#I think I was drinking too much coffee and it was making my anxiety worse LOL

[x0xomady]

broken cd (pt.1)

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summary: you’re an assistant for a designer at prada, and you run into a mucisian on the streets of manhattan which leads to a long night of music, pizza, and fuzzy blankets. (rockstar!harry x fashiondesigner!reader)

warnings: smut in part 2! (they just makeout in part 1)

playlist to listen to while reading: 🎧

a/n: was this based on a cheesy "sex in the city" or “the devil wears prada” reference? yeah 100%. is this a corny romcom plotline? yes absolutely, don’t be a hater. this is just cliché after cliché after cliché. i honestly like the second half more, but enjoy!

˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹

‧˚⊹ October 15, 2003 ⊹˚‧

you LOATHED your job.

no, scratch that, you didn’t hate it, you just heavily disliked the work that you had to do. when breaking into the fashion industry, everyone knows you have to start from the bottom. you know that to, that doesn’t mean it’s fun.

your boss, an executive designer for prada, was currently making you run through the streets of manhattan with three bags of clothes, dry cleaning, and two cups of coffee.

of course, it was an opportunity of a life time to be able to work for someone with so much power, but still. it didn’t make it any better that it was 40 degrees and raining.

“shitshitshit” you try to run as quickly as you can in your heels to catch the cab, but some business man in a suit gets there before you. “asshole.” you mumble to yourself and groan in frustration as you try to find another taxi.

the streets are filled with rain and mist, making the cars drive slower, and taxis less available.

you huff in frustration and turn around, desperately trying to keep a grip on the drink holder and clothes. THUD

“ah!” you gasp in surprise as your body meets another, effectively knocking all of the coffee out of your hands and onto the floor. you stumble back, stepping on something on the ground.

“shit-” you hear a voice come from the person you just hit.

you look up, blinking raindrops out of your eyes. in front of you is a man, roughly your age, with a leather jacket and messy brown hair. he's looking down at the mess of spilled coffee on the sidewalk, then back up at you.

“ah fucking hell-" he mutters, noticing the cd of his that you stepped on.

there’s a pang of guilt as you look at the ruined cd. "i'm so sorry," you say, trying to keep your balance on your heels. "i wasn't looking where i was going."

you pick up the broken cd and it’s case and hold it out for the man apologetically, also grabbing the coffee cups that had dumped all over the ground.

the man looks at you for a moment, then takes the cd from you.

"thanks," he says, "but i think it's a little too late.” he holds up the broken cd, which is in two jagged pieces.

a horrible rush of guilt and also panic that you had just lost all the coffee for your boss runs through you.

“oh god- i’m SO sorry, i- here take this” you quickly pull out your wallet and hand him a twenty dollar bill.

the man looks at the bill and then back at you with a small smile as he helps you pick up the spilled coffee cups and put them in a trash can.

"uh, no it’s alright, love. i’m afraid that was a cd i made, so money won’t do much."

you look at the cd in his hand, now realizing that it’s a homemade music cd, not something you can buy at a store, and feel your guilt double.

“oh- i’m so sorry, i didn’t realize.” you say, feeling even worse now.

he shakes his head and pushes his damp hair out of his eyes.

“it’s fine, it happens,” he helps you adjust the clothes and bags in your arms so that you’re not dropping everything. “are you alright? you seem a bit frazzled.”

you nod, trying to keep your emotions in check. there was an overwhelming since of anxiety and guilt

“i’m fine, just in a hurry.” you glance down at your watch. “i need to get these things to my boss, like, right now. i’m so sorry about your cd-”

the man smiles and shakes his head again. "really, it's no problem. it was nothing important."

you feel a little relief at his nonchalant attitude, but you're still feeling guilty for ruining something of his.

"are you sure? i feel terrible. is there anything i can do to make it up to you?" you ask, shifting your weight awkwardly on your heels. you had to leave, but you didn’t want to just break this man’s cd and then run away.

the man looks at you, a hint of amusement in his eyes, the rain was picking up, leaving some drops to fall from his curls.

"i'll tell you what, you make it up to me by helping me out. i’m supposed to bring a pretty girl to my concert tonight, and i don’t have anyone yet."

you blink, surprised by his proposition.

"your… concert?" you say, your mind quickly racing back to your boss and the bags of clothes in your arms. you were a bit nervous to be around this very attractive man, so you spit out the first lame excuse that comes to mind “i, um, i have work…”

he grins, clearly enjoying the look on your face. "oh, come on, it’s not until 9. just pop by and hang out with me for a bit. it’s just a gig at webster hall, nothing too fancy."

you think for a minute. was it really a good idea to agree if you didn’t know this guy? probably not, but, how often do you meet a hot british guy in new york?

“uh… alright, sure."

his smile widens, and he looks genuinely pleased that you agreed.

"great, i’ll give you my number so i can let you in."

he pulls out a sharpie from his pocket, takes the cd case that was broken and writes his phone number on one of the broken shards before handing it to you.

you stare at the broken cd in your hand for a moment, then look back at the man.

“so… i just need to go to the venue, and call you?" you ask, checking the time again.

he nods, shoving his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. "that would do it, darling. can i have your name so i can tell them to let you in?”

you nod and smile a little bit, feeling less anxious and upset than you did five minutes ago. “yeah i’m y/n”

he grins “y/n, lovely name. i’m harry. i have to get to soundcheck, but i’ll see you later, yeah?”

he starts walking down the street but turns around and smiles. “be sure to look extra pretty tonight, gotta impress my friends!”

you nod and watch as he walks away, feeling a bit flustered at his comment. you look down at the broken cd shard in your hands, with his messy handwriting scribbled on it.

“okay then…” you mutter to yourself suddenly the realization that you were late to work and needed four new coffees hits you. “OH SHIT-”

⋆｡˚⁺｡ at the office ｡⁺˚｡⋆

after successfully running two blocks to get more coffee, running two more blocks back to get to the office, you made it. your boss wasn't angry, just neutral and stern as usual.

“thank you, y/n, phoebe should have your assignment on her desk.” your boss takes a sip of her coffee without looking up from the sheets she was looking through, waving for you to leave.

(a/n: i 1000% thought about gisele bündchen in the devil wears prada when i was writing phoebe. this is so cliché im sorry)

you nod and walk back out to your desk. your friend and co-worker, phoebe, is sitting at her desk. she immediately sits up and looks at you as you approach your desk.

“you’re late. i was beginning to get worried.” she says, putting the papers for the new design on your desk. “what happened?”

you sigh and sit down in your chair, putting your head in your hands.

“ugh, don’t even ask. i stepped on music that some hot english guy made and had to run around manhattan looking for more coffee because i destroyed the first three cups on the sidewalk.”

phoebe's eyes widen at the mention of the hot english guy.

“wait, wait, wait.” she says, leaning forward in her chair. “hold on, rewind. who is this hot guy?”

you roll your eyes a little, amused by her excitement.

"his name is harry. he said he's a musician performing at webster hall tonight. he's the guy who owned the cd i destroyed.”

you reach into your pocket and pull out the shard of the broken cd that had his name and phone number on it.

phoebe's eyes seem on the verge of popping out of her head as she grabs the shard from your hand and reads the messy handwriting.

"he gave you his phone number? and you’re going to his gig tonight? this is the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen!"

you smile and take the shard back from her. "i'm not even sure why i agreed. i've got work and i don't really know anything about him or his music”

phoebe's grins and leans back her chair, looking smug. "oh, please, you know exactly why you agreed. it’s because he’s hot and british."

you roll your eyes again, but your face flushes for a moment.

"okay, fine, but there’s still a chance his music sucks, then what?" you ask, picking up the papers and starting to look through your work.

she shrugs, looking unconvinced. "i suppose. but let's be real, there's no way a good-looking guy who's british and a musician is going to suck. that's just against the rules."

you scoff a little and shake your head, although you had to admit, phoebe had a point. most british rockstars are hot...

"alright, alright. but he could be a jerk, or crazy, or-"

"or you guys could fall madly in love and get married and live happily ever after and you show your kids this cute little cd" interrupts phoebe.

you laugh and roll your eyes. "yeah, or that. in reality, i'll probably end up going home after the gig and never hear from him again."

phoebe frowns at your negativity. "oh come on, have some optimism. maybe he's 'the one' and this is your meet cute."

you smile and shakes your head at her response, going through the new designs for your boss. "yeah, we’ll see.”

phoebe grins and turns back to her computer, typing as she speaks up again. “…. you’re gonna wear that mini skirt aren’t you?"

you smile and shrug, writing down notes for the designs.

“maybe"

phoebe hums in response and continues typing for a few seconds before responding

“someone’s trying to get lock him down-”

"shut up!"

⋆｡˚⁺｡ that night ｡⁺˚｡⋆

you did, in fact, wear the mini skirt. obviously.

how often did a sexy british musician come up to a girl in new york? never! this is a once in a life time opportunity, and you needed all the leather mini skirts you could find.

it only took about one mental breakdown, four calls with your friends, and a shot to convince you to leave the apartment.

there was a HIGH chance this guy was like every other up-and-coming mucisian in new york, annoying and pretentious. however, you were getting hope that maybe he wasn't as bad, he was pretty sweet this morning afterall.

(a/n: THIS is the outfit i imagined, but it's up to you! imagine whatever you would feel most comfortable in!)

you hail a cab and give the address for webster hall, looking at yourself in the mirror for the tenth time. you made sure to do a little heavier makeup than usual, and your leather mini skirt matched with your black sleeveless top and boots.

the cab pulls up in front of the building and you pay the driver. you look up at the building, it was already crowded with people lined outside the venue. you pull the cd shard out of your pocket and dial in the number written on it, holding the phone to your ear.

it rings a couple times before he picks up.

"hello? is this the pretty girl i ordered?” he asks, teasingly.

you smile and roll your eyes, even though he can’t see it. “yeah it’s her. she's waiting outside in the cold so you better hurry up, rockstar.”

he laughs, the sound of people chatting and music playing faintly in the background.

"rockstar, huh? i like that. gimme a minute, love, i just have to let security know you're here." you hear him talking to someone as the phone hangs up.

you put the phone back in your pocket and lean against the front of the building, waiting patiently as a few drops of rain fall from the sky. after a couple minutes of waiting a security guard appears in front of you, looking you up and down.

“are you y/n?”

you nod, adjusting your jacket. “yeah.”

the guard looks you over again before nodding and gesturing for you to follow him inside, going back through a door that lead into the venue.

you walk into room, which seemed to lead to backstage. people were either standing around chatting or sitting on the couch, some of them were holding instruments. you looked around, wondering where this man disappeared to.

you turn around and look at the man with the irish accent. he had a big smile on his face and was holding a guitar so he must be part of their band.

“hello, love! what are you doing here?” you practically jump out of your skin as a blonde man pops up behind you.

“oh- hi. i’m y/n, i’m looking for harry…”

the blonde man's smile widens and he nods, throwing an arm around your shoulders and leading you into the room.

“oh, yeah, he’s over by the couch. c’mon i’ll take you to him” he says, and you allow yourself to be led across the room to a couch in the corner where a group of three men were sitting.

one of the men sitting on the couch was the one you were looking for. harry was wearing a loose faded t-shirt and jeans, and he was laughing at something one of his friends said. he notices you and his eyes widen in surprise, and his smile widens.

“there you are!” he says, standing up and walking towards you, playfully shoving the blonde guy away. “niall will you back off? i don’t need you scaring the pretty girl before i have a chance”

niall laughs and puts his hands up in the air. “just showing her around. not trying to steal your girl.” he pats harry on the back before walking back over to the other guys.

harry turns back to you and grins, looking you over. “wow” he says, raising an eyebrow. “you look fantastic”

you smile and roll your eyes a little, he looked hot as well, but you weren’t going to say that out loud. “yeah, yeah, well i had to make sure i didn’t embarrass you while i made up for breaking your cd.

harry grins, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans, still looking you over approvingly.

“oh darling, i don’t think you could embarrass me even if you tried. now, the concert is about to start, but you can watch from the side stage or go sit down in the booth, whatever you want”

you nod, looking out at the growing crowd just outside the side stage. “side stage if that’s okay”

he grins excitedly and nods, grabbing your hand and leading you with him. “perfect. get a better view that way” he leads you around the side and down a narrow hallway to one side of the stage.

you followed him back, walking through the halls until you were out near the side stage. the music had already started and he turned back to you, still smiling.

“i have to go on now, but we’ll meet up after the show alright?” he asked, starting to hurry back towards the stage

you nod and smile as he runs off to go get his guitar and microphone. there were about 2,000 people in attendance, so needless to say it was cramped down below. you could see the hoards of people moving towards the stage as the lights dim and the music starts.

"who are you?"

you hear a voice behind you, and you turn around, met with a pretty brunette girl. she looks at you curiously as she walks over and stands next to you.

you look up and the girl who walked over next to you, returning the curious look.

“i’m y/n…” you say, wondering who this girl was and why she was talking to you.

“ohhh” she smiles in realization and stands next to you, looking at the crowd as well. “i’m amelia, niall’s girlfriend. harry was bragging earlier that he found a hot girl on the street and we didn’t believe him.”

you nod and smile at the mention of their disbelief. “yeah, he ran into me on the street this morning- well, actually, i ran into him, quite literally”

amelia nods and grins as she watches the guys on stage. “yeah, that sounds about right.”

she turns to look at you again, still smiling. “i heard you broke the infamous cd…”

you nod, a little embarrassed at the mention of the broken cd.

"yeah…. that happened. it didn’t happen to be important or anything… did it? harry didn’t tell me, but i felt really guilty about it.”

amelia smiles at your question and shrugs. “all the guys call it “the infamous cd” because they’re dorks. it’s just a lucky charm that harry carries around with him everywhere."

you sigh in relief and nod, a little glad you didn't actually ruin anything important. "lucky cd, huh? does it work?"

amelia laughs and shakes her head. “that’s what niall says - apparently it’s what got them their first record deal”

“really?” you ask, looking out at harry who was about to go on stage. “he didn’t tell me that. i feel even worse now…”

amelia shrugs and smiles again, looking amused. “don’t worry about it. harry’s a little dramatic, he just wanted an excuse to talk to you.”

there was a certain air of excitement in the crowded room, and the buzz of people talking around you slowly started to disappear as the music got louder. you leaned against the side of the the wall, peering into the crowded room as harry and his band stepped on stage.

the concert starts, people singing and screaming along to the lyrics. each song had deep bass, guitar solos, and of course harry singing. did you feel a little bit stupid for not recognizing a guy that was apparently famous on the street? yeah.

the concert continued like that for about an hour, harry’s voice filling up the whole room. he had a certain stage presence to him, something about his charisma that drew you in and captured your attention.

"She worked her way through a cheap pack of cigarettes Hard liquor mixed with a bit of intellect And all the boys, they were saying they were into it Such a pretty face on a pretty neck”

as harry sings the lyrics to his next song, your eyes widen in realization. oh… you DID know their songs.

you watch the rest of the concert dumbfounded by the fact that you didn't realize that harry was in one the most popular bands in the modern century. you were joking before, but, he really was a rockstar.

amelia notices your look and smiles a little, leaning over. “they’re good right?”

you nod in agreement, your eyes glued to the stage. “yeah, they’re amazing… i didn’t…i didn’t think he was famous when we met…”

amelia smirked a little as she watched your eyes follow Harry around the stage. “yeah, he’s really humble. you’ll never find him flaunting it. he’s a pretty good guy”

as the concert comes to a close, the crowd starts to cheer and scream for a final song.

harry, who was now glistening with sweat and grinning like an idiot, looked straight into the side stage where you were standing and nodded for you to follow him backstage.

amelia smiles and looks at you before you walk away. “well it was nice to meet you, i’m sure i’ll see you around sometime.”

“yeah, you too” you smile back and walk away from amelia, following him behind the side stage into the messy back rooms. you could still hear the crowd of people screaming and cheering just outside of the door.

harry was standing there, panting as security guards were directing people around, still grinning and high on adrenaline from the performance.

he turns to look at you and grins again. “so, love, what did ya think?”

you smile and nod, walking over to him. “you should’ve told me you were famous, i feel like a dumbass.”

harry shakes his head and smiles, wiping his face with a towel. “nah i’m not that famous yet, maybe one day.”

he smiles and looks down at you for a second before speaking again. “did you want to go get pizza? i’m starving and i would die for a greasy slice.”

you nod and return the smile, leaning against the wall next to him. pizza sounded good after sitting under those bright lights in a crowded room for an hour.

"sure. lead the way, rockstar"

harry hums and smiles, he slips a hoodie over his head and yells something out to the other guys before turning back to you.

“alright, let’s go pretty girl.”

he nods for you to follow him, walking out of the back door of the venue and onto the lightly rainy streets of new york.

you follow him out and shiver as the cold air hits you. you weren’t sure if it was from the weather or the fact that harry called you “pretty girl”.

harry pulled the hood up on his hoodie and started walking down the sidewalk. he was still grinning like an idiot. “so…. talk to me… what do you do? i could tell by all the clothes from this morning it had something to do with fashion.”

you nod as you walk with him and shiver again. harry seems to notice and moves closer to you, your shoulders brushing as the two of you walk.

"yeah, i'm in fashion design." you say with a smile. "it's a pain in the ass, but it gives me some sort of purpose. hopefully after i finish this internship i can get an actual job for prada, at least i hope."

harry grins and nods as he looks over at you. “no kidding? i guess it fits. you’re like… really good at dressin’, and all that.”

he looks up at the sky as the rain starts to come down harder. he leads you down the street towards a pizza shop. the streets are dark other than a few people leaving clubs or taxis driving around.

you smile a little as harry compliments you, kind of embarrassed.

the two of you reach the pizza shop and harry holds the door open for you, still smiling. inside the small shop the air is warm and smells like bread and grease.

harry walks up to the counter and looks at the menu on the wall. “alright, love. what do you want?”

you look up at the menu before walking to the counter and standing next to harry."hmm… i'll just have a pepperoni slice and a coke"

the man behind the counter nods and looks up at harry, as he also orders him a few slices of pizza and a drink. harry pays for the food before walking over to a table in the corner of the small shop and sitting down, still looking cheerful.

"so prada, huh? so they've got you runnin' coffees and doin' menial work then?" he sighs as he stretches in the chair before looking at you again.

you sigh and smile a little, sitting down as well. “yeah but everyone’s gotta start somewhere.”

harry nods and smiles. “yeah, i know what ya mean. i was broke for years until someone finally picked us up.” he takes a big bite of his pizza as you also start eating.

you smile and takes a bite of your pizza. “so you’re british? are you in new york just for a show or did you move here?”

harry nods as he finishes chewing, he picks up his drink and takes a sip as he replies.

“i just moved here last year."

you look at him curiously as you take a sip of your own drink. "how do you like it? do you get homesick at all?"

harry shrugs as he swallows another bite of his pizza.

“it’s alright. new york is way bigger than where i’m from. there’s no getting homesick when i constantly talk to my mum and sister back at home, i don’t have time to miss it.”

he grins playfully and takes another bite of pizza before speaking again. “i like it here. there’s a lot to do. the pizza is good, there’s pretty girls everywhere running into me on the streets…”

you smile and shake your head, holding up the shard of cd from your pocket. amelia had told you that it held some signifigance for their band, and you didn’t want to take that away, even if it was broken.

“yeah about that, you should take this back.”

harry smiles and shakes his head, taking a bite of his second slice. he leans back against the chair, looking at you with an amused expression. “nah it’s alright, i still have the other chunk.”

you look at him hesitantly for a minute before nodding and putting the broken cd back in your pocket. “okay…”

harry swallows the pizza and watches as you finish before speaking again. “so how did you like the show?”

you look up at him and smile. in truth, you loved the show. they sounded good, harry had a great stage presence, and you recognized a few of their songs. “i really liked it, you did a good job. i recognized that one song… um… what is it called? the one about having babies?”

harry laughs and takes a drink of his soda, nodding. he runs his hand through his slightly wet curls from the rain and smiles. “ah yeah… that would be “kiwi” you like it?”

you nod, smiling at harry with your chin resting in your hand. "yeah, it was good." you take a bite of pizza, looking down at the table for a moment, then looking back up at him. "i didn’t think i would like it as much as i did. i’m not usually much of a rock girl, but i had fun."

you think for a moment, then smile sheepishly. "it's mostly pop stuff, like beyonce or christina aguilera. i told you i'm not much of a rock girl, but you sounded good."

it was embarrassing, he was a rockstar and you were casually admitting to listening to pop music, but at the same time it wasn’t. harry was very easy going, and very easy to talk to. he always had a smile and always knew what to say. it's comforting.

harry grins at you, finding it cute that you listen to pop music. "nothing wrong with that, they're both pretty damn talented, not just in their songs but their styles as well. if i could pull of low waisted jeans i would totally wear them"

you can't help but giggle a little as harry mentions low waisted jeans. you can picture him in those kind of jeans, the tattoos along his stomach showing slightly above the low waist… yeah… you wouldn’t mind that at all. (ew shut up shut up)

"well, it's mainly pop, but sometimes i listen to rap. it all depends on what mood i'm in"

harry smiles at your giggles and looks you over. he finishes the last bite of his pizza and wipes his face and hands with a napkin.

"yeah? okay… so i know you like pop music, you work in fashion, you're very sweet, we’re practically best friends now."

you smile and roll your eyes at his remark. "best friends? really? i don't know anything about you other than you’re british and you sing. cmon, tell me something."

harry’s eyes widen a little, he pretends to be offended by your statement and places his hand over his heart as he speaks. he is just so cute.

“woah woah woah, we’ve only known eachother for a couple of hours, don’t rush me love” he grins jokingly before continuing. “alright, let’s see… what do you wanna know?”

harry grins and looks at you, leaning an elbow on the table and resting his head in his hand, his other hand placed on the table.

“favorite album of all time huh? that’s an easy one. it’s probably… abbey road by the beatles. i know it’s the basic answer but i can’t help it, i grew up on the beatles. for favorite color… i guess black. i wear a lot of black, in case you hadn’t noticed…”

he grins as he says he last part jokingly.

you smile and nod, taking a sip of your drink. other than the owners, you two were the only people in the pizza shop left. even though you’ve only known him for about 10 hours, and it’s midnight, you felt oddly comfortable with him. you pretend to think for a minute before speaking again.

“okay… since we’re basically playing 20 questions now… do you collect anything?”

harry smiles and leans back in his chair, stretching, looking up, and thinking. “hmmm..”

he grins and looks at you. “yeah i do actually, i’ve collected vinyl ever since i was a teenager. it’s kind of my thing. i have a whole room full of them back at my house and i’m still collecting them.”

you raise your eyebrows, slightly surprised, and smile again. “really? that’s cool. i didn’t think anyone collected vinyls anymore, besides hipsters who listen to the doors.”

harry grins and shakes his head. “it’s the best way to listen to music, it’s got an authentic tone. you can tell a record comes a lot more from the heart than a song on the radio. you should come over sometime. i’ve got a lot of really old, rare ones i can show you”

you smile a little and look down at the table. you had only met him a couple of hours ago and he was already inviting you over to his house, to see his vinyl collection. it wasn’t weird though, he was a very friendly person and you didn’t think he was asking you over for any other reason than to show you his collection.

“yeah… i can come over to see your vinyl collection sometime, that would be cool”

harry grins at you and nods. “great”

he glances up at a clock on the wall, noticing the time. “damn, you don’t have work tomorrow do you?”

you look over at the clock on the wall. 4 am. damn. “yeah i do actually. i’m supposed to be there at 8am”

you would get around two hours of sleep if you went home right now, not enough to function as a normal human the next day, but that’s prada for you.

harry looks at you suprised. “damn, 8am? they make you come in at 8am? i thought you fashion girls didn’t wake up until noon.” he jokes

“yeah maybe if i was a model, but i’m not,” you roll your eyes at his remark but you can’t hide a smile. “they don’t care that the only thing keeping you going at 8am is coffee and cigarettes.”

harry laughs and looks at you. “coffee and cigarettes… you have the same diet as me.”

you smile at his remark, leaning on the table with your head in your hand, mirroring his position. “coffee, cigarettes, and ramen noodles… the breakfast of champions.”

harry smiles and nods. “it’s a healthy lifestyle for sure”

he checks the time again, noting how late it is before speaking again. “so… tell me, on a scale of 1-10 how reckless are you?”

you look at him and smile. “uh… i don’t know. it really depends. i’d say i’m kind of reckless. if this is your way of asking me if i’ll ditch work and come over to your house i don’t think so, even for a cute british rockstar.”

harry laughs and leans a little closer to you. “aw that’s a shame, i was hoping you’d ditch work to listen to my music and see my collection”

he smiles at you and speaks again, getting a devious look in his eye. “cmon… just stop by?”

you roll your eyes playfully at his remark. “cmon rock star, you’ve only known me for a few hours, don’t go being too hopeful now”

despite your reply, you were actually very much considering going over to his house to see his collection. he was hot, nice, and you were tired as hell.

harry grins at your response and leans closer to you, looking into your eyes. “cmon… i promise i won’t keep you long, i just want to show you my vinyls”

his eyes darted toward the clock and then back to you. “please? one hour, tops.”

you look into his big green eyes, you were already tempted. then you look down at the clock. 3:53am.

“ugh…” then back up at him. “an hour, tops?”

harry grins, already sensing that he had convinced you, and nods. “one hour, pinkie promise.”

he smiles and intertwines your pinkies which makes you smile. you were either going to go home and get 2 hours of very little sleep… or you could go with the attractive British rockstar and at least have fun for a little while. who needed sleep anyways?

you look down at your pinkies, smiling as he intertwines them together. you couldn’t believe you were about to do this with a guy you had only met this morning. but yet, here you were.

“okay fine… one hour, that’s it”

harry grins widely and laughs a little, knowing he had won and you were coming with him. he lets go of your pinkie and looks at your expression, watching you think to yourself, probably thinking about if this was a good idea.

“perfect, cmon” he stands up and tosses your trash away, thanking the restaurant owner, before helping you up and walking out the door. there is still some rain, and the air is damp, making it misty.

you walk outside with harry into the cool, misty air. the city was oddly quiet for it being new york, but it was 3:55am so it wasn’t surprising.

you weren’t sure how you felt about this. you’d just met this guy and here you were ditching sleep to go to his house and see his vinyl collection, it definitely seemed crazy. but at the same time… he was cute, and nice and you really did want to see his collection.

harry is smiling at you, seeming to read your facial expressions and your body language, like he was trying to guess what you were thinking. he could see that you were excited yet at the same time nervous about this whole thing.

he looks at you and smiles. “come on, my apartment is just down the block”

he motions for you to follow him and starts walking, sticking with his usual fast pace for his long legs.

you nod and start walking next to him. the rain wasn’t heavy, but it was a slight drizzle and got you slightly wet as you walked.

it was weird. this whole thing was weird. you had only known harry for a few hours and already you were going back to his place to look at his vinyl collection, when in reality you should’ve been at home asleep, preparing for work tomorrow. but you weren’t, you were following a rockstar through the rain.

you smile and look over at him as you walk down the street. “be honest with me… how often do you do this with girls?”

harry glances over at you and smiles, noticing the quizzical look on your face. he grins a little as he responds. “you’re joking, right? i do this with girls all the time. i take them home to my apartment to see my vinyl collection after they go to my concerts.”

he grins jokingly and glances over at you, seeing you roll your eyes. “alright, alright… not that often. i’m assuming you’re asking me about my hookup habits, and honestly, i don’t take people to my house if i’m going to hook up with them. i just do it in the bathroom or wherever we are.”

you raise your eyebrows, and smile. “oh wow, so tell me, are groupies real? do you really have girls following your band around, or is that an 80s myth?”

you were honestly slightly suprised he didn’t take people home to his house. in the short amount of time you’ve known each other, that doesn’t seem like something he would do.

harry laughs a little and shakes his head as he walks, still having to slow down a bit so you can keep up with his long legs.

“that’s like… one part myth and one part real. yeah of course girls like us, but we don’t just have them following us around everywhere, that's a bit extreme”

he smiles and runs his hand through his wet curls as you walk down the street together. “i’ve had girls follow me home a few times after shows and stuff, but they aren’t really what they’re cracked up to be in the movies”

“oh really?”

“mhm you’re much prettier.”

“yeah sure…”

⋆｡˚⁺｡ 30 minutes later ｡⁺˚｡⋆

you and harry are laying on the floor of his music room, listening to a pink floyd album he put on. the needle scratched back and forth on the vinyl, the music filling the room as the two of you lay on the floor. harry had a fuzzy carpet on the floor that was fun to run your fingers through as you lay there listening.

the two of you are, both of you laying on your backs, staring up at his ceiling and listening to the music. you had expected him to be more hyper and excited, but he was actually very calm and… sweet?

harry was laying with his hands behind his head, his hair fanned out around his head as he stared at the ceiling. a small smile was on his lips as he listened to the music, he seemed to be genuinely enjoying this.

he glances over at you, seeing you looking at the ceiling, smiling lightly as the music plays. “what do you think of this album? it’s one of my favorites”

you look over at him and look into his green eyes. god he was attractive.

you listen to the music for a moment before replying. “it’s good… like i said… i’m a pop girl, but this album is…. pretty? if that makes sense, the sounds are pretty.”

he laughs a little, finding it cute that you called the music pretty. he looks back up at the ceiling, his smile getting wider as he responded. “yeah, pink floyd’s music is pretty…”

he glances over at you again, speaking teasingly. “you’re kind of pretty too.”

your cheeks turn pink and you can feel your heart rate slightly increase when he said you were pretty. why were you getting flustered? you had barely known this guy for 12 hours and already he was calling you pretty.

you roll over onto your side, laying on your stomach, looking at him, still blushing a little. “kind of?”

harry smirks at you as you turn over on your stomach to look at him, your hair hanging down.

he rolls over on his stomach, mimicking your position to look at you, his smirk still on his face as he replies. his head propped up on his hand so he can be face-to-face with you. “yeah very pretty”

you feel your cheeks get pinker as he compliments you, but you try to remain casual and not get flustered. it was hard though, he was laying facing you right now, and the look in his eyes as he looked at you made it hard to focus.

you shake your head as he says you’re pretty, jokingly rolling your eyes at him. “yeah, yeah you’re pretty too.”

harry gasps dramatically and looks at you with a grin. “oh i’m flattered, darling.”

you smile and nod, looking into his pretty green eyes. “yeah you should be.”

he grins again with the smile that makes his eyes crinkle. please kill me he’s adorable- the album stops as the record meets the end, and harry stands up. he walks over to the record stand and changes the record out. “are you flirting with me?”

you sit up, still sitting on the floor of the music room, watching him change the record, then processing what he just said. you smile and shrug, bringing your knees to your chest as you sit on his shaggy carpet. this room was so comfortable, like the rest of his apartment. he had little trinkets everywhere, pillows and bankets in every corner, and warm lighting from his string lights filled each dark area.

“oh… so you invite me to your concert, take me to get pizza, invite me to your house, and I’M the one that’s flirting?”

harry laughs a little, turning back around after placing a Jeff Buckley record on the machine. he walks back over to the carpet and sits down right next to you. he looks at you with his bright green eyes, smiling as he speaks. “mmm, you have a point”

he reaches behind him and grabs multiple pillows and blankets. “alright settle in, love, this is the prettiest album yet.”

you smile as he grabs pillows and blankets from behind him and starts handing them to you. so he was going to get comfortable too.

you take the pillows and blankets from him and start situating them on the ground next to harry so you can lay down. “alright, if this album isn’t pretty, this is the first and last time we’re hanging out.”

harry laughs and smiles again, loving the way you banter with him. he grabs his own blankets and pillows and gets comfortable next to you on the floor.

he smiles and lays down, getting comfortable under his blankets. “trust me, jeff buckley’s album is absolutely beautiful. it’s gonna break you, make you cry, throw up, all that good stuff.”

you smile as he jokingly describes the album, trying to imagine what about it would cause you to throw up. you lay down in your own little nest of blankets and pillows, getting comfy in the dimly lit room, the only light coming from string lights hanging across the ceiling and the moon shining in from the window.

you look over at a comfy looking harry who’s smiling at you, seemingly more relaxed and sleepy laid out on the floor.

it only takes three minutes for the two of you to completely pass out on the floor of his music room.

⋆｡˚⁺｡ 8 hours later ｡⁺˚｡⋆

you slowly wake up, confused for a moment and wondering where you were. but then you remember that you had fallen asleep in harry’s music room, and now the morning sun was shining through the window, illuminating the room and waking you up.

when you open your eyes, you see harry still sound asleep next to you, curled up under his many blankets and pillows, looking adorable as he breathed softly. it also reminds you that you’re a complete idiot for letting yourself fall asleep to a complete stranger.

you lay there for a moment, admiring the way harry peacefully slept next to you. he looked like an actual rock star, his hair fanned out on the pillows, his tattoos peaking out through through the sleeves and collar of his shirt. you were still baffled at the fact that less than 24 hours ago you didn’t even know he existed, and now here you were.

you look over at him again, studying his sleeping face.

the room is still and quiet as you look at his calm sleeping face, your eyes roaming over his long lashes, his sharp jawline, his plump lips. what is wrong with you. you’re laying there watching a sleeping man, a man you had only known for a day.

you look away from him, trying to remind yourself that this is just a man you met on the street and not a dreamy love interest in a romantic movie. you sigh in frustration as you remember that you had slept through work. hopefully phoebe would cover for you….

you sit, up rolling your shoulders, they were sore from laying on the floor all night. you grab your phone from your pocket to check the time. great. you had slept through work, it was already 10AM. you also had several missed texts from phoebe and your boss wondering where the hell you were. this is gonna be hard to explain.

whatever. that’s for another time when you’re more awake and less infatuated with a British man you hardly know.

you rub your face sleepily, yawning softly as harry starts to wakeup.

harry starts to shift around beside you, making noise and groaning softly as he starts waking up. he sits up slowly, looking around the room, taking in his surroundings. he runs a hand through his messy hair, then glances over at you.

“morning, pretty girl” he says in a groggy morning voice, grinning at you as he stretches his arms over his head.

your heart does a little jump as you hear his morning voice, which you’re starting to decide is a million times sexier than his normal voice.

”morning, pretty boy” you respond, stretching your own arms over your head and letting out a yawn.

you look down and notice you’re still wearing the uncomfortable mini skirt and tanktop from last night. “do you have something i can change into? i do NOT want to do the walk of shame back to my apartment in this.”

harry smiles as he sees you sit up and stretch, he also notices you’re still wearing the clothes from last night… and that the tiny skirt and tiny tank are a sight to see first thing in the morning.

he shakes his head, trying to bring himself back to earth, and responds. “yeah ‘course. i’m sure i’ve got some clothes that will fit you” he glances down at your clothes again before standing up.

“although i’m not sure it can be considered the walk of shame if we didn’t do anything shameful, yet.” he smirks and walks out of the music room and down the hall towards his bedroom.

you roll your eyes, but smile a little at his last comment, knowing it was true. sure, you’d slept in the same room, but you hadn’t done anything shameful… yet. hopefully you wouldn’t end up doing anything shameful, this guy was turning your brain into mush.

you crawl out of your pile of blankets and pillows, then get up and follow him out the room and down the hall to his bedroom.

you both walk into his bedroom, which has a similar look to his music room. it’s not a huge bedroom, it has a queen sized bed, a large dresser, and a door that leads to the bathroom.

he goes over to the dresser and starts rifling through the drawers, looking for something you can change into. he looks over his shoulder and looks at your outfit again. “can’t lie, i like the outfit, but you’re probably not very comfortable in it.”

he smiles and tosses you light washed jeans and a band tee. “you’re a fashion girl, i’m sure you can make anything look good.”

you caught the pants and tshirt he threw at you, holding them up to look at them. he was right, you might be able to make this look good, these jeans were cute and the band tee looked vintage.

you smile. “i’ll attempt to look good in your clothes.” you glance toward the bathroom. “do you mind if i change in there?”

he nods. “yeah, ‘course love. bathroom’s right in there” he motions to a door across the room.

after about 30 minutes of getting ready, arguing with harry about needing to go to work, and eventually caving because… well beacause he’s hot…. you and harry were walking down the street towards a coffee shop.

⋆｡˚⁺｡ 30 minutes earlier ｡⁺˚｡⋆

“no harry! i had fun, but i need to go to work and apologize for sleeping in.” you shake your head as you stand in the bathroom, washing your face of the makeup from the night before.

“uh no you don’t”

you roll your eyes and look back at the mucisian. “uh yes i do.”

“why? you’re already six hours late, might as well just tell them you’re sick.” he smiles like a teenager, standing behind you in the bathroom as you got ready. it’s weird, being this comfortable around someone after you’ve only known them for 24 hours.

“yeah but-”

“no buts”

“yes buts! i have responsibilities.”

“i’ll buy you donuts and we can hang out more! that sounds like way more fun whatever fashion bs they would have you doing.”

“…”

“…”

“fine.”

“… :)”

“stop smiling, dumbass.”

⋆｡˚⁺｡ present ｡⁺˚｡⋆

harry is walking down the sidewalk next to you, taking a bite of his donut and sipping his black coffee, watching you as you both walk. you look cute in the clothes he gave you, cute and relaxed. he loves the way the jeans are cuffed at the bottom and the faded band tee fits you perfectly.

he glances at you, smiling as he speaks. “see? ditching work was so much better. you can have more fun with me, instead of working in a boring old office”

you roll your eyes as he smiles and speaks. “yeah, because hanging out with the random man i met yesterday is so much more fun than the job that pays my rent and feeds me”

you try to hide the smile that creeps up on your face, you have no idea why you’re falling so effortlessly into this banter with him, but it just felt natural.

harry grins as you respond, loving the way you banter with him. he can’t stop smiling whenever he sees that pretty smile appear on your face.

he nods jokingly as you mention the job that feeds you and pays your rent. “yeah exactly! who cares if you don’t get paid this month, im sure being unemployed is a completely valid excuse for missing work!”

he takes another sip of his coffee, looking at you. “i mean we’re basically having a date, which is way more entertaining than whatever you were doing at work”

you roll your eyes again, smiling as he teases you about having a “date”. it isn’t a date, its just the two of you hanging out, like friends. yeah…

“sure, this is a date” you sarcastically respond, taking a bite of your donut. “a date consisting of two people ditching work and eating breakfast food. don’t you have a concert later? you should be practicing.”

he grins a little as you sarcastically agree that this is a “date”, that means you’ve acknowledged it. “yeah, i should be, but i’d rather hang out with you.”

harry stops and grabs a cigarette out of his pocket, lighting it and taking a long drag. “besides, i can practice later. today is our day. i’m marking it in my calender, october 16th, 2003, the day we became best friends.”

you try to suppress your smile as you hear him say “our day”. he’s way too charming for his own good, you think to yourself.

you watch as he lights his cigarette and puffs on it, the smoke billowing from his pouty lips. a little part of you hates how you think he looks hot as he stands there smoking, but you try to ignore it.

you roll your eyes a little, trying to pretend this isn’t affecting you. “yeah, us ditching work and eating donuts is sure the start of a great friendship”

he smiles again as he sees you roll your eyes. cute. he thinks to himself as he watches you eat your donut in small bites.

he lets out a puff of smoke as he brings the cigarette to his lips again, looking at you. “you say that like ditching work and hanging out isn’t the best bonding activity for the start of a friendship.”

he grins as he starts walking again, glancing over at you. “we’ve had a jam session, we’ve shared sleeping quarters, and now a proper meal. what more could we possibly bond over?”

you shake your head and smile a little as he responds.

“well you’re wrong,” you say. “i’ll do anything for donuts.”

you take another bite of the donut and glance over at him as he walks next to you, watching his curls bounce as he moves. it really was a good day, you would never say it out loud, but a ditch day with him was the most therapeutic thing you’d done in months,

the two of you walk through central park for a few more minutes before reaching a bench. you sit down and sip your coffee quietly, warming up a little bit.

he laughs and shakes his head as you mention you would do anything for a donut. “yeah yeah, admit that i’m right.”

he follows you over and sits on the bench, letting out a tiny cough as he flicks his cigarette into the trash. he glances over at you as you drink your coffee, you look cute sitting there sipping coffee in his clothes.

he plops down on the bench next to you as he leans back, letting his body rest comfortably. “you know, you’re very relaxing, it’s nice.”

you glance over at him as you sit down, raising your eyebrows. “i’m relaxing?”

you look at him incredulously. “i’m pretty sure you’re the one with the relaxing british accent”

he grins a little as you say he’s the one who’s relaxing. he smirks a little. “just because i’ve got an english accent doesn’t mean im relaxing. i could be annoying, ya know”

you laugh and roll your eyes. “oh please, everyone likes an english accent. they’re soothing” you say this with a small smile, knowing damn well you love his accent.

he smiles and looks over at you through his sunglasses, he just felt so comfortable at the moment. “well i’m glad you like my accent.”

you roll your eyes and laugh a little at his comment. his accent was nice. no, it was more than that; it was sexy, especially when he sang or spoke softly.

he looks relaxed as he sits there on the bench next to you. you watch as he closes his eyes behind his glasses, taking in the cool breeze.

you sit back against the bench, watching people walk around the park, kids playing, dogs running, adults working out. it was all very peaceful.

“thanks for not being creepy last night or anything…”

he opens his eyes and glances over at you as you lean back against the bench as well. “course love. i wasn’t gonna try anything, you just looked like you needed a good sleep. but of course, i’m happy to do anything when you’re awake.”

he smiles teasingly and leans back against the bench with his eyes closed.

the next hour is spent with the two of you walking around the park mindlessly, talking about random things. harry told you about england, you told him about your job and your friends. he told you about his bandmates, you told him about your cat. it was the most relaxing day you could remember having for a long time.

“but yeah my cat is the most an-”

suddenly harry stops walking and looks at you. without any warning or hesitation, he gently grabs your face and pulls you towards him, planting a kiss against your lips.

your eyes widen in surprise as he kisses you. you’re in shock, freezing up for a second as you feel his lips against yours.

the kiss is gentle, but there’s a firmness from harry’s part that makes it feel like he’s been wanting to do this for hours. he brushes his fingers through your hair as he kisses you, bringing you closer to him as he does.

you’re still shocked, but you instinctively begin to kiss him back. the feeling of his fingers brushing through your hair, the feeling of his lips moving against yours, all of it makes you lose your senses. you bring your hands up and grip onto his arms, holding on tightly as you kiss him back.

“this is stupid and you can laugh at me, but i think i’m more comfortable with you after a day together, then some people i’ve known my entire life.”

you feel your stomach flutter with butterflies as you look up at him.

“yeah i,” you start before hesitating, “i feel the same way.” that’s an understatement

he smiles gently as you say you feel the same way, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss against your forehead. he scoops you up, pulling you so you’re legs are wrapped around his waist and he’s holding his arms under your bottom to support you.

“yeah?”

you wrap your arms around his neck as he holds you up, looking at him. “yeah, it’s,” stupid, crazy, insane, “cool.”

harry grins and kisses you again before he starts walking down the street, running a bit to make you laugh, until he finds an empty ally. he pushes you against the wall with your legs wrapped around his as he presses his lips to yours.

as he presses his lips to yours, the world around you melts away, leaving only the two of you, suspended in this moment. the cool brick wall behind you is a gentle pressure against your back, a reminder of the physical world that's still spinning, even as your senses are consumed by harry's kiss. his tongue brushes against yours, and you feel your legs tighten around his waist, pulling him closer.

the sound of the city fades into the background, replaced by the gentle hum of harry's contented sigh as he deepens the kiss. his fingers dig gently into the flesh of your bottom, holding you up, supporting you as you wrap yourself around him.

as harry's lips move against yours, he mutters "so. fucking. pretty." in between kisses, desperate to get closer to you. his body presses against yours, the heat of his chest radiating through your clothes.

his hands roam over your body, gripping your waist, running up your back, and threading through your hair. the feeling of his fingers in your hair feels amazing, and you can't help but moan softly into the kiss.

harry pulls away and looks down at you with a flushed expression.

“back to my place?”

“yes. now.”

˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹

oops that was really long, i got caught up. this isn’t really proofread so sorry if there were mistakes. this is literally my favorite story i’ve ever written, so i hope you guys liked it too! (requests are open)

-💋

[stargaze5969]

❗️ANXIFEAR MINI FIC FROM MY NEW COLLEGE AU ❗️

So I got 6 hours of sleep last night because of this idea so APPRECIATE WHAT YA GETTING XD /j

This AU is still in the works, but all the info in this post is set information, send me your ideas in the comments or in asks, I'd be more then happy to hear them! ^^

I didn't get to draw anything for this sadly, but I picture them looking like @eechytooru 's humanizations of the two,

Now, narration mode on-

Warning for one f bomb I guess xD

It's the beginning of a new semester, Fear's a young college teacher in the mathematics faculty. He's been working there for about 3 years. Anxiety is a new teacher and this is her first semester teaching, she's a history teacher in the human science department.

Fear is just finishing up a lecture, when Anxiety barges in holding her material, her coffee and her notes. Her glasses are tilted and her hair's clipped up in it's usual messy style. When she looks up, she sees a full classroom of adults and a startled Fred looking straight at her.

Oh my bad, forgot to mention their human names hehe. Fear is Frederick Fitzgerald, because it's silly but trying to be serious, like him, and Anxiety is Anna-lee Tyson, just cuz I like how that sounds lol. Back to my narration,

She scrambles with her things and apologizes profusely to Mr. Fitzgerald. He urges her not to worry as he was just giving his ending speech and he dismisses the class. Anna awkwardly says goodbye to the students as they are leaving, while Fred starts packing his things. She approaches the front desk and sets her things down. They start up some small talk.

At this point, Fred has seen Anna around campus. He's found her little quirks fascinating; how she always carries too much in her arms, how she presses too hard on her PC's keys, how she supplements her coffee with energy drinks. It makes his stomach twist in a way that's farmiliar to him, but he denies putting any feelings forward to keep things professional. Anna rarely pays attention to her surroundings, she stays in her head much of the time, so this is her first time meeting him.

"I'm sorry again for the interruption," she repeats herself.

"Oh there's no need to apologize, Miss?"

"Tyson, Anna-Lee Tyson," she started to organize her supplies.

"Charmed, Frederick Fitzgerald. I've been interrupted by far worse. Students, other staff, KIDS EVEN!" He continued putting away his personal items.

"Kids?!"

"Yes, sadly, some single parents have to bring their children to class from lack of available childcare."

"Ugh, childcare should be more accessible to single parent students," she protested.

Fred shock his head in agreement.

"... Do you have any children M. Fitzgerald?"

He was taken aback by this question. Fred is a little ashamed he doesn't have kids at his age. He thinks if he had a partner by now, he probably would have-

Seeing his awkward reaction, she takes back the question:

"I'm sorry, you don't have to answer if you don't feel comfortable, I-"

Fred laughs it off, "No no, it's OK but... do I look that old to you?"

"No! I mean- of course not!" She assured him, although it seemed more as if she was reassuring herself.

And he laughs some more, "You would probably guess correctly to be frank."

"... Are you daring me to guess your age?"

"Yes, go on," he smiled, amused, and leaned on the desk.

So she tries to guess: "... 40?"

Fred jerked back and put his hand to his chest dramatically.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" She apologized once more, shaking her hands nervously.

He chuckles, "No, you weren't too far off! I'm 37."

"Oh! OK, I got close!"

"Ya! May I try guessing your age?"

"Sure, go ahead," she smiled.

To this, he leans back on the desk and strikes a thinking pose dramatically, guessing 25 in a flirtatious manner.

She giggles, "You're kind M. Fitzgerald, but seriously though."

"Ok ok... 32?"

"Oh, so close, I'm 34!"

"Darn!" He says and they both laugh.

He looks at her laugh, it almost turns into a squeak. Something about her makes him feel like he could talk to her for hours and she'd listen. Her nose scrunches and it makes her round glasses tilt upwards; he pushes his own glasses up.

"And I love your smile..." he whispered under his breath mindlessly.

"Hm?"

"Oh hm, it was very nice meeting you Ms. Tyson!" He held out his hand to her, quickly responding to avoid suspicion.

"It was!" She agreed, shaking his hand firmly.

After an awkwardly long handshake, which she didn't register as such, he finished packing his things and headed out, wishing her a great start of the semester. She returned the gratitude. Leaving the lecture hall, he held his hand up to his face to hide the glow he felt on his cheeks.

Fuuuuuuck- he doesn't swear much, but this time called for it; she had a strong affect on him and he was going to have a difficult time trying to hide it for the rest of the semester-

-------

And ya that's it! Had to get this scene out of my mind and into the world or it would have consumed me a swear XD

[elusivewildflower]

Tattoos & Pick-Up Lines | Tattoo Artist! Luke Glanton x AFAB! Reader

Pairing: Tattoo Artist AU! Luke Glanton x AFAB! Reader

Summary: You pop over to the tattoo shop next door for your first ever tattoo and are in luck when the artist you have a crush on offers himself up for the job. His last client runs into after hours and now it's just the two of you in the shop.....Whatever could happen?

Warnings: mention of tattoo process/care, anxiety, smut, unprotected p in v, oral (female receiving), bit of praise kink. cheesy pick-up lines. I think that's it?

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: I don't even want to say how long this fic has been in my WIPs... (Since November, I think??) Thanks to all of the Goose babes for the idea way back when, and for continuing to cheer me on to get this fic finally finished 6+ months later... 🫣🫣I hope y'all enjoy the thought of a Tattoo Artist Luke as much as I do... 🥵🥵 This is not beta'd so all mistakes are my own, and it's 3am, so....

Sucking in a deep breath, you steel your nerves and step into the tattoo shop. You knew that you should’ve made an appointment, but you were too afraid you’d chicken out and not show up. So, here you were, making a last-minute decision to pop in after your shift at the cafe next door. The sound of door chimes signaled your arrival, but you couldn’t see anything or anyone from where you stood. It seemed each artist had their own private station, but all you could hear was the hum of tattoo machines and soft rock music.

You stood in place for a moment before a familiar face popped out from a set of curtains, chomping down on an apple. When he spots you, a smile lights up his features. “Hey, I know you.” He calls out as he closes the distance between you. “You work at the cafe next door, yeah?” 

You tug your bottom lip between your teeth as you nod. “Yeah, you’re Luke, right?” You ask, recognizing the bleach blonde’s tatted complexion as a regular. He stops in every morning to grab a cup of black coffee, nearly downing it in one go as he wills himself to wake up. Then, he returns a few hours later for the latest sugar-packed seasonal drink, looking like a brand new man. Early morning Luke can barely even manage to give you a wink, but afternoon Luke? That version of him has the cheesiest pick-up lines you’ve ever heard. You’re embarrassed to admit how much his visits make your day. But, in truth, he was part of the reason you picked this shop and not the one two streets over. You’ve harbored a crush on the tattoo artist for a few months now, and if anyone were to give you a tattoo, you’d hoped it would be him. 

Luke nods, a smirk pulling at his lips. “Yeah, that’s me.” He takes a moment to look you over. “So, you looking to get a tattoo?” 

“Yeah, I want to get a small rose on my hip.” Luke’s eyes follow as you gesture towards your right side. “It’ll actually be my first.” You admit a bit shyly.  

“Really?” Luke questions, his brows raised. “Well, we’ll have to make it special.” He teases with a wink.

Your breath catches in your throat at his words. God, why did he have to be so hot? You can feel warmth spreading up your neck and it takes everything in you not to smile giddily.

He shoots a glance towards the curtain he came from. “I’ve got a client right now, just giving them a break.” His bright blue eyes return to you. “Are you free to wait about thirty minutes or so?” 

Furrowing your brows, you take a quick look at the clock on the wall. It was rather late in the day. How late did they stay open? You were unsure of that answer, so you asked. “Won’t you be closed by then?” 

That damned smirk that hadn’t left his lips grew even larger, if possible, as he shrugged. “I stay as late as my clients need me to.”

This is almost worse than getting the actual tattoo. Why did you think this would be a great idea again? He’s far too charming for his own good.

“Y-yeah, I’m free to wait.” You stutter out.

“Great.” He shot you a wink before motioning towards the leather chairs in the waiting area. “I’ll be out as soon as I can.” He then walked backwards towards his curtain, taking another bite from his half-eaten apple. 

Luke waited until you were seated before he disappeared from view, almost as if he was worried you might leave instead. Honestly, you were half-tempted. This was better than waiting for an appointment that could’ve been days later, but your nerves were still eating away at you. You were starting to second-guess your idea that getting a tattoo from Luke was your best option. Initially, you thought you’d trust him the most. He was far from the only tattoo artist that popped over for coffee, but he was the only one that actually spoke to you when he did. Granted, a lot of the conversations began with his cheesy pick-up lines, but the others hardly said two words to you. You gnawed on your bottom lip and picked up a stray magazine, hoping that the next thirty minutes would pass quickly. 

After what felt like an eternity, Luke and his client emerged from his station. The other artists had already left for the night, so once the final client departed, Luke locked the shop doors behind him. A part of you understood that it was simply for safety, but another implication sent butterflies swirling in your stomach. He wanted the two of you to be alone and uninterrupted. 

Luke clapped his hands together, rubbing them as he shot you a grin. “Ready, princess?” 

God damn him. Your breath caught in your throat again as the pet name took you by surprise. Simply nodding, as that’s all you could manage at the moment, you raised from your seat. Then, he led you back to his station, the chair already in position for you to lay upon when you were ready. 

Luke pats the leather with his inked hand. “Take a seat. I’ll show you what I drew up.” He said, reaching for his tablet as you sit down. 

Your brows raise in shock. You hadn’t expected him to already have something ready. “You already drew something?” The question tumbled from your lips before you realized it. How much time did he have on his hands earlier, anyway? 

He nods, turning the tablet for you to view once he had the design on the screen. “Yeah. I had this in mind the second you said rose.” He explained as if it were nothing. It was a simple design, yet still elegant and dainty, just as you had envisioned. You wanted to question how he was able to nail it on the first try, but you supposed that’s what kept him booked and busy. That and maybe his good looks….

“I love it.” You affirmed, a smile gracing your face. 

His expression mimicked yours. “Great, now, show me exactly where you’re thinking.” 

You feel heat creeping up your neck. Of course, you knew you’d have to bare some skin in order to get this tattoo, but that didn’t stop your heart from skipping a beat at the thought. Standing up, you reach behind you, unzipping your skirt and shimmying it down your thighs a bit to reveal your hip. You hiked up the strap of your underwear to fully reveal the spot you wanted the rose. 

Luke got a good look and then spun around to start grabbing items that he needed. “You can take the skirt completely off, if you’d be more comfortable that way. Might be painful to lay on it half unzipped.” He comments idly, shooting a quick glance in your direction. 

You chew on your lower lip, debating on his logic. After a moment, you decided he had a point. Fully unzipping your skirt, you let it fall to the floor around your ankles. Luke’s attention momentarily turns towards you, and you certainly don’t miss the smirk that spreads across his face. Picking up the article of clothing, you fold it neatly and set it on the table nearby before sitting down once more. 

Another few moments and Luke returns to your side. He presses a gentle hand on your shoulder as he guides you to lay on your back. Once you’re in position, he disinfects the area and begins applying the stencil. Once the stencil is in place, he directs you to check the placement in the full-length mirror. Getting back up, you walk to the mirror in the corner of the room. You twist and pose as you stare at your reflection, all too aware of the piercing blue eyes watching your every move. Satisfied with how it’ll turn out, you settle back down onto the chair and let out a heavy sigh. 

“Nervous?” Luke asks as he readies the inks and needles he’ll be using while the stencil finishes drying. 

You feel a tightness in your chest as you turn your head towards Luke. “Yeah, a bit. I’m not the biggest fan of needles.” You admit, nibbling on your lower lip. 

Luke gives you a comforting smile. “Don’t worry. By the time I’m done, you’ll be coming back for more, princess.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at that, heat creeping up your neck for the second time this evening. 

As Luke moves closer, the tattoo gun in his hand, you suck in a quick breath. “It sounds a lot scarier than it is, I promise.” He assures, his dominant arm resting over your stomach gently. You return your gaze toward the ceiling as he shifts to get into a better position, but he immediately pauses. He scoots his chair until his face is hovering directly over yours, his eyes piercing your own. “If anything hurts too much or you just need a break, you let me know, okay? We’ll go as slow as you need to.” 

You swallow thickly at the intense eye contact, nodding in response. It was far too easy to get lost in those baby blues and you didn’t trust that you could form a coherent verbal response. 

He doesn’t budge from his spot above you as he commands you to speak. “I need your words, sweetheart.” 

You take a moment to compose yourself before responding. “I understand.” 

A flash of a smile is all you see before he’s back to hovering over your hip. “Good girl.” He praises.

Luke doesn’t give you any warning before he starts, but you suppose it worked best that way. The prick of the needle in your skin wasn’t too pleasant, and you let out a cry in surprise. After a few moments, though, you’re able to settle into the newfound pain. 

Luke works diligently, his arms resting upon your lower half in a way that almost brought you comfort. He wasn’t pressing too harshly or putting too much of his weight upon you, and he held your thigh in a firm but gentle hold. Without pausing, he checks in on you. “You good?” 

Your jaw may be clenched and a grimace holds your face prisoner at the foreign feeling, but you nod and manage to respond. “Yeah, I’m good.” 

He takes a moment to wipe away excess ink, but soon the needle is right back against your skin. “I bet your boyfriend is going to fucking love this.” He comments idly after a few beats of silence. 

A chuckle that sounds more like a scoff escapes from you. “Yeah, if only I had one.” 

You could practically feel Luke’s eyes dart up to your face as he paused in his ministrations briefly. You expected some sort of comment from him, but he simply hummed before returning to his task at hand. 

After a moment or two, he finally speaks. “So, does that mean my cheesy pick-up lines have a chance of working some day?” He asks a bit too nonchalantly. 

This time a genuine laugh escapes from you and those butterflies you had earlier erupted in your stomach. “Who says they haven’t already?” You replied coyly, your line of sight still locked on the ceiling above you. 

You felt his laugh more than you heard it, as his sharp exhale caressed your sensitive skin. “Oh yeah? Which one has been your favorite?” He inquired curiously. 

“Uh, do you remember that time I asked why you don’t make your own black coffee at home?” You pause briefly, allowing him to let out a hum of acknowledgement before continuing. “You said you always feel better when my face is the first one you see of the day.” As you spoke, the memories of that day swirled in your mind, and an absentminded smile tugged at your lips. 

“I was only telling the truth.” He spoke softly. A few seconds ticked by before he shook his head in disbelief. “I’ve dreamed of asking you out for weeks. And now, here you are, laying in my chair.” 

Your breath hitched in surprise at his admission at the same moment that his tattoo gun shut off. He leaned up from his work with a smile. “Don’t move, I’ve gotta clean you up.” He said, setting his gun off to the side before disappearing. 

After a few moments, he returned with a small bottle and paper towels. Luke gently cleaned and dried your fresh tattoo before covering it in a thin adhesive foil. “Alright, sweetheart, you can keep that on for about three to five days and it’ll keep your tattoo protected. If it comes off before then, that’s okay too. When you do take it off, make sure to wash and dry it with a paper towel.” He explained, ensuring that you were listening to him before he continued to rattle off everything you’d need to know about the aftercare of your new tattoo. 

Once he was satisfied that you had memorized your directions, he beamed down at you. His hand gave your bare thigh a gentle squeeze. “You did fucking great, princess, I’m proud of you.” 

His praise had heat creeping up your neck and another familiar one growing further south. As you feel your arousal begin to soak your panties, you can’t help but clench your thighs together. Unfortunately for you, Luke’s hand is still resting on your leg and his fingers get squished slightly by the movement, drawing his attention.

His baby blues flickered down to the apex between your thighs, only covered by your thong, before meeting your gaze. It was in that moment that something shifted in the air, the tension between you nearly palpable. 

Luke’s fingers slide beneath the strap of your panties without breaking eye contact. He gives them a gentle tug as he voices the question written across his face. “May I?” 

Your tongue dips out to wet your lips as you nod, excitement already pooling in your lower belly. 

Luke tsks. His finger hooks around the band of your underwear, giving it a tug before letting it snap back against your skin as a form of punishment. “Use your words, sweetheart.” He scolded.

“Yes, please,” you respond breathily. The slight sting on your left hip managed to draw your attention away from the dull pain of the new tattoo, but overall the pain was beginning to blend into pleasure. 

Satisfied with your response, Luke carefully and skillfully removes the garment without touching your new ink. He steps away for a quick moment, allowing a feeling of unease to settle in, until you realize he was only adjusting the chair you were laid upon. He brings you and the chair back into a seated position and pushes the leg stands out of the way. His calloused hands grab ahold of your knees and spread your legs open wide. Luke drops to a kneel in front of you and lets out an appreciative hum as he hungrily takes in your glistening folds. 

“You’re beautiful.” He compliments in a deeper, husky voice. He slides his inked hands beneath your thighs, fingers curling into your skin for purchase as he drags you closer to the edge of the seat. 

Your heart flutters in your chest as Luke’s lips press a soft kiss to your inner thigh. The feeling of his stubble scratching across your delicate skin has you squirming with excitement as he peppers you with teasing kisses. Just as you are growing impatient, you feel his breath fanning directly against where you need him most.

A moment later and his tongue glides through your folds, eliciting a moan from you. Luke lets out a muffled groan in response and uses his thumbs to gently open yourself up to him. He wastes no time in plunging his tongue deep within you and savoring your taste. He pulls away from you just long enough to groan out, “You’re fucking delicious, princess.” 

Your fingers thread through his short blonde hair as his tongue delves back inside of you seconds later. A whimper escapes from you as he finally moves to tease the bundle of nerves between your folds. You have no chance of holding back the moans that are falling from your lips as Luke devours you. Heat spreads rapidly through your body and at the same time the muscles in your lower stomach begin to tighten. 

“Oh, fuck.” You moan out breathlessly as you feel two of Luke’s fingers prod at your entrance and quickly slide in without resistance. You curse once more, even louder, as he curls his fingers and finds the perfect spot to apply pressure. 

Your walls tighten around his fingers and another groan rumbles against your clit in response. “Fuck, Luke, I’m gonna–.” Your words are cut off with a drawn out moan as you come all over his face. 

Luke continues to finger you through your orgasm, giving your oversensitive clit a gentle suck before he removes himself from your heat. The lower half of his face is glistening with your arousal. You only have a second to admire him and the way his pupils are blown with lust before he is standing at his full height. Your eyes instinctively drop to the visible bulge in Luke’s jeans and your walls clench in response. 

His clothed groin rolls against you as a needy rumble sounds in his throat. “Can I please?” Is all he is able to manage before his hips are rolling against yours again. 

You’re nodding without even thinking about it. “Yes, god, yes.” 

The sound of Luke’s belt and zipper being undone follows seconds later. His jeans and boxers are pushed down to his knees in one swift movement, allowing his erection to stand at full attention. His hands grab at your thighs, pulling you closer so that he can line himself up with your entrance. 

“I’ll be careful.” He promises, his hand ghosting over the freshly inked skin on your hip. 

Luke finally presses the head of his cock against your opening, and the feeling of having him so close yet so far drove you insane. “Please, Luke. I need you.” You begged, trying to shift your hips to draw him in further. 

A smirk spread across Luke’s face as he sheathed himself inside you with one swift thrust. You couldn’t help the gasp, or even the following moan, that fell from your lips. The ache of him stretching your walls was amazing. A groan resounded in Luke’s chest as he held himself in place with his jaw clenched, clearly holding himself back for your benefit. Another moment passes and you are more than ready for him to start moving. This time, when you shift your hips, Luke takes the hint without needing any words. 

The roll of his hips starts slow, but it isn’t long before he sets a bruising pace. His left hand has a harsh grip on the leather seat of the chair, the other is pressed into your lower back, using his grip to push himself deeper inside of you with every thrust. You wrap your legs tightly around his slim waist and tangle your arms around his neck as he tilts his head down to crash his lips against yours. It’s a sloppy kiss that you share, and you taste yourself on his tongue as it delves into your mouth. 

Luke’s hand slips between the two of you and his thumb finds your aching clit. It’s amazing how quickly his cock has you on the edge of a second orgasm, the tension in your lower belly returning. Your moans are muffled by his mouth on yours, and you swallow each and every one of his groans of pleasure. His cock is growing harder by the second and you know that he is getting close to his release. This only arouses you further and your walls clench tightly around him. Luke pulls away from your heated kiss, panting. “Fuck, you feel so good.” He praises. “Are you gonna come on my cock like a good girl?” 

His thumb presses harsher against your clit and that paired with his words has you tumbling over the edge. You cry out his name as your second orgasm tears through you. Luke continues to fuck you through your climax before reaching his, spilling himself inside of you. His hips falter as his cock twitches deep within you, releasing the last drops of his cum. The only sounds in the shop are of your panting breaths and classic rock flowing through the speakers. As Luke softens, he pulls out of you and the two of you sit in silence. His hand is still pressed against your back and he gently traces patterns on your skin with his fingertips. Your arms are still wrapped around his neck, fingers playing with his hair as you gaze into one another’s eyes. 

After both of your breathing has returned to normal, Luke leans down to press a much gentler kiss upon your lips. When he pulls back, he asks. “Do you like raisins?” 

The random question has your brows furrowing in confusion, but Luke doesn’t give you a chance to respond. 

“How do you feel about dates?”

[olichat-reads]

Imagine | ProHero!Bakugou x Villain!Reader #2

a/n: I felt like writing some insight to what i meant when i say you and bakugou working together is somehow worse than you two going against each other. Because, yes, its that bad haha.

she/her reader

🌟

Imagine being tangled in wires and each other like cats in yarn, with you strapped to katsu's leg, trying to wiggle yourself free like a dying fish while reading the manual upside down for katsu who is frantically defusing a bomb with only his left hand because his right is stuck to your face.

"Why do we always end up like this?"

"20 years of friendship and i still have no fucking clue."

"Red wire or white?"

"Re- WAIT. WAIT. NO. WHITE."

"FUCK YOU. ARE TRYING TO GET US KILLED."

"BITCH YOU TRY READING FROM THIS ANGLE. NOW FLIP THE PAGE."

*sigh of god's most tortured soul*

"Y/n. I only have one hand free."

"Well good for you. I have none. Now. Flip- OW. OW KATSU MY HAIR. MY HAIRRR"

"STOP FUCKING SQUIRMING. I CAN'T REACH THE DAMN THING FROM HERE."

*3 minutes left on timer*

*incoherent screeching*

☆

Its usually why you rarely have anyone else on comms- because no one can stand you guys' stupid 😭.

"Red, are you hearing this psychopath??"

"Shitty hair, if you take her side I'm going to blast your ass into next thursday-"

"Don't threaten him into admitting you were right! You KNOW you're fucking NOT."

"YES, I FUCKING AM-"

"OH YEAH? LETS PUT IT OUT THERE THEN. SEE WHAT THE PUBLIC THINKS OF THE NUMBER ONE HERO DRINKING HIS COFFEE WITH HOT SAUCE-"

"ITS AN ACQUIRED TASTE-"

"ITS FUCKING DISGUSTING IS WHAT IT IS. RED TELL HIM-"

"..."

*red has left the call*

*pinky has come online*

"...HI GUYS PINKY HERE. Red had to um-"

"Pinky please tell this psycho that hot sauce in coffee is fUCKING-"

"Ohhhh its you two...... Yea, nope :D." *call disconnected*

"HAH."

"THAT WAS NOT A *YES* YOU FUCKING-"

But weirdly no one is ever too worried about you two fucking up on missions. You're both the best in the field. Feral, reckless and a little insane? Sure. But you get the job done.

A cross between lawful evil and chaotic evil.

"Can we just kill him?"

"No."

"...can i just kill him?"

"No."

"You've read the file! I'll be doing the world a favour by offing trash like him."

"This world has laws that you are binded to. And the law said fucking no."

"...please?"

"..."

"How am I supposed to live, laugh, love in this conditions?"

*big sigh*

"Fine. Mess him up. No killing. Death's too good for him."

":D!! I feel like I should be worried about the number one hero's morals but FUCK YEAH! VIOLENCE! >:D"

☆

You're also not against smacking the stupid out of your bestfriend, especially when he gets a little too reckless on the job. Injured or not. It never works but it makes you feel better at least.

"Please stop getting shot. It stresses me out."

"Oh well if you don't fucking like it- PUT THOSE HANDS AWAY I'M INJURED YOU HEARTLESS WENCH-"

☆

Its not just him tho. You're BOTH stupid. It goes both ways. ✨️ b a l a n c e ✨️

"Why are you like this."

"Idk, man. I think its the anxiety."

"The anx- BITCH YOU JUST JUMPED OUT A 12 STOREY BUILDING."

"DON'T YELL AT ME I LITERALLY JUST TOLD YOU I HAVE ANXIETY"

"'I haVe aNxiETy' she says, yeeting herself out the window because the elevator is 'sUS'."

"Small spaces makes me twitchy-"

"AND JUMPING OUT A FUCKING BUILDING DOESN'T??"

"( ; ω ; )"

"Fuck you."

"I deserve that."

"THE FUCK YOU DO-"

☆

I feel like as much as it seems like a bad idea for both parties involved, neither you can help that your work life bleeds into your regular life as well. And you both surprisingly manage it well around each other.

"Have you heard about that new hero??"

"You talking about that air brained newbie?"

"Oh my god, so he WAS dumb! I literally thought you guys were using him as bait!"

"We weren't. He's just fucking stupid."

"I almost felt bad knocking him out :("

"Nah, you're fine. In fact, you should've hit him harder. Maybe give him a concussion or hell a scar as a souvenir. Make sure the lesson fucking sticks."

"You are worryingly condoning of violence for the number one hero, Katsu."

"Bitch, have you met me?"

☆

Another thing that i thing could go awfully wrong is literally planning out your work plans together but you two are just??? So trusting of the other to never double cross you.

"Wait, what? Why the fuck would you do that?"

"Because thats the nearest and fastest exit to the train station. I can cut down on 10 whole minutes and i need that time to catch the train."

"But its the riskiest, you fucking dumbass. Look, you have four other exits WHY would you pick the one you KNOW the heroes would target?"

"Because MATHS SAID-"

"You know what just let me do it-"

"Katsu no-"

☆

You give each gray hairs but you both of you were ready to risk your neck for the other.

"Having you as my bestfriend is like having an emotionally unstable daughter that never listens."

"...but?"

"There's no buts. You give me migraines."

":("

Yeah. You love each other.

🌟

a/n: hehe

[ratmonky]

Laid and Paid

warnings: non-con, mild violence, choking

word count: 1.9k

ao3 link

literally couldn't leave it as a warm up so turned it into a fic as soon as i was free again lmao

Taking a sip from your coffee, you smiled at the taste. You had been trying not to drink coffee as much as you did and now, when you drank some once in a while, it made you truly savor the taste. You took a bite from your sweet snack of the day to wash off the slight bitterness of your coffee and prepared yourself for the next sip of your coffee.

However before you could take another sip, you heard a knock on your door. You weren’t expecting anyone but you didn’t have the luxury of ignoring whoever had come all this way to knock at your door either, so you wiped your mouth and walked out of your living room to the entrance of your apartment. 

You stood in front of the tall shoe cupboard that had a mirror on its door to fix your clothes. That was when the person knocked on the door again. Your eyes slowly fell on the stack of money you had next to the cupboard, it wasn’t exactly the day for the collection. The old man always arrived exactly at eight in the morning on Mondays.

The knocking broke you out of your trance, you turned and opened the door. You had a smile on your lips, something that happened instinctively at this point from working at the register for so long. “Hello?” you greeted, looking at the tall man with dark clothing. He had a rough look on him and you didn’t know him but he looked suave from the way he was dressed.

“(name)?” he asked.

Well, it seemed like he knew you.

Your smile faltered hesitantly, “Yes?”

He took a step forward, putting his hand on the door and grabbing it from over your head. “Time to pay.”

He was tall, dressed in dark, rough features and sideburns, he looked terrifying now.

The color drained from your face but you forced yourself to not look as scared, you spoke, “The money is not ready.”

He looked down at you and you stood there, feeling smaller than ever.

“I-...” You took a deep breath to calm your nerves. “I don’t get my payment until Monday morning, this week’s money will be missing but I have it ready otherwise and-”

He pushed the door open and you stumbled back in fear, he walked through the door frame and closed the door behind himself. He was quiet which only made your anxiety go wild, you could imagine every scenario that could happen at this moment and you knew every single ending was worse than the other.

“You’ll pay the money,” he said and watched you nod frantically as you were still taking steps back to get away. He paused and took off his shoes as if he wasn’t intruding on your home. He took a step forward to close the distance between the two of you and abruptly grabbed you by the throat, slamming you against the wall. “Where is the rest of the money then?”

The impact of the slam made you bite your tongue and the pain spread through your nerves like lightning. You let out a pained mewl and your hands went to his hand, grabbing him by the wrist. “I-I don’t have it.”

“Is the place rented?” he asked. 

“Y-yes…”

“Then it’s better to pay off your debts than to pay your rent a little later, don’t you think?” His grip started to tighten and you lifted your chin up in horror, realizing that he was going to actually choke you. 

“Please,” you said, it was the easiest word to come out. “I have the money-”

He squeezed the sides of your neck hard enough to make your mouth pop open from the pressure. You couldn’t move your jaw either. Just how strong was he?

“You don’t pay off the debt and you keep making up excuses, do you not understand who you owe money to?” He looked almost too disinterested as he lifted you up by the neck until you were on tiptoes. It was just a normal day for him.

You couldn’t speak anymore, you wished you could, you wanted to beg him for mercy. Spare your life. However, you felt his hand on your chest, groping your tits. You wanted to look down to confirm because you thought you were imagining it but the faint smirk on his lips was more than enough to confirm. 

“You should look into other job options,” he said, “I’m sure they’ll help you pay your debt faster.” He paused for a moment, “Your dad’s debt,” he corrected. 

You were too busy feeling like you were going to faint from how tight he was grabbing your neck. The circulation to your head was gone and you were seeing white spots in your vision, your eyes could pop out of your skull at any given moment if he squeezed only a tad bit tighter.

He gave your tit a squeeze, kneading the mold of flesh over your shirt. Once satisfied he let his hand slide down and inside your pants, you struggled but he had one hand wrapped tight around your neck, you could feel your own pulse in your temple now, everything felt so hot and you squinted your eyes shut in frustration.

You wanted to scream but you were losing your strength with every passing second, you didn’t want to lose consciousness... yet.

He cupped your pussy, rubbing his fingers along your slit and speaking in that monotone voice, "Playing dead won't work."

You opened your eyes, glaring at the man with sideburns. He glared back at you with his lips slightly curled upward. He pushed his foremost fingers inside your cunt without breaking eye contact.

Your brows furrowed and you parted your lips in surprise, his fingers were long and rough. He reached deeper than you ever could.

"This is what happens if your daddy doesn't pay his debt," he said, forefingers drumming on your walls while his thumb is pressed on your clit. "You'll get humiliated and overpowered."

Your fingers tried digging under the hand he had wrapped around your neck, you were getting too lightheaded now. The man was too strong and he was incapable of realizing how weak you were.

You tried moving your legs and it pissed him off, he curled his fingers inside you and forced his knee between your legs on the wall, he spread your legs wider with the help of his knee and looked at you with rage. 

"Stay still," he warned and you looked at him helplessly, wanting to beg him to let you go, to at least stop using this much force but he was large, he was brute and he was a Yakuza. You didn’t get to choose how to be treated by Yakuza. You know he wouldn't mind killing you and that was why you were okay with doing whatever he wanted as long as it didn’t cost you your life. 

His fingers started moving in and out of you at an achingly slow pace, he was watching your face closely, eyes devoid of any emotion. You couldn’t tell if he was aroused or curious or enjoying how ashamed you looked. It made tears fill your eyes and you refused to cry, you pressed your lips into a thin line and sniffled. 

He raised a brow at your reaction and decidedly loosened his hand around your neck. You felt the sudden rush of blood returning to your head and immediately your vision was better and you could think again. but not for long.

The man grabbed you by the back of your head and wrapped his hand around your hair to keep you in place this time. Your hands went to your hair this time, and you cried in pain.

"Tell your dad to pay the debt," he said and forced you to look up at him from an uncomfortable angle. His eyes were half-lidded now, and a faint smirk tugged at his lips. “If you know you can’t handle it yourself.”

"He’s got no money," you told him, voice shaky. “He’s sick.” He didn’t care for your sob story. He made that obvious by rubbing a short circle around your clit. You bit back a moan to continue talking, "Please mister..." you looked up at him with your puppy eyes, begging for mercy.

That struck a chord but not the one you wanted. 

He clashed his lips onto yours and his fingers moved quickly in and out of you. He pressed you into the wall while viciously rubbing himself on you. 

He bit your lip hard enough to make you bleed and when you opened your mouth in pain, he pushed his tongue in, forcing you to savor his taste with your blood.

Your hands went to his chest, and you tried to push him away, that made him angry.

He reached a certain spot that made you powerless again and you clutched on his leather coat to pull him closer instead, you felt him smile into the rough kiss before pulling away to focus on fingerfucking you hard enough to make you hold onto him for support.

Then his thumb pressed on your clit and his fingers started massaging your walls until you were a mess, his crotch rubbed on you hard, deliberately and you could feel his large bulge throbbing in need despite that he was waiting patiently until your legs started to shake uncontrollably and you lost all of your strength to stand by yourself.

He unwrapped your hair from his hand and wrapped that arm around you to hold you up. He was strong enough to hold you up with one arm’s strength, you tried not to think about how many people he potentially hurt with his strong arms.

He removed his hand from your panties and brought it up to his face. His fingers were coated with clear fluid, it was shiny and inviting. He opened his mouth to have a taste but he stopped when his phone rang. 

He knows that it was his grandpa from the ringtone itself. 

He quickly wiped the clear gold on his pants and grabbed his phone out of his coat pocket. He answered the call while you were still trying to collect yourself. 

"Yes. I'll be there. Yes, I'm done. Yeah, I warned them. Okay... no, I'll come myself. Okay. See you."

He hung up the phone and put you down on the floor of your apartment. He stood up and fixed his clothes while looking at himself in the mirror of your tall shoe cupboard at the entrance. He ran a hand through his hair and your eyes met momentarily while he was smiling at himself.

You watched while still swimming in bliss, you were not sure why he stood there to look at you, maybe he was admiring how much he humiliated you. You could tell from the faint smile on his face that he was satisfied.

"I won't be as kind next week," he warned, his scary expression returning as he caught a glimpse of something and grabbed the stack of money you had prepared next to the cupboard, the same one you were going to give to him before he forced his way inside instead of talking at the door. "Make sure to have the money ready next time."

He didn’t wait for your answer and left your apartment. You hoped you could give him the money before he assaulted you next time.

[galedekarios]

oc meme

name: altonaufein, kulg llarzoran ithrana d'qu'ellar hlarahel

ages ago, when i was trying to find a name for my drow cleric, i was looking to create a drow name and drow house name that would reflect the role he would play within his house, while at the same time reflecting his backstory and journey:

altonaufein -> powerful, eyes of / seer of the way kulg -> male offspring in the house llarzoran -> three, thirdborn ithrana -> name of his mother, matron of the house d'qu'ellar -> of house hlarahel -> seers of, the gods

nickname: alton

alton has been called a lot of things in his life.

he was named altonaufein at birth, his designation as a male is kulg llarzoran ithrana d'qu'ellar hlarahel. during his captivity, he was called auflaque. when he finally fled and made it to the settlement, surrounding a small ilmater temple, he was called treated both with suspicion and fear, but also kindness and an open hand. he was called alton only ever by karl. in time, gale comes to call him alton too - and much, much later alurlssrin.

gender: male

star sign: aries

height: 160 cm, on the taller side for a drow

orientation: gay

race: drow

romancing: karl eifers (oc), gale dekarios

i've written more about alton's backstory and karl's part in it here in more detail.

fave fruit: wild strawberries. one of the first little fanciful things on the surface he took a liking to. at camp, he can often be found reading a book he nicked from the grove. the flora and fauna of faerun.

fave season: late summer, early autumn.

alton enjoys the balmy warmth around that time of year, a contrast to the cold dampness of ust natha that has seeped into his bones.

fave flower: wood anemones. they grew plentiful around the small settlement and ilmater temple that altonaufein lived at before the nautiloid attack.

fave scent: the crisp smell of a cold forest, the salty sea breeze, the soap-clean scent of skin

coffee, tea or hot chocolate: ever since i found coffee in the actual game, i am convinced that alton would drink tons of it. only making his anxiety & overthinking worse too.

average sleep hours: four. a trance usually lasts that long. he's a very light sleeper due to necessity and his paranoia about being found and brought back to the underdark. to ust natha.

i do think that after the game, once he's settled fully into his new life in waterdeep, with gale's coaxing and own habits, he sleeps in more and more, and trances longer.

dogs or cats: cats. alton isn't really used to pets at all. the first experience he had with them was back at the temple where karl fed a little anxious thing of a black cat. sometimes it would curl up to him and he would freeze and just let it do its thing, confused when it started purring up a storm.

but he learned to find it comforting. it was rewarding to pet it and treat it gently, learn to give and receive affection in this way.

dream trip: i don't think alton has one. he's too focused on them surviving the journey. reaching waterdeep maybe. for gale.

amount of blankets: one. he's very utalitarian and can make do with nothing at all if need be. yet again, once settled in waterdeep, he's very much able to learn to enjoy the finer things in life.

random fact(s):

-he's not a perfect eilistraeen and has little knowledge about her or her customs, gale helps him learn & shares what knowledge he has, as eilistraee has a bond with mystra and is known in waterdeep - and through this, they bond during the very early days of the journey -he always wears an ilmater pendant, stolen from karl, and it's his most priced possession -he later buys a medaillon, holding a small piece of parchment (on it are written the names of those important to him, people who have been kind to him - it's a reminder of how far he's come, a motivation to keep going, to keep fighting no matter how grim things are) -alton can't swim and is afraid of deeper water (he wouldn't ever show that fear) -he adopts myshka and takes him to waterdeep

tagging (with zero pressure): @ayrennaranaaldmeri, @messiahzzz, @lairofsentinel, @shibepetter, @rahabs, @wild-magic-oops, @friberchi, @leopardmuffinxo, @hawke, @zahra-hydris, @thenightsong, @fuzzy-set, @inkberrry, @waterdeep

if anyone else wants to do this, please do so and feel free to tag me. 🖤

[mooodyblue]

hi i’ve never sent a request before but i thought of one/ just a thought depending on what you’re feeling 🫶 but basically my anxiety has been really bad lately and today i had a breakdown in a restaurant bc i was convinced the waiter was mad at me LMAO and i was just thinking abt how elvis would handle a situation like that where his little really doesn’t want to go down but he can tell their anxiety is spiking / they’re starting to panic and he doesn’t wanna push them, but then something pushes them over the edge in public and he just comforts them and helps them drop and gets them away from the situation asap just very fluffy and comforting and yeah 🫶 that’s all 🫶

ugh i feel this 100%!!!!! loved this request vvv much i know this all too well. hope u enjoy! <3

wc: 1.3k

there was something off about you today, elvis couldn’t put his finger on it.

elvis knew you like the back of his hand. he knew your quirks, what set you off, what made you uncomfortable, and how bad your brain could treat you sometimes. 

you woke up with a weird feeling in your chest. maybe it was the way elvis sighed when he woke up or how his usual morning kiss didn't linger as long as it usually did. how did something so small cause you so much worry?

it almost worried elvis how quiet you were at breakfast. all you did was poke at your eggs. there was a slight tremble to your hand, heavy sighs leaving your chest as you refused to make eye contact with him. 

“you alright, baby?” 

you didn't look up at him, shrugging and not replying to him. 

he sighed, drinking his coffee and putting his mug down before asking the question that you absolutely dreaded.

“you feelin’ little?” 

honestly, there was nothing more you wanted than to finally drop. but it was his day off, he wanted to spend the day with you and his friends and he had plans, you couldn’t just ruin them so suddenly. not on the day of. he was already annoyed with you, at least in your head he was. 

“no.” was all you said, poking at your eggs again.

“well—i got the guys to come with us to the memphian tonight. got a good lineup of movies, you wanna go down and get that pretty lil' dress you saw a couple weeks ago?” he asked, trying to get your mind off of things. 

“sure, sure.” she nodded. 

damage control 

“whatever you wanna do.” she mumbled, pushing her plate away. 

he did buy the dress for you, amongst other things. he loved spoiling you. with how you’d been feeling, he thought you deserved a nice pick me up at the very least. 

it wasn’t until you both settled into the rented out memphian theater that you started feeling bad again. the guys were in a few rows behind the two of you, being loud and talking amongst themselves before the movie started. elvis had to tell them to tone it down a bit as if he noticed it was bothering you slightly. 

elvis wrapped an arm around your shoulders, whispering sweet nothings in your ear to try and calm you down. your leg was bouncing up and down quickly, trying to ease yourself of your running thoughts. “they don’t like me, elvis.” you mumbled. 

“sure they do, baby. you know how they get sometimes.” he sighed. 

they were just….so loud. and it was clearly affecting you and elvis was well aware of it so chances are; elvis was annoyed that you were frustrated and ruining his night with the guys. 

obviously, that wasn't even close to the truth. but your brain told you otherwise. 

you felt your chest start to hurt, just trying to keep everything bottled in and to yourself as your thoughts became worse and worse. 

“you gon’ start the movie or keep coddlin’ that baby of yours, ep?” billy yelled from the back. 

you sunk further in your seat, crossing your arms. 

elvis rolled his eyes, “it ain’t me man, be patient. they’ll start it soon. it ain't my fault we’re early.” 

there was an audible groan from the back, along with mumbles which you assumed were about you.

“it's my fault.” you muttered. 

his eyes widened as he turned to you, taking ahold of your hand. “not your fault at all, baby. you know that.” 

“i didn’t wanna go out for lunch ‘n now we’re early.” she grumbled.

“baby, we didn’t go out for lunch cause the guys were eager ‘bout comin' out here. you not wantin’ to eat didn’t play into that at all—you know how i am about you skippin’ your meals.” he frowned, squeezing your hand. “you hungry? i can go get you a lil’ snack, i’ll be real fast.” 

you looked at him panicked, “you’re gonna leave me with them?” 

“i’ll be super super fast, baby. i’ll bring you some candy, okay? you just wait.” he kissed the top of your head as he got up from his seat to leave the theater, leaving you alone a few rows ahead of the guys. 

you kept your eyes forward, refusing to look behind you. 

there was a small thump to the back of your head, followed by another and then another. that’s when you turned around, your cheek being hit with a piece of popcorn thrown from his cousin as he snickered to himself. you turned back around, your chest getting tighter as you felt your body begin to shake. why was elvis taking so long?

“quit it, man! that ain’t funny!” and “you’re bein’ a real jerk, man.” were mumbled behind you and god, you just wanted to go home.

elvis returned to the room, his eyes automatically shifting to you as you stood there visibly not okay. he rushed over to you, rubbing your back. “what happened? what’s goin’ on, baby?” 

“my chest hurts.” you whimpered, your breathing suddenly getting heavier. 

he glared at the guys behind her, “what the hell did you say to them?” 

“man, i was just kiddin’ around!” billy defended, sitting up in his chair. “they’re just bein’ dramatic!”

“watch your mouth, boy.” elvis snapped. 

you felt tears begin to trickle down your cheeks, shaking your head as you covered your ears. 

elvis helped you up from your seat, looking back at the men, “enjoy the movie.” he spat before quickly ushering you out into the quiet lobby. 

“‘m sorry, ‘m sorry.” you began to cry, trying to control your breathing. 

“hey, baby. look at me, c’mere.” he crouched down and took her hands, holding them both securely in his as he looked up at you. “don’t apologize, this ain’t your fault. i got a group of fools as friends, don’t i?” 

you sniffled softly, shaking under his touch. 

elvis knew you weren’t having a good day and he wished you had brought it up, but you had such a bad habit of overthinking and bottling it all up. he wanted to take away your pain so badly, but all he could do was comfort you. 

“baby? you wanna go down a bit? maybe try ‘n forget about all of this?” he finally asked in a softer tone. 

you wiped your tears with the back of your hand, nodding as he brought you back to his car—immediately taking you home. 

elvis was good at taking care of you, always knowing what to do in situations like these. he gave you a nice bath, wrapped you up in a cozy blanket and put cartoons on for you in the living room until he returned with a plate of nuggets and a sippy cup with your favorite juice. he frowned upon eating in the living room in fear of you spilling something onto the carpet but at this moment he didn’t care. 

he rubbed your back softly as you drank from your sippy cup. “you okay, baby?” 

“mhm.” you hummed against your sippy cup. “thank you, daddy.” 

he gave you a soft smile, pressing a kiss to your temple. “you were so strong today, daddy’s real proud of you.” 

you turned and looked at him, your cheeks growing warm at the sudden praise. 

he smiled at your reaction, giving your cheek a small pinch as you erupted in tiny giggles, nuzzling into his neck with the sippy cup still in your hand. “my cute baby, you’re just so cute. y’know that? i ain’t ever lettin’ anyone be mean to you again. swear.” 

the puppy dog eyes got him, the look of love and adoration in your eyes as you looked up at him from his shoulder. he kissed the top of your head and brushed your hair back. “i could just eat you right up, baby. that’s how cute you are.” 

“daddy no!” you giggled, hiding your face in his shoulder. 

“alright, alright. not today.”

[curtsbigspoon]

So I already sent one in- But I had to delete my account because something went absolutely hay-wire with it, It's under the same name- But I'm not sure if it'll translate back- But I asked about Crosby anything. I'd bite at the bar of my fucking cage for it. I'm obsessed with Crosby, I'm not sure if you do write anything about him. If you don't, that's completely fine. Just ignore this if that's the case. I've just been dying for any crumbs of Crosby content-

My ask box is otherwise empty so I'm assuming it got deleted with your account. But fear not sweet creature, ask and ye shall recieve!

I did ask my pookie @johnslittlespoon a little about this one, just because as much as I do love cros and do intend on writing him and stuff, I haven't had a lot of chances yet, other than my most recent post where I spoke about him x bubbles as well as him x rosie. But i wanted to deliver still, so I can give you some more headcanons.

Feel free to ask for like more thought out stuff, or snippet things because I will attempt, I just never know what to provide unless someone is specific so forgive me 😭SPOILERS AHEAD BOYS!!!

crosby has always drank black coffee, ever since he got the taste of it, can't stick anything else. the first time bubbles offers to make him a cup he doesn't think to specify, is just grateful enough that they offered. it takes a lot for him to swallow his first sip, tries not to make it obvious, offering a smile and a nod. he's so used to taking sips whilst he's deep in his work that he inevitably winds up finishing the cup. gets up to go and make himself another, desperate for his preferred taste, only for bubbles to spawn out of nowhere offering to get him another one. he tries to politely decline but "i was gonna make myself one anyhow" and now he can't refuse or he'll look rude.

this bit's a tiny bit angsty but after bubbles dies, crosby can't drink the sweet stuff again. he tries to for the very first time after hearing, thinks it'll be something to to keep the memory. but it gets too hard, he winds up being sick, goes back to drinking black coffee because he can't stand the reminder of losing his best friend. well, up until he's deep in work and rosie comes along to see how he's doing, brings him a cup, and it's sweet and he probably drops his face into his hands and gets worked up but- (GUNSHOTS)

this one's especially based on the newest episode but, crosby's used to being seen as more timid right? will immediately stand up to admit when he's done something wrong but before it even gets to that point you can see it eating away at him. he might be able to handle a few comments here and there about himself, never quite willing to turn hostile because it's war, there's worse things happening and it's not worth getting worked up over. but the minute you say a single bad thing about his friends? oh it's over. he'll use his authority, put the fear of god into you, suddenly snap out of nowhere, no a soul can sense it's coming. he means business.

once again talked about in my last post but this man does not sleep, whether it's because of work or anxiety. he probably gets up and paces about, maybe goes to sit outside, goes somewhere, anywhere to clear his head. (angst) but he probably goes somewhere he knows he'll be alone, will talk to bubbles as if he's sitting beside him, laugh about good stuff that's happened, spill his guts about the things eating away at him, referring to fond memories they used to share.

[bucky-fricking-barnes]

Holiday Helper

Title: Holiday Helper

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Panic attack, stressful holiday gatherings, generally terrible relatives, hurt/comfort, handcuffs, and mentions of alcohol, anxiety, and PTSD

Summary: While celebrating Christmas with her large extended family, the reader gets overwhelmed and hides away in the bathroom. Bucky comes to find her when things take a turn for the worse.

A/N: This definitely won’t be my last holiday fic for the year, but I hope everyone that celebrated Christmas today got to spend it with people that they love (and that love them). As always, thank you for supporting me in all the ways you do. I’m thankful for each and every one of you! This fic is a submission for @foreverindreamlandd​‘s Winter Wonderland Writing Challenge.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics​

Heat stifled you from all sides, but you still managed to force a smile when your mother handed you a mug of hot chocolate. The prospect of drinking something so thick and warm made your stomach turn. As soon as she’s turned away to help manage the kids that had been running amok all morning, you set the mug down on the coffee table and downed the rest of your ice water.

On your left, Bucky caught your eye for a brief moment, frowning, but you shook your head and forced your umpteenth smile for the night, turning to your uncle.

“You want something stronger?” he asked, nodding at the mug you’d abandoned on the cluttered table.

You shook your head again. “No, thank you.” Your powers were already simmering below the surface of your skin, like a volcano ready to erupt, and adding alcohol into the mix wouldn’t fare well for anyone. It was hard enough to keep them hidden now that you were using them almost every day.

“Come on, let me get you a little something. We can make your hot chocolate the fun, adult version. I’m sure your boyfriend wouldn’t mind some.” He winked and you tried not to shudder as your expression became almost unbearably tight. One of the kids sitting nearby overheard and shouted out that they also wanted the “fun, adult version” of hot chocolate, but they were quickly shushed by a parent.

“Really, we’re fine. Thank you,” you insisted.

Bucky’s right hand found your thigh and squeezed gently. The warmth and pressure would have normally been welcome, but the day had been so taxing that his touch felt like needles. A shudder crawled up your spine before you could stop it. He pulled his hand away and turned to look at you fully. You couldn’t help but squirm; everything just felt wrong. The room was too loud, Bucky’s body was too close, the house was too hot…

You stood and wiped your palms on your thighs, smiling as best as you could at the family members who weren’t distracted by the dozens of gifts being unwrapped. Carefully, you stepped around the kids and their parents sitting on the floor, then over the discarded paper and gift bags littering the living room carpet. Nobody asked where you were going, and nobody seemed to think twice when you slipped up the stairs and locked yourself in the tiny guest bathroom on the third floor of your parent’s house.

After splashing cold water on your face, you lowered the lid of the toilet and sat down. Your whole body trembled. The bathroom was silent, but you could still faintly hear the noise of the party through the vents. A child screeched with joy at one of their gifts and you flinched, squeezing your eyes shut.

Several deep breaths and ten recitations of the mantras Bruce had recommended later, you still hadn’t calmed down. All your limbs tingled with pins-and-needles and their shaking had intensified. The sound from downstairs had grown into a constant ringing in your ears. A loud rushing noise accompanied the ring, bringing it to a decibel level you were certain mere humans couldn’t handle. It was too much for even you, and you curled in on yourself as glass shattered around you and something pelted against you from all sides.

A loud bang broke through the ringing and rushing in your ears. You jerked away from the noise, but something latched around your wrists and tugged you back, pulling at you until you felt it had sucked all the air from your lungs. Gasping, you fought against the invisible grip. It gave way with ease a few moments later, and then you found yourself sliding off the toilet and onto the floor, wedged between the porcelain bowl and the wall. Your legs were stuck up in the air and bent over the closed lid while a toilet brush dug painfully into your side. 

When your eyes flew open and your fight reflex set in, Bucky stood a few feet away, his hands held up in surrender and his eyes filled with concern.

“Easy there,” he soothed. “I ain’t gonna hurt you, doll.”

You blinked, your chest still heavy as you tried to catch your breath, and looked around with wide eyes. Thankfully, the rushing and ringing in your ears was gone, making it just slightly easier to take in the state of the upstairs bathroom.

All around you, shower tiles lay shattered and displaced. Toilet paper had been strewn across the floor and the counter. The glass door of the shower was also shattered, and Bucky’s boots crunched over the glass as he waited for you to recalibrate yourself. A large crack stretched from one edge of the mirror to the other. Tiny spiderweb cracks spread across one of the corners, too. A plant lay in the broken remains of its pot, surrounded by soil and shards of terra cotta. Everything from the counter had been swept onto the floor, and the soap dispenser rolled in a half-circle until it came to a stop against the broken pot.

Swallowing thickly, you finally dragged your gaze down to your own body. You were unharmed with the exception of a pounding headache, dry mouth, and what felt like a thousand tiny cuts across the exposed skin of your face. A conjoined set of Stark handcuffs were fastened around your wrists, and the border of purple light around the thick outside edge proved that they were containing your powers, just as they were meant to do. Shame curdled in your gut.

“Bucky…” you began, your voice cracking as tears instantly welled up in your eyes.

He shook his head and stepped closer. You curled in on yourself, your legs dropping from the toilet. “Don’t,” he murmured. “Don’t do that to yourself. It’s not your fault.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, curling up into a ball on the floor and tucking your knees against your chest, inside the loop created by your cuffed wrists. “Did I hurt anyone?” you asked.

“Just you, and the bathroom, but I’m more worried about you right now. Is this why you were hiding? You felt an episode coming on?”

He was partially right, but you didn’t acknowledge that. Your powers acted up whenever you got overwhelmed. It’s something you’d been working on with the team, Bruce and Natasha in particular, but the others knew the signs of one of your “episodes”. They were always the same—itching or discomfort in your own skin, an aversion to touch and noise, and the desire to hide away from people. You’d been stupid to miss them yourself. You should’ve known that an episode would happen today—you knew how stressful it would be to spend Christmas with your whole family. You’d developed the signs over years of having to hide your abilities from them. They still didn’t know, but the current state of the bathroom reminded you that this may be your last few minutes of peace before they discovered you were enhanced.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered against your knees.

“I’m not angry with you, sweetheart,” Bucky answered. He’d crouched down to your level, bringing his voice closer to you, and you sniffled. Part of you wanted to reach out and cling to him and the comfort he brought, but the rest of you wanted to curl up and hide away from the world until all of this blew over.

“I should’ve told you.”

“Maybe,” he said. “But lots of people get overwhelmed and overstimulated around the holidays, right? I should’ve made sure we had time to take a break by ourselves after dinner. As your partner, it’s my job to take care of you, so that one’s on me, sweetheart. I could’ve used a break, too. In fact, I was coming to find you to ask if you’d be willing to leave when I realized what was actually going on.”

He shifted and glass crunched underneath him. When you peeked open an eye to see what he was doing, he leaned his head back against the towel hanging on the wall across from the toilet. His legs stretched out in front of him, his right leg almost bumping the opposite side of the toilet from you. He kept his eyes closed, but you knew he could feel you watching him.

“Are you okay?” you asked after a moment.

Bucky hummed. He was quiet for a few seconds before he answered, “Better now that we’re away from everyone. It was pretty loud down there. Crowded, too.”

“I hadn’t expected everyone to come this year. Mom said that last year there were only ten people.”

“I have to admit, when you said your Christmases growing up were always crazy, I didn’t really believe you. I never had a Christmas with this much going on at once. I don’t blame you for wanting to hide,” Bucky replied.

His acknowledgment that you’d been hiding from your own family should have made you feel bad, but Bucky somehow always made you feel better in situations where it should be the opposite. He understood what it was like to hate being surrounded. While he didn’t have the same destructive abilities you did, he worked with some of the same people you did to manage his anxiety, PTSD, and triggers. He knew the techniques you used to calm your nerves and stay in control because they were the same as his.

“You feeling better?” His voice pulled you from your thoughts and you opened your eyes all the way. He still sat in the same position, though the towel had started to slide off the bar on one end and was perilously close to dropping on his head.

You nodded, though he couldn’t see you. “The cuffs help,” you told him. “You help too.”

A small smile appeared on Bucky’s face and he opened his eyes, meeting your gaze. “Good. Consider me your official holiday helper. I’m here as long as you need me.”

When you couldn’t help but smile back, you knew you were finally feeling more like your normal self. Bucky’s shoulders relaxed against the wall as you carefully untucked your chin from your knees and stretched your legs out in front of you, just like him. 

The two of you sat in silence for a few more minutes, until finally you couldn’t take the toilet brush pressing up against your spine any longer. Bucky seemed to read your thoughts because he stood and held out both hands to help you up from the floor. The towel fell as you took them gratefully, then carefully climbed to your feet. Your legs shook a little while you adjusted to being upright again, and your stomach growled, but after a moment you felt ready to walk.

Silently, Bucky shed his jacket and draped it over the cuffs. The only key was at the compound, locked up in Stark’s lab, meaning you’d have to wear them the rest of the way home. It didn’t bother you, but you could tell from one look at Bucky’s face that he felt terrible about cuffing you.

“It’s okay,” you reassured him. “I’m alright. You did what you needed to do to help me and keep everyone safe.”

He sighed. “I know, but—”

“No buts,” you said, shaking your head. You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his shoulder, knowing that if you tried to aim for his lips you’d probably lose your balance. “I promise it’s okay. I trust you.”

After taking a deep breath, Bucky nodded and opened the bathroom door. You followed him a few steps out into the hallway.

“Wait! What about the bathroom?” you hissed. You leaned past him to check that no one was coming up the stairs who might overhear.

He turned and looked at you, then glanced over your shoulder at the open door. You’d left the light on, and from where you stood, only a few of the tiles you’d accidentally ripped from the shower were visible.

“I’ll say it was me. I got overwhelmed and lashed out.”

The guilt was back again, squeezing at your heart, but there was something else there, too. 

“Bucky…”

“It’s okay, doll,” he said, shaking his head. He gave you a small smile. It didn’t quite reach his eyes, but you knew he was only smiling to reassure you. “I’ve got broad shoulders. I can handle it.”

“But you don’t have to. I could tell them—”

He cut you off before you could even finish your sentence. “Are you ready to do that?”

Reluctantly, you answered, “Well, no, but—”

“Then you don’t have to. Your powers can stay a secret as long as you’d like. I can take the blame. Stark will foot the bill to fix it, you know he will. What’s one more ruined bathroom on my ledger?”

The thought of there somewhere being a list of bathrooms Bucky had ruined made you smile a little bit, and this time, Bucky’s returning smile reached all parts of his expression.

“Just add it to the list, huh?” you teased.

He huffed, still smiling, and started walking away. You followed him down the hall, then let him stabilize you as you carefully descended the two flights of stairs to the ground floor of your parent’s house. Chaos still reigned, and you clung close to his side as Bucky led you by the elbow through the throngs of extended family members crowding the living room and kitchen.

It seemed nobody had noticed you leave, nor did they notice your return. They did, however, notice when Bucky started to collect all your belongings and presents while you stood there in silence with his jacket draped over your arms.

“Sweetheart, where are you going?” your mom asked. She climbed over your twin cousins to put a hand on your shoulder. Everyone’s eyes fell on you and conversations began to hush.

It took every ounce of willpower not to shy away from her touch, but you shifted your weight from one foot to the other as you frantically tried to come up with an excuse. Bucky noticed, of course, because he quickly came to your rescue. 

“Ma’am, I’m so sorry, but I need to leave. Y/N wanted to stay, but we’ve got plans later with some friends of mine and it’s easier if we leave together,” he said. His Brooklyn accent coated each word like honey, and you knew he was hamming it up a little bit for her sake. “I need to apologize, too. I left a bit of a mess in your upstairs bathroom. I wasn’t feeling too well.”

Your mom’s face twisted in sympathy and she patted Bucky’s arm. If you hadn’t known her as well as you did, you would’ve missed the way her eyebrows pinched together when the prosthetic didn’t give way under her touch, but it made the frustration inside of you rear its ugly head when you did. He’d kept his arm well under wraps since meeting your family. Some of them had probably figured out who he was, but they’d kept it themselves, and you were thankful. Bucky had deserved a restful holiday, not one where he felt pressured to be something or somebody he wasn’t.

“Oh, that’s okay, sweetheart,” she replied. “I hope you feel better soon.”

Bucky nodded and smiled politely, wrapping his free arm around your shoulders. He held the gifts and your bag and jacket in his other hand, up out of the way of children’s sticky fingers and the drinks and food scattered across every flat surface imaginable. 

“Thank you. Y/N can send you the address for any cleaning or repairs you’ll need on the bathroom. I’ll cover everything.”

“Repairs? What—”

Before she could even ask, Bucky had whisked you away from her and out into the cold. You called back a “Merry Christmas” to your mom and the rest of your family just as the front door slammed behind you.

“Come on, sweetheart, let’s get you home so we can get these off, yeah?”

You nodded and let Bucky help you into the passenger seat of his car. He buckled your seatbelt before loading the gifts into the trunk and climbing into the driver’s seat. Your breath blew out in white puffs as he turned the key in the ignition and buckled his seatbelt. The car had been sitting outside so long that the windshield was covered with frost, but it defrosted quickly. You were on your way in minutes, and most of your family was none the wiser.

Snow began to fall as Bucky drove back to the compound. You leaned your head against the window, ignoring the cold as the flakes fell steadily all around you. At some point, his hand wandered to rest on your thigh, and you smiled the rest of the way home.

Thank you for reading! If you liked this, please consider reblogging my work so that others can enjoy it too.

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[yanderes-galore]

how about a yandere tweek with a just as anxious/paranoid darling? preferably GN!!!

Okay, sure! I'm an anxious person myself so I hope I do this justice ^^ Aged up as usual. I could've added more to this but I wanted to save some for my Tweek concept ;)

Unhinged Tweek is fun to write-

Yandere! Tweek Tweak with Anxious! Darling

Short Concept/Reaction

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Drug use, Obsession/Implied past yandere behavior, Violence, Manipulation, Kidnapping, Implied murder, Implied Tweek was arrested before, Isolation, Unhinged Tweek.

This could go a few ways.

You either both help each other due to understanding the anxiety between the both of you...

Or things are just worse.

Tweek is both relieved and nervous at the fact his darling is like him.

Your paranoia is most likely not due to meth coffee but he's happy you somewhat understand him.

Anxiety shows itself in many forms.

You can quietly deal with it and it's just a compressing discomfort around your stomach (me).

That or maybe your anxiety is exactly like Tweek, leaving you twitchy and jumpy with a constant state of worry.

It comes in many forms.

Either way you probably interacted with Tweek first by getting a coffee at his parent's coffee shop.

You just wanted a small coffee with not a lot of caffeine.

When asked why you say it may make your anxiety worse.

Tweek actually understands this and offers to prepare your coffee himself.

Just to make sure no anxiety inducing drugs are put into it.

Tweek off-handedly mentions he has anxiety too, to which you smile.

"Guess we have something in common...!"

Turns out you have more in common than you think.

You happened to go to the same school for high school, it's just that Tweek never noticed.

Tweek may try to talk to you more after your coffee interaction.

He's curious of you and at times he feels his anxiety lessens when around you.

He wants to know if you plan to go to college, favorite drink, what you did in high school, how do you cope with anxiety....

He can't believe he never knew you existed.

In his high school years he was so obsessed about Craig and being a part of Craig's gang that he never really saw you.

You also were too nervous to talk to anyone in your class.

Tweek and Craig didn't work out in the end and Tweek decided to continue working at the coffee shop after graduation.

He was too obsessive towards Craig which caused things to be broken off one way or another with a bit of violence.

Tweek wonders if he makes your anxiety better or worse....

He hopes talking with you makes things better as you make his better!

The most common place you meet up is in the coffee shop.

It's where Tweek feels safest and he always knows your order.

Tweek tries his best to be considerate of your anxiety when he hangs out around you.

It's not always the coffee shop you hang out at, sometimes it's at your house.

He's thought of swiping a few things from it.

Depending on how much of a bother your anxiety is Tweek can do a few things.

He can try to help you with it.

He can utilize it against you.

That or most likely a little of both.

Due to Tweek's past relationship with Craig he may be a bit manipulative and experienced in... well... being a yandere.

He does want to help you with your anxiety.

However he can be tricky with it.

For example, Tweek may get his hands on anxiety medication and slip the dosage into your drink (not coffee, another drink you like).

That way whenever he's around and gives you your favorite drink... you feel better.

Which may make you want to rely on him...

Which means you won't leave him.

What happened in his previous relationship will be a secret only he knows.

But it's certainly messed him up.

Tweek is hypocritical when using your anxiety against you.

Even if you're just friends, or potentially something more, Tweek's forcing you and him together.

Messing with medication is dangerous and could mess you up big time if he uses too much.

Then if you decide to try and distance yourself from Tweek (you were probably told of what he was convicted of or something else in his past) then he'll give you the medication in your cofee to make your anxiety worse.

That or simply give you a drink full of sleeping aid to take you away to his house.

Tweek doesn't mind if he has to keep you in his basement for a little bit.

Your anxiety should be better if you listen to him...

He refuses to lose you like he did Craig... what he's doing is necessary for the both of you, you have to understand that!

[jimmerzz0905]

mythical incorrect quotes because why the fuck not

(also there are some mentions of shit like alcohol and stuff under the cut so uhh)

Yawstrich: *tries to make the child laugh*

Anglow: *tries to play a game with the child to make them calm down*

G’joob: *gives detailed instructions to the parents*

Cherubble: *cries with the child*

Strombonin: *ignores the child*

Hyehehe: *is the reason why the child is crying*

—

Hyehehe: What's wrong with you?

Strombonin: Off the top of my head, I'd say low self-esteem, a lack of paternal affection, and a genetic predisposition for anxiety and depression.

—

Strombonin: Happy Throwback Thursday. Here’s a throwback to when Yawstrich ate an entire fucking tube of lipstick.

Yawstrich, whining: But why would it be cherry-flavored if you can’t eat it?!

—

Cherubble: Am I a boy? Am I a girl? It doesn't matter. I'm going to burn your house down and then take a nap.

—

G’joob: And now for a gay update with Yawstrich and Strombonin.

Yawstrich: Getting gayer!

G’joob: Thank you, Yawstrich.

—

G’joob, holding in his laughter: Hey, how do you ask a glass of water what it’s doing?

Strombonin: A glass of water is an inanimate object. Therefore, it's incapable of having a thought process or understanding basic Monstrous.

G’joob:

G’joob: Water you doing?

—

Yawstrich: Oh, fiddlesticks! That really ruffles my feathers!

Strombonin: Please, just say fuck…

—

Cherubble: The last time I went to an urgent care clinic, I checked off 'excessive crying' on the symptom list, and then the nurse got really confused and said that was meant for babies.

—

Yawstrich: *texting* Hey can you pick me up I’m drunk.

Yawstrich: Oh you don't have to anymore. I'm home now.

Strombonin: Yes, I'm aware of that after dropping you off at home.

—

Hyehehe, with a headache: Advil me up, daddy.

Cherubble: I will short out the language centre of your brain if you say anything like that ever again.

—

Strombonin: I’m the sexiest bitch in this therapy waiting room.

—

Cherubble: Truth or dare?

Anglow: Truth.

Cherubble: How many hours have you slept this week?

Anglow:

Anglow: Dare.

Cherubble: Go to sleep.

Anglow: I don't like this game.

—

Cherubble: Today at 7 am, Hyehehe poured a Monster Energy drink in their coffee, said "I'm going to die" and drank the whole thing.

Yawstrich: I watched Hyehehe brew their coffee with Monster instead of water. Three cups in two hours. I think he’s ascended into the astral realm.

Strombonin: The survivability of the Monster race never fails to amaze me.

—

Hyehehe: And I’d love to be sorry for that, but we all know I’ve done much, much worse.

—

Yawstrich: Oh, Strombonin! We have a visitor!

Strombonin: Don’t tell me it’s Hyehehe.

Yawstrich: It’s Hyehehe.

—

Anglow: What time is it?

Hyehehe: I don’t know, pass me that saxophone and we’ll find out.

Anglow: *hands Hyehehe the saxophone*

Hyehehe: *fucking BLASTS the saxophone*

G’joob: WHO THE FUCK IS PLAYING THE SAXOPHONE AT TWO IN THE FUCKING MORNING?!

Hyehehe: It’s 2 am

—

G’joob: That's it, I'm cutting off the internet!

Cherubble: No, please don't! I have a family to feed!

G’joob: …

G’joob: What?

Cherubble: I need to feed my Neopets!

—

Yawstrich: To everyone who has treated me poorly; I am sexier than you.

—

G’joob: I left instructions for everyone while I'm gone.

Hyehehe: Mine just says "Hyehehe, no."

G’joob: I want you to apply it to every possible situation.

—

Yawstrich: I didn't drink THAT much last night!

G’joob: You were flirting with Strombonin.

Yawstrich: So what? They're my boyfriend.

G’joob: You asked if they were single.

Yawstrich: …

G’joob: And then you cried when they said he wasn’t.

—

Strombonin: Sorry I'm late to the party. I've been… doing things.

Yawstrich, entering dizzy and covered in kisses: I got caught up doing things too.

Hyehehe: Wow, Strombonin was late too! What a coincidence!

—

Yawstrich: You know what I asked Yool for Yay this year?

Strombonin: If you say me, I swear I’ll—

Yawstrich: You? What? No, I asked him for that cool Lego Ninjago set we saw in Target!

—

Strombonin: My life is a little too much panic and not enough disco.

Yawstrich: My life is a little too much fall and not enough boy.

G’joob: My life is a little too much chemical and not enough romance.

Hyehehe: My life is a little too much imagination and not nearly enough dragons.

—

and that’s it lol

[blushinggray]

change of plans: part 7

awww shit. here we go again. but things are heating up!!

sero hanta x fem!reader

part 7/? (part 6 | part 1)

cw // more denial of feelings/confusion, slight angst, past kaibara/reader, attempted confessions(?)

—

Over the next few weeks, you find yourself back in Sero's room every so often. Since it's not too far from school and he kind of just appears more often around you on campus now, never wasting an opportunity to invite you over.

It's not like you accept every time or that you have sex every time you go there. Acceptance rate is at about half and probability of sex is... well, more often than not, but you're being careful! Not just with physical protection, but with your heart as well.

You never sleep over. Ever.

That is the one line you can't cross, because you know that if you spend the night in his arms, wake up to his kisses and morning voice, and make yourself coffee in his kitchen, then you know you'll fall off the deep end. It's already difficult to resist wearing his clothes and bathing yourself in his scent after you have sex. If you slept in them all night, you'd practically be poisoning yourself.

Because while on the surface, it seems like Sero is into you, there are still moments where you feel like something's off. Ashido and Aoyama and plenty of your other friends are loudly supportive of you two — or at the very least, insatiably nosy — but they don't hear some of the things that Sero says when you're alone together.

While they're not red flags about him as a person, they do remind you that he is still, at heart, a playboy.

You are endlessly charmed by his flirty wit and hooded eyes, but you can tell that some of his material is recycled. All the pretty words and sweet praises and experienced touches are all just so vague sometimes. Like he could say or do it to literally anybody and it would still work on them. It probably has, which is why he’s using them on you too.

"I've never seen such a beauty before." He says, when you get naked in front of him.

"Looks like all my dreams are coming true tonight." He hums when you climb on top of him after deflecting something cheesy he said.

"I swear to god, there is nothing in the world that feels as good as you do." He murmurs into your ear while he's inside you, like he's telling you a secret.

When he really wants to lay it on thick, he'll just sprinkle in some Spanish like they're magic words.

"Look at you, bella. All pretty for me."

"Ven aquí, baby. I know what you want."

"Hueles tan buena... Oh, mami..."

It's absolutely maddening, how easily that gets your legs trembling and your panties wet. What's worse is that he knows you like it, so he's been using it more and more on you lately. Though he at least has the decency to do it in private.

At least that way, no one aside from Sero's roommate has caught you acting and sounding so pathetic. And luckily for you, Todoroki seems like a pretty chill guy. He hasn't so much as batted an eye at the two of you whenever he happened to walk in on you on the couch or in the kitchen (which you were not naked on, just to be clear!). So he either genuinely doesn't care or he's just used to Sero being indecent at home.

Though that also somewhat feeds into your anxieties, thinking about how commonplace it must be for Sero to bring someone home and get openly frisky with them. Does he still do this with others on those days that you don’t follow him home? How often? And does he talk to them and touch them the exact same way he does to you?

Sometimes, the longer you let your mind wander, the more you just want to leave. So after a nice fuck, and maybe a shower or a drink, you get your ass out of that apartment. Away from the room that’s filled with personality, culture, music, stories, and an increasing amount of memories.

So that you don’t have to torture yourself with the idea that Sero might have laid with someone else in that hammock. Or that he took a photo of someone else who looked better than you wearing his clothes. Or that he looked down at someone else with the same reverent, smoky eyes just before he lit a joint between his lips and slipped inside of them.

And all of those little moments, when you learn something new about him, or he makes you genuinely laugh, or he teaches you Spanish or something about Latin America, these moments where you feel like he’s opening up to you… You can’t stand the idea that he could be sharing the same intimate moments with others. When you think about it too much, it starts to hurt, and that’s your cue to leave.

You want to believe that it’s all in your head and that maybe he does care about you and that you’re becoming special to him, but the proof is in your gut and all the signs around you. You haven’t lost that weird feeling that could only be your own intuition warning you whenever he says something particularly vague to you.

You’ve caught more than enough accidental glimpses at his texts when they appear on his phone, many of which were flirty or horny in nature — and they really were accidental! The fact that you’ve seen so many simply in passing is proof enough that he’s still in contact with too many possible side hoes. Even worse is the notion that you are one of those side hoes...

Worst of all is when you catch sight of him with someone else in person, though it’s not often and you can only speculate from what you catch glimpses of. Sometimes it’s just another friend sending you a photo they snuck of him somewhere else, feeding into the drama in your head. But surely that’s another sign that you should continue to be careful? With all these people in Sero’s circle, you doubt that you’re at the forefront of his mind when he’s not with you.

But god, when you so much as see him leaning closer across a table to someone he’s having a coffee with, or leaning down towards someone who’s already on their tiptoes to let them whisper in his ear, or letting a hug go on for longer than normal, there’s pain in your chest.

Now you know that you like him too much for your own good. It causes you physical pain to see him with someone else and think that they could be close. Closer than you are with him. And you feel like you don’t have the right to complain since you were the one trying to push him away in the first place. You’d make a fool of yourself now if you admitted to him how much you like him. Especially when he clearly is only having fun with you.

“I just don’t get it,” you sigh when you’re over at Aoyama’s apartment one night, hugging a mug of tea to you. You’re both in your pajamas after washing off your face masks, and you’ve pretty much been gossiping all night. “Why would he kiss me like that if he’s okay with anyone else at the end of the day?”

“How do you know if he is? It’s not like he’s simply called someone in just to warm his bed after you leave.” He says, picking from his mini charcuterie board.

“Well, obviously I don’t know that he does, but I also don’t know that he doesn’t!"

“And does he know that you want to know this badly?” Aoyama asks rhetorically.

"Tais-toi." You roll your eyes, hiding your pout behind your tea, "Pourquoi devrais-je lui dire?"

Shut up. Why should I tell him?

Aoyama hums before reciting, "L’amour fait les plus grandes douceurs et les plus sensibles infortunes de la vie."

Love makes the sweetest pleasures and the most hurtful misfortunes in life.

"Is it not worth the risk?" He pins you with that stark and unreadable smile on his face.

You frown because Aoyama's opinions are usually as unwelcome as they are wise. And you've complained to him enough about Sero at this point to feel bad about it, so maybe you could do well to consider a solution or two.

"I don't know." You shake your head, shrugging, "I really don't need a repeat of my last fuckboy situationship."

"Oh?" Aoyama's eyes light up with curiosity, "And what happened with that boy?"

That's right, you had only met Aoyama about a year ago, so he didn't know you while you were going out with Kaibara back in freshman year. Or, well, 'going out' implies that you went on dates like a couple, but in reality, they were mostly late night meetups.

Like he'd call you up to hang out at a late night diner after leaving a party as a prelude to the massive drilling you'd get in his bed later that night. Or he'd actually call you up to come over or show up to your dorm when he was horny at 2am, and you'd stupidly oblige his requests a lot of the time. Sometimes, he'd pull a cute romantic date out of nowhere, like a drive-in movie or something, but usually that also ended with fucking in the backseat anyway.

Around the four-month mark, you eventually started asking the questions that he would avoid or parry with some line to distract you. At that point, you had an idea that he wouldn't be calling himself your boyfriend anytime soon, if ever, but you still held out for another month, hoping things would change...

The only thing that changed, however, was his consistence. He started responding slower to your texts, calling you less, and just slowly drifting weaning himself out of your life. He would still fuck at 100% capacity, making sure that you got yours, so you didn't believe things to be changing. But you knew that you had essentially been shelved when you still saw him around, on his phone half the time, yet still taking over a day to bother to respond to your texts.

That was a rough few weeks... You don't know how much time and stress you wasted over waiting for his responses. He was all you could think about, no matter how you tried to distract yourself. School and work were hard to focus on, you annoyed your friends with how often you'd rant about him when you got drunk or high, and you were plagued with constant wonder over if you just weren't good enough for him. If he got bored of you or just didn't like you enough to be anything more than casual.

Weeks and weeks of agonizing over all kinds of stupid, obsessive thoughts over Kaibara, and what you had, and missing him gradually started to fade away. Slowly and painstakingly, but the thoughts started bothering you less as time went on. Yet never fast enough.

You muted all of his socials, but you could never bring yourself to just delete or block him because you had several mutual friends. Actually, you had met him through a high school friend who ended up being in the same department. They all knew about your 'relationship' but they never talked to you about it, and vice versa. Like it was just a present fact that everyone knew but let you keep to yourselves.

"In retrospect, they probably knew that Kaibara wasn't that serious from the beginning and just didn't want to hurt my feelings." You sigh as you conclude your story with the last sip of your tea, "He was probably already sleeping with other people by the time he started distancing himself from me."

Aoyama had poured himself a glass of red wine during your story, listening hungrily the entire time. He hums when you finish, swirling the glass around before saying, "Are there similarities between this boy and Sero? Aside from their reputations."

"Mm... a little bit. Tall, dark haired, super charming. They're both pretty charismatic and friendly." You name off the top of your head. Which is actually quite a lot. Maybe you have a type.

"Anything else~?" Aoyama wiggles his eyebrows as he touches his two pointer fingers together and slowly spreads them apart, waiting for you to stop him at a certain length with mischief in his eyes.

"Tais-toi!" You slap his hands down, pouting before you eventually admit, "Sero is a monster though. Like, incomparable to the average dude."

"Hmmmmmmmmmm~" Aoyama hums, resting his cheek in his palm, leaning against the couch cushions from his spot on the floor. "Okay. So they do share similarities, which make your fears perfectly reasonable. How are they different, then?"

"Oh. Jeez." You blow a raspberry through your lips, deflating against the couch a bit, "Well, for starters, Sero is waaay better at acting like he likes me."

"What do you mean by that?"

You pause for a moment, wondering how to phrase it before you just start thinking out loud, "Ever since I saw him a few weeks ago cuddling up with that one girl a few days after he kissed me, I haven't been able to shake that feeling from my mind."

Every time you've seen him around campus, just hugging someone in greeting, or putting a friendly arm around them, or even smiling at them, you can't help but wonder or read into it. Compare it to how he hugs or touches or smiles at you. You wonder if any of it means a thing to him or if it's just his typical playboy flirtiness.

"I always feel like I'm sharing these deep, special moments with him, but... I also can't stop these thoughts that they aren't... real. You know?" You take in a deep breath before exhaling just as deeply, "Like, no matter what he does with me, it's just so easy to think he could be doing the same thing with others.

"What if he calls me 'bella' because he can't remember my name sometimes? Who else is he running into at the grocery store? Or flirting with at a party?

"Sometimes, when he lets me pick the music, I look at his CD collection and think, 'wow... there's a lot of albums that hot girls would like in here...' Or when his sheets smell fresh, I wonder if he's changed them recently because he had someone else in his bed. And just— ugh!" You sit up and smash a couch pillow into your face to groan before setting it back down, "I just don't know how much of it is feasible intuition or self sabotage at this point."

"I see." Aoyama muses, holding the glass of wine against his lip, without actually drinking from it, "And you think this is all just an act for him?"

"What?" You blink.

"You said at first that he is better at acting like he likes you." He reminds you, "So all of these special moments you've shared with him, you don't think that he truly feels something for you?"

"Well how am I supposed to know?" You pout, "You can never tell with his type. Flirting with a playboy is like constantly deciphering codes."

"So why don't you ask him?"

You snort immediately, "Excuse-moi?"

"Just ask." He repeats, "If it's bothering you this much, then you should just ask him. If he reacts the same way that Kaibara did, then you'll get a better idea of where you stand."

"And how exactly am I supposed to do that?"

Aoyama shrugs, "Just tell him how you feel and ask if he feels the same. It's honestly rather simple, non? If you really like him that much, then isn't it just easier this way?"

"Yeah. Because telling someone how you feel is so easy." You roll your eyes.

"Pourquoi pas?" Aoyama shrugs, taking another bite of cheese, "You're just asking him a question."

You suck in your cheeks as you think about it. It's not like you haven't been direct with Sero before. It's just that... every time you've tried to declare some sort of distance from him, he's always managed to change your mind. You wouldn't be surprised if he threw you off course this time, too...

But the (unfortunate) truth is that you do like him. As hard as you tried not to, you really have come to like him, both as a lover and as a person. And... it is kind of different from what you had with Kaibara. At the very least, you can say that they are not the same people. Can you dare to hope that it might turn out differently this time?

"Well, how am I even supposed to bring it up?" You bring yourself to ask, "The way we talk is always so 'go with the flow.' It's hard to find a good moment to be serious."

"So create the moment yourself." Aoyama suggests, jutting his chin towards your phone, "Give him a call."

"Right now?" You furrow your brows, aghast at such a suggestion.

"Oui." He sips at his wine, "Right now."

"Are you crazy? We don't have that kind of relationship."

"But you want that kind of relationship." He's quick to quip back.

You open your mouth but end up closing it again when you can find no retort. You can't even deny it because... you do kind of want that. You wouldn't mind getting a call from Sero at some random time of the day just to hear how he's doing. Or feeling at ease enough with him to not worry about what he might think of you when just want to hear his voice.

You want to feel excited or happy instead of anxious whenever you hear from him. You want to be rid of all this jealousy over him still possibly seeing other people. You want to... spend the night in his arms one day, and wake up to him without worries or hesitation.

It's so hard and downright embarrassing to admit it, but you do kind of want that. But the main question is: can you have it?

Aoyama pushes your phone into your hands, "Do it. Before you have time to talk yourself out of it."

"You just want to listen in." You roll your eyes, scoffing when he only replies with a cheeky chuckle.

Staring at your phone in his outstretched hand for a few more seconds, you pout as you wonder... what really is the harm of making a phone call? It's not like you had any rules about it. Unspoken or otherwise.

But you can't deny that it would still be unusual, since it's been far more in character for you to run away instead of initiate. So this would be a rather bold declaration of your interest and feelings for him, wouldn't it? Are you really going to do this?

You look up and hold your gaze with Aoyama's delighted, sparkling eyes for another moment before letting out a sigh, "Can I have some of that wine first?"

"Oui carrément." He fills the other glass on the table for you.

Several minutes and twice as many sips later, you finally pull up Sero's contact. Then you stare at the number for a bit. This is so unnerving.

But Aoyama has a point. If you're going to do it, then just do it. Save yourself some time and create that moment for yourself.

So with a deep breath, you exhale and press the call button.

And it rings.

And rings...

And rings...

And—

Maybe he's busy. You didn't think of that. It's a Friday night, so you should have have considered that he'd have plans. He might not even touch his phone for the majority of the night, so maybe—

"Hello?"

You hope to god he didn't hear your sharp inhale through your nose when his voice came through. Holy shit, your heart just shot right up into your throat.

"H-Hi..." You say into your phone, wrinkling your nose when Aoyama gestures frantically for you to put him on speaker. You figure nothing strange should come out of this, so you suppose there's no harm in letting him listen in and help coach you through it.

"This is quite the surprise." His voice echoes loud enough through your phone for your friend to hear now, too. You can just hear him smiling all smug on the other end, "What's going on?"

"Uhm..."

Fuck.

What is going on?? You should've prepared something for this. Looking frantically over at Aoyama, you gesture at him for some kind of prompt.

Aoyama taps his wrist and points his chin at your phone.

"Just, well... are you busy right now?" You ask.

"I'm at Kaminari's place right now, but we're just chilling. Watching MMA and stuff. What's up? You missing me already?" He jokes.

"Shut up." You roll your eyes, positive than he knows you're doing it even if he can't see it.

But you see Aoyama looking at you with an anticipating sparkle in his eyes and you sigh quietly to yourself as you remember to stay on track. You can't just keep deflecting if you want to share your feelings.

"So... So what if I am?" You ask, more quietly than before. Almost in a rhetorical way.

And then there's silence on Sero's end.

Ugh, you don't like the sound of that. What is he thinking? You can't even begin to gauge the kind of face he might be making right now.

Eventually though, his voice pipes up again. And to both your relief and disdain, he laughs. A light, surprised laugh, it sounds like, but still a laugh... Does it amuse him...?

Ugh, this is embarrassing. Maybe you can't do this after all. And the wine isn't kicking in at all.

"Well, isn't this a treat? I get a call and you miss me? Suddenly makes me wanna ditch the guys and come see you instead." He chuckles, and you feel your heart flip in your chest. You quickly exchange excited gazes with Aoyama before Sero continues, lowering his voice, "You busy tonight, bella? I'll wait up for you if you wanna come over."

Suddenly, your jumping heart deflates at the question.

Right. He must assume that by "missing" him, you mean "horny." While you want to clear it up, you're not sure you want to have the conversation anymore while he's at someone else's place and trying to have a good time.

Yeah, you're supposed to be 'creating your own moment,' but there's always a way to curate a better one, isn't there? One where you can actually see his face and there aren't other people listening in... Ugh, why did you let Aoyama talk you into doing this again?

"Mm, not tonight. I'm actually at a friend's place, too." You say, "I'll see you some other time. I just wanted to call to..."

"To...?" Sero prompts when you trail off.

"To... Just to, uhm, to... tell you..." You gulp, eyes darting around for something to say before your eyes land on Aoyama gesturing with his hands covering his heart, making a dramatically yearning expression. And after scrambling for the words to say, you eventually blurt out, "Tu me manques."

"And what does that mean?" Sero asks curiously.

"N-Nothing. Never mind." You shake your head, chickening out. That was already harder than you thought. "Forget I said it. I'll just— tell you next time."

To your misfortune, you hear another laugh come through the phone, making your neck feel warm. But then, he says in a rather soft voice, "Say it again."

"What?"

"Say it again," he encourages, "If that's what you called me to tell me."

You hesitate, darting your eyes back to your meddlesome friend before you take a breath.

"Tu me manques." You say, somehow more tender than the first time.

I miss you.

And without thinking, you continue, "Je te manque?"

Do you miss me?

There's another pause, but it's eventually broken when you hear Sero hum deeply, "Man, I wish I could see you right now. I bet you're making the cutest face."

Now that gets your entire face warm. You're immediately on the defensive again with a cheeky retort, "Yeah, and you're probably already reaching for a camera somewhere."

He breaks out into a heartier laugh this time, "How'd you know?"

You scoff, "Tough as it is trying to figure out what you're really thinking all the time, it's not as hard to guess when you're gonna point a camera at me anymore."

Another pause, and then a more neutral voice when he asks, "You can't tell what I'm thinking most of the time?"

"How could I?" You say, almost sigh, "You're so unserious. I can never really tell if you're trying to have an actual conversation or if you're just setting me up for a line."

Okay, that came out a little more honestly than you were expecting. The wine must finally be kicking in. Fuck.

"I see..." Sero's voice trails off, sounding thoughtful before he picks right back up on that playful confidence, "Guess I can't help it with you. You're just that special, querida."

"Alright, I'm hanging up." You decide to cut off the conversation before it just becomes the usual useless banter. Not that you don't enjoy it on occasion, but it's not what you called him for tonight. You (sort of) said what you (sort of) needed to say. And you should stop before the wine makes you even more loose-lipped. "Good night, Sero."

He hums before asking in a hopeful voice, "See you soon?"

You hesitate, glancing quickly at Aoyama before answering, "Yeah. Bye."

You hang up before he can give you a reply, then immediate collapse into the couch, throwing your face back into the pillow for a muffled scream.

"Ahhh mon dieu..." You groan.

Aoyama allows you to lament for a minute before he eventually asks, "He often takes pictures of you?"

You sigh, turning to rest your cheek on the pillow to face him, "Yeah, he's something of a photographer... I couldn't tell you how many photos he's probably collected of me already."

"What kinds?"

"I dunno. Random things." You sit up, reaching around the couch for your bag, "Me eating, me laughing, me wearing his clothes or standing in his room... I have no idea what his 'artistic visions' are."

After digging around in your bag, you find and fish out the small polaroid photograph you had been keeping inside a compartment in your wallet, handing it to Aoyama to see.

"Oh, wow." He says with immediate intrigue, "When was this taken?"

"About two weeks ago? Maybe." You shrug.

You had been sharing a joint with Sero after a good hour of sex one afternoon. He was lying in his hammock while you were chilling in his bed, nothing but your undies and one of his t-shirts on. He had put one of his CDs on, and you two only occasionally exchanged a few words in the relaxed atmosphere.

At some point, he had taken out a polaroid camera from somewhere and called to you to "look up," which resulted in this photo of you, looking innocently sexy while you laid on your stomach in his bed. The blankets and sheets are wrinkled and gathered beneath you, hiding about half of your body, though your bare thigh and part of the band of your panties can still be seen. And you've got your chin tucked into one of his pillows that you had been hugging to keep your chest elevated.

"Why are you always sneaking photos of me?" You had scoffed at the time.

"I gotta document the most beautiful girl in the world while I have her with me." He said while he shook the polaroid in his hand.

"There you go again with that cheesy pickup line shit again." You groaned, rolling over onto your back so you could hide your expression from him.

"Roll your eyes at me all you want. That's really what I think." He had smiled before he showed you the picture.

You had to admit, it was a cute photo. You actually ended up liking it quite a bit, so he just gave it to you (after he took a digital photo of it to keep for himself...). Though now that you have it, you've had no idea what to do with it since then, so you've only kept it tucked away in your wallet.

"What's this written here?" Aoyama asks, pointing to the caption written into the bottom of the polaroid.

"It's the name of the band that we were listening to that day." You explain, "Come to think of it, he's done that a few times when I've stuck around to listen to music with him in his room. Maybe to document the 'vibe' of the photo that day or something."

"Hmmmmmm~" Aoyama nods as he drags out his hum before returning the photo to you, "I see. So you really are une idiot, ma chère."

"Me?! Why??" You burst, outraged.

"To be frank, I am not sure why you are so confused. He clearly is very smitten with you, based on your phone conversation and this evidence you've shown me." He gestures at the photo in your hand. "What exactly is making you hesitate?"

You groan as you slump back into the couch's seat cushions. "Honestly, that's what I'd like to know, too. I keep getting this feeling to be careful, but I can't tell if it's intuition or paranoia anymore."

Aoyama hums again as he refills both of your wine glasses, looking contemplative. While he's been pretty eager to hear about Sero so far, you wouldn't blame him if he also got sick of your shit by now. Cowardly as you are.

Eventually though, he says, "Well, there is a saying: Le cœur a ses raisons que la raison ne connaît point."

The heart has its reasons that reason itself does not know.

"Perhaps the storm in your heart is a sign to wait until it clears," He shrugs. But he sets down his wine, and his expression is very casual as he looks at you to say, "But if you have love to give, and you want to give it to him, then there is nothing wrong with running into the rain."

Your eyes widen, mind suddenly flashing back to that day that Sero just grabbed your hand and led you in a dash through the rain. And you remember... enjoying it. The wild spontaneity and simple joy from that moment still leaves a warm memory in your heart.

"Of course you might get hurt. You might get embarrassed, or used, or forgotten. That's never out ruled, no matter who it is." Aoyama continues, "But even if you get hurt, is it not worth trying to live and love to your best ability anyway?"

Slowly, you look up and blink at your rather wise-sounding friend, remembering why you value his input. He considers it in your perspective before he turns your expectations upside-down and tells you to follow your heart anyway. And while it may sound frivolous on the surface, you know that it's coming from a deeper place.

Polishing off the rest of your wine, you stare at the glass you set down for a few moments, thinking. Thinking about all of the worst possible outcomes that could happen if you tell Sero how much you like him, or possibly ask him to be serious with you. You recall all the suffering you went through the last time you tried to hold out for a playboy and wonder if Sero will be any different, or if you'll just have to learn the same lesson all over again.

You think about all of that, until eventually, you decide, "I guess it can't be worse than what I'm already putting myself through."

Aoyama smiles at you, this time, with a much more readable emotion: pride.

—

Sero calls you the very next evening, and you manage to pick up despite your shaky hands.

"Hello?"

"Hey, beautiful." He greets, "This a good time?"

"I'm just studying." You say, taking the opportunity to step away from your desk to refill your tea. "Finals are starting and all."

You exchange a bit of small talk while you get your hot water going, listening to his woes about all his essays and sharing a few struggles of your own with one of your group projects. But when the conversation comes to a natural lull, Sero picks back up with a new subject.

"Hey, about what you said yesterday, when you called me." He starts, "I wanna answer your question."

You spill the hot water a little too quickly into your mug before catching yourself and saving your skin from a burn, "M-My question?" you ask.

You mean when I called and asked if you missed me out of nowhere?!

"Yeah. Sorry I didn't get it the first time," he says humorously, "But if you wanna ask me again, I think I can answer properly this time."

"Did you get help from Yaoyorozu again?" You find yourself smiling a bit, imagining Sero asking his other French-speaking friend to help interpret your cryptic words from a surprise call.

"You don't think I could figure it out on my own? I'm a big boy." He teases.

"Are you?"

"Nah, Yaomomo definitely helped me." He chuckles, "But I meant it when I said I could answer this time."

You press your lips together as you watch your tea brew, the color saturating into the water like paint. Now that you've had a day to think about it, you're kind of embarrassed about that whole call. You went out of your way to call him to tell him about how you feel, yet you ran away to hide behind another language.

And yet, he went out of his way to ask someone for help just to find a way to answer you back. You're cringing at the thought of having to repeat what you said, but you can't really back out of it now that he's prepared some sort of response...

"You're really gonna make me say it again...?" You say.

"Did you not mean it?"

"N-no." You clarify immediately, "I— I meant it..."

"Ask me one more time, then. I wanna hear it again." He says in a soft voice.

You let out a slow sigh before relenting, "Okay... Tu me manques. Je te manque?"

I miss you. Do you miss me?

"Oui, je pense à toi tous les jours." He answers easily, and your breath gets caught in your throat.

Yes. I think about you every day.

You wait a few beats, staring at the steam now rising from your mug, trying to will the heat out of your cheeks. Trying to will your heartbeat to calm down.

"You called me just to say that?" You say.

"Oui~" He answers with his usual cheek.

You let out a sharp sigh as you shake your head, pulling the phone away from your mouth as you mutter to yourself, "Ce tombeur. Il me rends folle."

This fucking playboy. He's driving me crazy.

"What was that?" You hear Sero chuckling from your phone speakers.

"Nothing," you say, bringing the device back to your ear, "Just... that was actually pretty impressive."

"Merci." he hums before teasing, "But you know, if you're gonna tell me something like that, it'd be nice if I didn't have to go to Yaomomo first."

"I... didn't know that you'd think that hard about it." You admit.

"You call me first for the first time out of nowhere and you think I'm not gonna bust my fucking brain to understand what you said?" He says, actually sounding somewhat serious, "After you said it all shy and cute like that, too? Come on, [Name]."

"Shut up." You groan, face heating up again, "Did... Did you mean what you said, then? At first."

Do you really miss me? Do you actually think about me every day?

"Yeah. I did." He answers simply, like there's a smile on his face, "And I couldn't stop thinking about you after you called. I was so fucking happy."

"Y-you—" You almost choke from the way your heart jumps into your throat, "You were..." you say, skeptical.

"I was." He confirms, "And I'm pretty jazzed that I can call you up and talk to you like this right now, too."

What the heck is he doing, being so straightforward with you? He's answering your questions without his usual flirty misdirection or banter. And he's talking in a way that... you can't doubt his sincerity. He really does sound genuinely happy to just be talking to you on the phone like this.

Your heart can't stop flipping. Though while you appreciate the straight answers, you can't help but ask, "What is up with you today? This isn't like you. Getting straight to the point and sharing your feelings."

"You told me you that you can never figure out what I'm thinking." He says, making you suddenly recall a part of the conversation that you had forgotten.

You're so unserious. I can never really tell if you're trying to have an actual conversation or if you're just setting me up for a line.

"I always thought I was being pretty clear about it. But if you need me to say it, then I'll say it." He continues, "I really like you, [Name]. Like, a lot."

A gasp flies into your throat, meeting your heart halfway when it tries to jump out. Your chest is aching, and the blood is starting to pulse in your ears. Because— Did he really just say that??

"You're on my mind, like, all the time. And I've been trying to take it slow because I thought that was what you wanted. Since it was already hard enough to get your attention in the first place." He goes on, "But you're just so fucking cool, and funny, and interesting, and so, so pretty. It's hard not to want to keep you in my bed and hold you in my arms all night."

What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck is going on???!

Your heart is going crazy. And for some reason, it connects straight to your core that warms up when Sero mentions holding you in his arms through the night. How is he doing this to you while you're standing in your kitchen over a cooling mug of tea?? Is this some sort of advanced version of phone sex meant to rile you up emotionally?? You're going to go insane.

"You— I... I'm—"

Great. Now you can't speak either.

"[Name]?" Sero's voice reverberates through your ear, riding straight into your groin now. Why. How.

"Huh..." You drag out a sigh, struggling to figure out what you even want to say, trying to get your head out of your pussy, "Why are you telling me this all of a sudden?"

"I dunno." he admits, "After you called me yesterday, I just couldn't stop thinking about when I'd get to talk to you or see you again. Would've liked to tell you in person so I can see what kind of face you're making, but... now that I'm talking to you, it kinda just came out."

God. You're actually kind of thankful it turned out that way. Who knows what kind of teasing you'd have to endure if he saw whatever ridiculous expression you're making right now.

"But if I'm honest, I'm glad I told you. It's something I've been wanting to say for a while now." he says, voice going soft again.

You gulp as you marinate in his words, replaying them over and over in your head again. Getting lost in the storm in your chest as you think about them...

"I really like you. Like, a lot."

"You're on my mind, like, all the time."

"It's something I've been wanting to say for a while now."

For a while now...

How long is a 'while' exactly? You want to know so bad. You... kind of want to see his face too. See for yourself how sincere he's being. Because as much as you want to believe him, you can hardly believe that all your worries will be put to rest with just one phone call.

Summoning all of the calm and patience still remaining in you with a deep inhale, you say, "Okay. So when am I gonna see you again? You know, so you can tell me in person."

He lets out a little laugh, "I'd see you as soon as tonight if you'd let me."

"Tonight?" You laugh, trying to hide just how tempted you are to say yes, "I don't think that's a good idea. You know you're gonna distract me from all my schoolwork."

"Yeah, I definitely would not be above that." He chuckles with you, "But no pressure, baby. I'm still willing to take it as slow as you want."

While you feel reassured and appreciate the sentiment, you also find yourself impatient to finally have this conversation. Which is funny, since you were so afraid to do it for the past couple months. But if Sero actually meant all of that... you can't help but feel hope fluttering in your chest.

"I... I do want to see you though." you find yourself admitting, "Just maybe... after finals or something. Are you going to Yaoyorozu's holiday party?"

You heard about it from Ashido and Hagakure, and they said that Yaoyorozu would happily extend the invitation to you as well. And since it's their circle of friends, you're sure that Sero would be invited too.

"Agh... that's so far away." He whines a little, before switching back to his softer, sweet voice, "But sure thing, bella. Whatever you want. I'll talk to you soon."

"Alright." you agree with another deep breath, "G'night, Sero."

"Sweet dreams, [Name]." he lowers his voice and makes a kissing sound through the phone, "Voy a soñar contigo."

You hope he doesn't hear your sharp little intake of breath as you give him a last hum and hang up, before you can say something embarrassing or change your mind.

Studying is a lost cause for the rest of the night as you go about getting ready for bed and the rest of the week. All you can think about as you robotically maneuver around the apartment is all the things he said to you. Replaying every exchange of words in your mind over and over again until you're smiling into your own hands.

It isn't until you're tucked into bed and staring at the call log in your phone that you think about that last thing he said before hanging up:

I'll be dreaming of you.

Maybe you'll be doing the same.

—

tbc

edit: thank you (again) to mia @pageantdisaster for helping me out with the french!!

part 8

[belit0]

Killer - part 3 (TobiIzu)

Hashirama as a therapist… nope. part 2

"Izuna! Uchiha Izuna... I've heard so much about you, finally seeing you in person is great! Please come in, make yourself comfortable." The therapist greets him with much more energy than he would like, and now he understands why his Aniki told him to give him a chance before running off.

Just for him, he'll try.

The professional's house is genuinely beautiful, a building proper of people with money, and if the Uchiha had to bet, he would say Hashirama must have at least 4 properties in his name, about two cars, and some other luxuries in other countries.

He walks down a few corridors before arriving at the room his therapist uses as an office, walls adorned with expensive paintings and strange sculptures on overly colorful pedestals. "Your brother filled me in, at least superficially, but I expect to hear it from you. Something to drink? Coffee, water, gin?" he can't tell if the man is joking or not, with that overwhelmingly white smile plastered constantly on his face. Izuna assumes he must have cramped cheeks.

He nods in agreement, receiving a glass of room-temperature water with a strange taste, still not having uttered a word since arriving at the place, and sits down on the couch the professional indicates. A wonderful black and shiny real leather couch, with a blanket and everything to cover himself if he needs it. All he can think about is how Itachi must have had fun coming to a place like this and talking to such a guy.

He takes another sip of water, setting the glass down on a coffee table next to the sofa.

"So, Izuna! Tell me what brings you here." He chooses not to answer, figuring that if he remains silent for the entire session he can get away with Hashirama filling in the gaps with more questions he won't answer, but his soul falls at his feet upon realizing if he says nothing, he'll stare at him in silence until the hour his brother paid for is over.

After about ten minutes of staring at the floor and the room, scanning the place, and picking the skin off his fingernails while nervously tapping his foot against the floor, he finally gives in, "the room isn't bugged or anything? What about that?" There is a camera in one of the corners of the room, security system, with a red light that keeps flashing in his direction. He feels watched, monitored, the same feeling he can't seem to get out of his body since that night.

"Patient with pronounced paranoia," Hashirama seems to mutter to himself, but in a tone of voice too loud to intend for him not to hear it. He writes in his notebook as he glances at him cautiously, waiting for Izuna to step on the stick again, "Of course not, I work with a lot of cops every day, people who went through even worse things than you. The camera is for precaution, my own safety."

"Ha, I doubt that."

"What makes you think that?"

"Let's start with how the shot went out the butt of my own gun and sent me straight into a death trap?" The words come out in a trail of anxiety and desperation, as if they had long been stuck on the tip of his tongue without courage to utter them. Izuna never dared to speak of that night aloud, neither to the police nor to his brother, fearing that replaying it will make it real.

If he ignores it, he can pretend it didn't happen.

"Anger and resentment mixed with dissociations and metaphors." The therapist continues to write, one leg crossed over the other as if ignoring him. "Are you going to repeat everything you write down in your damn notebook? Are you making fun of me?"

"Oh no, just a bad habit, I always needed to write out loud, people at my college hated me for it."

"Are we here to talk about you or me?" The question is an attempt at defensive aggression, exposing him in the face of having to talk.

"Well, that's up to you, exactly. You don't seem open to talking about it, and I'm afraid if I push you you'll run out the door. Tell me, Izuna, what do you need?"

"What do I need?"

"You don't want to speak, you're angry, paranoid, shut down... you yourself should know better than anyone else what your head needs." The lightness of his words and the ease with which he reads him leads him to wonder how much information his Aniki revealed regarding his situation, or if the guy is genuinely good enough to notice his afflictions so easily.

There's something about the man that doesn't sit right with him, the same feeling he had that night before he walked through that motel door, the same instinct he ignored as it implored him to run and get the hell away from that shithole.

Hashirama's smile is haunting, too perfect to be real, and the questions he asks are too pointed, too unorthodox. Izuna never went to a psychologist, but from the experiences he's heard from different people, your therapist doesn't treat you this way.

"What happened that night, Izuna?" he asks dismissively, reducing the glimpse of his white teeth so as not to be so tetric while making the question.

"I was attacked, you should know."

"Who attacked you?"

"The white demon."

"Uh, I like that name. Tell me about him." He sets the notebook down on the coffee table in front of him, resting the pen he uses to write on it. He places each elbow on one of his knees, and rests his chin on his hands, leaning forward in a gesture of genuine interest for his response.

"I couldn't release details, they're part of a private, confidential investigation." The Uchiha feels trapped, cornered, sinking his back against the leather couch and begging for the fabric to swallow him up. Both hands clench the edge tightly, knuckles white, and he makes an enormous effort to keep his breathing calm.

"Come on, my friend! You couldn't guess the number of cops who passed by that same couch and said that same speech! Everything here is private, confidential, I'm as professional as you are, you're safe." A disturbing uneasiness creases his chest as he notices his mind relax, letting himself be carried away by the therapist's words and entering into his game.

Maybe talking about it isn't so bad, putting it into words can help make it go away. Maybe he is truly paranoid, feeling persecuted everywhere he goes. The messages he's been receiving on his phone don't help, nor does the fact that his attacker seems to have eyes everywhere.

"He...tricked me. I thought I had him, but I was following the steps he wanted me to follow." He confesses looking down at the floor, unable to hold the professional's gaze as he spontaneously opens his heart.

"What happened?"

"He took me wherever he wanted, and did whatever he wanted with me."

"Did you like it?"

" Excuse me?" He wants to believe he misheard the question, but the therapist's morbid grin on his face indicates otherwise. The query was as real as the pit forming in his stomach from discomfort, and all the walls he thought prudent to tear down rise back up with more force.

"I mean, my brother told me about it, he said you moaned like a bitch in heat when he was inside you, I just want to know if it was real or if he's bluffing." The darkness in his eyes denotes evil, and the fact that he gets up and walks to the door and opens it as well.

"Wha-a… my-y bro-other-"

"Brothers... yeah, it's crazy what one does for them, isn't it? Look how far I've gone for mine! A ruined career and a direct ticket to a country where I'm unimpeachable. It's not personal, Izuna, he just really likes you!" Hashirama watches him with demented eyes, and the Uchiha doesn't have time to react, to move, to try to run away.

The open door would give him a unique opportunity, but his body does not respond. Freedom is so close, yet he cannot reach it.

How did this happen? How can it be possible for him to show up for a therapy session with the man that the whole police headquarters seems to use for difficult cases only to have everything go to hell? Is it paranoia making him imagine things? Is it post-traumatic stress making him see situations that don't exist?

All his doubts become clear when his worst nightmare walks through the door.

Paralyzed with panic, all he can do is cry and scream incoherently when Tobirama walks in with a smirk on his face, pats his brother on the shoulder, and heads towards him.

“Long time no see, baby, missed me?”

[quodekash]

OKAY I HAVE ONE HOUR BEFORE THE OS2 MSP EPISODE COMES OUT SO HOPEFULLY I CAN FINISH THE ABAAB EPISODE BEFORE THEN, imma try to dial it down on the commentary so that its faster 

(also fun fact, i tried to do the mouthfuls of water when i mention how pretty anyone or their hair is thing that i suggested. and i had 48 mouthfuls of water and an immediate need to pee and i was worried that throughout the night i would suddenly become a 3 year old child and pee my bed. anyway.) 

AH SHOOT YEAH THE NOTE HE LEFT 

where the hell did cher go 

we’re probably about to find out but i wanna formulate my thoughts first 

(dang it now im thinking of first kanaphan bc i said ‘first’ STAY ON TRACK STAY ON TRACK STAY ON TRACK) 

presumably hes gone back to like his home town thingy 

but... why 

i have no idea 

we shall see 

OH, STUFF YOU 

VAFFANCULO TU OMOFOBO PEZZO DI MERDA 

LA DETESTO, DETESTO MOLTO 

LEI PUÒ MORIRE IN UNA BUCA FREDDA E BUIA ALL’INFERNO, PER FAVORE 

STRDYTCFUVJYHKB

“you two are not a good match” LIES, LIIEEEESSS 

NOOOOOO HE IS SADDDDDD 

HHHWHYYYYY 

“take care of your health” i love jack so much 

guys we’re nearly 6 minutes in and i havent mentioned jack’s hair ONCE 

okay well i just did BUT THAT DOESNT COUNT 

THIS IS A CAUSE FOR CELEBRATION 

I EXERCISED ✨RESTRAINT✨ 

“please tell him dont be too hard on yourself, and take care” AWWJRGKHB 

poor dude misses cher so much he keeps hallucinating him 

at this point the real cher is gonna show up and he’s gonna think its one of his hallucinations for goodness sake 

gun, go to therapy 

hes so pretty tho 

i love him 

and you didnt have a chance to say goodbye? because you didnt know it was a goodbye? and you desperately want to see him again but youre also terrified of that ever possibly happening because you know itll mean there’s going to be a goodbye, either that day or just at some point in the future, there will always be a goodbye, and you dont know if its worse to never get a chance to say goodbye or being forced to say goodbye against your own will? and youve had too many goodbyes in your life to know how to deal with it but you keep forgetting to bring this up with your psychologist when you see her once a month? 

whaaaat, me? projecting? no wayyyyy 

i love porsche 

porsche and gun are like lesbians 

that makes sense somehow 

porschegun are lesbians 

i will not elaborate 

“you, thyme, and cher. everyone left me. i have no one left.” jEEZ THAT ONE REALLY STABBED ME IN THE HEART SIX TIMES 

KILL MEEEEEEEEE 

whaaaat i have attachment issues? my psychologist said i have high signs of separation anxiety, like im a dog? noooooo waaaaaayyyyyyyy 

bro

DANG IT OF COURSE THAT WAS A DREAM 

“hes been drinking his old coffee for five days in a row” HOLY HELL HES NOT OKAY SOMEONE CALL AN AMBULANCE OR SOMETHING 

i love him

and his hair 

sorry, i know i said i would dial it down but the episode is nearly over and it wouldnt be an abaab commentary post if i didnt mention and screenshot jack’s hair AT LEAST once. 

HES JUST SO PRETTY 

just. look at his face. appreciate his face. and his hair. 

JACK’S SAD LITTLE SMILE AND THEN HE LOOKS AWAY- IM GONNA CRY I LOVE HIM TOO MUCH 

CHER!! :DD 

and... yacht???? (seriously, IS that his name) 

HIS FREAKING BLUE HAIR IS SO PRETTY WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL 

second best hair in this show 

“without you, my tiny room seems tremendous” FIHREBGKJB 

GROUP MOMENT 

THREEZOOOOOO 

PLS I LOVE HIM SO MUCH 

“you’re making us horny” GIUERDBJSGOIRE THIS IS SO FUNNY WHAT THE HELL 

HE IS AMAZING 

AND ZO’S LITTLE FINGER SHAKE DSFDSGSGD 

MY BOI IS GRADUATINGGGGG 

MY BOI IS SEEING HIS BOY 

JRGFJFNGGFVC 

A WONDERFUL END TO THE EPISODE 

THAT WAS EXCELLENT 

I LOVE THEM 

aight time for msp in like. five minutes. 

[duckybarnes1917]

Your Eyes Outshine The Town...Chapter 17

Bucky Barnes x Black Female Reader

18+ ONLY

Summary: You and Bucky make the trip to meet his extended family. Things are a bit overwhelming for both you when you realize his family is not what you expected.

Warnings: Anxiety. Microaggressions.

*Tumblr is not letting me add links to the prev or next chapters. Please see the masterlist pinned to my page for the rest of the story!*

The Day After Christmas

Bucky stuffed his metal hand into his pocket as he walked into the coffee shop that had quickly become your favorite. You were waiting for him in the car which he had double parked. He realized he had spent so much time with you since you had moved in that being alone even for these few minutes had his anxiety rising quickly. Without your fingers intertwined with his metal ones, he felt unmoored. People stared at him openly, taking pictures sneakily as he kept his eyes trained on the floor. Things had been worse. Back before he was granted his pardon, people were much more forward. Ugly stares and insults were not uncommon. At that time, he rarely left his apartment. How could he when every ugly detail of his life was constantly breaking news? He truly didn’t know how he survived it. 

Bucky went through the motions of ordering coffee and moved to the side to wait. How much of his trial had his family seen? Was it naïve to hope they hadn’t seen any of it? That they hadn’t watched the constant attacks that passed as news? 

“Bucky!” 

Bucky frowned when the cheery barista that now recognized him as a regular called his name over the sizeable crowd. 

The barista, a college kid with an optimistic smile, scanned the room, looking past Bucky’s big frame for you. 

“She’s in the car.” 

The barista nodded, handing Bucky his drinks. “Well, tell her I say hi!”

Bucky raised his brows in response. Maybe he didn’t need to be worried about what his family knew or didn’t know. They’d be too distracted by you, just like everyone else. Even when you weren't in the room, you outshined him. 

Bucky finally gave the barista a small smile. “I’ll tell her. Happy Holidays, kid.” 

**

“One vanilla latte with extra whipped cream,” Bucky handed you the latte before he sat his plain black coffee in the cup holder. 

You popped the lid off the cup and inhaled deeply. “Perfect. Want some extra spice in yours?” You held out a small vodka bottle and a little flask you had filled with Asgardian ale. 

Bucky laughed and shook his head, “No, but maybe when we get there.”

“Suit yourself,” You shrugged and dropped the flask back into your purse before twisting the cap off the mini vodka bottle. 

Bucky focused on easing the car back into traffic. He didn’t blame you for needing a little help to get through the day; he was actively fighting the pit of anxiety threatening to open and swallow him whole.  

“How long is the drive?” You asked as you gulped down your coffee. 

“About five hours. If I drive fast.” 

“Damn,” you took another big drink of your coffee. “I’m sure the traffic will lighten up once we’re out of the city.” 

You rubbed Bucky’s thigh. You always knew when he was getting overwhelmed. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down. Being late should not be at the top of his worry list right now. The longer you rubbed his thigh, the harder it was for him to think of anything that should be at the top of the list. 

**  

Several hours later, you were cruising through little suburbs and large stretches of open road. The scenery, large trees dusted in snow, and the occasional deer made you feel like you had left more than just the city behind. The anxiety you had been trying to ignore the entire drive dissipated for a moment as you imagined the life you would lead if you lived here. Out in the quiet, open, calm. 

“It’s pretty out here,” you said casually, stretching in your seat.  

“Yeah? I thought you liked the city?” Bucky questioned. 

“I do, but–I don’t know, it might be nice to live out here… someday.” 

Bucky smiled, “someday?” 

“You know what I mean,” you muttered, not quite meeting his eyes. 

Bucky lifted your chin to meet his gaze. “Tell me.” 

Your tongue swiped over your bottom lip. “Someday, when things are normal, and we have a baby and….” 

“Fuck,” Bucky let you go and turned his attention back to the road. “You’re gonna make us late.” 

“How–”

“Because I’m seconds away from pulling this car over and fucking you right where you’re sitting.” 

You had to bite your tongue to keep from begging him for it. Once you had control over yourself, you opened your mouth. “If I thought I could fuck you without ruining my hair and outfit, I would beg you for your cock right now.” 

“Sweetheart–” Bucky warned, shifting in his seat. 

“I know, I know. Maybe on the way back, though.” 

“Promise?” 

You rubbed his thigh again, “promise.” 

** 

You woke up just as Bucky pulled into the driveway of a large house set against tall pine trees and the cloudy gray sky. An ornate gate decorated with giant wreaths opened automatically to allow his entrance. 

You blinked your eyes to clear your vision. This hadn’t been what you expected at all. 

This house was old and big. Enormous white pillars, decorated with garland, wrapped around the front of the house, making it look like a museum, not someone’s home. Brand new, shiny cars filled the circle driveway. Christmas decorations decorated the expansive lawn; large candy canes, giant glittery ornaments, a full-sized Santa’s sleigh with all 8 reindeer, and a tall white cross covered in twinkling lights. You felt like you were inside a snow globe. It was gorgeous, but you felt a sudden rush of anxiety; everything about this was screaming GET OUT. That was a ridiculous reaction; it was Bucky’s family–but your anxiety spiked again as you looked around and realized there were no other houses in sight. Bucky didn’t know these people; what if it was an elaborate trap and his sister wasn’t even here?

Bucky parked the car and you grabbed his arm tight to keep him from getting out. 

“What’s wrong? You look sick.” Bucky turned in his seat to hold your face. 

“I just–I need a minute.” 

Bucky nodded, his brows furrowing slightly. You avoided his worried gaze as you took deep breaths and reached for his dog tags on instinct. The raised letters of his name brought you back down to Earth. 

“Talk to me.” Bucky kissed your forehead. 

“I’m–afraid.” You wouldn’t look at him, embarrassment scorching through you. 

“There’s nothing–” 

“Yes, there is.” You cut him off and gripped his dog tags tighter. “What if it’s a trap? The Power Broker–” 

“Oh.” Bucky smoothed the worry line from your face. “Don’t worry about that, I trust Shuri. She did her research.”

Of course she did. What were you thinking? But your nerves still didn’t lessen. 

“What if they don’t like me? Did you–tell them?” 

“Of course I told them I was bringing you. They’ll love you–”

“No, do they know I’m black?”

Bucky paused for a moment, at a loss for words. “Um, should I have told them?” 

You were barely listening to him, continuing down your spiral of anxiety. “What if–I mean, I know it’s your family but Bucky, this place screams all lives matter.” 

Before Bucky could respond, the front door opened and several people stepped out onto the porch, all dressed to the nines and smiling excitedly in their direction. One man with cropped brown hair stepped forward and waved them on. 

“Oh god,” you gulped. 

“Hey breathe, everything is going to be fine. We’ll stay right here until you’re ready, okay?” 

 You nodded and closed your eyes again. You could feel Bucky gesturing through the window, buying you some more time to get yourself together. This was ridiculous. How many dangerous missions had you been on? And meeting Bucky’s family was what made you freeze in fear?

“Sweetheart?” Bucky called gently, bringing you back from your thoughts. 

“I’m okay, we can go. I’m sorry.” 

Bucky took off his dog tags and placed them around your neck. “Will that help?” 

You smiled slightly and tucked them under your shirt. The cold metal against your chest had a strange, calming effect. You nodded. 

“The second you feel uncomfortable, we’ll leave. Okay?” 

“Thank you,” You met his eyes, “are you good?” 

Bucky nodded, his face determined. “I’m always good when I’m with you.” 

Finally, you grinned and Bucky kissed your cheek before exiting the car and leading you up the steps. 

**

Bucky hadn’t known what to expect, but the mammoth of a house had not been it. He gripped your hand tighter and tighter the closer he got to the people waiting for you both at the top of the steps. It was odd. They looked vaguely familiar, like a face you’ve seen in a dream but don’t recognize. Connor looked a little like him. He had the same shade of brown hair, the same blue eyes. But his jaw was rounder, his smile bigger. Maybe that’s what Bucky would have looked like in another life. One where there had been plenty of food on the table, where he spent his time indoors with his books like he wanted. He looked away from Connor, quickly scanning the others. The blonde next to him must be his wife, Deena. She was petite in every sense of the word. Even in her white heels, she barely reached Connor’s shoulder. Behind them, there were several older people. One man using a walker looked how Bucky would have if he hadn’t been frozen in time. An older woman looked so much like his sister Becca that Bucky stuttered in his step and you  placed your hand on his arm to urge him forward. Several kids of various ages peeked out between the legs of the adults, wary but curious. 

“James!” Connor stepped forward and met him a few steps down. “So glad you made it.”

Bucky felt your hand squeeze his tighter as you unconsciously tried to hide behind his larger frame. He stood up a little straighter and put a smile on his face. 

“Connor, thanks for having us.” 

Connor turned his bright smile to you and held out his hand. “Welcome!” 

You gave him a small smile and took his hand. Connor pulled you into a hug, and Bucky saw Deena shake her head. 

“Oh–” you exclaimed. “Nice to meet you.” You glanced back at Bucky and he gave you an encouraging nod. 

“Come on, I’ll introduce you to everyone. And surprise! Betty is waiting for us inside. Didn’t want ya to have to make two long drives in one day.” 

Bucky didn’t register the names of everyone he was introduced to. Once Connor told him Betty was inside, that’s all he could focus on. He smiled and shook hands and gave hugs, but his mind was already inside with his sister.

**

You were good with names. Connor. Deena. Mark. Charles. Joan. Such mundane, classic American names. These people were not at all what you had expected. Not a hair was out of place. Their teeth were pearly white, their smiles big and wide. They looked like fucking Kennedys. Bucky had never once given off trust-fund vibes. 

“I love your hair.” Laura, a 30-something icy blonde, held your hand too long. Her eyes sparkled as she stared at your carefully styled curls. 

“Thanks,” your voice wavered, the statement coming out like a question. 

“Absolutely stunning,” Laura’s wife, Rachel, chimed in. “Is it real?”

“Oh, is it a–what are they called–weave?” 

“Nope. All mine.” You finally got her hand out of Laura’s grip and dodged Rachel’s hand as it reached for your hair. “Lovely to meet you both.” 

You looked around for an exit, only to be reminded that you were in the middle of nowhere and there was no escape. Your eyes found Bucky next. He was being hugged tightly by Charles and Joan, Becca’s kids–his niece and nephew. Would that ever not be weird? 

“This way!” Deena looped her arm through yours and led you through the front door and toward the kitchen. “Sorry about them. They can be a lot. I’m sure you’re ready for a drink.” 

“Oh god, yes, please.” You liked her already. 

Don’t forget to reblog! 😉

*Tumblr is not letting me add links to the prev or next chapters. Please see the masterlist pinned to my page for the rest of the story!*

Taglist: @delaber @mannien @raindrcpsangel @cjand10

[caluski]

ive made myself hot chocolate wine. hot wine chocolate maybe. its mostly hot chocolate and some wine... i only added a little because i havent made hot wine in a long time now, i was worried id evaporate the alcohol and make it gross. but it turned out fine and its good, maybe next time ill make some with spices. maybe replace oat milk with some other one... i think cashew might be good, maybe if i spot it on sale somewhere. with cinnamon maybe, with slices of orange? orange matches both chocolate and wine, why wouldn't it work with both at the same time. i wish i could spend an hour or so in the kitchen, making different infusions that i could try with someone else. its always so much more fun to try new things with another person.

i dont really mind drinking alone, since i already usually do it while watching something or writing. but i do really really miss drinking coffee or tea with other people. i miss talking to people so very very much. i talk so much.. if one somehow hasnt figured it out yet from the absolute fucking abundance of long posts on my blog, but i really do love talking. my big problem is that i talk so much, that my hot drinks cool down before i get to take a sip or two. im really horrible at keeping that balance between being caught up with the conversation and drinking. although i never really have much to say, i keep repeating the stories ive already told a million times before, and i say silly stuff, and i complain about a lot of things, and i get sidetracked constantly. not really in like, adorable or quirky way, i can imagine it must be annoying for the other people in the conversation, especially when i get too excited and interrupt people and dont listen very well. i think its one of those things i wanna improve about myself.

yesterday, as i was walking home through the centre of the city, i was horribly in need of coffee, it was so cold and i was in a good mood, and i only had weak green tea that morning, and since it was still pretty early in the day, the cafes had some free spots. but i walked in, looked around, and walked out. its like everything reminds me of loneliness these days, and when i got inside, tables were all taken by couples or groups. i dont think it was a sign of anything, but it made me so awfully bitter. i know loneliness doesnt make me special, i know literally everyone experiences it to some degree, but god, it really hurts to look around and see that despite everything, people always have someone out there. a best friend, a significant other, family member, whatever.

theres that stupid thing everyone always repeats, "theres always someone out there who loves you, even if you dont know about it". i used to hold onto that desperately, but its so dumb. unrealistic and dumb. it makes you hope that maybe right now youre alone, but once you'll be at your rock bottom, SOMEONE will magically show up and say, i care for you, and i will be by your side to support you, or whatever. but then you hit the rock bottom and theres nothing, or better yet, someone you had hoped would stay with you suddenly says "i have anxiety and seasonal affective disorder, i cant be around you or ill get worse, too", and you dont want them to get worse because of you, of course you dont. theyre being reasonable, and you know that, and you cant do anything about it. even if you do guilt-trip them into staying, would that even really help, if they resented you for it secretly for the rest of their life.

a week ago or so ive walked into a cafe, as well, but i got so overwhelmed that i had to pretend to look around which tables are free, and left right away. just brought in mud and puddles, probably, since it was such a snowy day. i worry that one day ill be better, but i wont be able to step foot inside a cafe anymore, because it will remind me of nothing but the days when it was just me and self-loathing. not that i can really afford cafes anymore, but i cant think about that now. or worse, that ill never get better, and ill never get to experience it again, the presence of another person by my side, having coffee or tea or desserts, and talking and laughing and maybe even flirting. that thought makes me nauseous, but i know its likely. it kind of sounds like not much to wish for, but it feels almost too perfect to ever be possible - not only to have money for that in the first place, but also a person who cares for you enough to want to be around you, to want to talk to you or listen to you, a person who wont tell you "we can go out, but i have only an hour" and then leave after 20 minutes because it turns out in that hour was included their ride back home.

i keep thinking, one day ill find someone, one day i wont be lonely anymore and then ill let it all out of my system. but i know its silly, because by the time ill find someone, ill forget how to really be a person, how to have a conversation. i talk to myself a lot, in my head, but its not enough, it doesnt really feel like anything. i write a diary, i write short stories, i write posts on this stupid blog, but nothing feels like talking to another person, and its awful. my memory is far worse, i stutter more and more with each passing year, im being more and more awkward in such an uncomfortable and humiliating way, that it only makes my brain scream at me to shut up forever. i know why my family doesnt want to talk to me, im more unpleasant than ive ever been. i know its unfair to be blaming them for not wanting me around; they stopped asking about anything, recently, because i cant stop crying whenever they start the topic of job search. i cry too much these days. i had to stop showing up to my favorite grocery store, because theyve seen me too many times all wet-eyed. and i cant help it anymore! i know im still human, i know im not a victim, i know my suffering isnt greater than anyone else's. but something has changed and i cant imagine getting better, anymore. or at least going back to who i used to be. theres no hope anymore! and if theres no hope for me anymore, what do i do? "just surviving" isnt neutral, its horrible, its painful, its a nightmare. i dont want my life to look like this. i dont know what to do anymore. and ive said it a thousand times, i know, but its the only thing i have floating around in my useless empty head. i miss hope. i miss believing that i could still be happy, one day. and i know that was stupid, too, i can see it now, but at least it was something to hold onto.

i miss being around people. i miss it so much. i miss talking to people so horribly. i miss laughing and i miss being held. i dont need all this cortisol. i dont want to forget what it feels like to not be alone. but the more i want it, the more out of reach everything feels, the more unrealistic even the simplest things seem. i might as well be dreaming of living in alternate universe fanfiction.