his time to think Really? That’s the one thing she chose to answer?

“I know. And you’re the first person to not ask me that.” he says.

“Because I respect you. And I know how much it means to you, to keep your principles.”

“Is that all it is? Respect?” his heart is beating so fast and his body heat as come way up that the canvas and beskar around his body suddenly feel too itchy and warm.

You decide against your better judgment and toy with the idea.

“Why, did you expect anything else?” 

“What- no no I didn’t ---” he stumbles over his own words, trying to still seem like the bigger person, but you cut him off.

“Din.”

“Hunh?” his helmet snaps in your direction and, maybe you are seeing things, but you can almost swear that you can see a pair of worried eyes through the black visor.

“I like you too.” and just like that the galaxy stopped. He almost forgot how to breathe weren’t it for your own alternated breathing that reminded him to allow that mechanism to happen again in himself. “And I’m willing to wait for whatever it is that you need to feel to be comfortable enough around me, and to let me in.”

There’s a sweet silence as you rest your warm hand on top of his leather-gloved one, your warmth passing through the fabric and he looks down at it in awe, his heart swelling like never before. 

Suddenly you feel yourself being pushed in Dean’s direction from the opposite side from where he is leaning against the control board. You try to subtly resist it but the force gets too strong at once and you are plunged to his front. Thankfully he is quick enough to catch you and press you flush against his chest.

Both of your breathings are extremely accelerated and your heart is pumping in your your ears with the sudden movement. You can feel his gloved hands on the lower of your back. Then, you both slowly look to the side, to the sound of a coo only to find the kid, on the ground in front of you both, little hand outstretched.

“That little shit.” exhales Din.

You get your hand up and swiftly smack the back of his helmet.

“A little respect, that’s your son.”

TAGS

@tillytheslytherin​

[silksandcravats]

Unlocked -Flip Zimmerman x Reader

Summary: Flip comes home to find y/n has failed to follow his instructions, punishment and smut ensues.

masterlist

WARNINGS: swearing, smut, spanking, spanking with belt, bratty reader, dom!flip, Flip is MEAN, slight subspace/subdrop, aftercare

A/N: hi there! i haven’t written any kind of fanfiction in quite some time, and this is my very first piece ever with an Adam Driver character, so I may be a bit rusty. Please let me know what you think/if you’d like to see more stuff like this in the future! Also if you’re a regular in the AD community please come say hi!

You realised your mistake as soon as you heard the front door twist open. You had been leaning over the kitchen island, lazily flipping through one of the new cookbooks you had picked up last week, hoping to stumble across something new to try for dinner, when you heard your fiance come home early. 

“Doll…” his voice called out sternly, loud footsteps echoed through the house as he made his way into the kitchen. You could feel your heart drop into your throat as you fought off the urge to run for the hills. Between the halt in his heavy shoes coming down against the hardwood floor and the overwhelming feeling of his presence taking over the room, you didn’t have to look up from your book to know he was now standing in the doorway. Gulping as quietly as possible, you looked up to him, deciding to try your luck at wiggling out of trouble.

“Sorry baby.” You pouted, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Third time this week y/n, how many times have I told you, you lock that fucking door when I’m out.” he scolded, finger pointed, brows furrowed as he took a few more steps towards you.

“I know honey, but I just forget. And besides, it’s still light out.” You turned outwards towards him as he continued to stalk towards you, closing the space between the two of you. 

“I don’t give a shit if it’s light out, just this mornin chief had to send someone into the area for a break in. Two fucking blocks away! And you sit here with the damn door unlocked for anyone to just stroll in!” He scolded glaring down at you. 

“But nobody did! I’m fine baby.” you insisted looking up to him.

“Never fuckin listen to me…” He grumbled. Your brows immediately furrowed, his comment set something off inside of you. You didn’t appreciate him throwing such a fit over something so silly. 

“I do too fucking listen!” you snapped, “You’re just being a fucking dick about shit that doesn’t matter!” Regret began pooling in the pit of your stomach moments after the words left your mouth. You looked away but he responded quickly, his hand reaching out to snatch your jaw, your cheeks squished between his thumb on one side and his pointer finger on the other.

“You wanna say that again?” He asked, eyes daring you. You quickly shook your head no in response, not that you could get a word out properly if you wanted to with the hold he had on your face.

“No? My baby done being a little brat?” He practically cooed in the most condescending tone. You nodded. He looked at you for a moment longer before he seemed satisfied and let you go, only to huff out a “over the fucking counter.” 

You hesitantly complied, getting spanked was not how you wanted your evening to go, but you also knew better than to push him any further. You leaned over pressing your elbows against the cold marble top and pushing your backside out towards him, to which he responded by bringing his hand down on your ass once, still covered by the skirt of your dress, but hard enough to make you yelp.

“You know why I’m punishing you doll?” he asked, lifting up the bottom of your dress to expose your panty-clad ass.

“Because I didn’t lock the door like you told me to.” you mumbled, already feeling sorry for yourself.

“And?” he pinched the back of your thigh lightly, causing you to squirm.

“And I was a brat.” you admitted. Suddenly he grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling your head up by the makeshift ponytail so that your ear was against his mouth.

“You’re gonna learn to watch that pretty little mouth of yours, or I’m gonna find a more creative way to make you sorry that you’re gonna like a whole lot less, am I being clear, peanut?” He practically snarled making your legs shake.

“Yes sir.” you squeaked.

“Good girl.” he said, releasing his hold on you, allowing you to fall forward against the counter again. He yanked your panties down, exposing your backside and your now slick cunt to the cool air. “Open your legs more, no point in hiding now you little slut.” your face turned pink but you complied, pushing your legs apart so he could have a clear view of both your holes. Your stomach practically churned thinking about how you were fully on display in the middle of the kitchen. 

The next time he touches you, it’s his hand cracking down on the left side of your ass, leaving a stinging red mark. Sometimes you enjoyed when Flip spanked you during sex or when you were teasing each other, it could be quite an arousing act when he wanted it to be, but this clearly wasn’t one of those times. 

As his hand came down again, swatting you on the right side, at the extra sensitive spot right where the top of your thigh began, you knew he was trying to hurt you.

On some level, he must have known it really didn’t matter that much that you left the door unlocked half the time. Known that you’d be fine. But your Flip is fiercely protective, always worrying about you, always wanting to keep you safe and secure, he’d probably tug you along with him to the station every day so he could keep an eye on his girl if he could. 

Flip is also admittedly a bit on the bossy side, and as much as you loved his naturally dominant nature, you often found yourself unable to challenge him and be well, a brat. Which is why he now seems determined to punish you oh-so-cruelly until he was damn sure you wouldn’t leave the door locked ever again.

Your groans and whimpers of protest were becoming more frequent, and you were jolted forward by every sharp burning swat that came down against your poor, unprotected skin. 

Finally you received a moment's relief when his giant rough hand took a break from abusing your poor bottom, to run along the slick that had still somehow managed to collect between your legs.

“It would seem I’m not getting through to you at doll,” he hummed, teasing dragging a single thick finger into your weeping cunt for just a fleeting moment, before he pulled to fumble with his belt, a move he only pulled on rare occasions. “Such a little pain slut hmm? I guess I’m being too soft with you.”

“No Flip not that!” You whined, whipping your head around to plead with him the moment you heard his belt sliding out from the loops in his jeans. “Hurts too much, I've already had enough.”

“Do you need to safeword?” he asked genuinely, gazing down at your backside, pressing the back of his hand against your red skin to feel how hot it had become. And you knew he would stop if you needed him to. And you did want him to stop his attack on your poor bottom, and you certainly didn’t want him to add his belt to the mix, but you never could bring yourself to safeword unless you actually needed to.

“No sir.” 

“Then turn back around.” he said, folding the belt in two. The next thing you felt was the sharp bite of leather against your already sore backside.

“OW! Flip!” you shrieked, raising to your tiptoes to try to get away from the sting. He shushed you, pressing your arched back down against the counter again while the other hand whipped the belt down again in nearly the same spot. A few more hits came down steadily, you must have been dripping down your thighs at this point, but wetness was also pooling in the corners of your eyes, as tears threatened to slide down your cheeks. You took most of the belting quietly until a particularly cruel whack against your sit spots made you lose it.

“I’m sorry! Flip I promise!” You cried, pressing your face against the counter, shoulders shaking as you cried softly. 

He must have believed you this time because he finally set down the dreaded implement and reached for you, running his hand up and down your back and cooing softly at his baby. “I know pumpkin come here.” he helped you up cupping your sad little face in his big warm hands. As you stood your dress fell back into place, mostly covering you, though your panties had long been kicked off to some other spot on the kitchen floor.

“Such a prettier crier,” he hummed running his thumbs across your cheeks collecting the tears you had shed.

“ shoulda locked the door like you asked ‘m really sorry.” you hiccuped looking up into his big brown and hazel eyes. 

“Shh good girl, always m’good girl.” he scooped you up into his arms, gently tucking you into him, you gripping his flannel, wrapping your legs around him, burying your head into the crook of his neck. He held you for a while, mumbling sweet words to you. When he felt you had settled against him he moved, carrying you to bedroom, leaning down he placed you on the bed and followed you down moving sloppy passionate kisses down your neck, as your fingers slide into his dark curls pulling slightly and moaning as he began to work on the little sweet spot he had memorised. 

Finally after enough wiggling he pulls away, allowing you a break and he had to hold back a laugh when his eyes landed on you. “Now you’re gonna start pouting on me?”

“You spanked me really hard.” You whined furrowing your brows. Normally you wouldn’t get away with whining, but he must have decided you had been through enough discipline for one day.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he promised, running his hand up along your bare thigh, leaning down to press a kiss to the tip of your nose and then on your lips. You eagerly reached up, unbuttoning his flannel and pushing it off his shoulder to reveal his tight white undershirt, which you worked off of him as well, letting your eyes settle on his wonderful broad chest. His hand slid between your back and pillows, and he pulled you up against him. You pressed a line of kisses across his  jaw, facial hair rubbing roughly against your cheek. You could feel his hands working behind you, one hand busy undoing the little buttons at the top of your dress, then moving to unzip it the rest of the way down, while the other hand held you steady against him. 

Your mouths found each other again as you continued to undress one another, him now moving on to your bra as you did you best to undo and wiggle down his jeans and boxers from your position. You let out a quiet moan as your lower lip was sucked in between his teeth and he bit down playfully. 

One he had you fully naked from the waist down, he moved you down against the bed again, and slid your dress all the way off, leaning down to press little kisses to your exposed sensitive lower tummy. The sensation made you squeal, reaching down in an attempt to pull his head away from the ticklish spot, but your efforts didn’t amount to much. Massive hands quickly captured your wrists, pinning your arms down so he could continue his attack, your sweet laugh music to his ears, he might even like making you laugh a little more than making you cry.

“Flip! Please!” you managed to get out, bucking your core against him trying to get the message across.

“Jesus ketsl.” he finally granted you relief, pulling off of you. “Would you rather I moved my attention elsewhere?” he released your wrists, moving a couple fingers to just barely ghost over your entrance, not granting you the pleasure of any real penetration.

“Shit yes please!”

“Words, honeybun. Gotta tell me what you want, y’know that.” he locked eyes with you making you feel flustered.

“Want you.” you tried to be as vague as possible.

“’m right here baby girl, did you want anything specific?” he probed, but he must have been feeling generous, because he began easing two long fingers into your slippery cunt.

“Wantyoutofuckme.” you mumbled shyly, looking off to the wall to avoid his piercing stare. He leaned forward bringing his face close to yours, his fingers working to scissor you open for him, but you would have to ask properly first.

“Didn’t quite catch that baby,” he used his free hand to nudge your face to look at him. “Why don’t you try a little louder this time?” You swallowed.

“I want you to fuck me.” You admitted, blushing furiously. 

“Should’ve just said so honey.” he grins, retracting his hands, moving to give his length a few strokes, the remnants of your wetness on his fingers coating him. Wasting no further time he lined himself and slammed into you. You gasped and reached up to dig your nails in his back for stability, he grunted at the ways your walls wrapped tightly around him, setting a quick, rough pace. 

“Shit shit, honey you’re as tight for me as ever.” he groaned fucking you so deeply your entire body rocked with his thrust. The room around you became foggy, your senses blurring, you squeezed your eyes shut and in that Flip Zimmmerman was your entire world, though if you strained, you think you could vaguely make out the sound of your bed frame slamming against the wall in rhythm, and the slight cries of springs from a poor bed that had put up with too many nights of you two.

“I’m not gonna last long if you keep squeezin’ me pretty girl.” He moaned, reaching down to play with your clit, making you hiss. Every other thrust was landing right against your sweet spot, sending you into orbit.

“Me neither baby feels so good, shit, can I?” you asked, the knot in your stomach tightening further and further. 

“Have to look at me if you wanna cum, got it?” He ordered, soft but firm, clearly on the edge. Your eyes flew open, wanting to be good for him you nodded.

“Yes sir, please can I come-fuck!” your gaze slipped up for a moment, but you quickly corrected yourself, focusing on his deep dark eyes.

“Go ahead gorgeous, come for me.” he gave you permission, before spilling into you with a final loud moan. 

You came hard on command, toes curling, back arching, bliss overriding you systems, as your cunt clenched, milking him through his high as he rocked you through yours. He all but collapsed on you, sweaty and panting but you didn’t mind at all.

You felt dizzy and warm, your head somewhere far up in the clouds, and though you thought Flip might be speaking to you, you couldn’t really tell. Your eyes were closed and your head rolled to the side. Slowly the distant voice grew focused, and you peered your eyes open as you realised the voice was talking to you.

“Peanut? Pumpkin? You ready to come back to me honey?” a wonderful deep soft voice cooed at you. Suddenly, still in your haze, you wanted nothing more than to be as close to the owner of that voice is possible. You groaned reaching up with arms still shaky from your orgasm. Flip chuckled at you before scooping you up, shifting slightly to a seated position, he pulled you in his lap and cradle you to his chest as you re-familiarized yourself with your surroundings. 

At some point Flip had put a new pair of boxers on, and now he was gently coxing one of his big old t-shirts over your head, and then pulling your back into him, your head resting against his should, his calloused hand running up and down your thigh, grounding you, and you found yourself lazily running fingertips along his toned chest.

“Dropped into your headspace there for a little bit baby, was that too much?” He hummed against your hair.

You shook your head, “was good,” was all you could manage to get out.

“Love you so much baby,  y’know that?’ He said pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You nod happily. It’s quiet for a while longer, and Flip was beginning to think you’d fallen asleep when you speak again.

“Made me so sore though,” you mumble, “and my bum really hurts, don’t know how I’m gonna get around tomorrow.” 

Flip has to stop himself from laughing, smirking instead he squeezed you tighter to him, “Y’know I’ll carry you around pumpkin, I’ll always take care of you.” he promised. You allowed yourself to drift off, safe warm in his arms, feeling entirely protected and satisfied. 

Flip stayed up a while longer, just holding his girl, running his hand along your thigh, before forcing himself to lie you down and tuck you into bed. He then quietly moved around the room, putting away the clothes that had been tossed on the floor. He slipped downstairs turning off the lights and smiling and shaking his head as he locked all the doors, knowing despite your bargaining earlier, it wasn’t the last time you’d bicker about them.

And sure enough enough when you woke up in his arms in the morning, much more coherent, and grumbling about your sore ass and your legs feeling like jello, Flip was true to his word. Carrying you around, bringing you whatever you need, doting on you and caring for you all weekend long.

[the-real-anywolf]

Destiel Advent Calendar 2019

Title: Tangled In Christmas Tree Lights

Tags: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Past Castiel/Inias (mentioned), Claire Novak, AU, Christmas, Fluff, Profound Bond, Sweet, Teacher Dean Winchester

Summary: Cas meets Claire’s PE teacher Dean Winchester for the first time.

Written by: @anyreiart​ (anyrei)

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21858049

Day 19: Tangled In Christmas Tree Lights

"Dad! We're late!" Claire yelled from downstairs, making Cas startle and nick his cheek as he shaved the rest of his scruff.

“Ouch. Sorry, just a few more minutes!” he yelled back as he pressed a tissue against the bleeding scratch, and continued to quickly shave the rest off.

He could hear Claire clomping up the stairs like an elephant, probably to check on his progress in getting ready. He always wondered how a ten year old girl could manage to be so loud on the stairs, that it equaled a little earthquake.

The bathroom door was kicked open, and Claire greeted him with an angry glare and her hands braced on her hips. “Why are you not ready? You promised you would help with building the set of our play!”

Cas cleaned the rest of the foam from his face and nodded. “Yes, and we will get there… almost in time. I just need my shirt and we can go.”

Claire squinted her eyes at him. “Your hair is a mess! You should try to make a good impression on my new teacher.”

Cas tried to straighten his hair but as always it was a lost cause. “Yeah, what was his name again? Your PE teacher right?”

“Mr. Winchester. Dean Winchester,” Claire replied with an eyeroll, holding out his shirt for him. It was moments like this when he really wished he wasn’t a single Dad trying to balance a full time job and raise a child at the same time. He was a mess at this. He was a mess since Inias had died. It had already been over five years now, and he still hadn’t found his sea legs after his husband had left this hole in Claire’s and his life.

He shrugged his shirt on and buttoned it before he nodded. “Alright. Do you have everything? The glitter, the nails we are supposed to bring.”

Claire grabbed his hand and pulled him to the stairs. “Yes, yes, now come. It’s all in the car. I borrowed your car key to pack everything ahead!”

“You, um, what?”

…. :::: :::: ….

The coffee one of those super moms had brought, just wasn’t cutting it. Cas yawned and stretched his arms over his head as he tiredly watched Claire carrying a bucket with white paint on the auditorium stage. The Nativity play had its premiere in two weeks, and a few parents had offered to help build the sets for the play. Claire had offered Cas without asking, and Cas had promised her he would do it since it seemed important to her, although he was neither skilled with handiwork nor was he in any way a social person. His people skills were more than rusty. In his line of work he rarely needed to talk to people. Working as a forensic pathologist wasn't the most social job. All of his clients were dead.

Cas yawned again thanks to only four hours of sleep the night before, when someone cleared his throat behind him, asking, "Dr. Novak?"

Cas turned around, and it took everything he had not to do a double take. What the…  

The man behind him was incredibly attractive. Green eyes with golden flecks in them, a few scattered freckles over his nose and cheeks, and a smile that would make any Hollywood agent weep.

There was an awkward moment where they both just stared at each other, before the man seemed to get over it and held his hand out for Cas, "We haven't met. I'm Dean Winchester, Claire's PE teacher."

Cas shook Dean's hand, maybe a little bit too long. His hands were calloused and strong. "Um, hello… Mr Winchester. It's nice to finally meet you. Claire has talked a lot about you."

Fuck, the guy was hot. It was really hard to look away from him. “Please, call me Dean,” the sex god of a PE teacher replied.

“Cas,” He replied, hoping he wasn’t grinning like an idiot.

At least Dean was smiling back at him and oh boy , that smile was incredibly sexy. “That’s an unusual name.”

“It’s short for Castiel. We were all named after angels in my family,” Cas explained. For a short moment he felt the old familiar pain in his heart, when he was reminded of his husband. When they met, they had bonded over the fact that they were both named after angels.

Dean seemed to have sensed the mood change, because he distracted him with a beautiful smile and an absolutely messed up bundle of christmas tree lights. “Would you help me with this? I think I could really use some angelic assistance untangling this mess.”

Cas snorted and shook his head, “Yeah, I’m no angel, but I will give it a valiant try.”

Dean’s expression turned a little bit shy as he handed over the cable. “Sorry, that was a bad joke. You probably hear it all the time.”

Cas shrugged, trying to give a polite answer. Yes, of course that joke was made to an extent it got annoying, but he didn’t want the sexy teacher to feel bad about it. “It’s alright. I can try to be your guardian angel. But that’s an A level problem there, you probably would have needed demonic assistance, cuz this mess is unholy.”

Dean sighed and started to untangle the cable on the opposite side of Cas. “I was hoping I could wait for a more special occasion to sell my soul.”

“Like a certain angry orange man going to prison for life?” Cas suggested with a grin as he started to drape some of the cable over his wrist that he had successfully freed from a knot.

Dean laughed at that and Cas couldn’t take his eyes off him as his finger stroked over the cable, trying to untie it. “Yeah, that would be a good reason,” Dean replied, holding his gaze.

Cas’s heart was beating faster with the intense staring, He licked over his lips, catching Dean as his gaze flickered down to him. The tension between them was palpable, and went through the roof when Cas’s fingers accidentally stroked over Dean as they untangled the Christmas lights.

There was a little gasp from Dean’s lips, a shy smile before Dean broke the eye contact and looked at the cable. “If I pull here, maybe I could wrap this around me so it doesn’t get entangled again,” he explained thoughtfully.

“It’s worth a try,” Cas suggested, lowering his voice on purpose. He wanted to see if flirting with Dean would get him somewhere.

It ended up being a great idea. Not because they had successfully untangled the cable, but instead somehow had managed to both get entangled in it, basically being bonded together.

Dean hummed and gave Cas an apologetic look, his beautiful face just inches away from him. “That didn’t work.”

“Unless your goal was to trap an angel,” Cas chuckled trying to free at least one of his hands.

He stopped when he noticed Dean staring at him. “Maybe asking you out for coffee is a better method?”

The shy look was incredibly endearing and Cas couldn’t believe his luck. “Um, yes. I happen to know that angels really like going out for coffee.”

“They do?” Dean asked with a raised eyebrow as he lifted the cable over Cas’s head. Cas could feel Dean’s fingertips in his hair.

“Oh yes, especially when the man accompanying them has freckles.” He leaned closer and whispered, “It’s their secret human weakness.”

“That’s good to know,” Dean replied when Cas hung some of the cable over Dean’s shoulder, feeling how hard his muscles were. “Maybe I should try that when we’re free of this cable?”

“I’ve never had a better motivation to untangle Christmas lights,” Cas chuckled as he started to work on untying the knots a little bit faster.

Claire cleared her throat suddenly next to him, her arms crossed over her chest. “Dad! What are you doing with Mr. Winchester?”

Cas really tried not to look like a kid with their fingers in the cookie jar. “Um… we’re having a profound bond?”

Claire gave him a skeptical look, but Dean came to his rescue. “It’s all fine. He’s helping me out of this perdition.”

Claire stared at them for a moment before she squinted her eyes them, ”Alright, I’ll leave you to that. I just came by to tell you that your brother came by with the costumes. The ox costume looks like a moose. It’s a disaster, Mr. Winchester.” She threw her hands in the air and left them tangled in their Christmas lights.

Dean raised his eyebrow at Cas. “We should get out of here before she gets back.”

Cas nodded quickly and held the cable up. “You slip out. I’ll watch over you.”

Dean touched his cheek for a brief moment and it felt like sparks going through his whole body. Dean must have felt it too, because he was smiling at him in awe and surprise. “See you on the other side, Cas.

It was just one little step, ducking under the Christmas light, but it felt like a new beginning. Like change. Maybe it was the change he had been waiting for. To get his life back in order. For the first time in years Cas felt hopeful again.

Maybe it was just a nostalgic Christmas feeling, but when he looked at Dean and the way the man just reciprocated his looks and held them… it felt weird… almost like they already knew each other. Like meeting an old friend and just starting where they had left off.

It felt good.

Dean grinned at him and leaned closer, “Cas, not for nothing, but the last time someone looked at me like that...I got laid.”

“How about the coffee first,” Cas replied with a laugh. Yes definitely very good.

[azulaahai]

take me to church (1/?) - a jon x sansa fake dating au

”Ask him! What’s the harm? He can just hang out with you and dry your tears. We know you think he looks good in a tux…” Only Margaery could sound both suggestive and innocent at the same time.

”That was one time! And it was Robb’s wedding! I was emotionally vulnerable!”

Or: Receiving an invitation to the wedding between her former friend and her former boyfriend, Sansa Stark must ask her boss Jon Snow to be her fake date.

Title, of course, from the Hozier song.

Haven't written fic in ages and I feel rusty af, this is rather messy but whoomp, here it is, a good old fake dating AU.

read chapter 1 under the cut or on ao3

* * *

The wedding invitation arrives on a rainy Thursday.

”Hello?” Sansa calls out as she painstakingly closes her apartment door with her foot, carrying three bags of groceries. ”Arya? Marg?”

Thursday is family dinner night, and it’s Sansa’s turn to host this week. Margaery and Arya were sweet enough to offer to come help her prepare, and she can her them now in her living room, the sound of their chatter dulled by the smattering of rain against the windows. They must have let themselves in with Arya’s key.

”Hi guys”, Sansa says as she passes by the sofa, where her sister and sister-in-law are sitting.

”Hi, Sans”, they chant almost in unison, and Sansa rolls her eyes. Marg and Arya get along very well. It’s both endearing, irritating and terrifying.

”Need some help with that?” Arya calls out after her as she enters the kitchen, putting down the bags on the counter with a relieved sigh.

”No, I’m fine”, she calls back. ”We made tea.” It’s Margaery this time.

”Great, thanks.” Sansa pours herself a cup from the kettle, tying her rain-dampened hair up in a tight bun before going back to the living room, tea cup in hand. She stops in the doorway. It’s such a sweet picture, Arya and Margaery curled up on her sofa, and Sansa is struck by a wave of affection for them. Her sisters. Her sentimentality makes it take her a moment to notice how strange they’re acting; both Arya and Margaery regard her with awkward expressions, and they’re unusually quiet.

”What?” Sansa says, sipping her tea. ”What’s the matter, weirdos?”

They look at her sheepishly from the sofa, before exchanging a cryptic glance. Neither of them responds.

”One of you better pipe up”, Sansa warns, lowering her cup, her eyes narrowing. ”If you fucking broke something in my apartment again …”

”We didn’t break anything”, Margaery assures her, still not yielding any additional information.

”But something of yours might still be broken very soon”, Arya mutters, causing Margaery to elbow her in the side.

”I swear to god, if none of you tell me what -”

”Okay, okay!” Arya finally says. ”Uhm … This came for you. In the mail.” Arya bends down and picks up what seems to be a card of some sort from the floor, handing it to Sansa. Reading what it says, Sansa can physically feel herself grow pale. She hates herself for reacting, but fuck if the words don’t hit her like a punch.

You are invited to the wedding between Myranda Royce and Harry Hardyng …

Sansa swallows. One, two, three times. She stares at the card, not wanting to meet Arya’s or Margaery’s eyes, though she can feel them upon her.

”You opened it?” she whispers.

”It was my fault”, Margaery immediately says. ”I’d … well, we saw it was a wedding invitation, and I had sort of heard some rumors, so I kind of … we kind of knew what … I’m sorry. Did we overstep?”

Sansa’s vision is blurred and she blinks. She can’t fucking cry over Harry Hardyng. That’s very ’last year’ of her.

”It’s alright. It’s not a big deal. I’m not going.” Sansa’s tone is clear and her voice stable. She definitely does not at all feel like crying anymore. Nah. Absolutely not.

”Of course you are going, you fucking idiot!” Arya exclaims, unapologetically stuffing some of Sansa’s fancy, treat-yourself-you’re-on-your-period chocolate that Sansa hadn’t realised that Arya had taken out of the cupboard into her mouth. Margaery unsurprisingly speaks up in agreement with Arya.

”Totally, Sans. It’s the perfect opportunity to show everyone how you’re the bigger person and completely cool and over the situation.” Arya nods at that and hands Marg a piece of chocolate, that Marg accepts. Sansa is going to kill them. But later. When her head stops spinning and she doesn’t feel like she just got punched. The wedding between Myranda Royce and Harry Hardyng …

It takes her a moment to gather herself enough to reply in a nonchalant tone.

”Being obviously single at the wedding of my former friend and my former boyfriend? Thanks, but no thanks.” Sansa suddenly wants comfort, wants hugs and gentleness. She wishes at least one of them would have gone with the ’poor you, I’ll do anything to console you’ approach rather than this ’we’ll give you bad advice’ circus.

”Ask someone to go with you!” says Margaery, excitement glimmering in her doe eyes, her earlier ashamed tone now long gone. ”Think about it. How often do you have such an amazing opportunity to not only show two people who have fucked you over that you’re doing so much better without them, but also by doing so somewhat ruin what is supposed to be the happiest day of their life?”

”But I’m not doing so much better without them”, Sansa says in a low voice. Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic, chants an unhelpful voice in the back of her head. ”And you know I’m not the revenge type, really. Plus, even if I went with a date - in theory!” she adds as Arya and Marg begin cheering in the sofa, ”I’d be an emotional wreck all weekend. I couldn’t make someone come be my date for a boring ass wedding and watch me slowly die inside for two days.”

”Oh my god”, says Margaery, clearly undeterred by Sansa’s somber speech, practically bouncing in the sofa, ”you should ask Jon!”

Arya’s eyes go wide and a wicked grin spreads across her face. Sansa can already tell she is screwed.

”Margaery Tyrell. You are a motherfucking genius!” Arya all but yells.

”I can’t ask Jon!” Sansa says with desparation in her voice, panic rising within her at the mere thought. God. The idea of attending this wedding is already making her physically sick. To go with Jon would basically be emotional suicide. They might as well take her to the insane asylum straight away. Or the morgue.

”Why not?” Marg says. ”He’s an appropriate age, he’s cute as hell, you know him well so it won’t be weird, we know he’s a good guy so he could just do it as a favor, a platonic thing …”

”He’s my boss, Marg.”

”Oh please!” Arya chimes in. ”He’s a café owner and you manage his café. It’s not really as risqué as you make it sound.”

”I wasn’t making it sound risqué!” Sansa squeaks. She acutely regrets getting out of bed this morning. Or at all, ever.

”Plus, we’ve known him for years before he was your boss. It’s not even weird”, Arya says, sounding smug.

”Ask him! What’s the harm? He can just hang out with you and dry your tears. We know you think he looks good in a tux…” Only Margaery could sound both suggestive and innocent at the same time.

”That was one time! And it was Robb’s wedding! I was emotionally vulnerable!” Sansa protests.

”We did have a great wedding”, Marg says with a soft sigh.

”Stop talking about your fucking wedding”, Arya groans from the sofa, burrying her head in one of Sansa’s embroidered pillows. ”We know you had the best wedding and all that. We were there, Marg. You married our fucking brother. It was awesome. We get it.”

”Thanks, Arya”, Sansa says pointedly. ”Maybe we should stop talking about weddings altogether.”

”Not until you agree to take Jon to this one!” Arya says, looking up at her again. ”It’s the perfect plan, Sans.”

”Perfect”, Margs agrees. They’re scary as hell when they gang up on her, Sansa has to admit. She has a terrible feeling that they planned this, that this ’oh, take Jon as your date!’ idea wasn’t as spontaneous as was presented.

It’s as if she’s in a nightmare. Or in hell. Hey, guess what? Harry’s getting married! Yeah, your ex boyfriend who is somehow still a sensitive subject for you! Who is he marrying you ask? Right, that would be your former friend who’s been dating him for, like, half the amount of time that you dated him for! And oh, did I forget to mention? You’ll now be pressured into going to the wedding with your inexplicably attractive boss as your date! Have fun, asshat!

”I’ll think about it”, Sansa says, mainly to buy herself some time.

”You can ask him tonight”, Arya says innocently.

”I can ask him when now?”

”He’s coming tonight, didn’t you hear?” Margaery says, in a tone far too blasé to be authentic. ”Robb invited him.”

”To family dinner? In my apartment?”

”Relax! He’s basically part of the family”, Arya says, indignant. ”Plus, it’s not like we’re strict on the ’just Starks’ rule. Margaery’s here, after all -”

”Hey, I married Robb, for fucks sake! I’m part of this family by law.”

”- and Gendry’s coming, so I don’t see what’s the big.”

”Gendry’s coming!?” Sansa shrieks.

* *

Sansa splashes some cold water in her face, meeting her own gaze in the bathroom mirror. She looks tired, but not heartbroken. Rather well, considering the current circumstances - ready to greet the unexpected amount of guests that is going to be showing up any minute now. She’s taken respite in the bathroom for a few blissful minutes of solitude.

Margaery and Arya have been unusually kind to her all day after the wedding date discussion. Out of care for her feelings or out of guilt for pressuring Sansa earlier, Sansa can’t tell, but it’s been rather welcome in her fragile state. Arya even gave her a long, warm hug before the cooking frenzy began, and that’s rather rare.

Then again, Sansa knows how worried they all were for her during the Harry Hardyng circus. It had been her first real, grown up heartbreak, Harry telling her ’this wasn’t working anymore’ after two years together, and tears and grief had followed. She’d moved past that after a couple of months, but still, Harry had been the type of ex that you’re not quite finished with, the kind who’s still in the back of your mind, the kind you secretly harbor hopes of reunion for. It wasn’t until Myranda Royce, her friend from work, told Sansa she ’wanted to talk to her about something’, and revealed that she and Harry had started dating, that Sansa realized just how much she had counted on one day getting back together with Harry, and the blow was a hard one. The revelation unfortunately coincided with the ten year anniversary of her parents’ deaths, and the emotional toll sent Sansa rather far down a black hole. She quit her job, and  had trouble finding a new one.

If Jon Snow hadn’t offered her a manager position in his café, Sansa isn’t sure where she’d be. He wasn’t perhaps her knight in shining armor, but that first day she was so utterly grateful to have him just be her boss in a black apron, showing her how the espresso machine worked.

So Margaery and Arya’s suggestion of Jon Snow being the one to save her from the curse of Harry Hardyng once and for all by accompanying her to his - barf - wedding was more poetic than they perhaps realised. Full circle, in a way. Jon saved Sansa once from the Harry Hardyng hole, and he might save her once more. She rolls her eyes at herself in the mirror. It’s a crazy idea, made up by crazy people, she reminds herself. But she can’t stop herself from picturing how it would be, pulling up to the wedding with Jon Snow in tow, not sitting by herself amidst strangers pathetically fighting back tears over her lost future with Harry fucking Hardyng, but rather on a fun weekend getaway with her (fake, but nobody needs to know that) boyfriend.

Plus, she knows something that Arya and Margaery doesn’t; Harry was always a little intimidated by Jon. Got jealous when he was around. It’s petty and juvenile and stupid and probably completely inaccurate, but some part of Sansa is convinced that some part of Harry would still hate to see her dating Jon Snow of all people.

Her embarrassing line of thought is broken by the sound of the doorbell.

They’re here.

* * *

”Uhm, Jon?” Sansa says, clearing her throat.

They’re by themselves in the hallway after dinner, and Sansa has a sneaking suspicion that Arya and Margaery might have planned it that way. Arya and Gendry loudly joking with Robb in the kitchen while doing the dishes, Margaery entertaining Bran and Rickon in the living room, Sansa is alone in saying goodbye to Jon in the hallway. Dinner was a success, to her surprise; she’s tired, but not in an unpleasant way. Today’s not been as bad as it could have been. Family dinner nights are always nice, and she needed one today. Sansa’s had a glass or two of wine which might be impacting her decision making, but she’s really about to ask her boss something completely unprofessional.

”Yeah?” Jon looks at her with piercing grey eyes, and Sansa feels herself blush. It’s strange - even with him and Robb being thick as thieves since kindergarten, even with him having been around her forever, even having worked for him for almost a year, Sansa still feels a little unsettled being alone with Jon. Not in a creepy sense - but he’s just never been as open and familial with her as he is with the rest of her siblings, they’ve never been as comfortable around each other. Suddenly, to suggest to Jon Snow that they spend intimate one on one time together seems like a rather bad idea. Sansa swallows. It feels too late to back out now.

”Would you consider doing me a huge favor?” Hm. It sounds rather shady when she says it like that. Like the ’favor’ she’s about to ask is that he store a ton of cocaine for her for a while.

”I’d consider it”, he says, and his eyes sparkle with amusement. ”What’s -”

He’s cut off by Robb entering the hallway, asking Jon if he wants to take some leftovers home with him. For a second, Sansa could swear Jon’s eyes linger on her even as he answers Robb, but the moment passes quickly and afterwards she’s sure she imagined it. When Robb returns to the kitchen to indeed fetch Jon some leftovers, Jon looks rather confused when Sansa remains silent.

��You were saying?”, he says, in that low, gentle tone of his.

”I … nevermind”, she says, shooting him what feels like a weird smile as Robb once more steps into the room. Saved by the bell, or rather, the brother. Yet she feels strangely disappointed. ”We’ll talk tomorrow, perhaps.”

”Right, tomorrow.” They do café paperwork for an hour or two on Fridays. ”You’re on, Stark.”

As Jon says his goodbyes in the living room, as he gives Sansa a short side hug while mumbling something about her ’delicious dinner’ in her ear, sending a pleasant shiver up her spine that Sansa chooses to surpress and ignore and lock away in a cupboard, as he steps out the door, as she’s left alone with a somewhat confused-looking Robb in the hallway, that one word still echoes around her head.

Tomorrow.

[suhojunmyeons]

Like

Genre: Smut

Warning/Tags: fingering, friends-with-benefits au, college au, friends-to-lovers au

A/N: okay so before we start I just wanna say that it’s been soooooo long since I’ve written anything. This blog was up since god knows how long, and I’m still a bit rusty in writing so what better way to start again by writing smut! YEY!

this wasn’t proof read btw, so pls do tell me if u guys find any mistakes!

hope you like it~!

You and Hansol have always been friends. Since you were little you never knew you’d get along with the shyest kid in class but who were you to judge? you were one of the shy kids in school as well. But I guess that’s how you both became friends; it started with small talks and finding about each other’s likes and dislikes and being completely okay and respectful with it. When high school came, you were in different classes, but that didn’t stop you two from spending every precious minute you had with each other on the walk way home, it didn’t feel like you guys were separated at all.

Then came college.

Now that you’re both older and in the same college, things changed, especially your feelings towards each other. Hansol dated some, you on the other hand didn’t. Maybe it’s because you were still rooting for your bestfriend to like you back. How stupid is that right? As typical as that may sound, you grew romantic feelings for Hansol, and you hated it. You never really liked him because everything with him is so platonic, chill and fun but you never really saw him as a romantic guy because, come on, the dude is a dork.

But when he started dating at the near end of highschool, you saw a side of him that you never saw before; how he goes all out and puts effort for the girl he used to like back then, how he constantly talks about her and how he adores her, and you wanted that. You wanted that feeling but you wanted It just with him. When the girl he used to date broke it off with him, you comforted him and it broke your heart as well, and weirdly enough your feelings for him grew even deeper. And it sucked because he never really saw you any other way, he only sees you as his best-est friend in the entire world. When he tried to date again in college, all hope was lost and told yourself to stop chasing and holding on to a guy who doesn’t even feel the same way. It felt so wrong and it only made you pity yourself. But you’d be lying if you said that all feelings were gone. There still is, but that hope—that feeling of hope that you’ll end up together in the end was out of the window.

 But things spiraled down completely and none of you were expecting that your friendship with twist into this.

It was your first year in college and of course stupidity and peer pressure the reason that started it all. You remembered how things ended up the way it is now. You were a virgin and so was he. Stupid how the both of you thought that being ‘in’ and ‘cool’ was to say, you lost your ‘V card’  before even going to college and of course being the naïve teens you were, both of you decided to lose your virginities…

 To each other

 You can’t remember all the details of how it all went down, but all you could remember was, it’s a mutual understanding and both had consent with each other. But after that day, it was never the same.

A week after the first time it was awkward! Not with each other, but wondering how to approach the other and ask if they could do it again.

“Err…”

“So…”

“You, uh, wanna...?”

“S-sure”

The second time was still awkward. It was when you decided to hang out with him and watch a movie, but we all know it didn’t end up that way. It started with footsies and hands on each other and then on thing led to another and then suddenly he was already on top of you, mouths latched on each other, teeth clashing, definitely leaving a bruise on each other’s lips. You and Hansol never really made out before so that was a first. Hansol pulled away breathless, looking down at your hardened nipples that was poking at your shirt. He gulped before asking, “c-can I touch your boobs?” his eyes moved from your chest to your eyes, waiting for permission. Your chest heaved up and down, panting from the kiss. All you could do was nod as the tent in his pants caught your attention. You already had sex but still, both of you were still cautious and try get each other’s consent and that’s what you loved about him.

 After all that, the both of you did it numerous times and surprisingly (and sadly), things never changed, you guys still hanged out like you usually do and still do the same things. Seems simple and normal enough for the two of you, the only difference was sex was added into your relationship.

It was finals week and everyone was busy, so busy that none of you have seen each other for the past two weeks. Everyone was so preoccupied with studying that both of your ‘needs’ were barely even felt, that’s until the day after taking the exams. Hansol and you finally have a time to rest and spend some time with each other. You went over to his dorm where he was all left alone by his roommate, so that means you have all the room to yourselves. You knocked on his door thrice before he opened it, and you were greeted with a blank faced Hansol. “Hey,” you smiled and walked inside; the room was dim and everything was in place, exactly how it looked like whenever you came over. Suddenly you felt his hands grab on your hips and started to rub circles eliciting a moan from you. You felt his body press against your back as you leaned your head on his shoulders. You turned around to face him and crashed your lips to his. The moment your lips touched each other’s you both moaned into each other’s mouths. It’s been a while and he missed the taste and the feeling of your lips, he slowly licked your bottom lip, asking for entrance, you obliged and opened your mouth, letting his tongue slip into and met with yours. You started to head for the bed, never breaking the kiss. Hansol lightly pushed you down the bed, his hands rubbing up and down your thigh.

“I need to tell you something,” Hansol blurted out. You raised an eyebrow at him, surprised at this sudden outburst. “Okay, sure, later. Do me first.” You didn’t even bother to do some sexy talk, damn you didn’t even care that you sound so desperate and needy. Hansol shook his head, wanting to say what he wanted to tell you but before he could even get a single word out, you silenced him with a kiss and said, “I need you, please.” You grabbed on to the collar of his shirt, indicating him to remove it. Hansol sighed and nodded, quickly removed all clothing, including yours. Both of you skipped the foreplay; you missed him and he missed you, the both of you haven’t touched each other for weeks. Right now, all you want is him to be inside you as soon as possible.

Something was off the moment you came; Hansol wasn’t as cheery and excited to see you today, he’s usually the one who greets you with a kiss and sometimes even joke before or during sex but he’s all clamed up. You tried not to think much about it, especially what he wanted to talk to you about but you can’t help but think that it’s something to do with what you two are doing right now.

Does he want to stop this?

Does he like someone new?

Does he want to end out friendship?

Your thoughts were cut off when you saw Hansol put on a condom and position himself between your legs. “I miss this,” he hummed, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, seeing how wet and needy you are as he held his member in his hand, teasing your entrance, lubricating is covered cock with your wetness. “Hansol please,” you begged, and that’s all he needed to hear before he slowly pushed himself inside you. Both of you moaned in unison, loving this feeling all the time, this familiar feeling that you can’t seem to get enough of. He started moving, thrusting into you, but that slow pace quickly turned faster. His hips snapping at every thrust, pulling you down to meet his thrust. You feel it coming at the pit of your stomach. “Ha-Hansol I’m not gonna last long,” you moaned, holding on to his arms as he moved faster, ramming himself into you.

Just when you were about to reach your high…

 “I like you, (Y/N).”

Both of you stilled your movements. He was still inside you; your walls still pulsating and his member releasing its load in the condom, but everything was dead silent and frozen for a minute.

Really, Hansol, really? You’re gonna confess now?

He closed his eyes shut, feeling embarrassed about the situation. Hansol slowly removed himself off you, he sat up and started rubbing small circles on your clit with his thumb, mindlessly playing with it as he stared at it, trying to avoid your gaze. Pleasure started to build up making you arch your back, pressing yourself closer to his finger. “Hansol,” you moaned, your hand grabbed onto his shoulder, moving your hips along with the motion he was doing. He slowly slipped a finger in you, your moans getting louder as his fingers moved faster. Hansol felt your walls clenching around his fingers, knowing that a single finger wasn’t enough, he pushed in another one, filling you up. “Fuck,” he grunts, biting his lip. Seeing you with your eyes closed, head tipped back against the wall, your chest heaving, and his name escaping your lips every second made him hard again. Hansol leaned in and nuzzled his face into your neck, leaving wet kisses up to your jaw. This new angle made him push his fingers in you deeper, rubbing you in all the right places. He moaned when he felt you got wetter, his fingers sliding in and out of you with ease. He stopped moving when you started to move your hips against his fingers, riding it, letting you take over.

“I like you, (Y/N).” he starts again, his thumb started to rub your bundle of nerves even faster, pressing hard, sending jolts in your system. “I have always liked you,” he started peppering your jaw with little kisses, you leaned your head to the side giving him more access and permission to your neck. Hansol knows this is the worst time to let it all out and confess to her but this is the only time he feels confident and reckless—whenever you’re with him.

Your heart beats faster; you didn’t know if it was from the pressure that was building up or if it was Hansol’s words. You couldn’t think straight as your mind was spinning from all the pleasure he was giving you. Hansol moved his head lower and took one of your hardened nipples into his mouth, giving it a suck and then pulling away with a pop and started to flick it with his tongue, coating your nipple with his spit. You let out breathy moans and held onto the back of his neck as Hansol started to move again, thrusting his fingers hard, hitting that one spot that sends electricity all over your body. “S-Shit” you cursed, feeling your orgasm coming near again.

“I don’t know if you feel the same way about me. I don’t know what we are but I want something more than this,” Hansol continued, pressing his forehead against yours. You looked into his eyes, you heart skipping a bit everything you looked at him. “I like you, (Y/N),” he repeats again, this time his words sends shivers to your core.

Waves of pleasure came over you so strong and intense making you sit up and your thighs quiver. You screamed as you came on his fingers, Hansol gave your clit one last flick before your body started shaking, indicating that you had too much. Tears formed in your eyes as you felt pain and pleasure at the same time. A gasp left your lips, your body sensitive from the aftermath.

Hansol pulled out his fingers and brought it into his mouth, sucking it clean. You suddenly felt weak and drowsy, your body falling limp on top of him. “You don’t have to answer right away. I just wanted to let you know.” Finally, a huge grin formed on his lips, feeling proud of how much he pleased you tonight. All you could do was nod as sleep was starting to catch up. Hansol laid you down on his bed, careful not to touch your sensitive lower half. He covered you up with a blanket and pulled you close to him. If only you had even the tiniest amount of energy left, you could’ve replied back to him.

But he guess that’ll just wait tomorrow morning.

[andonewillbringhisfall]

Made your mark on me

HEY GUYS I’M BACK I haven’t written any fic in six months so I’m a lil rusty but here’s some new content! This is a request from @pixiecodesnowbaz based on this post. 

Soulmate AU where the things your soulmate loves show up on your skin.

BAZ

Growing up, my tattoos changed all the time. My soulmate’s interests were many and usually short-lived. There were ladybugs running up and down my arms for about a week when I was six, which then disappeared all at once and were replaced with a stuffed Paddington Bear. That went too after a while, when a tiny scruffy kitten took its place, then was gone by the time I woke up the next morning. As we got older, I had less and less tattoos on my arms, just enough – a football, various food items – to make me think he was okay, not enough to make me think he was happy.

The day Simon Snow discovered magic, I felt the shift in the atmosphere. We all did. I didn’t know what it was yet, and I didn’t much care, too focused on the new tattoo I had discovered on my ankle. A sword. It was the only remotely cool thing I had ever seen tattooed on my own body, and the only one that hinted that my soulmate could possibly be a mage. Or at least more interesting than a regular Normal.

When I met Simon Snow, I thought nothing of him except that he was my family’s enemy and it was truly unfortunate that I would be forced to be his roommate. Or not; depending on how you looked at it. From a strategic point of view, it might be very useful, but it was hardly likely to make my experience at Watford more enjoyable. It didn’t help that he was a useless buffoon.

A few days later, the Watford gates appeared just above my wrist. That meant my soulmate had to be in my year. Not long after that, I started discovering new foods; a little tattoo of roast beef at a random point on the side of my leg, and a sour cherry scone on my left elbow. I knew he liked food, and I’d been expecting this.

About a month into first year, when Snow and I had already established that we hated each other’s guts, I caught him practicing with his sword.

That was the first time I yelled at him. I wanted to know why he had a sword that looked exactly like the one on my ankle. Instead, I threatened to set him on fire if he ever used it on my side of the room again.

‘It’s the Sword of Mages,’ he announced proudly. I think he felt smug about having something that I didn’t. ‘It only answers to me.’

It took me a little longer to realise I finally had a tattoo of a wand, on my lower back. What kind of mage wouldn’t have loved their magical artefact since childhood?

The answer was obvious.

He was pretty fucking cute. I couldn’t deny that.

The night I finally accepted that it had to be him, I slept peacefully. I thought if we were soulmates, the universe would take care of it. Of everything. I thought it meant he would someday stop hating me. I thought it meant we’d at least become friends, or even allies, before the end of the year. Someday, I would love him, and he would love me back. I thought maybe the Crucible hadn’t fucked me over after all.

A few months later Penelope Bunce’s face showed up on my shoulder. I was furious, but it soon became obvious that he only loved her like a friend, albeit very fiercely.

Every time I growled at him for bouncing that ridiculous red ball of his, I thought of the little red dot tattooed on my arm. Every time he called me evil in second year, I sneered at him and thought, we’ll see how you feel in a few months’ time. Then it was a year. Then two. By then I realised that it didn’t matter that the things we loved were tattooed on each other’s bodies. I’d made him hate me so much that nothing could ever change his mind.

But back in first year, I thought all I had to do was wait.

 SIMON

I only got my tattoos the day I first went off and discovered my magic, though Penny and Agatha both say they’ve had theirs for as long as they can remember. I have a violin, a football, music notes that I think might form an actual song, a few cars, and way more books than I can count. I’m pretty sure they’re specific books, but they’re too small and there’s too many of them for me to figure out what they are. The weirdest one I’ve got is a tattoo of a pair of hands, darker than my own skin, just above my elbow.

I still don’t know who my soulmate is. I’ve had theories over the years, girls I’ve seen at football games, people I’ve seen carrying violins through the school hallways, pretty much anyone I ever see in the library. At first I figured it had to be a boy, because of the cars, until Penelope informed me that anyone can like cars or anything else regardless of gender. I actually thought it might be Penny for about two hours in first year before she showed me her tattoos, which were clearly from an American. (An American football. A pop tart. And like me she has a lot of books.) I even considered that it could be Baz the first few days after we met, because he had a violin, he played football, and he had a lot of books, which gave him three out of three. But Baz hated me from the moment we met, so I quickly forgot about that theory.

Imagine that. A soulmate who thought I was worthless. The universe wouldn’t fuck up that badly, even for me.

At least, I forgot about it until fifth year, when I noticed a new tattoo of a flame on the inside of my wrist. I immediately thought of him; Pitch is the House of Fire, and Baz is obsessed with it.

That was around the time I started following him around the Catacombs. I knew something was wrong about him, and I was so close to figuring it out, and then the day I found the first rat it all fell into place.

Vampire.

Vampires are flammable. Vampires fear flames. And if they fear them, they probably don’t love them.

I spent the next three months trying to prove it. And talking about nothing else, if Penny’s to be believed.

‘It’s almost like you want him to be a vampire,’ she said.

That was also the year Agatha and I started dating. Her soulmate loved seashells, a ratty notebook we never figured out the purpose of, and golden retrievers. She used that as explanation when she broke up with me about eight months later.

‘I love dogs,’ I argued.

‘So does everyone,’ Agatha countered. ‘This is a specific dog. It’s someone’s dog.’

She was right, and I knew it. We both always knew. She didn’t like soccer, or cars. She only read for fun and had few favourites. She definitely didn’t play the violin.

Penny met her soulmate in fourth year, when he came to Watford on exchange. Micah recognised her straight away, because he has a tattoo of her parents on his shoulder. Penny took some more convincing, and only agreed that he was her soulmate after she challenged him to name almost all of his favourite books and the spell scrawled across her ankle. (It’s now you see me, now you don’t.)

Even Garreth knows who his soulmate is. And Rhys. Not Baz, though. At least, I don’t think he does. He wears long sleeves all the time, even on the football pitch. I know he’s cold a lot because he’s always snapping at me to close the window in our room, but after eight years of living together it can’t be an accident that I’ve never seen even one of his tattoos. Maybe he doesn’t have any. Maybe he does and they’re embarrassing. Maybe he knows who it is and he doesn’t want them.

I’ve never asked him why he keeps them hidden, even when we were little.

I try not to think too much about why.

  ***

  BAZ

Normally when I walk into our room in the evenings, Snow is already downstairs, probably impatiently lurking around the dining hall waiting for dinner. Or hacking at things in the Wood; I don’t need to know what he does with his spare time. Today he’s in our room, sitting on top of his desk with his feet planted on his chair. He has his head bent and that stubborn look on his face that he gets when he’s about to go into a funk. (I’ve seen it a lot when he catches me watching him in the dining room, and starts ranting to Bunce. Probably insisting that I’m plotting to bite him in his sleep.) It takes me a second to realise what he’s doing.

He’s holding a black marker in his right hand, his left sleeve is pulled up to expose his arm, and he’s carefully blacking out his tattoos.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’ I snarl, letting the door slam shut behind me.

Snow draws on a few more lines without looking up. He’s drawing over my violin.

‘Snow,’ I say when he doesn’t answer, my voice low.

He pulls his sleeve back over his arm, now decorated with uneven black patches, switches the marker to his left hand and starts working on his right arm. I stand watching him for a moment. I’m trying to figure out how I can stop him without overstepping my role as nothing but his archnemesis who has no reason to care if he wants to cross out his soulmate’s tattoos.

He works his way up to his elbow and scribbles over my mother’s hands. It makes sense that he has them; the feel of her rough flame thrower’s hand holding onto mine is the most vivid memory I have of her. It’s the only thing I have that I know is mine, a real memory not from a photograph or someone else’s story.

All I have left of my mother is what’s tattooed on Simon Snow’s arm.

I take a step forward, glowering at him. ‘What are you doing?’

He narrows his eyes. ‘What does it look like?’

‘Why are you erasing them?’ I snap.

I have Penelope Bunce’s face permanently tattooed on my body. And various food items. And an actual fucking goat. (It’s a small mercy that I never had to walk around wearing Wellbelove’s face, even when they were dating. I woke up every single morning worrying about it that whole year.) If anyone should be erasing their tattoos, it’s me. At least the tattoos I gave him are aesthetically pleasing.

Maybe he’s figured out that they’re mine.

‘My soulmate doesn’t love me so I don’t see why I should wear the things they love on my body,’ Snow says.

I scoff. ‘Do you even know who they are?’

‘Yes.’

He puts the marker down on the desk and looks up at me, his stupid blue eyes defiantly meeting my gaze. (He doesn’t put the cap back on the marker.)

‘And do you love them?’ I ask.

His eyes flick down to my chest and my arms, right over where my tattoos are, though he doesn’t know that. ‘I don’t know.’

He grabs the marker again and yanks his shirt down over his shoulder, then starts blacking out the little stuffed manticore there.

That’s Mordelia’s, you oaf, I want to yell at him.

‘Stop doing that,’ I say instead.

‘Nope.’

I sigh. ‘You idiot. Maybe you should take your shirt off and go look in the mirror.’

He frowns.

‘Right between your shoulder blades,’ I say.

He stares back at me with his jaw dropped, stupid curls hanging over his forehead and his ridiculous eyes wide and hopeful. I’ve never hated him more.

He stands up and rushes into the bathroom. I fight not to roll my eyes.

The picture of his face appeared sometime in the middle of fifth year, a few days after I tried to set that chimera on him. It wasn’t long after he and Wellbelove started dating, so when I first saw it, I hoped it meant that she loved him and it had all been a crazy mistake. That our tattoos had been nothing more than coincidence.

But it was no coincidence that I had already been watching him when the tattoo appeared, sleeping with his back to me. I’d been doing that more and more often. I told myself it meant nothing, because he wore his tattoos for all the world to see and no matter how much I watched him, his own face never appeared anywhere on his body. Which meant I didn’t love him.

Until it did.

And apparently nobody’s told him about it. I suppose, being his roommate, I’m the only one who’s seen his bare back.

Crowley. It’s been nearly three years, and he hasn’t noticed it. I shouldn’t have told him.

Snow finally walks out of the bathroom, fully clothed, at a much slower pace than he went in.

‘Maybe I was wrong about my soulmate, then,’ he says.

‘No shit, Snow.’

‘No, I mean, maybe they’re not who I thought they were.’ He bites his lip. He doesn’t sound nearly as happy as he should, considering he was throwing a fit over his soulmate not loving him just minutes ago, and lo and behold, it turns out they do.

‘Why not?’ I ask.

‘Because that person would never love me,’ he says.

 SIMON

It doesn’t usually take Baz very long to come up with a retort, or at least find something to say, but he’s silent for long enough that I start to get antsy. Then he raises an eyebrow. ‘Crowley, Snow, you sound so disappointed. Do you want your soulmate to love you or not?’

Of course I want my soulmate to love me. I have to fight to keep from reaching up to touch the back of my neck, the closest I can get to the tattoo. I don’t know how long it’s been there. Baz would know. Baz has probably always known, and the git never felt the need to tell me. I can’t believe I missed it.

This means my soulmate is someone I know. Someone who knows me well enough to feel this strongly about me.

But that doesn’t make sense. Because I thought I knew who it was. There’s only ever been one person who fit the bill, no matter how long I ignored all the evidence. There’s only one person who could have made their mark on me like this.

But then maybe I was wrong, because he definitely doesn’t love me.

‘Does your soulmate love you?’ I ask. I’ve never asked him about his soulmate before.

Sometimes I think the only way I’ll understand how I feel is if I see the evidence tattooed on his arm.

‘No,’ Baz says shortly. ‘He doesn’t.’

‘Why do you keep your tattoos hidden?’ I ask.

‘Because they’re none of your business,’ he snaps.

‘Is it because you know who it is and you don’t want it to be him?’

He glares at me, and I’m expecting him to storm out, or roll his eyes, or make a comment about how the poor sod who loves me is a delusional idiot and we probably deserve each other. I know he’s thinking about it.

I should leave it alone. Before I find out something painful, something I can’t un-know. But I meet his glare and wait.

‘I’ve never wanted it to be him,’ he says finally, reluctantly. ‘It’s only ever been a torment.’

I nod, because I know exactly what he means. Slowly, I walk up until I’m standing right in front of him. Not quite in his space enough to be threatening, but close enough.

‘Can I see?’

He backs away. ‘Absolutely fucking not.’

‘You’ve seen mine.’

‘That’s your own damn fault.’ He crosses his arms.

‘Show me.’

‘No.’

I take a deep breath. ‘Look, Baz, I think we both know –’

‘No.’

He knows. He knows what I’m trying to say, and I don’t think he can even bear to hear it. He must have always known. He’s been hiding his tattoos since the day we met.

I take another step closer, and he pulls his arms tighter around himself.

I growl at him. ‘I have the right to at least know if my soulmate doesn’t want me. You can see mine and I can’t see yours. That’s not fair.’

‘Snow, I don’t care if you have a problem. You have your own fucking face tattooed on your back. I’m never going to have mine.’

I stop, taking in the look on his face. I can’t tell what it is, but I’ve never seen it before.

I swallow, and take a tiny step forward, keeping my eyes on his the whole time, making sure he’s not trying to move away. He doesn’t.

My hand inches forward, taking his wrist and, when he doesn’t pull away, tugging it towards me. His jaw is clenched, and he looks kind of terrified, but he lets me.

 BAZ

He pulls up my sleeve – slowly, like the idiot is trying to torment me – revealing my tattoos one by one. The red ball that's still on my arm even though he lost the thing years ago. The Watford school gates. Bunce's purple ring, faintly outlined as though it's in the middle of casting a spell. A football, the only one we both have, even though the git isn't even on the school team. He touches his fingertips lightly to each one. I'd say he was trying to kill me, but he's so thick I don't think he even realises what he's doing.

'I don't understand,' he says finally.

'I'm not going to spell it out for you.'

His grip on my arm tightens. 'No, what I don’t understand is… I know you don't want me as your soulmate, but then why do I have a tattoo of myself?'

I’m too scared to move. I just stand there, my body tensed, barely even breathing because he’s so close he could probably feel it.

'I'm not spelling that out for you, either.'

He sighs, dropping my arm. I snatch it back to my chest.

'Just talk to me,' he says. 'Tell me what you want, because I don't get it. If you want me, I'm yours.'

Crowley.

‘Snow –’

'I've always been yours,' he says.

I never should have let this get so far. I should have let him cross out my stupid tattoos and never told him about the one on his back.

'You don't have to say that just because you think the universe decrees it any more than we have to be friends because the Crucible cast us as roommates,' I snap. 'If the Crucible can be wrong, what's stopping the entire universe?'

He growls. ‘I’m your soulmate, Baz. I just told you where I stand. If you don’t want me, just tell me. You don’t have to be such a twat about it.’

‘I’m not being a twat, I’m being practical. We’re enemies. We hate each other. We’re not going to suddenly start feeling differently just because we’re supposed to be soulmates.’

‘Maybe I don’t want to be enemies.’

‘Maybe you need to stop trying to do what you think you’re supposed to and just do what you want for once, Snow.’ I sigh. ‘Don’t feel obligated to change your mind about me because you think it’s fated.’

He steps forward and gets in my face again. Maybe I should just kiss him to shut him up. At least that would shock him out of this.

‘I know what I want,’ he says. ‘I’m asking what you want.’

I want his hands back on my skin. I want him to forget he ever saw the tattoo of his face. I don’t want him to know that he’s been tearing me apart since the day we met.

‘Fine,’ he says, finally dropping his gaze. ‘If you won’t give me an answer, I guess… I guess I know.’

His cheeks are flushed, his eyes bright.

‘I’m sorry it had to be me,’ he mutters. Then he brushes past me, towards the door.

 SIMON

Maybe he’s right. The universe made a mistake. Maybe we’re just defective.

I know we’re enemies and we don’t trust each other, and I know there’s almost no chance it could ever work. But at least I want it to. At least I want to try. But he’s had seven years to make up his mind about me, so I shouldn’t be surprised.

‘Snow,’ he says.

I stop.

His voice is quiet. ‘You have a tattoo of your face. You already have my answer.’

I turn around. I think I know what he’s saying. I just don’t understand how it can be possible. Or why he would still act like this.

Maybe that’s just what he’s like. Always needing to have the upper hand, just in case.

‘I kind of need to hear you say it,’ I say.

He shakes his head. ‘You already know.’

I wait. I want to push it. Demand that he tell me. I want Baz – Baz who calls me a numpty, pushes me down staircases, and torments me until I go off – to say that he feels something for me.

But he’s right. I have the tattoo. And I know he doesn’t have one, yet. So maybe I should concede, this one time.

‘Alright,’ I say. I walk up to him and put my hand on his cheek. ‘I guess there’s one way to find out.’

And I kiss him.

 ***

 He will tell me. Someday.

He’ll say it, and then his tattoo will appear, like magic. (It is magic.)

Or he’ll wait until he sees the tattoo, and then I’ll steal his thunder and say it first. It would serve him right for waiting that long.

But either way, someday – soon, I hope – we’ll both say it out loud.

Just not today.

[fanatic-af]

Want You Back (L.H.)

A/N: So...it’s been a while... This was something that just came to mind when I first heard the boys’ new single and well, it isn’t the best and I’m really rusty since I haven’t really written anything since June of 2017, but I hope this bearable for you guys. Enjoy.

Reading Notes: (*****) = skip in time different day(s) / (#####) = skip in time same day

Warning: mentions of suicide, overdosing on pain medication, degrading comments on reader

Masterlist || Ask

Part 2

*****

You know even when I say I moved on

Yeah I still dream for you

No matter where I go, I’m always gonna want you back

Well, just punch me in the face, why don’t you? It probably would have hurt less.

“So, what do you think?” Luke asked me excitedly as he and the other boys all looked at me with excited expressions.

I took out my earbuds and gave them all a fake smile. “It’s so good guys! I’m loving the new sound.”

They all shared huge smiles with each other and started to converse with one another about their new album. That’s when I let my fake smile drop and the ache in my chest grew as the lyrics repeated in my head again.

***** 

I could tell Luke was getting frustrated with how closed off I had become since that day he showed me their new single from their new album. I slowly stopped with any form of physical contact and slowly stopped responding to every message he sent me since all I could think about was how I never meant anything to him. I don’t think he was able to connect the fact that I was only acting this way because of the song.

***** 

It’s been two weeks since the first time I heard the boys’ new single and Luke had finally reached his limit of me pushing him away.

We had just come back to my apartment from Ashton’s house since I wasn’t really interacting with anyone and Luke was tired of it. This probably wasn’t going to end well.

“Now are you gonna tell me what’s been up with you lately?” Luke asked in an annoyed tone as he shut the door behind us.

I immediately made a beeline for my bedroom and started changing into more comfy clothes, not even caring if Luke had followed me or not. I went into the bathroom to wipe off my makeup and wash my face, all while trying to keep my tears at bay.

“You want me to be more open with you and yet, you can’t do the same? You’re such a hypocrite, Y/N.” I could hear Luke shout angrily as he made his way to my room.

Deep breaths, Y/N. Don’t cry.

I dried off my face and made my way back into my room, ready to just get into bed and wallow in my depressing thoughts, but Luke wasn’t having any of it.

“Oh, no. Don’t think you’re going to bed and that this discussion is all over, Y/N.” Luke gritted as he grabbed a hold of my arm and pulled me back so that we were standing face to face. “Now, tell me what the fuck is up?”

I avoided eye contact with him. “Nothing. Can I just please go to bed? I’m tired.”

I heard a loud thud and looked up with wide eyes to see that Luke had punched the wall beside him. “Bullshit. If nothing was wrong, you wouldn’t be as distant with me as you had been the past two weeks, you wouldn’t try to get out of my grasp every time I tried to have some type of physical contact with you, and you definitely wouldn’t be avoiding eye contact with me as you are right now.” Luke seethed.

I didn’t say anything in response, but the lyrics just kept repeating themselves in my head like a mantra. I’m always gonna want you back.

I could tell Luke was beyond frustrated that I wasn’t talking and he was now seething. “What’s the point in this relationship Y/N if you can’t even bother opening up to me? At least she actually told me what was going on in her head instead of me having to try and guess myself.”

And the dam burst.

I snapped my head up to glare at him as my tears streamed down my face. “Get out.”

Luke wasn’t taking any mercy on me. “Oh, so now I get some type of reaction? You don’t get to cry, Y/N, just because I happen to mention my ex and you definitely don’t get to say something only after the fact. Well, it’s true, Y/N. She was better at communication than you. She talked to me when something was wrong. She actually trusted me. She was better than you and you’re nothing in comparison to her.”

That was the moment my heart broke. He never cared about me. I never meant as much for him as he did for me. I was just a rebound.  

I let out a shaky breath as my tears wouldn’t stop falling and as I tried to keep my sobs from surfacing. “Get out, Luke.” I managed to say in a low tone so he wouldn’t hear the break in my voice.

He scoffed. “With pleasure.” Then he immediately turned on his heel and walked out of my bedroom. It was only when I heard the front door slam shut did I let my sobs out and I crumbled to the floor.

***** 

Bzzzz Bzzzz Bzzzz

That was the only sound I heard the next day as my phone remained in my purse on my chair. I couldn’t even find the energy to even get up and just turn the damn thing off. It would die eventually and then I would finally have some peace and quiet.

Knock Knock Knock

I groaned. So much for peace and quiet. I didn’t bother getting up. The person would go away eventually.

Knock Knock Knock

Or not. They could knock all they want, but there was no way I was getting up.

I heard the front door open and that’s when I cursed myself for not locking it after Luke stormed off last night. In all fairness, I was a sobbing mess and cried myself to sleep on the floor so I might have forgotten that the door was unlocked.

Then I heard the sound of footsteps approaching my room. Well, I suppose I lived a good enough life.

The door to my room opened slowly and a dark, curly haired head popped in. “Oh, so you are awake and just ignoring our calls.” Calum pushed the door open and let himself into my room, letting the door shut behind him. He toed off his shoes and hoped into the bed with me. “Why was your front door unlocked and why aren’t you answering our calls and texts?” Calum asked as he cuddled into me.

“You-“ I cleared my throat since it had come out all croaky. “You know why.”

Calum squeezed me. “All we know is that you and Luke got into a fight yesterday since you wouldn’t tell him what’s been bothering you.” I gave him a look. “Okay, so he might have said some harsh things about you, but I want to hear your side as well.”

I sighed. “You know even when I say I moved on, I’m always gonna want you back,” I recited the mantra that’s been haunting my thoughts since the song was released.

Calum’s eyebrows furrowed. “Wha-Oh….” Calum’s confused expression turned into one of realization. “You think he still has feelings for her and that you were just a rebound.”

I nodded as I buried my face into his chest as more tears surfaced and sobs were starting to be let out.

Calum rubbed my back soothingly. “Shhh, Y/N. Deep breaths for me, yeah?”

I tried. I tried my hardest to regulate my breathing, but all the things Luke yelled at me yesterday were replaying in my head which only made me sob harder.

“Y/N. Deep breaths. Come on, you can do it.” Calum encouraged in a soft tone.

I shook my head. “You don’t-You don’t know the things he said to me, C-Calum. They-They are things you would never want to hear the person you’ve been in love with for so many years to ever s-say to you.” I sobbed.

“Y/N…” Calum started, but I kept shaking my head.

“No, Cal… You don’t understand. I’ve been in love with him since you introduced me to the rest of your band. I would always put his needs before mine because that’s what you do when you love someone. His happiness was worth more than mine. But to hear him say such harsh things…that’s something you can’t recover from so quickly. We were best friends long before we started dating, but maybe that was all we should have ever been. We weren’t meant to be together in that way.”

“I know you don’t want to relive it, but what exactly did Luke say to you, babe?” Calum asked in a gentle tone as he stroked his thumb on my hip.

I took in a shaky breath. “Well, to sum it all up for you, he said that she was better than me and I was nothing in comparison to her.” I whispered as I cringed at the memory.

Calum tightened his hold on me. “Luke is such an asshole, Y/N.”

“He’s also one of your best friends.” I point out.

“So what? You’re also my best friend too. He still doesn’t have the right to say those things to you.”

I shrugged, but my breathing had leveled out and my tears had stopped.

It was silent for a moment before Calum spoke again. “The song.”

I looked up at him to find that he was already looking down at me.

“It was the song. Wasn’t it? That’s why you’ve been acting differently around him.”

“We already established that, Cal.”

“No, Y/N. The song wasn’t just about Luke and his ex.”

I sat up and stared down at him. “What?”

Calum sat up as well. “The song. Yeah, it’s somewhat about Luke’s past relationship with her, but it’s also about Ashton’s as well.”

I frowned. “Ashton?”

Calum nodded. “Yeah. The two of them had a writing session with Jack one day and that was the song that came from it. But Y/N, you have to remember that this was written a little after the time they broke up. So, some parts are very much about Luke’s relationship, but the other half is about Ashton’s, especially the part where it was about her breaking up with him. That was about Ashton’s relationship. Luke broke up with her remember?”

I groaned. “I can’t believe I was so stupid. It’s just…Luke sang so much in the song that I thought it was about him and how he wanted to get back with her whenever she came back around. I thought he was just playing with my feelings since I’ve been in love with him for so long. Damn. I’m so stupid. I should have known better to judge just based off of the vocals.”

Calum placed his arm around my shoulders. “It’s okay, Y/N. I don’t blame you for thinking it. I probably would have too if I were in your shoes.”

I sighed as I rested my head on his shoulder. “That doesn’t justify what he said to me before he left.”

Calum sighed as well. “To be fair – and I’m not taking sides, I’m only trying to make a point – he was angry so he could have just said it out of anger.”

“Yeah, but sometimes that’s when the truth comes out. What if he never felt anything for me, Cal? What if he only started dating me because he knew I was in love with him and you guys had been pushing him to date me? I don’t know. Maybe it’s better off that he and I remain as friends.”

“Look, Y/N, I can’t tell you exactly what you should do, but I will say that I believe that you two will find your way back to each other because although you two may not see it now, the rest of us see that there is an undeniable attraction between you two.” Calum removed his arm from my shoulders which made me lift my head and watch in confusion as he went to put his shoes back on.

“You’re leaving already?” I asked.

He gave me a small smile. “The band has a radio interview for promo in two hours and I have to get back to the house since we’re all riding together. I just wanted to check up on you since you weren’t answering your phone. Speaking of…” Calum turned around to retrieve my phone in my purse. He plugged it into the charger by my bed and handed it to me. “I will call you once the interview is over and bring you some food. We can have our lunch together and watch some movies.”

I held my phone in my hand as I stared at the lock screen seeing how many missed calls and texts I had from all the boys…including Luke. I looked back up at Calum and nodded.

He pressed a kiss to my forehead before walking towards the door. “I’m taking your spare key since you didn’t lock your front door last night and I highly doubt that you would get up right now to lock it.” He called over his shoulder as he exited.

I let out a small chuckle and heard the front door close and the click of the lock. I looked back down at my phone and sighed as I unlocked it. Guess I should read the messages before he gets back.

#####

Having my phone with me was definitely a bad idea.

My mentions from all social media outlets were all flooding with either hate or sympathy and it didn’t help that she had posted some things to say about the song as well.

My head throbbed as I read tweet after tweet until I couldn’t take it anymore and just shut my phone off and threw it onto the floor. The pounding in my head wouldn’t go away and I slowly got up to grab some painkillers from my bathroom. I grabbed the bottle of what I thought to be the low dosage of pain medication, and took two tablets before making my way back to my bed. I snuggled up into my comforter as I let the medication take effect, which to my relief, was relatively quick for only a low dosage, and felt myself start to fall asleep.

#####

Calum

After our radio interview and after we chatted to some fans outside the station, we all got into the car and I went to call Y/N to ask her what she was in the mood for to eat. When it went to voicemail right away, I furrowed my eyebrows. I highly doubt that she would be on another call right now. I tried a second time and got the same response. An uneasiness settle in me as I kept trying to ring Y/N’s phone but it kept going straight to voicemail. I tried one more time. “C’mon, Y/N. Pick up.” I muttered anxiously. She knew I was going to call her so why was her phone off. When it went straight to voicemail for the fifth time, I knew in the pit of my stomach that something was wrong. I immediately told our driver to change directions and to drive straight towards Y/N’s house.

I noticed all the boys look at me in surprise and I just started to bounce my leg anxiously.

“Whoa, Cal. What’s with the sudden change?” Ashton asked.

I looked at them, not even bothering to hide my concern. “Y/N is not answering her phone and she knew I would call her after the interview. I have a gut feeling that something’s wrong.”

The boys all exchanged worried looks and Luke made eye contact with me for a moment and I could already see that he was thinking the same thing I was thinking.

We reached Y/N’s house within twenty minutes and I immediately bolted out the door before the van could come to a complete stop with the boys trailing behind me. I used the spare key and rushed over to Y/N’s room where I saw her lying on her bed asleep.

“See, Cal. She’s fine. She’s just asleep.” Michael reassured me as they all entered the room a few seconds later.

However, that unsettling feeling wouldn’t go away. She knew I was going to call her so she wouldn’t have turned off her phone unless she had a good reason to. I went to shake her awake and noticed how limply her limbs moved and how shallow her breathing was. I panicked and pressed my fingers to her neck in search of her pulse. It was too slow to be normal for a sleeping pulse. I picked her up immediately and faced the guys as they had stunned looks on their faces.

I shook my head. “We need to get to the hospital.” I moved around them and quickly ran to the van where our driver still had it running. “Dave, we need to go to the hospital and quick.”

The other boys piled in still confused but more anxious now.

“What’s wrong, Calum?” Ashton asked as Dave sped off towards the hospital.

“Her limbs are too limp, her breathing is too shallow, and her pulse is too slow to be normal for just sleeping. Something’s wrong.” Calum quickly uttered. “How much longer Dave?” Calum asked as he check Y/N’s pulse once more to see that it was slightly slower.

“Ten to fifteen minutes max, Cal.” Dave called back.

“You don’t think…?” Luke finally whispered as he stared at Y/N.

“She’s never been one for suicide, Luke. You and I both know that she’s too scared of taking her own life.” I shook my head before I gave him a stern look. “I don’t care what you have to do or what she has to do, but you two better fucking talk and fix all your shit when she wakes up.”

No one else spoke for the remainder of the drive and soon enough, the van was pulling up to the hospital ten minutes later.

I jumped out of the van, Y/N still in my arms, and sprinted into the hospital immediately seeking the attention of a nurse.

The boys had just run in behind me when I had placed Y/N onto a gurney, her arm just falling flat onto her stomach, and the gurney was soon being rushed off down the hall where a doctor had joined the other men pushing her.

The nurse that had called for the gurney turned to speak to me. “We’ll take good care of her, Calum. She’s in good hands. In the meantime, I’ll have Jenna seat you in a private room so fans won’t bother you as much.” She gave me a kind smile once she saw my surprised look that she knew who I was. “I do have a daughter that’s a very big fan of your band.”

I gave her a small smile. “Is there anything I can sign or give her?”

“Maybe a picture later once everything is settled.” She nodded once more before following in the same direction Y/N was wheeled off too.

Jenna came out from behind the front desk and gestured for us to follow her. We all walked quietly behind her as she led us to a private room.

She opened the door and ushered us inside. “There’s a mini fridge over there with some drinks and help yourselves to some snacks on the counter there. The bathroom is right outside this door on the left. If you need anything else, just come find me at the front desk.” Jenna informed us before giving us one last smile and closing the door behind her.

I rubbed my hands over my face as I turned to face the other boys and sighed. “And now we wait.”

__________________________________________________

[straight-outta-slytherin]

Daryl Dixon x Reader – Reunion

Imagine saving Rick, Carl and Michonne when a run goes wrong. You get injured and they take you back with them to the prison where you reunite with your boyfriend Daryl who you haven't seen ever since the apocalypse started.

Note: Way too long time no see, guys! I'm really sorry, I've been working all summer so I didn't have time to write at all. I'm so glad to be back though! Since I haven't written in a while I might be a bit „rusty“, but I still hope you enjoy it!  And as always, this beautiful moving picture does not belong to me. ---

It all happened so fast. At one point you were just minding your own business trying to find a safe place to crash for the night. You never stayed anywhere longer than you needed -  found something to eat, got a bit of sleep and then back on the road.

Suddenly, the sound of voices coming from not far away made you stop. Someone was in trouble, you thought. Without hesitation you ran into that direction. After all that has happened you promised yourself you won't let anyone else die if you can prevent it.

The voices were getting louder and louder, that must have meant you're close. Finally you saw them. Three people - a man, a woman and a boy standing on a car surrounded by walkers. You could tell they were out of ammo since they were only using their knives and a sword.

They were running out of time, you had to act fast.

„Hey, bitches! Come here and have a bite of this fresh meat!“ You shouted in an attempt to distract the walkers as you climbed onto a roof of the nearest car.

You didn't have a gun, but you had a bow and thankfully also a lot of arrows. You started shooting one after another as they crawled into your direction.

It didn't take too long to take nearly all of them down especially since your three new friends starting attacking them from behind. You sighed in relief letting your guard down for a second.

„Watch out!“ The man shouted.

Too late. One of the walkers took you by your ankle and pushed you onto the ground. 

„Fuck.“ You growled in pain. That's what you get for not paying attention for one goddamn second. You tried to reach your bow which you dropped in the fall but it was too far and that dead sucker was already crawling on top of you.

„Oh come on!“ You tried to push his face away with one hand and reach for either your knife or one of your arrows with the other hand but with zero success. Thankfully, you soon didn't have to worry about it when a blade of a sword came right through the walker's head.

„Thanks.“ You smiled as you took the woman's hand. She smiled back and helped you get up.

„Are you okay?“ She asked worriedly once she noticed you can't fully step onto your right foot.

„Yeah, it didn't get me. I was only joking when I told them to bite me. Seems like this one took it way too seriously.“ You laughed trying to hide the pain. „I must have just hurt my ankle, I'm gonna be fine. Don't worry about it.“

„There's a prison not too far away from here. Me and my people use it as a residence for the time being. We're gonna take you back with us and get you a proper treatment for that injury. After that you can go, or you can stay if you want. We could use somebody like you.“ The man said as he took you into his arms and carried you into their car.

Once you were all set, he stepped on the gas trying to get you all back as fast as possible. Not just because of your leg but also because it was starting to get dark and they were out for quite a while, the others must have been worried.

„I'm Rick, by the way. This is my son Carl and my friend Michonne. What's your name?“

„Y/N.“

„I have to ask you a few questions, Y/N, is that okay?“ You saved their lives, which he was grateful for, but this was something he just needed to do.

„Y-yeah, sure, whatever you need to know.“ You nodded as you struggled to adjust your position due to your injury.

„How many walkers have you killed?“

The first question was easy. There was nothing else you hated more than those ... things. They ruined your life just when it was finally starting to have some meaning. Killed everyone you loved. Or at least you thought so.

„Each and every single one I could find. They are monsters, they don't deserve anything better.“

„How many people have you killed?“

This time you hesitated. It was hard for you to talk about it no matter how many days, weeks or months have passed.

„ ... Two ...“

„Why?“

„ … My mom and brother. They were bit. I just … I couldn't let them turn.“ Your voice broke with the last sentence. You didn't want to let them see you cry so you quickly wiped away the tears and took a deep breath to calm yourself down.

„I'm so sorry about that.“ Michonne said holding your tightly. „Is anyone else you know alive?“

„No … at least not that I know of. It was always just me, my mom and my brother … And my boyfriend. But I haven't seen him since … since all this started. The small chance of him still being alive is probably the only thing that kept me going for this long.“

„I'm sure you'll find him.“ She tried to comfort you as she stroked her thumb over your hand.

„Yeah, I hope so. Wherever he is – if he's alive – I just hope he's not alone. I hope that he found a group of nice people and that he's happy ...“

Michonne could tell how hard it is for you to talk about your loved ones so she tried to change the topic.

„How did you survive this long on your own anyway? You don't look like … ehm … „

„Like I can fight? Yeah, I can't, not really. But I can shoot. This baby saved me more than just a couple of times.“ You caressed the top of you bow lightly when you talked about it. It was like your best friend and until now the only ally against the evil in this new world. „It's more quiet than a gun and better than a knife, I wouldn't last a day without it.“

All of the sudden the car stopped. You didn't even notice you were already there. Looking through the window you could see a bunch of people already standing there waiting for their friends to come back safely. They must have been really worried.

Rick opened the door and helped you out of the car. 

„Everyone, this is Y/N, she'll be staying with us now, we wouldn't have made it home without her.“

„H-hi“. You almost whispered and waved your hand. Everyone was staring at you. They all seemed liked nice people but you never really liked being the center of attention, so it made you feel a bit uncomfortable. 

Not knowing what to say you looked down shyly when a familiar voice interrupted your thoughts.

„Y/N? … Baby, is that you?“ It was already dark so he couldn't see you clearly. He slowly made his way closer and closer to take a better look.

„D-Daryl? Oh my god … I can't believe it!“ If you could walk you'd immediately run into his arms. Tears started running down your cheeks. Ignoring the pain in your ankle, you gathered all your strength and made your way in his direction as fast as you could.

As soon as he heard you voice and realized it's really you, he ran towards you, pulled you into a tight embrace and buried his head into your chest.

Unable to stop sobbing, you ran your fingers through his hair and stroked his back gently. You needed to feel him. To know that this is real. Not just another one of the dreams you kept having almost every night.

After a while he finally pulled away from the hug only to take your face into his hands kissing you deeply.

You couldn't see the looks on everyone's faces but they were all pretty suprised. Daryl never told anyone about you, anyone except Carol. He truly believed you were gone and didn't trust anyone else enough to tell them about how he lost the only love of his life.

„I really thought I lost ya. I went into your house, there was blood everywhere, I thought … I thought you were gone.“ He confessed while caressing your cheek not letting go of you for one second.

„I'm sorry, I should have left a message or something … I-“ You covered your mouth with your hand trying to stop the sobbing.

„Shh, don't matter now, the only thing that matters it that you're alright. You're here. With me. And I'm  never losing ya again.“ He wrapped his arms around you once again pulling you close against his warm body and whispered into your ear: „I love ya so much, Y/N.“

„I love you too, Daryl.“ You whispered back as you pulled your arms around his neck and kissed his forehead, unable to keep the smile off your face.

[attractive-asshole]

perfect's for the urgent (baby I want forever)

pairing: sebaek, side!chansoo length: chaptered(ongoing) rating: pg13 genre: fluff, romance, humor, fakedating!au,college!au a/n: trying to write another chaptered fic so not sure how many more chapters there’ll be & haven’t written in a while so my writing’s a little rusty. also, unbetaed. 

baekhyun's a self-proclaimed expert matchmaker on his way to change his best friend's life and he just so happens to need sehun's help along the way (even if it kills him).

AFF / AO3 / LJ  or read under the cut below

Chapter 1

Baekhyun took pride in being the world’s best matchmaker, though his friends would call it meddling in people’s business.

He didn’t know, some of his classmates wouldn’t have relationships right now if it weren’t him.

He was just a natural born cupid, he thought.

Junmyeon and Kris had been crushing on each other since high school, both too afraid to say anything and now they were in a happy relationship and they owed it all to Baekhyun- he made sure they never forgot it.

Hyejeong didn’t even know Jongdae existed before Baekhyun arranged for them to ‘accidentally run into each other’ and now they were close to celebrating their two year anniversary.

If that isn’t good, he doesn’t know what is.

Not everyone was open to his services though, one of them being Kyungsoo.

The thing about Kyungsoo was that he was not one to fall for people often, so when he did, he fell hard.

Kyungsoo had only been in one serious relationship in the eleven years Baekhyun knew him and it didn’t end so well to say the least. Kyungsoo has refused to crush (or admit to having one) on anyone ever since.

He and Baekhyun had been best friends since elementary school and Baekhyun knew him like the back of his hand. That being said, he could tell when Kyungsoo was lying about 90 percent of the time.

“I do not like Chanyeol.”

Baekhyun didn’t know Kyungsoo even bothered, he could obviously tell the other was very much so in denial about his feelings.

He had seen the way they look each other in class and around campus whenever they would run into each other.

“Are you sure, Soo?”

The other didn’t take his eyes off the page of his book as he listened to his friend.

“You’ve been asking me this for past week and my answer hasn’t changed,” he deadpanned, “so yes, Baekhyun, I’m sure.”

Baekhyun narrowed his eyes as he leaned back against the wall. “You know I can tell when you’re lying right?”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” Kyungsoo muttered under his breath.

The other sighed, “You know it’ll all be easier if you’d just stop denying it and let me help you.”

Kyungsoo immediately shut his book close, shooting his best friend a glare. “If you even try to pull that crap you did to Junmyeon and Jongdae, I’ll stab you in you sleep.”

Baekhyun groaned and fell back onto his bed after Kyungsoo left their dorm, probably to go vent to Jongdae about him.

♡

Baekhyun hated his english class. Three hours of reading and writing and his boring professor? No thanks. But the absolute worst part of that class was definitely Oh Sehun.

They had known each other since high school, Baekhyun had hated Sehun since high school. He didn’t have a specific reason; Sehun wasn’t an asshole ex that cheated on him or broke his heart.

He was just an asshole.

Sehun was one of the best players on the basketball team and he sure as hell was not afraid to let anyone know. He was disgustingly flirty and full of himself; Baekhyun had never someone so arrogant and obnoxious before in his life.

He met him during practice one day when he was stopping by to give Kris his phone after he left it behind in class.

“Hey uh- do you know where Kris is?”

Sehun looked up at the cute boy in front of him before smirking and shifting his attention back to putting on his sneakers.

“Maybe.”

Baekhyun waited for the taller to continue and impatiently tapped his foot against the wooden floors when he didn’t.

“So can you tell me where he is?”

“That depends.”

Baekhyun scoffed, “On what?”

The other abruptly stood up, a little too close to Baekhyun’s liking. He had to take a step back, Sehun’s height surprising him a bit.

“On whether or not you’ll give me your number.”

Baekhyun rolled his eyes, fighting back the urge to kick the other in the balls. “Wow...I can’t believe you actually go around saying things like that,” he sneered, “And aren’t you that guy Joohyun’s dating?”

Sehun shrugged, “We aren’t exclusive.”

Just before Baekhyun was about to tell Sehun he’d rather get punched in the face before dating someone like him, he heard someone call out his name.

“Hey Baek, Kyungsoo said you have my phone?

“Yeah, here,” the shorter angrily mumbled.

“Thanks and oh this is Sehun, coach says he got a lot of talent. Sehun this is Baek, we go way back.”

“We’ve met.” A small smirk pulled at the corner of Sehun’s lips as he winked at the shorter.

Baekhyun rolled his eyes, muttering a ‘whatever’ under his breath before leaving the gym.  

♡

“Sehun, we need to talk.”

The taller let himself get pulled away from his friends by the other. He leaned onto the wall, a smirk forming on his face as he looked Baekhyun.

“I knew you’d eventually come running to me.”

The shorter scoffed, slapping Sehun upside the head with his notebook and checked their surroundings to make sure his best friend wasn’t anywhere around. “As if. Look, I know Chanyeol likes Kyungsoo.”

Sehun’s brows furrowed, leaning in closer to hear the other’s whispering better. “So? Everyone knows.”

“Yeah everyone except Kyungsoo and I know that Kyungsoo likes Chanyeol too.”

“Wait he told you that?”

Baekhyun bit his lip, scratching the back of his head as he looked up at the taller.  “I mean, not exactly.”

“What do you mean not exactly.” Sehun raised a brow at him. “Did he hint at it somehow?” Sehun didn’t know why he asked, he knew that Kyungsoo probably did no such thing and that Baekhyun was probably exaggerating, as per usual.

The shorter brushed him off with a swift wave of his hand, shaking his head. “That’s besides the point, the point is that I wanna set them up and as much as I would hate to say it,” he sighed, “I need your help.”

“Oh god, you’re doing that match-making thing you always do.” Sehun crossed his arms and scoffed. “I thought Junmyeon-hyung told you to stop doing that?”

Baekhyun rolled his eyes, wondered why everyone doubted his skills when he was clearly an experiment in the relationship/love department (even if he was single and hadn’t dated anyone since middle school, but that’s besides the point).

“Oh please, he never would’ve talked to Kris if it weren’t for me getting them together.”

The taller still looked reluctant and as much as Baekhyun wanted to tell him to shove it and leave, he already had concocted the perfect plan and that plan involved Sehun.

“Look are you gonna help me or not? Don’t you want your best friend to be happy?”

A frustrated sigh left Sehun’s lips as he combed his fingers through his hair. “Why do want them together so bad? What’s in it for you?”

“Nothing!” he hissed, “Unlike you, I’m just a good person and I want to see my best friend happy. He may have everyone else fooled, but I know he likes Chanyeol.”

“Ugh fine, but if we get caught the blame’s all on you. Now what’s your plan?”

♡

December had always been Baekhyun’s favorite time of year.

He loved the cold weather and the snow, though the downside is that the coffee shop he frequented was always packed this time of year which meant less room for him.

It was a Friday night when he found himself struggling to find a table because his usual seat had been taken by some couple practically eating each other’s faces.

He looked around, searching for an empty table when the owner waved at him and pointed out that there was an empty one in the corner.

Baekhyun gave her a wide smile and mouthed ‘thank you’ before dragging his heavy backpack to the seat.

Why did he waited ‘til the last minute to do his psychology reading, he didn’t know, but he hated himself for it.  

He reached inside his bag to pull out his heavy psych textbook and reluctantly opened it up to begin reading.

It was all going fine until he suddenly heard a familiar- and subtly angry- voice speak to him.

“What are you up to, you idiot?”

Baekhyun slowly lowered his book, giving his best puppy dog eyes and batting his lashes.

“What are you talking about, Soo?”

His best friend narrowed his eyes at him.

“Don’t give me that ‘I’m innocent’ crap, you’ve been acting suspicious lately. Always trying to hide your phone from me whenever you get a text, since when did we ever hide anything from each other?”

Baekhyun cursed Kyungsoo for knowing him so well; this is what knowing someone for eleven years will get you, he thought.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He quickly got up from the table to avoid further investigation and casually strolled over to the barista to order his usual. He saw Kyungsoo walking toward him from his peripheral and tried to think of lie to tell him so that his master plan wouldn’t be over before it even started.

“Junmyeon told me he saw you with Sehun the other day.” The other’s voice trailed off, eyes focused on Baekhyun as if waiting for him to crack. “Since when are you ever willing to talk to Sehun, you can’t stand him.”

The tapping of Kyungsoo’s fingers on the counter almost drove Baekhyun insane as he wracked his brain for a believable story.

“Says who?” he retorted, trying to buy himself time.

“Says you!” Kyungsoo exclaimed. “You literally complain about him all time about how he’s an obnoxious and cocky playboy, don’t you even try to deny it. Baek I swear if you’re trying to hook me up with Chanyeol I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Well things change and pft not everything’s about you, Soo,” Baekhyun scoffed and quickly grabbed his drink from the barista so that he could get back to their table.

Kyungsoo followed after him, raising his eyebrows in suspicion at the other’s claim. “What do you mean things change? So what, you like Sehun now?”

“Yes, yes I do.” He practically had to force himself to say that. The thought of him ever liking Sehun made him him to puke. “We’ve been going out for a couple weeks now, thank you very much!”

“You’re such a fucking liar. You’ve told me yourself that you would rather die than go out with him. We both know he’s a dick and that he flirts with anything that breathes and even if it were true, why would you be hiding it from me for so long?”

“I told you, things change! And I didn’t want to tell you until things got serious because I knew you’d never approve.”

Kyungsoo stared at him, obviously trying to catch any signs that he was lying. Baekhyun tried his best to stay calm and keep a straight face.

“So you’re being serious, you and Sehun are actually dating.”

It sounded more like statement than a question.

“Yes, he’s changed. I think he really likes me and I really like him!”

Kyungsoo didn’t look too convinced yet, but he chose to let it go, at least for the time being.