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waitimcomingtoo · 4 years ago

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Champagne Problems

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Synopsis: you play Tom a new song you wrote, and he overthinks the lyrics

Masterlist

On a morning where he was supposed to be memorizing his latest script, Tom got distracted by the sound of you playing your piano somewhere in the house. He followed the soft melody into your studio, where he found you singly softly as you sat with your keyboard.

“You won’t remember all my champagne problems.” You hummed along to the notes you were playing.

“That sounds beautiful, darling.” Tom smiled as he came behind you to rub your shoulders. “Is that new?”

“Yeah.” You nodded as you put your hand over his. “I’m not sure about it though. The lyrics are still a little iffy.”

“Play it for me.” Tom kissed your neck before taking a seat. “I’ll tell you my thoughts.”

“You won’t be any help.” You chuckled. “You’ll just tell me it’s the greatest song ever written like you always do.”

“I can’t help it.” He pouted. “You’re just so talented.”

“It helps to have the loveliest muse in the world.” You cooed, bringing a smile out of Tom.

“Play me the song.” Tom asked. “I’ll be totally honest. I promise.”

“Okay.” You agreed and pulled the keyboard onto your lap. As soon as you started to play the intro, Tom was enchanted.

“You booked the night train for a reason, so you could sit there in this hurt. Bustling crowds or silent sleepers, you’re not sure which is worse.” You began. You looked up at Tom for approval and he gave you a cheerful thumbs up.

“Because I dropped your hand while dancing. Left you out there standing crestfallen on the landing. Champagne problems.” You sang softly. “Your mom's ring in your pocket. My picture in your wallet. Your heart was glass, I dropped it. Champagne problems.”

You stopped playing and looked at Tom to see what he thought. He happily applauded you, making you roll your eyes playfully.

“It’s amazing.” Tom grinned. “It’s the best song ever written.”

You gave him a skeptically look over your piano and he laughed.

“I’m serious.” He insisted. “Is there more?”

“Yeah. I have more.” You nodded and positioned your fingers on the keys. “Here’s the second verse.”

“You told your family for a reason, you couldn't keep it in. Your sister splashed out on the bottle, now no one's celebrating.” You continued. “Dom Pérignon, you brought it. No crowd of friends applauded. Your hometown skeptics called it champagne problems. You had a speech, you're speechless. Love slipped beyond your reaches. And I couldn't give a reason. Champagne problems.”

Tom furrowed his eyebrows as he slowly connected the lyrics together. Between the mention of the ring and the lack of celebration, Tom realized the song was about turning down a proposal. He knew you had never been proposed to before, so he wasn’t sure where the inspiration for the song came from. In the back of his mind, he began to panic. Especially since up in his room, carefully hidden in his sock drawer, was a ring. A diamond ring that he had bought specifically for the reason of asking you to marry him.

“What do you think?” You asked, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Um, it’s really good.” He said slowly. “Interesting topic.”

“Yeah. I wanted to do something I’d never done before.” You smiled proudly and your fingered the keys.

“Interesting, interesting.” Tom nodded in fear. “Is there more?”

“Yeah. I’m really proud of this next part.” You grinned. “Listen closely.”

Tom gulped as you began to sing the bridge, something he knew you were skilled at writing.

“Your Midas touch on the Chevy door. November flush and your flannel cure. "This dorm was once a madhouse". I made a joke, "Well, it's made for me". How evergreen, our group of friends. Don't think we'll say that word again.” You shook your head as you sang. “And soon they'll have the nerve to deck the halls that we once walked through.”

Tom really began to panic at this point. He knew it couldn’t be a coincidence that you decided to write a song about turning down a proposal a few weeks after he bought a ring. He had one more week to go until he was going to propose, and he assumed you figured that out. Since you were as kindhearted and non confrontational as you were, there was no way you’d turn down Tom if he got down on one knee. You must have written the song as a way to tell him you didn’t want to marry him before he embarrassed himself by proposing.

“One for the money, two for the show. I never was ready, so I watch you go.” You looked into his eyes as you sang. “Sometimes you just don't know the answer ‘til someone's on their knees and asks you.”

“Oh God.” Tom gulped.

"She would've made such a lovely bride, what a shame she's fucked in her head, " they said. But you'll find the real thing instead.” You sang to him as he stared at you with wide eyes. “She'll patch up your tapestry that I shred. And hold your hand while dancing. Never leave you standing crestfallen on the landing with champagne problems.”

“Hm.” He squeaked.

“Your mom's ring in your pocket. Her picture in your wallet. You won't remember all my Champagne problems. You won't remember all my Champagne problems.” You played the last few notes before looking at him.

“So.” You smiled. “What do you think?”

Tom opened his mouth to say something, but found his mind blank. You were testing him, and he wasn’t sure how to respond.

“Um, it’s interesting.” He said softly.

“Interesting? Do you not like it?” Your face fell.

“Um, it’s not that.” His expression was just as sad. He appreciated that you wanted to let him down easy, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

“Tom.” You noticed his solemn expression. “What’s the matter? Is it bad?”

“Do you...did you...”

“Did I what?” You asked when he trailed off.

“Did you find the ring?” He asked suddenly, making your head jut back.

“The...the what?” You laughed in confusion.

“You found the ring and wrote that song, didn’t you?” He asked sadly. “You wrote it and sang it to me because you didn’t know how to tell me you didn’t want to marry me.”

“Tom, what are you talking about?” You wondered as you stood up and walked over to him. “What ring?”

“The ring you found in my sock drawer.” He said like it was obvious. You stared at him for a long time, trying to understand what he was talking about.

“I didn’t find a ring in your sock drawer.” You told him. Tom’s face pulled back in shock as he realized he had jumped to an incorrect conclusion.

“Hm.” He nodded. “It appears I made an inaccurate assumption based on the information that I was given.”

“You weren’t given any information.” You said as you looked at him skeptically. “What’s going on?”

“I...I thought the song was your way of telling me no.” He sheepishly admitted.

“What?” You laughed, still thinking he was joking. “Why?”

“I don’t know. I thought you were sending me a subliminal message!” He exclaimed.

“I wasn’t! It’s just a song!” You shouted back. “And wait a minute, you have a ring in your sock drawer?”

“Yes, and?” He stood his ground.

“Yes, and?” You repeated in shock. “Did you seriously just say yes, and? Like we’re in the middle of an improv game?”

“It’s just a ring.” Tom shrugged it off to save himself from embarrassment. “What about it?”

“What about it?” You laughed in shock. “What kind of ring is it?”

Tom quieted down suddenly, at a loss for words in the middle of your screaming match. He realized he didn’t know how to answer your question, but he couldn’t leave you hanging, so he told you the best thing he could come up with.

“The finger kind.” He said quietly, making you let out a loud groan.

“I know it’s the finger kind.” You shouted. “But what’s it for?”

“Your finger?” Tom shrugged, making you hunch over to keep your composure. He knew he was dropping the ball so he quickly tried to redeem himself.

“I don’t understand the quest-“

“Were you going to propose to me?” You cut him off as you popped back up. All the other thoughts in Toms head went out the window as he remembered the original point of the conversation.

“Yes.” He said after a minute. “I was.”

“Tom.” You whispered through a smile. He smiled back, relishing in the happiness him proposing brought you.

“Hang on a minute.” He said before running out of the room. He returned soon with a velvet black box in his hand. You covered your mouth with your hands at the sight of the box, knowing exactly what it contained.

“I was gonna wait until our anniversary next week, but I guess the secrets kinda out.” He chuckled shyly as he walked up to you. You wiped a few tears away as you put your hands over his, rubbing his hand softly with your thumb.

“This wasn’t how I planned to ask you. I had a whole speech planned.” He said apologetically. “But I was never very good at keeping secrets. Seriously, there are like hours of content online just of me spoiling-“

“Yes.” You cut him off between sniffles.

“Yes?” He asked.

“Yes.” You repeated through a smile. “I will marry you.”

“You will?” His face lit up as his shaking hands struggled to open the box.

“I will.” You nodded repeatedly. Tom let out a shocked laugh as tears of joy streamed down his face. He finally got the box open and put the ring on your finger with trembling hands. You looked at it in admiration before pulling him into a long kiss. He instantly kissed you back, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist to keep you as close as possible. When you finally pulled away, you were both a mess of snot and tears.

“I got boogers on your face.” He grimaced as he wiped your face with the bottom of his shirt.

“It’s okay.” You chuckled. “I’ll be mad about it tomorrow, but I’m too happy right now. I’m so, so happy.”

“I am too.” He sniffled. “How should we celebrate?”

“I have an idea.” You smirked. “Champagne?”

Tag List 🏷

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#tom holland x reader #tom holland x famous!reader #tom holland x singer!reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x yn #tom holland fluff #tom holland blurb #tom holland fanfiction

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just-another-blog-of-fluff · 3 years ago

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Bloopers

Word count: 2150

Warnings: tickling, fluff

Ok, this one is a little different than the others I've written; it's about the actual cast (specifically our fav British actor Mr. Hiddleston 😉)

* * *

“And… cut! Alright, let’s move on to the next battle scene then.”

The voice of the director echoing through the set snapped you out of your thoughts. You stood up and stretched a little, preparing to film the first scene of the day that you’d be part of. Script in hand, you joined the other cast members on the set for the scene briefing.

It still felt surreal that you had actually gotten to this point. You had signed up for an audition the moment you’d heard this role was open, figuring you could at least get some exposure by trying out for a big-name movie like a Marvel movie. As an up-and-coming actress, you needed all the exposure you could get. Never in a million years did you think you’d actually land a part in the movie, let alone the role of a supporting character.

You were trying desperately to get over being star-struck by the actors and actresses you were working with. They were all surprisingly down-to-earth, nothing like you’d expected from such famous stars as these. The moment you’d arrived on set, they had welcomed you with open arms as they had all the cast members, no matter how small their role was. They’d been trying to get you to relax a little, to see them as friends and coworkers rather than A-list celebrities. And you were trying – really trying – but you were still pretty shy and reserved off-set.

“Ready for your first shoot of the day?” Chris Hemsworth asked as you approached the crowd of cast members standing in the middle of the set.

“Uh… yeah, I think so!” you replied uncertainly. You glanced down at the script in your hands. This particular scene didn’t have many lines, as it was mostly an action scene, but those were the scenes you tended to struggle with. You had gotten good at getting into character when you had to have conversations, but you really had to think hard about how your character would move in battle.

“Come on, you have to say it like you mean it!” he chided, grasping your shoulders in emphasis. “Try again – are you ready?”

“Yes sir!” you shouted. He laughed heartily, releasing you with a final pat on the shoulder.

“Alright, it may be a battle scene, but you aren’t a soldier. We’ll work on it.” The flowing crimson cape of his costume swished along the floor as he turned to find his place in the circle of cast members. You followed suit, slipping into an opening right beside Tom Hiddleston. He glanced at you with a warm smile, which you returned timidly.

“He can be a bit overenthusiastic sometimes, can’t he?” Tom whispered. You nodded, looking across to where Chris was now casually twirling his hammer by the strap on one finger. “He is right, though. I’m certain you’ll do just fine. Give yourself a little credit.”

“Thanks,” you said appreciatively. You turned to face the director as he reviewed the upcoming scene.

It was a pretty standard fight scene by Marvel standards. Your character was battling alongside Thor and Loki as the villain attempted to slip past your defenses to gain access to Odin’s vault of magic artifacts. Magic, explosions, weapon-swinging… the whole works. There were a complex number of camera angles included in the scene, which meant a lot of stopping and restarting of filming to change position.

Physically, this type of scene was exhausting. It required a lot of ducking, jumping, and running, not to mention a LOT of falling. It wasn’t uncommon for you to go home with a few scrapes and bruises after this type of active scene. Like Chris and Tom, you insisted on doing your own stunt work. It wasn’t like you were jumping from buildings or anything like that; you knew you could handle this yourself.

“Ok, next clip!” the director called out, prompting you to prepare for the most difficult part of the scene. In this part, your character is standing a bit too close to an explosion and is thrown backward into Loki, who catches you before you fall backward onto the ground. You stood still as the stunt crew hooked you up to the wire that would yank you backward.

“Nervous?” Tom asked, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“A little, maybe. Is it fun, being dragged around on the wire?” you inquired.

“It’s a bit like riding a roller coaster. Except… you’re not in a cart, and you may crash into things.”

“Hmm. Comforting.” He patted your shoulder firmly a couple of times before walking past you to get into position for the shot.

“Alright, y/n, we’re not going to count down for you – we need a genuine element of surprise in this scene. Got it?”

“Understood,” you confirmed. Your heart was racing with adrenaline, anticipating the moment you would feel the rope tug you backward. Not to mention, Tom was going to be the one to catch you. Your heart fluttered a bit more at that thought.

It felt like minutes went by, although it was probably only seconds. Suddenly you felt the harness under your costume tighten around your waist as the wire finally pulled you backward. True to character, your arms flailed out as your heels slid backward across the floor for a millisecond before Tom caught you, sliding his hands under your outstretched arms to hold you up.

The sudden gentle pressure of his fingertips under your arms tickled like hell. Your knees buckled a little and you yelped in surprise. Tom lowered you to the ground, giving you a moment to rest after your first take.

“The fall was perfect, y/n, but try not to bend your knees like that when Tom catches you. Remember, you’re supposed to be a fierce warrior; your character would jump right back up to their feet,” the director called from off set. You avoided Tom’s gaze as he helped you to regain your footing.

“Did I hurt you? You shouted when I caught you,” he asked, concern weighing in his tone.

“No! Nope, I’m fine, sorry. Just got nervous. First take and all, you know?” you responded quickly, trying to hide your blush.

“Understandable. I recall the first time I was pulled down to the floor by a wire during the infamous ‘Hulk smash’ scene…” he chuckled. “I’m just glad I didn’t hurt you.”

You set up for a second take, this time heart pounding for different reasons. How embarrassing would it be if Tom found out what really happened there? You needed to focus more this time.

This time, when the wire grew taught, you were at least prepared for the swooping sensation in your stomach as you slid backward. Once again, Tom caught you right on cue, his hands lifting your upper body up from under your arms. It still caught you off guard how much it tickled. You let a giggle slip out and went limp in his arms again, nearly causing him to drop you to the floor.

“Cut!” The director walked closer to you and Tom so you could hear him better. “Don’t forget – don’t bend your knees. And it’s probably breaking character to be grinning like that after getting launched by an explosion.”

“I know it’s fun doing stunts and all, but you have to think like your character even during the action scenes,” Tom advised, helping you up off the floor once again.

“It’s not that! I just… never mind,” you mumbled, feeling your cheeks burning again. Tom raised his eyebrows at you in confusion.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked, ducking down to catch your gaze as you stared down at your feet.

“Promise. I’ll get it this time,” you assured.

You both set up for take three, this time determined you would get it completely right. You gritted your teeth, trying to envision the actual explosion they’d be adding with CGI later. The wire tugged, and you flew backward once again into Tom’s waiting arms. You almost maintained your composure, until he started to pull you to your feet, fingertips digging into the hollows under your arms. You shrieked, letting out a few more giggles as you stumbled forward to evade his fingers.

“Cut!” You steeled yourself and turned around to look at Tom, who was giving you a confused look. You shot him a look of apology.

“Am I missing a joke? Did Hemsworth put you up to something?” Tom asked, placing his hands on his hips, a grin tugging at his lips. Even after you ruined the take three times in a row, he only used the kindest tone with you. You couldn’t lie to him.

“No… I just… when you slide your hands under my arms to catch me, it… it sort of tickles. A lot,” you mumbled sheepishly. You risked a glance up from the floor to look at Tom, whose eyes had lit up with understanding.

“Ahh! Now it all makes sense!” he exclaimed. “Well, I do apologize; it was not my intention to tickle you. I’ll try not to this take.” He shot you a mischievous wink, not unlike his character.

“Thanks… I’ll try to keep my composure this time,” you promised.

The director shouted additional directions and reminders to you as you set up for yet another take. As you got into position, you turned your head to look at Tom standing behind you. He grinned at you, although you couldn’t tell if it was a smile of encouragement or a mischievous smirk. Maybe it was the costume…

The wire tugged you backwards once again, and the outcome was the same. Tom even tried to catch you closer to your upper arms, but the sensation was still too much for you to handle. A rapid stream of giggles bubbled from your chest as your muscles weakened once again. Tom was laughing with you this time, though, now that he knew better.

“You did that on purpose!!” you exclaimed, spinning around to face him once you’d regained your footing.

“On purpose!?” His mouth dropped open in mock offense. “You think I did that on purpose?? Come here, and I’ll show you ‘on purpose.’” You shrieked, spinning around to run away, but he grabbed hold of your wrist before you could get very far. He tugged you backwards, trapping you against him in a bear hug.

“Wait!! C-can’t we talk about this?” you begged.

“Sorry, no can do.” Before you could protest further, Tom’s fingers were digging into your ribs, eliciting a startled squeal from you. He laughed out loud at your overzealous reaction. “Mahaybe… eheh… maybe this will help you get all the giggles out, hmm?”

“No, Tom, wahahait!!” you begged, folding into yourself and twisting around to break his hold without success.

“I apologize, my dear, but this is for your own good. Can’t have you continuing to mess up these takes, now can we?” His fingers darted up and down your sides and ribs, and your knees buckled beneath you, sinking to the floor. Tom followed you down, still holding fast while he continued to skitter his fingertips over your belly.

“Stahahap!!” you pleaded, grasping feebly at his wrists as laughter poured out of you.

“Now, honestly, y/n – this is supposed to be a battle scene and you’re laughing like a schoolgirl,” he teased, wrestling to hold you still while he continued to torment you. “How are we going to get through this scene if you don’t start taking it seriously?”

“THEN STAHAHAP TICKLING MEHEHE!” you retorted, yelping as his hands spidered higher up your ribcage.

“Oh, is that what I’m doing?” Tom wrapped one arm further around your ribs so he could pull your arms up, giving him unrestricted access under your arms. He scribbled maddeningly gently at the hollows, making you explode with uncontrollable laughter.

“OK! OK! IHIHI’LL GET IT RIGHT THIS TIHIHIME!!” you shouted. Deciding you’d had enough torture, Tom finally released you from his hold. You took a moment to catch your breath before looking up at your fellow castmates, who were smirking at you, much to your dismay. You felt heat rising to your face as you picked yourself up off the floor, turning to face a grinning Tom (who was looking more and more like Loki by the second with that mischievous gleam in his eye).

“Well then! I’ve had my fun for the day,” he announced casually.

“Thahat was so mean!” you groaned. He stepped closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and squeezing you in a one-armed hug for a moment.

“You know you loved every second of it,” he teased.

“Shut up, you,” you muttered, pushing him away jokingly. The two of you got back into position to try the take again.

This time, you got it right. Because honestly, nothing could have been worse than the torment he’d just put you through. But, if you were being honest with yourself, he was right - you had loved every second of it.

#not sure how to tag this one #loki tickle #ticklish!reader #tickle fluff #tickle fic #marvel tickle #ler!Tom Hiddleston

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fuckthesworld · 4 years ago

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POLAROID [ STILES STILINSKI x ISSAC LAHEY x READER ]

Warnings: smut, pure filth and smut, threesome, fem receiving oral, anal, double penetration

“Hey Issac,” you say one day, sitting down on the couch next to him, you have a proposition for him after Stiles mentioned his reaction to seeing the pictures he takes of you.

“Oh, hey, hi,” he stutters, his cheeks red, knowing you and Stiles were just spending time in the bedroom with his present. Issac is a great gift-giver, and you and Stiles have gone through way too many Polaroid films already.

“I was just wondering, and feel free to say no, but Sti and I were wondering if you wanted to see some of the photos we took with your gift?”

Issac thinks for a moment, but only because he doesn’t want to look insanely desperate and eager if he says yes right away, and just in case this is some trick from both of you, a way of seeing if he really did enjoy the pictures from Stiles phone so Stiles can kick his ass.

“Sure, yeah, only you know, if you want to,” Issac says, trying his hardest to keep his voice level and not sound too excited.

Stiles watching the interaction from the doorway, finding it incredibly endearing that Issac has such a crush on you.

Issac leans forward on the couch, adjusting his shirt to cover his crotch. It doesn’t go unnoticed by you as you reveal the Polaroids, five of them that Stiles picked, knowing they would get Issac riled up. Issac loves your breasts, both you and Stiles know this because when all of you work out and you wear a sports bra, and only a sports bra, Issac’s eyes are transfixed on them in the mirror as you jog on the treadmill.

Issac takes the polaroids in shaky hands, eyes widening as his jeans tighten.

The first picture is a rather tame picture on most accounts. You’re on your knees with Stiles cock in your hand, staring up at him with innocent eyes.

The next is a little more out there, you’re wearing those pink nipple clamps and a ring gag.

The third is when Issac ’s heart rate really picks up and his breathing comes out in shorter pants. You’re laying on your back, rope intricately wrapped around your breasts, with two of your fingers in your mouth.

“You like that one?” You ask, smirking as you scoot closer to him and all Issac can do is nod while he licks his lips.

The fourth is of your fingers buried in your pussy, a full body shot, your breasts still wrapped in rope, your mouth wide open in a moan.

“You know, there’s something I’ve always wanted to try,” you say as he turns to the fifth and final picture.

“And what, what was that?” Issac asks, his face bright red as he struggles to keep his composure, setting the polaroids on the coffee table.

“I’ve always wanted to be fucked by two guys at once precisely a brunette and blondie” you thrum your fingers against your thigh, waiting for Issac’s response.

“And Stiles is uh-,”

“I want to make my girl happy,” Stiles says, making Issac nearly jump into the air. Stiles makes his way out of the door, around the back of the couch to sit by your side, slinging an arm around your shoulder.

“Sti and I have talked about this a bunch, and we would love for you to join us,” you practically pur, moving your hand to rest of Issac’s thigh. The warmth from your hand spreads all the way to his crotch and he nods, gulping as he tries to find the most appropriate way to say he’s wanted to fuck you since you and Stiles got together, probably before.

“Now?” His voice cracks and he wrings his hands before running them through his hair, finally, finally meeting your eyes with his grayish blue ones.

“If you want,” you say, your hand running farther up his thigh.

“Can I touch you?” Issac asks, eyes flicking between your own and Stiles.

“Please,” you whisper. And your permission was all Issac needed, his hands are on you in an instant, pulling you into his lap.

Yours find his hair as he kisses you, it’s hungrier than Stiles normally kisses you. All of the nerves he previously showed gone now.

Stiles watches, getting hard as you start to grind down against Issac , his hands gripping your ass.

Your tongue is eagerly exploring his mouth, the first new territory since you and Sti got together what felt like ages ago.

You can tell Stiles is jealous because he hardly gives Issac any time with you by himself before he’s standing behind you, brushing your hair away from your neck and kissing along it, marking you as much as he can. You’re positively soaked through your leggings and you can’t wait much longer.

Ever since you and Stiles talked about inviting Issac to join you a week ago, Stiles would constantly talk about him while fucking you.

“How’d you feel with both of us stuffing you full?”

“So filthy, can’t get enough of my cock now you want a second? Want Issac and I to fill you up?”

“Want Issac to eat your pretty pussy until you come over and over again?”

“Boys, I, ah, as much as I’m enjoying myself, can we take this someplace a little more comfortable?” You ask as you brush your lips along Issac ’s jaw.

“Course princess, whatever you want,” Stiles says, stepping back to give you a chance to stand up.

Issac however takes you both by surprise by picking you up, following Stiles into your room as you kiss and suck along his skin.

“Fuck, you’ve got a mouth on ya babe,” Issac grunts as he sets you down on the bed.

Stiles kneels down in front of you, kissing your hand gently as you watch Issac strip.

You’re both eager but Stiles wants to take his time, make sure you’re on board with everything and completely comfortable.

“Baby girl, I asked how you want us,” Stiles says, pushing your thighs apart and helping you pull off your leggings, your underwear going right with it.

“I want, fuck,” you groan as Issac finally takes his boxers off and you get your eyes on what you’ve been thinking about for a while. His cock is hard and he wraps a fist around it, slowly jerking himself off. You realize that he’s staring at your pussy, now bare and wet for him to see as Stiles tries to keep your attention.

He lightly smacks your thigh, sending a painful shiver down your spine so you focus on him.

“Need to answer me before we can do anything.”

“I want Issac to fuck me, want you to fuck my ass, please,” you beg, the plug inside of you shining and catching Issac ’s eye as you start to buck your hips up off the bed.

“Why don’t you let Issac eat that pretty pussy? Make you feel good while I get some stuff ready?” Stiles asks, standing up and gripping the bottom of your shirt, pulling it over your head.

“I’ll be right back, going to get a few things together,” Stiles says, kissing you sweetly before turning to Issac , “don’t let her come, got it?”

You whine low in your throat as you lay back on the bed, your feet dangling off the side.

“Why not?” Issac asks, slightly confused by the question as Stiles just laughs.

“Because, her orgasms are so much better when she’s being fucked, and especially after getting edged a few times.”

Issac nods understandingly before Stiles leaves the room.

“Now, what was this about eating your pussy?” Issac smirks, kneeling down on the bed in front of you and gripping your thighs.

“Please, wanna, wanna know how you use that tongue Issac,” you beg, hips bucking up as he pulls you flush with his face.

Issac only groans his response, his eyes watching your breasts as he laps through your folds, kissing your clit sweetly before fucking into you with his tongue.

You let out a groan when his hand easily finds the plug in your ass, gently pulling it in and out, making your thighs tighten around his head.

“Fuck, issac, god,” you struggle for words as he continues to eat you out, his lips finding your clit again and sucking on it as he works you open with two fingers, his other hand constantly teasing the plug inside of you.

You’re close, much too close and you consider not saying anything, he could let you come and Stiles would be none the wiser. But even though he’s only touched you for not very long, Issac can tell by your body’s reaction to his movement that you’re close. He lets up on your clit, opting to kiss along your thighs and stomach instead, letting you come back down from your edge before teasing you again.

“Do you wear this plug often?” Issac wonders as his fingers rub against your g-spot.

You’re gasping when his tongue laps at your clit again, a third finger fitting snugly against the other two.

“She wears it when she wants to be a slut, feel full while we’re out in public or at pack meetings, likes to sit on my lap and feel it inside of her, knowing only the two of us know about it,” Stiles says as he reenters the room with water and a granola bar for after. He sets them down on the bedside table and grabs the lube, sitting on the bed next to you.

“How’d you want us?” Stiles asks as Issac stands up.

“Mhm, wanna feel you Sti, please,” you whine as Stiles sits back against the headboard.

”Then that’s what you’ll get, all fours for a moment, let me work on that perfect tight ass of yours.

Issac groans as you eagerly maneuver yourself on all fours so Stiles can slowly pull the plug out and work his fingers into you.

He uses a generous amount of lube as he fucks you open with his fingers. Issac kneels on the bed and kisses you through it, his hands groping and playing with your breasts and nipples as you moan into the kiss. Once you start to fuck yourself back onto Stiles fingers, he knows you’re ready for more.

“Want to lean back, sit on my cock, baby girl?” Stiles asks, lightly spanking you as you moan.

“Please,” you whine as Stiles pulls his fingers out of you and suddenly you feel all too empty so you hurry backward, Stiles arm wrapping around your middle as he positions himself at your entrance, the head of his cock pushing past the rim with a slight burn. Issac’s concerned for a moment, moving to cup your cheeks and kiss you softly, asking if you’re alright.

“All good, man, she likes the pain,” Stiles winks at Issac as you whimper, slowly lowering yourself fully on Tom’s cock.

Issac groans when he sees how your pussy is already dripping.

“Going to get you nice and ready for my cock, alright baby girl?” Issac says, his thumb finding your clit.

“Oh god, Issac, fuck me, please,” you beg as he begins to slide a finger into you.

You let Stiles and Issac work you over, Stiles lips on your neck, Issac’s suckling on the skin of your breasts as he opens you up.

They both know you’re close when you clench around three of Issac’s fingers and Stiles swears as you get even tighter around him.

“Please let me come, need it so bad,” you whine, starting to grind back and forth against Stiles cock and Issac’s fingers.

“You going to be a good girl for us? Let us fuck you nice and good?” Stiles asks, your legs shaking on either side of his as you grope for Issac’s neck, desperately needing to kiss him again.

You grip the back of his hair as you speak, Issac’s eyes darting from your wide ones to the way you keep licking your lips, “promise I’ll be so good for you.”

Issac continues to fuck his fingers into you, gliding them right up against your g-spot while you bite back a moan, trying not to come without permission.

“Why don’t you come all over Issac’s fingers? Show him all the pretty sounds you make when you come?” Stiles says, hands gripping your hips as he starts to fuck up into you.

Issac ! Fuck, fucking fuck, fuck,” you cry out as you come, feeling all too empty the moment he pulls his fingers out of you.

“Who knew you were such a sailor mouth?” Issac chuckles as he uses his fingers to cover his cock in your wetness.

“Mhm, as if you don’t love it,” you tease, feeling Stiles bite into your shoulder.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Issac groans, taking a little bit to find the right position to fuck into you, but once he does, you’re so full you feel tears in your eyes, way more than Stiles and a plug could fill you.

Issac ” you sigh, his lips meeting yours, like he couldn’t get enough of them, like this is the last time he would get the chance to kiss you.

You’re so caught up in the push and pull between Stiles and Issac , how each time Stiles would bounce you on his lap, Issac would pull out slightly, only to fuck you even harder when Stiles pulled out slightly, that you almost completely miss your next orgasm. Issac’s thumb finds your clit as Stiles hand tightens around your waist as he whispers in your ear, “come for us, princess.”

You scream both Stiles and Issac’s names as you come again, Stiles cock throbbing inside of you as Issac continues to fuck you. You’re getting completely overstimulated from the marks all over your neck and chest to your pussy, throbbing as you try to come down from your high as Issac makes you come once again.

“Fuck, you feel so good when you come, baby girl, so tight around me,” Issac praises you as his thumb leaves your clit for a moment, giving you a small break while Stiles gets close, whispering absolute filth in your ear.

“Sound so fucking pretty moaning like a slut for us, can’t get enough huh? Want to come again? Come while I fill you up, princess?” Stiles asks as you begin to fuck yourself down onto him again and Issac starts playing with your clit again.

“Please Sti, please come in me,” you whine and although usually you’re the one taking orders from Stiles in the bedroom, Stiles comes when you tell him to, his hands leaving a bruising grip on your hips.

You can feel him leaking out of you around his cock as Issac gets close, lips firmly attached onto one of your nipples as he rubs your clit.

“ Issac fill me up, need you,” you beg, your voice barely a whisper as you come, his thumb finally letting up on your clit to come inside of you.

When Issac finally pulls out of you, watching his come dripping down your thighs, he’s mesmerized, this thumb rubbing your clit, sending more jolts of pleasure through your body.

“ Issac,” you whine, legs shaking as he pulls yet another orgasm from your body, Tom’s hands steady on your hips.

“How was that?” Stiles asks as Issac’s fingers trail down your trembling thighs, gathering his come on his fingers.

You groan low in your throat as he holds his fingers up and you look at the white substance dripping down them. You’re overcome with the urge to suck on his fingers, so that’s exactly what you do. Both Stiles and Issac watch with wide eyes as you grab Issac’s wrist and pull his fingers toward your face.

“Fuck, y/n,” Issac grunts as you begin to suck on his fingers, your tongue trailing along the skin, continuing to suck on them even after you got them clean.

“Filthy little thing huh,” Stiles teases and you swear he’s already getting hard again as you grind against him.

You finally release Issac’s fingers with a pop, lips wet and panting as you let go of his hand.

The room is silent as Issac continues to swipe through your folds, down your thighs, picking up a mix of his come and your orgasm as he goes.

By the time you’ve finally cleaned his fingers off completely and there wasn’t much of a mess between your thighs, Issac sits back, just staring at the way your pussy clenched around nothing.

“Hey man ?” Stiles says, patting your hip.

“Huh?” Issac asks, getting pulled out of whatever hypnotic state he seemed to find himself in.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

MASTERLIST

#stiles stilinski smut #issac lahey smut #stiles stilinksi x reader #issac lahey #stiles stilinksi imagine #issac lahey imagine #dylan o'brien smut #dylan o'brian imagine #dylan obrien imagine #daniel sharman #teen wolf smut #teen wolf imagine #dylan obrien #stiles stilinski #void stiles smut #void stiles #mieczyslaw stilinski #issac lahey x reader

2K notes · View notes

jaceyneedsabetterusername · 4 years ago

Text

Lavender Lace

Pairings: Tom Holland x Femdom!Reader

Summary: Edging Tom (no plot whatsoever which is super rare here cause I’m a slut for plot)

Warnings: Edging (male receiving), unprotected sex (because it’s a fic and there is no pregnancy or STD’s unless I say lol), Dom!Reader-Sub!Tom, Creampie, Cockwarming, Reader doesn’t cum (sorry)

Word Count: 1860

A/N: I wrote most of this on my phone so I’m sorry if there are any words that autocorrect changed. I looked through and changed the ones I saw but just in case I missed any, my apologies!

Part 2 out now!

______________________

Tom lied on the bed, hands tied up above his head to the bed frame. His beautiful body was on full display against the sheets, small freckles adorning his taut skin. A glistening layer of sweat made every dip and rise of his body shine deliciously, his defined muscles exaggerated by the light shining off it. His chest heaved up and down as he attempted to calm himself down yet again and his biceps flexed as he pulled against his restraints. “Fuck! Please, please please…” His voice was broken and desperate- but not quite desperate enough.

“Awe, Tommy. You’re doing so well,” you cooed, rubbing your hand lovingly across his firm thigh, “But I think you can go a little longer.“

Tom groaned in frustration, his cock already painfully hard and leaking precum. He hissed and bucked up into your hand when your hand went back down to pump his impressive length. Your hand glided up and down, adding a twist at the top around the tip. “Please-”

You stopped your movement but kept your hand still on his member, shaking your head, “No cumming until I say.” You chided, voice gentle in stark contrast to the torture you’d been putting him through for the last hour. Tom’s hips bucked upwards again, desperate for release, making you chuckle, “Look at you. So handsome. So desperate.” After a few moments, his breathing calmed down and your fingers circled feather light across his pelvis and down over his thighs, “Let’s get you a little more desperate.”

Tom shook his head, “I need to cum. Please, please let me!”

You almost felt bad for your boyfriend. He looked almost in pain and you really did want to please him more than anything but you also knew that he loved this torture. If he really wanted you to stop, he only had to say the safe word. That weird simple little word had yet to leave his lips, which meant the fun could go on, guilt free.

Your middle finger circled his tip, so agonizingly light that he couldn’t tell if you were there or his brain was just creating sensations to cope with the torture. “Just a few more, love. Think of how good it will feel when you finally get to cum.” With that, you licked a long, slow stripe up the underside of his length before taking only his tip into your mouth and swirling your tongue, lapping up the abundant pre-cum that had been practically pouring out at this point.

Tom pulled at his hand restraints aggressively, “Agh!” He almost screamed out as you brought him to the edge yet again with only small kitten licks to his tip while you stroked his shift with your hand. Tom was so painfully close, it only took mere seconds before he was crying out again.

“I’m gonna cum!” He warned and you took your hand off completely, causing him to cry out. You crawled up his body, kissing a line up along the way. You made sure that his cock rubbed through the valley of your breasts, concealed by a lacey lavender push up bra that did wonders for your chest. When you made your way to his lips, you straddled his waist, just above where he needed you most, and kissed his lips.

“What number was that?” You whispered lightly into his ear.

His eyes opened to find yours only mere inches away and he could have cried. You looked beautiful. Sultry, sexy, confident. Tom, on the other hand, appeared to be a few seconds from tears. His big beautiful chocolate eyes were practically black, pupils blown so wide they nearly overwhelmed his entire irises. His brown curls stuck to his forehead from where he’d attempted to desperately bury his head in the pillows. “Nine.” Tom managed barely, only able to focus on the intense pressure between his legs.

You kissed him again, lifting yourself off him just enough to move the thin fabric of your thong aside before sitting back down, his length sliding between your slick folds as you rocked your hips.

“Fuck!” He hissed out, eyes screwed shut. He had already been so close that this alone almost sent him over the edge.

Your nails scratched lightly over his chest as your ground on him. You moaned a little when his head bumped your clit as he passed through your folds, so close to finally being inside you. “You’ve been such a good boy, Tommy. Where do you want to cum?” You asked, reaching over his head to untie the scarf you’d had him bound by. Immediately, his hands were on your hips.

He timidly asked, “Inside you?” Even after all these years together and the fact you were on birth control, it was still a request he felt weird making.

You smiled against his skin as you licked up his neck, still moving your hips against him, “You can cum inside me when I hit ten, understand?”

“I don’t think I’ll make it. I’m already s-so close.” Tom stuttered when he felt the tip of his cock finally slide into your warmth.

You squeezed your walls around him, just to torture him a little more, “You’re gonna have to, love. If you cum before I say, I’m gonna have to stop and ruin it.”

A genuine look of fear ran through Tom’s eyes and you knew he’d behave for you. He wanted this - nay, needed this - so badly. You began to bounce on his length, his cock rubbing against every wonderful spot inside you. Your hands came to your breasts, palming them through the thick fabric of your bra. “One.”

Tom’s hands struggled to stay on your hips, knowing you might edge him longer if he stepped out of line, “Let me touch you.” He begged and you only nodded, reaching for his hands and placing them on your breasts. He pulled the fabric down and raked his nails gently over your nipples, making you breathe out in pleasure.

“Two,” You moaned out, “Three.” You kept bouncing and you could feel him twitch inside you. “Four. Five.”

“I’m not gonna make it. I’m so close.” Tom was almost crying, legs struggling to stay still as he used every ounce of willpower to not let go here and no. He was so close, all it would take was a millisecond of losing concentration to snap.

You slowed down and just sat on him yet again, not moving but clenching your walls around his aching member and he audibly whined, “You’re gonna make it or I’m gonna get off and leave you writhing on the bed. Then you can watch while I finish myself off. That what you want?”

He shook his head aggressively, his hands moving back down to your hips to keep you in place, “No, no, no! I’ll make it to ten!” You noted the movement of his hands and maybe if he hadn’t been so well behaved all this time, you would have punished him a little more for trying to take control but you could see in his eyes how painfully desperate he was, how hard he was trying to be good. You wouldn’t punish him for it - this time.

“Good.” You began to swivel your hips, just like you knew he loved it and he threw his head back into the pillows, eyes shut tight as he struggled to keep his composure. “Six. Seven.” You reached down and ran your thumb gently across his cheek where an actual tear slid down, still moving on his cock, still drawing this out, “Eyes open, love.” Tom struggled to comply, knowing that one of the only things keeping him from busting right this second was trying to take his mind anywhere but this situation. Seeing you looking so damn sexy bouncing on his cock was sure to send him over. But he managed to pry his lids open and lock eyes with your blown out orbs. You bit your lip and smiled, “You’re doing such a good job. Eight.”

“Shit!” A broken moan tumbled from his lips as he flexed every muscle in his body to keep it at bay. He was gonna snap and there was nothing he could do about it, especially at this painfully slow pace you’d been counting at.

“Nine.”

Tom’s heart raced as he waited for that last number, that last bit of permission before you would let him finally release. He didn’t think he’d ever been this painfully hard and it made him look back at every other time he ever thought he had blue balls and smack his past self. He had no idea what it was like to be this achingly close. “Please, please-”

“Ten. Cum for me baby.” You finally allowed, raking your fingers down his body, making sure to graze over his nipples.

The orgasm hit him like a semi, crashing into across his body hard and fast the very moment you permitted it. “Agh! Fucking hell!”! He was nearly sobbing, his hands squeezing tightly into your hips and bouncing you up and down at just the right pace. Again, something you let slide. He had just been so good for you, he deserved it. His seed shot deep into you, warm and overflowing and waves of pleasure just kept coming. Tom didn’t think he’d ever cum this hard or long in his life, himself surprised when more and more hot ribbons seemed to just. Keep. coming.

Finally, he slowed down, arms slackening weakly against your thighs as he came down from his high. He was still sheathed inside you, his seed leaking out around his cock, down his cock and along your inner thighs. You had never been so full and you didn’t want it to end. You leaned forward, coming to lay on his chest, head in the crook of his neck. When you moved, your walls instinctively fluttered around his sensitive cock and Tom hissed, his grip suddenly tightening on you as the stimulation became too much.

Once you had positioned yourself comfortably on his chest, he wrapped an arm around your body, rubbing large stripes up and down your side. You twirled his hair in your fingers and listened to his wrecked breathing with a bit of pride knowing you made him feel this good. “You did so good for me, Tommy.”

He sighed heavily, “Thank you.” You giggled a little, knowing his brain was still moving a little slow. He wasn’t thanking you for the compliment- he was thanking you for finally letting him cum.

“Wasn’t too much?” You asked, hoping you didn’t go overboard. Logically, you knew he’d use the safe word if it was too much but you just wanted to be sure you hadn’t gotten a little too lost in the power.

Tom shook his head with a chuckle, pulling you closer into his body, hissing yet again when your heat shifted around his overstimulated softening length. “Just right. Any more and I might have died, though.”

You both laughed at his joke before you cooed in his ear, “Oh, love, you can take it. We’ll just have to break your record next time.”

556 notes · View notes

hoodieofholland · 4 years ago

Text

Handsome Man // Professor!Tom

Summary: you think your professor is a really good-looking man and let it slip out of your mouth.

Word count: ~2.9k

Warnings: none, except for some swearing.

A/n: I really liked writing the prof!tom universe and made it longer now (thanks anon that motivated me to write more about it). taking a moment to add that i always get this feeling that first encounter between reader and professor tom would be like fluffy as hell, he'd be so polite and that fucking accent of him ugghhh. Perfect. Anyways, enjoy!

Masterlist

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

"Good morning, everyone!"

You raise your head abruptly, snapped out of your thoughts. Which, by the way, were all directed to the man who was walking down to his desk with a sweet yet confident smile on his face.

"You all are looking so excited with Monday" he says playfully and the class laughs. "Hope I'm worth your tired time here this morning".

You straighten your back, picking pen and book from your backpack as Professor Holland organizes his materials on the wood desk.

You weren't a square at classes or anything like that. But surely you were never late for English classes, neither badly dressed up. You always made sure to pick your best outfit, not leaving out the professional look, all to impress your favorite professor.

Not that you were silly enough to believe something would come out from that strictly professional relationship, but it was inevitable for you wanting to feel pretty around him, as your imagination flew wild whenever he stepped in the classroom.

Professor Holland was really something else. He wasn't only a handsome man, with a noticeable muscular body hidden behind the much formal clothes he wore. He wasn't only the youngest professor in that department. He was intelligent, had a good sense of humor and was incredibly polite.

You could tell by the way girls always seemed to be extra interested on this class that you weren't the only one in the room to feel attracted to your professor.

You always made sure to ne early so you could take a seat in the front row, not to claim for his attention, but to be able to pain attention to the lecture and also get the opportunity to have a good look at him once in a while, mostly when he was distracted, sitting at his desk and taking notes on the classes' essays.

By the end of the lesson, he dismissed the students and you started to pack your things, barely motivated to your next classes. Now that you wouldn't have your professor's look to distract you a bit, it really felt like fucking Monday.

There were only around four students left in the room, and you, who was caring your notebook and pencil on your hands, walking directly to Professor Holland's desk clarify his small notes he took on your essay from last week.

Three girls were standing around his desk, smiling widely as he explained something that were on the board.

"But, Professor Holland..." one of the girls asked the same stupid question again, letting his name roll along her tongue, as she was savoring it. You roll your eyes, flicking your feet as you waited impatiently for your chance to have a time with him.

Professor Holland sighed and gently tried to reassure the group of girls that they could have the assistant to solve their other questions, as he was running out of time and there was another person he had to assist.

Finally, the girls gave in and passed through you, taking the time to send you a look. You just shrugged it off and walked to the Professor's desk.

"Miss. Y/l/n" he greets your, a small smile forming of his lips. Your stomach felt like flipping inside of you and you tried to keep your composure as you reached his desk. "Any questions left?"

"Actually, Professor..." you handed him the paper, a bit ashamed of he remembering it was yours and connecting the words you wrote down with your face. It was so much easier when you didn't see your professor reading your text. "I marked some of the notes you wrote and didn't understand, if you could help me".

He looked over the text, a wrinkle of concentration between his brows, and just when he lifted his gaze back to you, you felt your heart fastening.

"Of course", he gives you a tightlipped smile, grabbing a pen to point some of the corrections to you. "See, there weren't any big mistake on this, you could say I'm just a perfectionist. Actually, this was one of the best essays from the class".

Your eyes light up immediately, feeling too enthusiastic for the compliment. "Thank you, Sir. It means a lot".

Professor Holland nodded once, averting his eyes from you for a moment, his face taking on a more stern look. Then he started to explain his notes and you felt more relaxed as you notice it wasn't really that big of mistakes. You listened with full attention and commented on what you felt like could improve on your writing.

"I feel like if you take your time to rewrite it and survey some of your constructions, this text will be more than excellent" he pointed, handing you the paper again, a proud smile on his lips. Then, he chuckled a bit, playfully, "Obviously, the first score is the one that will be considered for your grade, so it's up to you. But I think it'll be a great work".

You smile happily. "Sure, I'll do it", you take the paper back again and put it inside your folder. Looking at the wall clock, you just notice it's too long past the break between classes. "Shit, I didn't realize it was past your lessons' time already. I'm sorry, I should be going-"

"It's alright, Miss. Y/l/n". He sends you a reassurance smile, putting a hand over yours for a brief moment, but that didn't make it go under your notice. "I'm always satisfied to waste a little more time on my most dedicated students, and even more glad that your questions wasn't about lessons itself", he grimaces and you could tell what he was referring too. "Not in my best behavior saying it out loud, but I was starting to think I wasn't doing a great explanation".

You laugh a bit and shake your head. "Oh, you shouldn't worry about it. I'm pretty sure you're the best professor from this department. Plus, those girls weren't seriously having a problem with the subject" you roll your eyes softly, still smiling, but not quite realising what you had just said.

Professor Holland scowls, face confused as he catches your last sentence. "What do you mean?"

You froze, eyes widening as you gulp. "I-I mean- like, you were explaining it for the fourth time already... it wasn't possible that they didn't get it. I think they were more interested on... you know?".

He narrow his eyes, quirked his brow questioning, expecting you to explain yourself. A shiver pass through your body, embarrassment running right to your blushing cheeks as you struggle to find a proper answer.

"I mean, I think they were interested on... you". You almost cough, looking for somewhere else to stare in the room, avoiding your Professor's concentrated eyes. But as silent is completely made, you have to make sure he isn't mad at your stupid comment. Averting your eyes back at him, you are surprised to be met with his brown ones filled with what seemed amusement.

He was supporting his chin on his fist, a curious look covering his soft feature, hiding a smile behind the thumb pressed against his lips.

"Why would you think that?" He asked in the same amused tone and you never felt more stupid.

You wanted to slap your forehead and hide your entire self on the closest bathroom, but Professor Holland had those glistening brown soft eyes on you, nothing but a relaxed face put in your display, his sultry voice - which you were pretty sure wouldn't sound like this on purpose - incentivanting you to continue.

You cleared your throat and collected your devilish thoughts to think straight.

"I guess most of the girls here think you're, y'know, a handsome man" you shrugged, wanting so much sound casual, as that wasn't your personal opinion.

Mr. Holland raised his eyebrows, you couldn't tell if it was surprise for your answer or for your courage on saying that out loud. Maybe both.

"Did you hear that?", he questioned, tilting his head a little to the side. "From those girls?"

He got you. You knew that. He knew you were just making assumptions, which meant that could only be your own opinion expressed on the vision you had over other students.

"No", you answered under your breath, gulping. "It's just a guess".

Silent was made and you felt terrified. You truly started to think that Mr. Holland was planning the most tough comments on your behavior, that he would try to show you how unprofessional and not ethic at all was your opinion about him, that he was your professor and you were his student, nothing beyond that. But then he crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back in his chair as his eyes concentrated on you.

He looked like someone who was pondering something, but your nervousness calmed down a little bit at the way he had his gaze over you. Though his eyes were dark, that couldn't be so bad, if he didn't have a mad expression on.

"Is it what you think?" He tried again, the corner of his mouth threatening to quirk. "Do you think I'm a handsome man?"

You close your eyes briefly, feeling past ashamed of it. "I'm sorry, it's pathetic, I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay, Miss. Y/l/n" he chuckles softly. "Don't make a big deal out of it. After all, I'm not much older than you, am I? Shouldn't be so wrong to have an opinion about my looking".

He was taking it so calmly that you couldn't believe. Maybe he was right, maybe it wasn't a big deal. Or maybe he was so used to having girls head over heels for him that it didn't get on his nerves anymore.

You sigh and decide to agree better than discuss anything and make more shame on yourself. "Anyways, I just wanted you to know that-"

"Mr. Holland?"

A voice interrupt him, and you turn your head abruptly to see another professor standing in the door frame, a case on his hand, eyes going between both of you. "Sorry for interrupting, but I'm giving my next lesson here. Is it taking too long, or...?"

"Oh, no", Mr. Holland smiled fondly and stood up, gathering his things from the desk. "Pardon me, didn't realize it was so late. Miss y/l/n, do you have any more questions left?"

You narrow your eyes at him, a bit taken aback as you knew you weren't making any questions seconds prior. He was lying, lying about the reason why the two of you were stuck in his classroom for so long. So you just nodded back and corrected your face.

"No, I'm fine, Sir. Thanks for your time" you smiled a little before turning in your heels.

The other man entered the class and started to put his things above the table, with Mr. Holland beside him. You were about to step out of the room when you hear your professor talking to you.

"Oh, and Miss. Y/l/n?" You turned your head to look at him again. He smiled. "It'd be lovely if you rewrite that essay. You can pass by my office later to show me your corrections, if you want to".

You blink, too surprised to answer right away. With a pounding heart on your chest, you nod, wishing nothing but to work on that useless essay as soon as possible.

____________

The day passes quickly, your mind too occupied with your essay. Missing some of your later classes, you saved time to stay until 6pm in the library, trying to come out with the of your writing whilst correcting the mistakes Mr. Holland pointed for you.

Certainly, that was the most dedicated you've ever been for a work.

But you couldn't resist the anxiety running through your body as you thought about walking down that aisle in the Professor Holland's office direction.

Again, you weren't expecting anything beyond him reading your text again, but the thought of seeing him alone one time was exciting itself.

You finish your work and put the paper inside a case, gathering everything together and walking straight to the aisle of English department.

It was empty and quiet, not a sight of any students neither professors around, as it was past the last lectures for the day.

Taking a few good breathes, you smooth your hand down your skirt before knocking softly on Professor Holland office's door.

"Come in!"

You turn the handle and open the door, closing it behind you. Mr. Holland looked tired, eyes heavy under his glasses. He also seemed busy, reading a book and taking his notes.

"Oh, Miss Y/l/n", he smiles warmly when his eyes lift to your face, waving a hand for you to take a seat in front of his desk. "Glad to see you. I suppose you made the corrections on your essay?"

You smile and nod, sitting down before reaching your paper in your backpack. "I added some other points I thought about when reading again", you hand him your essay and he takes it, fingers touching yours briefly, but enough to send a shiver down your spine.

"Great" he looked over the paper, reading more cautiously at some point in the middle, where the biggest changes were made. He seemed impressed with your work and you couldn't help but feel the euphoria by each time the curve of his lips seemed to form a smile.

You looked over his office. It was small, but enough for one person only. There was a shelf full of books and a pretty tiny table across the room, cups, water and what you assumed to be tea inside a bottle on top of that.

"It's really cozy here" you speak out loud, more to yourself, wandering and picturing Mr. Holland sitting beside his little table and taking his tea while reading one of the shelf's book.

He smiles, lifting his glance from the paper to your face, which was still looking around. "You like it?"

You blink a few times before answering, a bit embarrassed that he caught your vague comment. "Yeah". His face held nothing but a contemplating look. "It must feel really good to have an office all to yourself".

Mr. Holland laughs quietly. "I don't spend too much time here to appreciate that much, actually", he admits. "Most of my time in the building is spent in classrooms and I pretty much like taking my work home, so... But, yes, it's good".

"I'd like it. Y'know, having somewhere you can take a time off and even have lunch when everywhere else is so full of people". You make your point, shrugging.

Something crosses Mr. Holland's face, but he quickly make it disappear.

"Well", he says, looking at your essay again after clearing his throat. "I like it very much. Not a single mistake this time. I can say properly now that this is the best essay I received for last week's work".

You smile widely. "Thank you, Mr. Holland".

He look up at your again, a small and hesitating smile on his lips. "You can call me Tom", when you open your mouth and say anything, he continues, "If you want. Mr. Holland just makes me feel so old".

You laugh at his grimace. "Oh, you're nothing near old, no worry on that".

Tom smiles more freely, if not smugly, and you feel your cheeks darkening in pink.

"Yeah, you think I'm... a handsome man, right?" He teases you and for a moment, it's not like your formal and professional professor is the one in the room anymore. You smiles sheepishly, bitting your lips to try to contain it.

"I'm sorry for that again", you shake your head, but Tom whines.

"If you don't stop with your apologies, I'm going to give you another essay to write". He says playfully. "I'm just joking, y/n".

Hearing your first name coming out of his mouth warms your heart and you feel like exploding in excitement.

"Wouldn't be such a punishment, I think" you admit, looking to your hands.

Tom narrows his eyes, corner of his mouth raising in a smile again. "And why is that?"

You bite your lower lips, pressing your fingers in the palm of your hand nervously as you think about what you're saying next, "Well, if it meant I'd have to come here to show you, I'd gladly write one".

Tom takes your answer slowly, smile growing on his face and he chuckles softly. "Really?"

"Yeah", you nod.

Tom stares at you for the following seconds and it's just as when you glance at the clock in his desk that yiu realize you've spent too much time inside his office.

"I think I gotta go now", you say, standing up and picking your backpack and essay. It wouldn't look good a student getting out of a professor's office so late in the night.

Tom smiled sadly and got up too, watching as you made your way to the door. But before you could open it, you remembered you last talk in the classroom.

"Tom?" You tested the name on your lips, savoring the liberty he had just given to you. He looked at you, waiting. "What was it you were going to say before that professor entered the classroom?"

He took a few seconds thinking and then a trace of a small smile came to his features.

"I was just going to say that I appreciate your compliment" he licks his lips and you smile. "Also, that you should know I think you're pretty gorgeous too".

#tom holland #tom holland blurbs #professor!tom #prof!tom #professor!tom x reader #tom x reader #tom holland fic #tom holland imagines

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autumnleaves1991-blog · 4 years ago

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109 w santi? please omg i love your work 🥺

A/N: Thank you Anon! I’m really happy you love my writing! It makes me feel really damn good. Thank you for reading, reblogging, commenting, and liking.

Pairing: Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia x F! Reader

Warning: 18 + ONLY NSFW (Explicit AF, oral F! Receiving, p in v sex, rough sex, blowjob, light choking, spanking, language, mentions of groping/unwanted advances)

My Masterlist

Pull Over

Santiago was fuming. His hands clenched and unclenched around the leather of the steering wheel. His lip caught between his teeth as he gnawed on it, muttering curses under his breath. You were pissed too, running your hands up and down your jeans, looking at your boyfriend slowly lose his composure as the city lights reflected in his deep brown eyes.

“Santiago,” you start, but he cuts you off with a sharp look, and you feel yourself retreat. His foot slams on the breaks at a red light, and he looks over at you.

“What?” he tosses his hands in the air, “What the fuck could you possibly have to say to me right now?” His tone is stern, and you can feel the tension thick and suffocating in the cab of the truck, his eyes burning holes in you.

“He was fucking asking for it, Santiago!” you shout, and the light turns green, but he just sits there stewing until the car behind you starts honking. It doesn’t phase him, and he continues to stare at you—the car behind coming around and flipping you both the bird.

“I fucking know that! But did you have to break his goddamn nose?” He pinches the bridge of his nose, and you scoff.

“He groped me at the bar!”

“HE DID WHAT?!” Santiago roars, and you tremble to lean further back against the door. He slams down on the gas and whips the truck around back in the direction of the bar. “I’m going to fucking kill him!”

“Baby,” you beg, “I’m pissed too, but if you go back there and kill him, you’ll go to prison, and you are way too pretty for prison.” The joke does nothing to lessen the tension, and he speeds down the road, blowing through stop signs and one red light. “Santiago,” you whimper, and he slows down his breathing erratic. “Santi, baby, please. Let’s just go home.”

“I’ll drop you off,” he mumbles, and you let out a sharp no. “Querida, if I go home with you, I won’t be gentle. I need to go somewhere and calm the fuck down.”

“Pull over,” his foot hits the break at the next red light, and you go flying forward, bracing your hands on the dashboard.

“If I pull over, you won’t be able to walk for the next week,” his words aren’t a threat but a promise, and you feel the warmth between your thighs begin to bloom.

“Pull the fuck over, Santiago.” He looks at you and nods before pulling off the main road and heading towards the woods. He drives for another fifteen minutes till the city’s lights begin to fade, and there is nothing but the coo of birds and the leaves rustling in the trees.

The truck comes to a stop, and he gets out of the truck and stalks off into the trees, leaving you to scramble after him. He stops walking about twenty feet in and begins to pace before you hear him let out a loud curse and reach for you. You go to him instantly, and he slams your back against the nearest tree. His mouth going down to suck hard purple bruises into the flesh of your neck, you let out a whimper when you feel his teeth bite down hard, his hands kneading your ass and pushing you into his hard cock.

“Motherfucker, tried to touch my woman,” he mumbles, and you gasp as he rips the front of your dress open and feasts upon your breasts. His teeth are grazing each of your erect nipples in his mouth, tugging them into the hot warmth of his mouth. Your hands entangle in his hair, and your head hits the back of the tree, panting. “I need to fuck you, can I fuck you?” You nod, eyes closed, and he freezes. His hand is coming to your chin and dragging you to look at him. “I need verbal consent, I’m pissed, Querida, but I’m not an animal.”

“Yes, I want you to fuck me, Santiago. Erase any trace of that fucker on me, mark me up, I’m yours.” He growls and takes a handful of your panties before the fabric rips, and he tosses them over his shoulder.

“Turn around,” he orders, and you listen facing the tree. His hands come over the swell of your ass and slap it a few times, the echo loud in the quiet forest. “Spread those thighs for me, let me see how wet this sweet cunt is for me.” You feel another gush of warmth between your legs, and you let out a scream as he impales you with three fingers, filing you so full of him it only takes a moment before your cumming. He continues pumping you through it, his teeth leaving bite marks all along your shoulders, marking you.

When you feel the pleasure begin to fade, he slips out and sucks on his fingers; you turn and watch as he licks each one like a child trying to get all the chocolate off the spoon. “You taste so fucking good.” Both his hands come down on the sides of your ass, and he slaps them before kneading it roughly. You hear the sound of his belt coming apart and zipper lowering. The head of his cock pressing against your fluttering entrance. He runs it through your slick, and then you hear him lean down and spit into your cunt.

“I’m not going to be gentle, Querida. If you want me to stop, you have to tell me now.” He wraps his hand around your hair and pulls your head back to look at him.

“Wreck me, Santiago, fucking destroy me.” You moan as he shoves inside you to the hilt, his hand moving down to your neck and keeping you looking back at him. His cock is so thick and fills you better than any toy. His pace is punishing, and you feel his fingers dig into your hip so hard you are sure to be littered in bruises. The orgasm builds inside you again, and you struggle against the hand on your throat, his eyes black with lust.

“I’m gonna cum,” you pant, and he smirks down at you.

“I didn’t tell you, you could.” He brings his hand off your hip to furiously rub your clit, and you feel your eyes roll back into your head. “Are you going to cum on my cock Querida?” You mumble incoherently, and he lets out a dark chuckle. “Cum, now.” You scream into the night and clench around him tightly, but he never slows down. Your eyes brim with tears, and he releases your neck, and you fall forward, bracing yourself on the tree. The bark sharp against your palms. He uses both hands now and slams into you over and over again, your breasts bouncing in the chilly night air at how hard he is pounding into you.

He wraps your hair around his hand and pulls you up against his chest, biting down hard on your shoulder and licking over it. He fucks up into you and comes down to rub your clit. Going between English and Spanish, he whispers the filthiest things to you, and you feel another orgasm building. “I can feel you tighten around me again. Are you going to cum Querida?”

You nod, and he chuckles, “Beg me, beg me to let you cum and soak my cock.”

“Please,” you whimper, “please let me soak your cock sir, I promise I’ll be a good girl.”

“Fuck right; you’re my good little girl, cum Querida, soak me.” You scream out again as the waves of pleasure crash over you, and the white dots blind your vision. You clench around him, and he lets out a loud moan, never straying his fingers from your throbbing clit.

“On your knees,” he pulls out, and you drop instantly. “Open your mouth.”

You open your mouth and present your tongue to him. He shoves his cock into your mouth and tightens his hands in your hair again. He devastates your mouth with the force of his thrusts, and you take everything he gives you without complaint. His hand comes to your nose and plugs it. He shoves his cock so far down your throat it hits the back. You gag, and the tears brim your eyes before he pulls out, and you gasp. Only giving you a second before he is fucking into you again.

“Touch yourself,” he orders, and you reach between your legs and circle your clit in time with his thrusts. The crescendo of pleasure crashes into you and almost knocks you over. His hands come to your throat, and he cums with a groan down your throat. Cum, hot and thick, trailing down your throat, and you swallow every last drop. “Open your mouth, show me.” You do as he says, and he smiles down at you, “good girl.”

Your knees buckle from the force of your orgasms, your cum pooling beneath you and sliding down your thighs. “Lay back,” he helps you fall gently to the forest floor, your torn dress acting as a barrier between your bare skin and the crunch of fallen leaves. He tucks his cock back into his jeans and drops between your legs spreading them. “Santi,” you groan, reaching for him, and he drops to his forearms in front of your displayed pussy. “What are you doing?”

“I’m reminding you who owns this pussy.” His tongue licks a broad stroke through your folds, and he devours you like an alcoholic, and you’re top-shelf whiskey. He makes you cum two more times on his tongue until you are a shaking mess on the forest floor. Too tired to even stand, he closes your dress the best he can and lifts you into his arms. Your head is coming to lie in the crook of his neck as he walks you back to the truck.

When he reaches your home, he scoops you up from the seat and chuckles at the mess you left on the leather interior, and carries you into the house. He opens the shower and turns on the water getting it warm. He strips you out of your clothes and his and lifts you into the shower. You whimper when the washcloth slides over your oversensitive folds, and he places a gentle kiss on your lips. “I’m sorry, love,” he whispers, and you shake off his apology. When done, he wraps you in a fluffy towel and carries you to bed; sliding under the cool sheets naked, he crawls in next to you, pulling you into his chest.

“Are you outraged I broke Tom’s nose?” you whisper, and he holds you tighter.

“No, fucker deserved it. I’m sorry I shouted at you. Why didn’t you tell me he touched you like that? I would have killed him.”

You shake your head, “Because I don’t need you to fight all my battles for me. But I do need you to trust me, trust my judgment.”

“I promise. I will never doubt you again.” You sigh and snuggle closer.

“You better not. But if it leads to hot forest sex, I may be able to forgive you.” He laughs and kisses the top of your head.

“Go to sleep Querida; I love you.”

“Oh, Santi,” you yawn, “I love you more.”

Taglist: @oldstuffnewstuff @yespolkadotkitty @heythere-mel @justanotherblonde23 @artsymaddie @anetteaneta @lunarthoughts @aellynera @lucifer- @houseofthirst @chicken-ona-stick @agirllovespancakes @amberembers @santiagogarcia @jedi-mando @spider-starry @idreamofboobear @aerolanya @josepedropascal @revolution-starter

#santiago pope garcia #Santiago pope garcia x reader #Female Reader #Oscar Isaac #Triple Frontier #Autumn Writes #Santiago Garcia #triple frontier fic

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matbarzyy · 4 years ago

Note

How about #8 with beau ?

A/N: Don’t ask me how this turned into something so long, it just did, so I hope you’ll like it. The prompt was “I’m crying on the bathroom floor, how do you think I feel?”

Word count: 1897

Warnings: abuse (family, mentioned but not detailed, mostly just yelling)

You had always been convinced that Anthony Beauvillier’s niceness had to be fake. There was just something about him that you felt was… different. Something was off with him and you could never get used to having him around.

It was a bit of an issue considering he was always with Mat and Mat just happened to be dating your best friend, Sarah. No matter what you said, they always thought it was great that the two of you could hang out so that you wouldn’t be third wheeling, and at first they even hoped you’d end up together.

After months of bickering between the two of you, it was now obvious that you would never date, but you were still forced to deal with each other. Tito couldn’t be excluded from your best friend’s birthday celebrations, and neither could you.

“I’ll be right back,” you excused yourself from a conversation to go outside.

The noise of the party was too much for you tonight. As hard as you tried, you weren’t having a good time and you were truly glad that Sarah was busy with Mat and some other people for now. You had been with her all day long doing as much as possible for her to enjoy her birthday, but now you really needed a break from everyone.

You had bigger things to worry about, and you knew you were far from done with the worrying when you saw your little brother was calling you.

“Tommy, what’s wrong?” You picked up the phone instantly. You wished you could have answered like a normal person, just saying hello and asking him how he was, but with the way things were at home you knew him calling past ten pm couldn’t be good.

“Jack is yelling again,” the ten years old sniffled.

“Where’s mom?” You asked instinctively though you knew she’d do very little to help.

“He’s yelling at her,” he told you, which only relieved you a little.

“Okay, and where are you?” You continued to assess the situation as calmly as you could despite wanting to break down and cry.

“Under my bed,”

“It’s all going to be okay,” you felt tears sting your eyes despite your best efforts. “You just stay where you are, and stay really quiet, can you do that for me?”

“I’m scared,” he almost whimpered, making you wish you could instantly teleport to his side, or even better, to kick the ass of the person scaring him.

“I know baby,” you wiped your thumbs under your eyes to get rid of the tears. There was nothing you could do in this moment except help him get through it. “I’ll be there in three days, remember? I’ll come home and we can pack your things and you’ll go to this really nice school in New York and make tons of new friends,”

“I want to go now,” the little boy complained.

“I want that too. It’ll be really fast, you won’t even see time go by, okay? I bought you those spiderman bed sheets you told me about, remember those?” You held yourself together and did your best to distract him.

Tommy listened, chiming in every now and then, but you could still tell he was scared from his muffled crying and quiet sniffles. Every little sound made your heart shatter more. You remembered being in his place, scared of a man and hiding in your closet or under your bed when you were even younger than him. You remembered trying to call the police only for your mom to get angry at you after the officers had taken you back home to her. You remembered the helplessness knowing that no one would help you.

It wasn’t Jack, at the time, but the situation was the same. You believed it had stopped when Tommy was born and your mom took you away with him when he was just a baby to get you to a safer apartment. You believed he was safe when you applied to a college so far from him, you believed it would all be okay and you could come visit during holidays.

It took less than a semester for things to turn sour again, for Tom to call you crying in the middle of the night and for your mom to lie to you about her new boyfriend every time you managed to get her on the phone too. Now, the guilt of leaving was eating at you and you would do anything to fix it.

Ever since Tom’s first call, you had been saving up all you could to book a flight to take him to New York with you. Your apartment was small, but you didn’t have a roommate so you wouldn’t bother anyone by letting Tom live with you. You’d only have to sort your schedule out according to his own school times.

You weren’t in the mood to deal with the party anymore when you went back inside, but it was still going full force around you. Mat’s place was big, so there were more people than you could count and you found that far too many were gigantic hockey players as you struggled to push your way through the crowd to the bathroom.

You went straight into Mathew’s bedroom, knowing it was off limits during the party and that his attached bathroom would be quiet and unoccupied. It’s not like you hadn’t been there before, neither he or Sarah would be mad at you for hiding in there once you’d tell them why.

You hadn’t shared your family history with many people, but Sarah was the only person who knew everything about you and you had drunkenly told Mat most of the story one night when you were hanging out with the two of them.

You sobbed your heart out on the floor, splashing cold water on your face when you calmed down only to break down again minutes later and making your eyes go even redder if possible. Your makeup had been washed down the drain by now, and your top was damp from the water that had run down your neck whenever you tried to regain a bit of composure.

It was uncomfortable and you were debating just stealing some of Mat’s clothes and locking yourself in his guest bedroom for the rest of the night.

You were still sitting on the cold tiles when a sound disturbed you. It might have been Mat coming into his room, and maybe with Sarah, so you were about to push yourself up to make yourself known when the door to the bathroom was pushed open.

Anthony stood there with wide eyes when he found you, any snarky comment he could have made dying on his tongue when he saw the way you looked.

“Um, are you feeling okay?” He asked, awkwardly shuffling on his feet.

“I’m crying on the bathroom floor, how do you think I feel?” You glared at him, but you knew you probably just looked like a pathetic mess. “What are you even doing here?”

“There’s a line for the bathroom out there, I didn’t think anyone would be here,” he explained, looking back behind himself to check that no one had followed him into the room.

“Yeah well, guess I’ll remember to lock the door next time.” You scoffed, wiping your face clean of tears again while he remained there completely still. “Are you so amused by the fact that I’m having a horrible night that you’re just going to stand there and watch?”

“I’m not amused.” He shook his head, finally unfrozen. “Can I sit with you?”

“You’re joking, right?” Your voice cracked at the end of your sentence, weak from your crying, and you tried to pass it off as a cough.

“I’m not heartless, I don’t think you deserve to be alone right now.” Anthony gave you a look that told you you weren’t fooling him with your fake coughing. “I’d get Sarah but she’s probably too drunk to be any help,”

“You can sit if it’ll make you shut up,” you eventually grumbled, too tired to spend more time arguing with him.

Tito nodded and closed the door behind himself before he sat down beside you.

He did as you asked and kept his mouth shut. He could have been out there with his friends having a good time, but somehow he chose to remain by your side. You despised him a little less for that. There were better people to bring you comfort, but he was all you could get right now and you were thankful that someone was there to keep you from getting in your head even more.

“You don’t suck as much as I thought you did,” you eventually broke the silence, earning a chuckle from him.

“Thanks… I guess,” he cleared his throat. “Can I ask why you got that impression?”

“Guys that look nice and act nice are always too good to be true,”

“So you hate me because you’re attracted to me?” He turned to look at you and you gave him a disgusted look.

“I’m not attracted to you!” You exclaimed while he scoffed.

“Yeah, right,” Tito rolled his eyes, not buying your lie.

“Did I mention that you’re annoyingly cocky?” You added to prove your point, and he nodded like he had been expecting that answer.

“I guess you have now,” he waited for whatever insult you were going to throw at him next, but you turned quiet instead.

“Sorry,” you whispered after a moment.

“For what?”

“We’re not friends, and you found me crying here and stuck around instead of running away and now I’m being a bitch to you,” you pretended to pick at things in the fabric of your jeans so that you wouldn’t have to look at him.

“Doesn’t change much from the way we usually interact,” he replied and saw the way your shoulders hunched a little further. “Hey, I’m only joking,” he immediately went back on his words. He had only meant to poke you to earn another of your sassy replies.

Instead, he had made you cry again and now he didn’t know what to do. Hesitantly, he lifted his hand and placed it on your back to rub what he hoped would be soothing circles. You didn’t look at him, but you leaned into the touch and it was enough for him to pull you into a hug.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out between sobs, your voice half muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

“It’s okay, everything’s going to be okay,” Tito let you hide against his chest. “You’re the boldest person I’ve ever met, and you’re brilliant. There��s nothing in this world you can’t handle,” he ran his hand up and down your back, feeling you slowly settle against him. “Whatever is going on, I know you’re going to make it all okay eventually,”

“It’s scary,” you admitted through a whisper, and Tito hugged you tighter.

“You’re safe here.”

“I know,” you breathed out, relaxing into his arms and letting your eyes fall shut as you focused on the sound of his heartbeat.

There was a lot left for you to do before things could be okay, but in that moment in Anthony’s arms you were safe, and you knew you would get there.

Please reblog and let me know what you thought!!

taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added/removed): @itrocksmysocks @kerwritesthings @pupsandpucks @barzysreputation @whythough1319 @smit41 @glassdanse @fiveholegoal @brokeninsidebutnobodyknows @thefootballfaithfull @calgarycanuck @heatherawoowoo @fallinallincurls

#tw #tw:abuse #anthony beauvillier #tito beauvillier #anthony beauvillier fic #anthony beauvillier angst #tito beauvillier fic #tito beauvillier angst #nhl fic #hockey fic #ny isles #new york islanders

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crash-cinematic-universe · 4 years ago

Text

a sickly satisfaction (ch.1)

pairing: jason dean/reader

summary: high school sucks. jason dean makes it a little better.

warnings: uuhhhh murder, language, suicide discussion

notes: i have every chapter of this written out already, so every wednesday I’ll release a new one <3 in total the story is 7,800 words! but there are some parts that are kind of short, forgive me for those.

Eyes down. Walk fast. Stay out of their way. Three simple steps to get through the day. They had an iron grip on the school, their perfectly manicured nails digging into the oily skin of the entire student body. High School was a bloody battlefield in the war that is life. However, the epitome of cruelty, the ultimate teenage angst inducing, self-esteem crushing, happiness shattering war machine came in the form of three girls and their weak-willed sidekick. That’s right; my biggest threat in high school is Heather Chandler, Heather McNamara, Heather Duke, and Veronica Sawyer. Veronica at least has some semblance of regret and empathy-- she’s just doing what she needs to survive. Unfortunately, that means the rest of us have to struggle to keep our heads above water.

Thankfully, I have a sanctuary. A refrigerator heaven filled with endless isles of roadtrip snacks and hangover remedies. Of course, this junk food Garden of Eden also happens to contain my best friend, Tommy Geller. Tommy is 18, emo, and gay, so naturally we got along pretty well. He sits behind the register and lets me hang around until closing. It’s actually pretty nice-- sometimes he lets me do busywork around the store. Sure, it’s sort of pathetic that Snappy Snack Shack is my main source of serotonin, but you know what? There are worse places to be.

“Pop open a bottle of champagne, Tommy, because today is a special day!” I cry, pushing open the small class doors. To my delight, the store is empty. There are no irritating customers there to make me keep my voice down.

“Oh? And why is that?” Tommy inquires, his jet black hair falling in front of his eyes. He’s tired-- and bored-- and I’m the perfect remedy for that.

“Today marks exactly six months since I first stepped foot in this town,” I grin. Tommy’s eyebrows perk up.

“Really? Congrats, kid,” He’s humoring me a bit, but there is a genuine reaction beneath his sarcastic remarks.

“Thanks, Tommy. Y’know, that’s twice as long as my time in New Jersey and three times as long as my run in Nebraska. I have a feeling dear old aunt Maria might actually stay here for good,” I hop over the counter before grabbing a can of Coke out of the fridge. I prop me feet up on the counter, but Tommy knocks them down.

“You know the rules, kid, no stompy boots on the counter.” I roll my eyes. He wipes off the place where my shoes were before organizing the lotto tickets. “Anything interesting happen at school today?”

“Eh, same old same old. The Heathers were bitches, Veronica was desperately trying to keep up, and I got tripped in the hallway,” Tommy frowns.

“God, those girls really need to get humbled,” He spits.

“You don’t need to tell me. They constantly act so… self-superior, as if their power doesn’t depend solely on whether or not everyone else hates themselves to believe they’re inferior to three teenage girls who are the definition of ‘peaked in high school’,” I squeeze the soda can in my hand, the metal crunching under the pressure. “They need to be more than humbled. The Heathers deserve to be dealt as much pain as they served,”

“Watch it, kid, you’re sounding a bit homicidal,” Tommy jokes. If only he knew.

“It wouldn’t matter anyway. I don’t think they can die-- they’re like a Hydra. If you kill one of the Heathers, three more will grow in her place,” I sigh. Tommy looks concerned.

“Y/n, you don’t actually want to kill them, right?” I hesitate. The silence makes Tommy worry.

“I wouldn’t exactly lose sleep if one of them did die,” I reply nonchalantly. “It would be like a public service. Similar to killing the black mold that grows in the girl’s showers,” Tommy looks at me for a second, his expression unreadable, before turning back to his counter.

“That’s morbid,” he says. “You know that? You sound like a killer in the making.”

“Sometimes bad people deserve bad things.”

“You’re absolutely not helping your case,” Tommy laughs. I can feel someone watching me. It’s an odd feeling, but I brush it off.

“New topic?” I ask. Tommy nods.

A mischievous grin grows on his face. “You got a boyfriend? Girlfriend? Partner? All of the above?” he asks hopefully.

“No, Tommy, and don’t get your hopes up,” I chuckle, before standing up and admiring the neon sign outside.

“Oh come on, there has to be someone. You can’t possibly go to that hellhole every day and not see at least one hot person!” Tommy groans.

“Everyone at Westerburg is either evil or boring. No one interests me and I’m not interesting to anyone. Plus, my attention is mainly focused on getting through the day in one piece, not getting laid.” I neglect to mention the stranger I saw in the Cafe yesterday. He was pretty hot, and didn’t seem to be a douchebag-- in fact, he shot two of the douchiest douchebags with blank bullets. A real rarity at Westerburg.

“God, you need to get out more. I see some pretty people pass through here occasionally, I’m going to start pawning you off,” he jokes.

“Oh, god, no,” I joined in on his laughter.

“Yup, I’m going to give every hot person your photo and your address until you finally score yourself some arm candy,” Tommy can barely form sentences through his laughter.

“I’m gonna to get murdered if you do that, Tom,” I giggle.

“ And that would be damn shame,” A voice calls from across the counter. I look up to see the most attractive man I’ve ever seen in my entire life. It’s the same guy from the Cafe-- although in the bright convenience store lighting he looks more like a ghost than a man. His jawline looked sharp enough to slice me in half, his cheekbones high and defined. His hair was gorgeous and his teeth were really, really nice.

“Uh, yeah, that would totally s-suck,” I choked. Tommy shot me the most horrified look I’ve ever seen. “I’ve, uh, seen you around. That stunt you pulled in the Cafe was wicked, man, seriously.”

“Hey, it was a public service,” He smirked. Tommy gave me a ‘holy-shit-I’ll-leave-you-two-alone’ look before disappearing in the isles across the room. I could see him peeking through the cereal boxes. “I’m Jason Dean, but most people call me JD.” He offers his hand for me to shake.

“Y/n, Y/n Ln,” I grip his hand firmly and try not to have a breakdown over the contact. “Y’know, there are much less extreme ways to get people to fuck off than, well, shooting them.”

“The extreme always seems to make an impression, though, doesn’t it?” His voice was a little bit lower and he leaned in a little bit closer. Tommy was freaking out across the aisle, his eyes wide as his hand raked through his greasy hair.

“That it does,” I grin. “There are quite a few people in that school that deserve certain... extremities,”

“I think you’re right,” Jason smirked once again. I kept my composure as best I could. “Speaking of extremities, I saw you and Kurt in the hallway last week,” My face is lit ablaze as I recall the incident. Kurt had been continuously pestering me the entire day, and eventually I reached my limit.

“I guess they aren’t joking when they say the chin is the knockout button,” Jason seems impressed, although I can’t really tell because looking him in the eyes seems like a death sentence. “Landed me three days detention, though. That sucked. Although I guess it can’t compare to whatever they’re dealing you,” At this point, one of the regulars began approaching the front doors. Tommy sprinted out before they got in, seemingly explaining that my entire love life depends on whether or not I can play it cool.

“Eh, what can I say. I sort of dug myself a grave there,” I spoke without thinking.

“The only graves that should’ve been dug are Kurt and Ram’s. My one critique? Use real bullets next time,” I froze. Why the fuck would I say that? I mean, I’m not wrong but I doubt JD would stick around after--

“I like the way you think,” JD laughs, his ears tinted pink. Jason looks at me, and for a moment, I look right back. There’s something behind his eyes, something festering and enticing. I wonder if my eyes communicate anything. “I’ll see you around, Y/n L/n,”

“And I’ll see you, Jason Dean,” With that he winked at me, spun on his heel, and walked out the front door. Tommy practically sprinted across the room as I released every muscle I’d been tensing. I slowly melted onto the floor. Laying on the tile with my eyes trained on the bright lights overhead.

“Oh my god,” Tommy breathed. “Oh my fucking god that was-- oh my god.”

“I know,”

“Did you see him? He’s like a greek god,”

“I know,”

“And he was totally into you, like, totally,”

“I should’ve given him my address. I wouldn’t mind getting murdered by him.” I say breathlessly. Tommy sits on the counter and looks down at me.

“I think I need to teach you how to talk to boys,” Tommy sighs, shock still lingering on his face.

“Pssh, I can talk to boys just fine,” I retort.

“You almost collapsed when you saw him,” he says flatly.

“That was--”

“I thought you were going to pass out when he told you his name,”

“But I--”

“I genuinely believed you were going to vomit when he shook your hand,”

“Alright! I give! I can’t talk to boys! You caught me! Lock me up and never let me embarrass myself like that again!” I surrendered, throwing my arms in the air before letting them collapse over my face. “He probably thinks I’m a freak,”

“Are you joking? He was more smitten than you were!” This caught my attention, and I tore my arms away from my eyes.

“Huh? Elaborate!” I snapped.

“You seriously didn’t notice? He’d been staring at you since you stepped foot in here, didn’t you see him? At first I thought it was weird, but then I realized he was smoking hot so I decided I’d let it slide,” “Comforting,” Sarcasm drips from my words. “Y’know serial killers and stalkers can be hot, too.” I rolled my eyes.

“ I seem to recall you saying something along the lines of ‘I wouldn’t mind getting mur--’,”

“Alright, Tommy, we get it.” I cut him off in embarrassment. “Please continue.”

“He comes in here a lot, so I knew he was alright. He was beet red the entire time you were talking. Didn’t you see the way he was in a perpetual state of stupid smiling? Dude, he was definitely into you and really bad at hiding it,” Tommy concluded.

I smiled a big, dumb smile. I didn’t notice the fact that he was nervous, so he probably didn’t notice that I was dying, right?

“Tommy, I think we might have a keeper.”

“Thank god, I don’t think I could stand to see you go to Prom alone. That would be too depressing, even for me,” Tommy enthused. I propped my feet against the edge of the counter, staring at the tips of my boots. For the first time in a long time, Tommy is silent. I can’t get his eyes out of my head. Then again, I don’t know if I want to.

_________

#jason dean #heathers #jason dean x reader #a sickly satisfaction series #irl dont look #irl don't look #veronica sawyer #heather mcnamara #heather chandler #heather duke

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fandom-imagines-stories · 4 years ago

Text

If I Don’t Wake Tomorrow

Tom Branson x Reader

Words: 3395

Part One

Summary: Married for nearly a year, the reader and her husband return to her home and family for a dinner at her sister’s invitation. Tom faces judgment and becomes a point of ridicule. Everything halts when the reader falls deathly ill.

Notes: Like I said, I love putting my boys through hell. Yes, I’m lazy and I just totally made up a nameless illness. Sue me. Let me know what you guys think and if you want to see more Downton in the future. (I know this gif is gut-wrenching, but it was just so perfect, I had to use it.)

Everyone had been gathered into the library for Dr. Clarkson’s analysis. The Winstons were required to stay since no one knew how contagious Y/N’s illness could be. It was quickly determined that this was no ordinary fever. Robert was pacing madly back and forth, waiting for Dr. Clarkson to speak. Tom stood silently in the corner, Sybil keeping close to him to make sure he wasn’t alone.

“Dr. Clarkson, please just tell us what it is.” Cora begged. He seemed to be struggling to find the words.

“The good news is, if she makes it through the first 24 hours, the fever should flush itself out.” Everyone hung onto one simple word. If. Dr. Clarkson’s hands fell limply to his sides. He felt so useless. “The trouble is, most patients don’t last 12.” Cora cried out, Mary clutched Matthew’s hand, and Robert stopped pacing.

Tom felt as if he’d been split open. Sybil watched him grip the back of a chair, doubling over and finding it difficult to breathe. This couldn’t possibly be happening. Not to his Y/N. Your life together had barely even started.

“Is there anything to be done?” Edith asked. She had been rather quiet through the night, but her worry was genuine. Dr. Clarkson sighed.

“I’m afraid all we can do is try to keep her fever down… and pray.” A heaviness fell over everyone in the room. Downstairs, a similar scene was playing out. The servants were gathered at the table receiving instructions from a solemn Mr. Carson. Y/N, no matter her decisions, was loved by many of the servants and as a daughter of Downton she would have anything she needed.

Anna was the most distraught, though she was able to hide it well. She loved all of the girls dearly and Y/N was the brightest soul she’d ever seen. The idea of that light dimming broke her heart. She couldn’t help but wonder what was going through Tom’s mind, the poor man. She was carrying a tray of toast up to the room so Sybil and Tom would have something to eat. It wasn’t proper, but Sybil knew Y/N would be the most comfortable with Anna. Thomas certainly wouldn’t be the friendliest face to wake up to.

“Fortunately, this strain is only transmitted through contaminated liquids, usually drinking water.” Dr. Clarkson explained to those who had moved up to Y/N’s room. Violet and Isobel remained in the library, along with Edith to keep the Winstons at bay.

“So we can be with her?” Cora likely would have stayed anyway, illness be damned. She was to stay by her baby’s side every second she could. Dr. Clarkson nodded.

“And the Winstons are free to go.” Mary muttered, grateful at least that Y/N would not have to spend another moment in the same house as those girls.

“Can I…” Tom tried to keep his composure as he looked down at his wife. “Can I hold her hand?” Dr. Clarkson’s eyes were filled with pity for the poor man. Tom didn’t want his pity. He wanted him to save his wife.

“Of course.”

“Must you all speak of me as if I’m not here?” You laughed weakly, your limbs heavy as you tried to move them. Tom was at your side in an instant. “You aren’t making a fuss of me, are you?” This was supposed to be Sybil’s dinner and you hated to ruin it. Tom laid a hand on your cheek.

“You gave me quite a scare, darling.” His eyes were red from crying, making you feel even more guilty.

“Now that you’re awake, I would like to do a more thorough examination.” Dr. Clarkson suggested. If they could determine how much the illness had progressed, he may be able to give the family more of an answer. He motioned towards the door and the family began to file out. Tom stayed beside you.

“Tom,” Sybil began gently. “I’m afraid you’ll need to leave. Only for a few moments.” At first, he didn’t move. He couldn’t. His eyes were locked on his wife and he couldn’t bear to tear them away.

“It’s best we all stay out of Sybil’s way.” You gave him the most reassuring smile you could muster. He nodded slightly and leaned over to kiss your forehead.

“I’ll just be out in the hall.” He promised before reluctantly following the rest of the family out of the room. He felt as if all of the strength had left him. He could barely stand without leaning against the banister. His Y/N. His beautiful Y/N. She would be alright. She had to be.

“Is there anything we can do, Tom? Anything at all?” Matthew asked, his wife standing silently beside him. Tom had always known Mary to be cold and lacking emotion, but now her eyes were filled with a sorrow that he’d never seen in them before.

“Pray.” Tom choked out. Matthew gave him a sympathetic look and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Of course.” He wished that there was something else. Anything else. Tom was a good friend and he and Y/N deserved happiness. Matthew began to head downstairs, but his wife lingered. Mary looked as if she wanted to say something, but she just couldn’t find the words. She turned and followed her husband just as Edith was ushering the Winston’s out the door now that they were cleared to leave.

Abigail and Margaret looked as if this were nothing more than an annoying inconvenience rather than someone’s life at stake. Abigail looked up and saw a distressed Tom and leaned over to his sister, hardly lowering her voice.

“Look at him. Surely he’s the one who killed her. Who knows what sort of illnesses she’s contracted in that dirty country. And that train!” They shook their heads. He shrunk away, her words sinking into him like claws. Mary had had enough.

“Have you no decency, Abigail?” She hissed, breaking away from Matthew to confront her.

“I beg your pardon?” The family halted in their tracks and Edith gave her sister a pleading look. She didn’t want things worse than they already were.

“First, you blatantly insult my sister at dinner and now you mock her husband as his poor wife lay ill and possibly dying!” She had raised her voice beyond what was proper but at the moment she didn’t care if the Queen heard her. “How dare you come in this home and act in such a manner.”

“Really, Mary, did you expect all of society to accept your new… connections?” Margaret interjected, though Lady Crawley’s ferocity frightened her.

“Those connections are my sister and my brother-in-law.” Mary fired back. Matthew was too stunned to intervene, and besides, he couldn’t help but feel pride fill his heart. “Former chauffeur or not, Tom Branson is more welcome here than you shall ever be. Now leave here and never come back.”

“I will dismiss your outburst since your sister is dying.” Abigail held her chin up, her last words spoken with venom. “I do hope she gets better.” With that, the family scurried out quickly to avoid any more altercations.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Tom’s quiet voice surprised Mary. He had joined them at the bottom of the stairs, his eyes sunken and red. If one didn’t know, they would think he was the one who was dying. Mary straightened her shoulders.

“Believe me, Tom, I have been waiting to do that for years.” Sybil emerged from the room, signaling that it was okay to come back. The three rushed up the stairs, quickly joined by Cora and Robert.

“This illness works quicker than anything I’ve ever seen.” Dr. Clarkson sighed, standing in the doorway. Tom looked at him in horror.

“What does that mean?” Sybil stepped towards him.

“Tom-”

“What does it mean!” He didn’t mean to be so rough when he grabbed Sybil’s shoulders.

“Unhand her at once.” Robert ordered. The tensions were high and stress made everyone act strangely.

“Papa, it’s alright.” Sybil slowly took Tom’s hands off of her, keeping a gentle gaze into his eyes. “Tom, I need you to try and calm down. Y/N needs to rest and we don’t want to upset her. Can you do that for me?” He swallowed hard and nodded before proceeding into the room.

“I’ve caused a good deal of trouble, haven’t I?” You cried, weakly reaching out to your sister. “I’m sorry for ruining your birthday, Sybil.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You haven’t ruined anything.” Sybil smiled at you and Mary admired her ability to remain so sunny in such a dark time.

“How are you feeling, love?” Tom took his place beside you, softly kissing your forehead. “I feel absolutely fine. I’m not sure what you’re all so worried about.” You teased, but laughing made your head ache terribly.

“We must allow her to rest.” Dr. Clarkson instructed. “I recommend all of you to do the same.” Truthfully, he worried that an abundance of people in the room would excite you and make things worse. Mary and Matthew walked towards you and your eldest sister placed a hand on your cheek.

“Married or not, you are still a Crawley woman. And us Crawley women never give up without a fight.” She said affectionately before she and her husband retired to their room. Your father put a hand on your mother’s shoulder.

“Cora…”

“I’m staying here.” She pulled up a chair beside Tom.

“Dr. Clarkson said-”

“I’m sure Dr. Clarkson has no quarrels with her mother staying with her.” Dr. Clarkson, of course, had no argument as long as Y/N was able to rest.

“Mama, at least change into something more comfortable.” You instructed. She was still in her dinner clothes and you would hate for her to try and sleep in them. They could be dreadfully uncomfortable. After a moment’s hesitation, she agreed and went with your father to their room. Now, you wished to speak to your husband. “Sybil, Dr. Clarkson, would you mind stepping out? I would like to have a moment with Tom.”

“Of course, dear.” Sybil dipped the cool cloth in the water before returning it to your forehead. Once the two were gone, you could see Tom’s resolve begin to crack. His shaking hand brought yours up and held it against his cheek.

“Y-you must get better, my love.” He stammered, kissing your palm. He held back a sob. Tom was a strong man, but he was not one to hide his emotions for long. It broke your heart to see him like this.

“My dear, you mustn’t shed tears for me.” You soothed, brushing a fallen tear away with your delicate fingers. “Everything is going to be alright.” You didn’t dare show him the fear that was slowly consuming you. You didn’t want to die. You hadn’t lived enough to die now. You wanted to grow old with the man you loved, to have a big family in Ireland and to watch your children run in the fields. You wanted to gather every Christmas and teach them songs. You wanted to kiss your children goodnight before falling asleep in your husband’s arms.

“This is all my fault.” Tom uttered, now gently kissing the inside of your wrist. “Those women… they were right.” Abigail Winston’s words still cut deeply into his heart. “If I hadn’t taken you… if you had stayed here, at home with your family, this wouldn’t have happened. I should have cared for you, kept you safe. I should have-”

“Tom, stop this.” You sat up, fighting the heaviness in your limbs and ignoring your pounding head. “Those petulant girls know nothing but the comfort of their spoiled, insignificant lives. Their cruel hearts could never hold a love like the love I have for you. Whatever they have said came from a place of hatred and jealousy. This illness is in no way your fault, my darling.”

“But if I hadn’t taken you from your home-”

“Downton isn’t my home, Tom.” You smiled. “My home is by your side, no matter where we are. My heart will always belong with you.” Tom mustered a small smile and pulled you into his arms.

Dr. Clarkson and Sybil came back in, along with your mother. You were saddened by your father’s absence. You had hoped to mend your relationship if the worst should happen. Sybil continued cooling your arms and face with the water while Dr. Clarkson looked over his notes to find anything that could help treat the illness.

“Is it alright for me to lie with her?” Tom begged, wanting to hold you in his arms so that you would not be afraid. Dr. Clarkson gave him a solemn nod. Tom climbed into the bed beside you and you rested your head on his shoulder, his arms wrapped around you.

“Tom, I didn’t have the opportunity to apologize for the behavior of our guests.” Cora began grimly.

“There’s no need, Lady Grantham.”

“I will not allow my family to be spoken to in such a manner.” She gave him a motherly smile and he realized that she meant it. She saw him as part of the family. Aside from Dr. Clarkson and Sybil’s murmurs to each other, the room fell silent. Exhausted from a hectic and emotional night, both Cora and Tom fell asleep, your mother resting her head on your hand and your husband holding onto you as if he alone could keep you from drifting away into the dark.

You too closed your eyes, but only for an hour or so. When you opened them, Dr. Clarkson had gone- back to the hospital for supplies- and Sybil was sitting in a chair reading. Standing beside Cora was your father, looking down at you with tears in his eyes. You felt your heart swell with joy. He was here.

“Papa,” You sighed happily, slowly moving your hand so you didn’t wake your mother. You reached it out to him and he took it. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Of course I’m here.” He exclaimed. “I could not stay tucked in bed knowing you were suffering.” You felt a surge of emotion and tried to keep your cries quiet so you wouldn’t alarm Sybil.

“Tell me…” You took a shaking breath. “Tell me that we have not severed our ties forever. Tell me that you still hold a place in your heart for the daughter that married the driver.”

“Y/N, sweet girl, while it is not the marriage I would have picked for you, I think of you every day. You never left my heart or my mind. You are my child. My familyYou will always be loved here.” You shared a smile, tears falling onto your cheeks. You looked to your husband.

“Can I ask something of you?”

“Anything you need.” Robert drew closer, leaning so that he could hear you better without you having to raise your voice.

“If I-” You struggled to keep your voice from cracking. “If I don’t wake tomorrow, can you promise me something?”

“Must you talk like that-”

“Please, father.” You pleaded and he nodded. You brushed a stray hair away from Tom’s face, his steady breathing warm on your skin. “If I don’t wake tomorrow, will you care for him? I know he’ll return home, but could you look after him? He’s such a good man, papa.” You turned back to your father, tears coming faster now. “I do not wish for him to feel alone. I want him to be happy, even if it is without me.” You couldn’t not stop the sob that escaped your mouth and Sybil looked up from your reading.

“Y/N, what is it, what’s wrong?”

“Please promise, father.” You begged. “Please say you’ll take care of him.” Robert clutched your hand tightly.

“I promise.” You shared a quiet, tearful moment and knew that all was well between you. If you should succumb to your fever, at least you knew you were with the people you loved and who loved you in return. With that comfort, you closed your eyes and fell asleep.

Tom woke to the bright sun shining through the windows and the feeling of his wife’s cold skin. The complete terror that raced through him nearly stopped his heart. People were rushing around him, pulling him out of the bed and away from you. Cora was rushed out of the room before she even knew what was going on.

“Let me go.” Tom begged, his voice barely above a whisper. He couldn’t speak correctly, unable to breathe. “Y/N. What’s wrong with her? Y/N!” Regaining his voice he began to shout, struggling against the servant that was holding him. “Sybil, what’s wrong? What’s going on? Let me go!”

“Turn her on her side.” Sybil instructed Anna. Dr. Clarkson was in a panic.

“There’s too many people in here.” He exclaimed. He didn’t have time to be sympathetic. Sybil looked at Tom.

“I’m sorry, but you have to go.” She nodded at the servant holding him and he was dragged from the room.

“No! I won’t leave her!!” He cried, fighting as hard as he could. He was sure he punched Thomas, but more servants were able to get a hold of him and pull him out. “She’s my wife, let me go! Y/N!” The door was slammed in his face and he desperately pounded his fist against the wood. “Let me in! Sybil, let me in!”

“What is it? What’s happened?” Mary emerged from her room at the commotion, Matthew joining her. Cora was right beside him, begging her daughter to let her in the room.

“Something’s wrong, they said we had to leave. She looked so pale.” Cora was starting to break into hysterics. She couldn’t lose her baby.

“Oh god, Y/N!” Tom yelled again, banging on the door. Anna was barely able to get out without him pushing passed her.

“Mr. Branson, Lady Grantham, Dr. Clarkson and Sybil need you to wait in the library until someone comes and finds you.” She felt strange, giving commands to Lady Grantham, but Sybil had specifically instructed her. Before either of them could argue, she added. “They can’t help her unless you let them. Please.”

“Mama, we must let them work.” Mary pleaded, taking her mother’s hands. Her worried gaze switched to her brother-in-law. “Tom, we have to go.”

“I won’t leave her.” He sobbed.

“You’re not leaving her. You’re letting them help her.”

He finally complied, following them down into the library while other members of the family slowly filed in. They all rushed to comfort Cora, only Matthew noticing when he slipped out of the room. He took refuge in one of the staircases that the servants used. The stairs he once used. In the silence, he sat down on a step and broke down. He gripped the railing, his body shaking it with his sobs. He thought he was alone.

“Forgive me, I did not know you were in here.” Mrs. Hughes said suddenly, though she made no move to leave. Instead, she sat down beside him. There, in that staircase, he was just Mr. Branson- the rebellious chauffeur who brought so much love to this house- and he was about to lose his wife. “Poor lad.” She sighed, putting a hand on his shoulder. He leaned into her touch and found himself curling up beside her like a young boy crying to his mother. And she let him cry.

It seemed like years had passed when Matthew opened the door. Tom was unable to read his expression.

“Come quickly.” Was all he said. Tom didn’t wait for anything else. Outside the door, Cora stood, crying heavily. Tom tried to brace himself as he went in. He immediately fell to his knees beside the bed.

You smiled at him, the color and warmth slowly starting to return to your face.

“She’s going to be alright.” Dr. Clarkson informed happily. Tom pulled you into his embrace, both of you crying with relief. You pushed back slightly.

“Perhaps we can go home now?” You laughed lightly. Tom put his hand on your cheek, looking into your eyes.

“My darling,” He gently kissed your lips, “you are my home.”

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination; @mylovegoesto;

#i'm a sap #tom branson x reader #allen leech #tom branson #cora crawley #Mary Crawley #mrs. hughes #robert crawley #downton abbey #downton abbey imagine

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kaleidescope-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Not About Sex--Tom Hiddleston

Requested by: Anon

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Asexual

Request: Reader keeps brushing away Tom because she doesn't want to have sex and she gets worried that he is going to break up with her since she doesn't want to tell him that she's asexual for fear of his response.

🌈 🏳‍🌈 HAPPY PRIDE!! 🏳‍🌈🌈

T.H.--Asexual: Reader keeps brushing away Tom because she doesn't want to have sex and she gets worried that he is going to break up with her since she doesn't want to tell him that she's asexual for fear of his response

It’s been a year. You started seeing Tom after you met at the premiere party of a film you starred in. You two just seemed to have hit it off pretty nicely. After that you went on dates to coffee shops, had a couple run-ins at places you both frequented, and had interviews together about your respective roles. He was an absolute dream. He was everything he presented himself to be and so much more. Every moment you spent with him, you fell for him more and more. You wanted to be with him all the time. That’s why these past few days hurt. You care about him, really. However you’ve been distancing yourself from him for one really important reason: You are Ace. You really want to be with him, but you were scared of how he would react. Would he reject you? Would he break things off the moment you told him? Would he look at you differently?

Tom never seemed like the type to do that. In fact, he was such a gentleman, it surprised you at first. But your history with coming out made you a bit on edge whenever it came to relationships. Even with him, you felt uneasy talking about it. You two were still together, but you didn’t see him in person as often. You still talked to him through texts and calls, but you didn’t go out as much. Knowing that you had a chance to run into him if you went out, you decided to limit how many times you left your house. So now, you were at home, taking a personal day since you were in your seasonal break from work. After making yourself a warm drink to fight off the cold weather, you proceeded to the living room. You sat down on your sofa and grabbed the remote, surfing through your binge options. Before you could pick something, however, you heard your doorbell ring, making you sigh. “Coming!” you called out, placing your mug on the coffee table in front you. Making your way to the door, you wrap your cardigan around you, feeling a bit cold despite the heater running. You reached the door, opening it to greet whoever came to visit. You greeted them with a smile, before your stomach dropped when you realized who it was.

“Hello, darling!” Tom greeted cheerily. He wore a large coat and carried a bag with--what you assumed was--food in one hand. You gave him a slightly insincere smile, “Hey.” Stepping aside, you let him inside and away from the cold. Once he entered, you closed the door and followed him into the living area. “What brings you here?” you asked, still trying to mask the surprise and slight uneasiness in your voice. Although, you didn’t have to mask it as much, as you were still happy to see him. “I called your manager to ask if you were busy today. I know I should have called you, but I wanted to surprise you,” he explained, placing the food on the coffee table before taking his coat off. “And I feel as if you’ve been avoiding me lately,” he said softly. You knew this was going to happen. Taking in a deep breath, you looked away from him and instinctively wrapped your arms around yourself. “I made it obvious?” you asked with a small laugh. You heard him take a step closer. “Y/N,” he soothed, “Did I do something wrong?”

“No!” you said instantly. “No, you did everything right.”

“Then why have we drifted apart?" He asked in a hurt tone. "I thought everything was alright between us, but now I'm convinced I did something to upset you." He walked until he stood right beside you. "Please tell me what's wrong," he whispered, reaching for your hand. You couldn't do this to him. You cared for him more than you allowed yourself to admit and now you hurt him. It pained you to see him so wounded. You had to tell him. You couldn't care how he reacted, you just knew you had to tell him the truth.

"Maybe you should sit down," you offered. Suddenly becoming aware of his hand in yours, you softly pulled him to the sofa. He sat down and offered you the spot next to him. You politely shook your head, "with what I need to tell you, I need the space to move in case I become jittery." He nodded, urging you to say your peace. Taking a deep breath, you took a small step back. You gained your composure and tried to let the words come to your mind. Unfortunately, they needed a little help.

"Listen," you began softly, trying to ignore the nervousness that slowly arose, "You have been nothing short of amazing in the time we spent together. I've been so happy with you and it scared me a little at first. But after all this time of getting to know you, I realized that even in the days I see you, I miss you when we say goodbye. Which is why I have to tell you the truth about what's been going on."

Tom nodded, absorbing every word you said and waiting patiently for you to continue. Your voice got stuck in the back of your throat. You tried swallowing a couple times to clear it, but it didn't work. Taking in another deep breath, you tried to regain whatever courage made you tell him the first bit. Noticing your struggles, Tom gave you a warm smile, silently letting you know everything was alright. That seemed to be enough.

"I've always had issues with these things before. Everytime I've told this to someone, they look at me differently or lose whatever interest they had before. That's why it's so hard for me to say this. But you need to know. I really want to tell you, but every sentence I try to form in my mind gets lost before I can say it." You creased your lips for a moment, trying to blink away the hints of tears that began to form in your eyes.

Tom gave you another reassuring nod, "It's alright. Take your time."

You smiled a bit, unable to blink the tears away now. "I just-" you tried, "I.... I'm not.." You had to get yourself together. Taking in one last breath, you let it slip with the words, "I'm not interested in a sexual relationship."

He was silent for a moment, still processing what you said. It was only a moment, but it was enough to make you feel a sudden burst of shame and regret. "So," he spoke carefully, "you are Asexual?" Hearing him say the word made you feel calm and anxious at the same time. How was that possible? You nodded slowly, looking anywhere but directly at him. Tom let out a soft breath that caught your attention. Your eyes snapped to his face, unable to stop yourself from looking at how he reacted. You expected him to look disheartened. You expected him to be bothered or for him to just walk out without another word. Instead, you witnessed as a smile spread across his lips. You didn't expect him to smile. It took you completely by surprise. You looked in his eyes, searching for any sign of an ulterior feeling. The moment you realized it was a genuine smile, your mind went blank. "I was worried for a moment," he admitted, "I thought it was something else, something more pressing."

You gave him a blank expression, still not understanding what was going on. Why wasn't he upset? Why wasn't he half way out the door? What was going on? Tom must have sensed your confusion. He stood from his seat and took a step towards you. Carefully, he put his hands on your shoulders, making you look up to meet his eyes. "I was worried it was something else because I really want to be with you," he confessed warmly. You didn't respond. You couldn't. You still didn't understand what was going on. He smiled a bit more. "I want to be with you. It doesn't matter to me that you don't want sex. I'm willing to respect the boundaries you place so long as that means I may have you in my life," he explained, "I've been meaning to tell you this before, but thought it best to tell you in person. I love you. And I'm willing to accept you for who you are. That is, if you'll have me."

You snapped out of your confusion the instant you heard him say those words. The tears in your eyes becoming larger with joy. You mimicked his smile, nodding as the tears fell.

"I'll have you."

🖤To the anon that requested this, Here’s your hug sweetie!!!🖤

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yandere-ac · 5 years ago

Text

Yandere Barold X Reader

Baggage

So yeah, this happened. I read @yanderebliss prompt about ugly villagers and got a bolt of inspiration at 2 am. And now this exists. So ...enjoy

Reject, outcast, mistake, ugly. These are all things that he had heard plenty of times. Oh, the so familiar sight of seeing someone walk up to him on a deserted island, take one quick look at him, then dash off without even giving him as much as a hi. It wasn’t uncommon, yet it still hurt every time it happened. He was well aware that he was...less than “desirable” but at this point he had just given up. He had given up on the idea that someone, ANYONE would ever want him in his village.

The only times he did move in was when another villager had moved out and he himself had bought the empty lot. But that want much better. Anytime he’d finally find a place to call his own he’d get harassed on a daily basis. Weather that be giving him trash, punching him around or even beating him over the head with a net, any island representatives would in some way abuse him until he’d say “enough is enough” and move away.

But...for some reason, he still saved up nook miles to buy tickets. He still went on the flights that would take him to those cursed island trips. Even if he had completely given up, there was still some small part of him that held out hope. A hope that one day, someone would see him and not turn around. So far, he hasn’t met a single person that even seemed to consider taking him in...that was...until he met you...

Wandering around a beach, picking up pretty shells and being in his own world, Barold didn’t notice as you approached him. When he met you, the two of you had a lovely conversation, talking about where you came and who you were. At this point, he was struggling so hard to control his breathing, someone was actually interested enough to talk to him? Truly, he wasted no time with dropping hints about him wanting to move somewhere. This was it, this was the moment where he sees if he’s indeed unlovable...or if beauty lies in the eye of the beholder...

When I tell you this man almost fainted when you happily replied “you should move to my island!”. Barold almost stared crying tears of joy (but he held it in, the last thing he wanted to do was scare you off). It took al his willpower not to scoop you up into his arms into a big embrace. He finally had found someone who wanted him! After years of torment! After years of abuse! No longer would he have to move from island to island, now he had a stable home. With a representative that didn’t care what he looked like!

It wasn’t until the next day when he where unboxing all of his stuff that he would be able to get a good look at you. It was around 10 am when you knocked on his door, wanting to say hello to your newest villager. You were the first to admit, you had a soft spot for the “ugly” villagers. Anytime your friends would visit your island you were always bombarded with the same questions. “But they’re so ugly” “wouldn’t you rather want someone cute like Raymond or Audie?” “Why would you waste space for such villagers?”

You really didn’t care what anyone said. No villager deserves such cruel treatment like getting hit with a net or being bombarded with trash! Anytime you saw an “ugly” villager, you made sure to strike up a conversation with them. And so, when we they asked to move in, you were more than happy to accept! Right now you were going to greet your new friend, Barold! You didn’t care what he looked like. But the thing about Barold was, yesterday when you had invited him, he had been to excited to really notice anything about you. The fact that you had even invited him in the first place showed him what a big heart you had.

But then, when you had entered his house the next day, JUST to greet HIM?! That’s when it dawned on him, you where one of the sweetest people he’d ever met. He could feel his face heat up as you gave him a reassuring smile whilst talking to him. It made him feel something he’d never thought he’d ever feel. Infatuation? Desire? Fondness? Whatever it was, he liked it, and he wanted more. He wanted to continue talking with you. Even after you had left, all he could think of was you, your hair, your clothing, your face, your smile. Oh god that smile, it made him so warm and fuzzy just to think about. He’d made up his mind, as soon as he’s done with his packing, he’s gonna visit you!

That was months ago, over those past months you and Barold had grown closer and had drifted apart. Well more or less. You see, at first. You and Barolds friendship was pretty healthy, you were hanging out a lot and you seemed to have a positive effect on his life. After so many years of abuse, his self confidence was extremely low. Anytime he’d feel self conscious, you’d be there to reassure him. And for a while, it seemed to have a really good effect on him. But after a while, he’d started getting more clingier, more possessive, more codependent, and much MUCH more aggressive. Now of course, he wasn’t ever aggressive towards you, never too you. He’d sworn to himself to never hurt you like other people had hurt him. But whenever he’d seen you interacting with other villagers he could feel his blood start to boil. Why did you do that?! Did you hate him?! He’d feel absolutely livid as he would storm over to whoever you were interacting with. At first it wasn’t that big of a deal, but when he started getting physical, that’s when you had to go to Isabelle.

And even when you knew this was for the better...You still felt bad doing it. You knew why Barold was doing this, he’s had so little positive feedback in his life. But you still had to tell yourself that his actions aren’t justified because of it. You still really cared about him, but you also cared about your other villages as well. And you couldn’t look the other way if Barold was trying to hurt your friends. You went straight to Isabelle that day, telling her all about what he’d done, including all of his obsessive behaviors. Isabelle was...shocked, to say the least when you takes your her. You could even see Tom looking over to you in pity as you detailed any of the things that had made you uncomfortable. Isabelle made sure to go talk to Barold. But the outcome was...way worse than if you’d have just kept your mouth shut.

Barold had tried to keep his composure as Isabelle had her stern talk with him. Only at the end when she had said “if you don’t fix this behavior, we’ll have to consider evicting you”. Once she had said that, he let out a small yelp as he tried to hide it with a smile. Putting on a fake persona, he told her he’d change his behavior and for her to have a good day. But once she had left, Barold went off. He started punching his walls, throwing furniture around and screaming to himself as he cried out. WHY WOULD YOU TALK TO ISABELLE?! YOU WERE GONNA GET RID OF HIM WEREN’T YOU!?

He wasted no time as he stormed outside. Once he found you at the town plaza, talking to Al, he felt his temper go up more than ever. With a furious roar he tackled Al to the ground and stared scratching his face repeatedly, although because of the size difference Al was able to easily punch him off. You immediately grabbed a hold of the savage bear you once called a friend as he started trashing around in your grip. Barold, blind with rage accidentally scratched you in the face whilst trying to get out of your arms. Although once he realized what he had done he gasped and could feel his world collapse. You relised him from your grip and fell to the ground, your face stung like hell and by now, almost all of your villagers had come over to see what the fuzz was about.

You could see the cub place his paws over his mouth as you heard the sound of soft pats approach you. You felt a pair of small arms wrap around you, as you looked over to your left you saw a certain purple frog giving you a comforting hug, it was Diva. Soon enough more villagers rushed to you and tried to make sure you were okay. But as Barold tried this, he could feel a firm hand place itself on his shoulder, it was Al, who was currently glaring daggers into Barold.

Suddenly, the sound of a door bursting open could be heard through the entire island. Isabelle and Tom were standing before the horrid sight, the yellow dog rushing towards you to help you up and the tanooki marching to the grey cub. After many questions about what had happened, witch everyone except Barold could answer. You could see Toms eyes full with rage and disappointment. Soon he’d started yelling at him about how this was his last chance. Barold had done stuff similar to this but never had it gotten to this degree.

“That’s it! You blew it! I’m sorry Barold but you are a danger to this island and everyone on it! We have given you plenary of chances but now you’ve clearly shown us that you can’t live here. I want you gone in two days!” Nook yelled as he could feel the bear growing smaller and smaller under his rage full gaze. Isabelle had helped you off the ground and were escorting you to get you bandaged up. Sooner or later, everyone started going their separate ways. All but one.

Barold had fallen to his knees, biting his face in his paws. No...no no no NO! He didn’t want to move! He couldn’t move! He never meant for this to happen! During these past months he’d feel more genuine happiness than ever before! He couldn’t lose that! He couldn’t lose YOU! YOU WERE GONNA BE WITH HIM! WEATHER YOU WANT IT OR NOT!

Late at night, when everyone was asleep, you were quietly sitting by the beach. Stroking your fingers gently against the sand, drawing small figures. You couldn’t help but feel guilty, even if this wasn’t your fault you still felt like you could have done more to have prevented this. But ultimately, you knew this was for the better. Sadly for you, you were to absorbed in your own thoughts to hear the soft footsteps approaching you.

Out of nowhere, you could feel a rag being pressed against your mouth and nose, panicked you stared hyperventilating but that caused you to immediately faint. But fear not, you were gently caught by none other than the bear you found, wandering around a beach all those months ago. If he had come up with a dastardly plan to get away with you in his grasp. He made sure to note to apologies to you later, but that didn’t matter right now. As he carried you home, trying to avoid anyone who might still be up, he could t help but feel guilty. He was kidnapping you for Petes sake! But he tried to convince himself that the others didn’t deserve to have you.

The next day Barold could be seem moving all of his bags and boxes towards the airport, he didn’t bother to say goodbye to anyone, just dragging a big suitcase behind him, the bag was bigger than he was. But hey, who knows.

Maybe he just had a lot of baggage?

#yandere animal crossing #yandere acnh #yandere #acnh #yadere x reader #stinky ugly bear man #but i love him😌#yandere barold #acnh barold

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kryptored · 5 years ago

Text

She’s Shady and Sketchy...(2)

I’m back. I really want to thank everyone for the feedback I received for part 1 of SSaS. The amount of notes I got was phenomenal, I almost couldn't believe it. Really, thank you everyone.

Now, about part 2 - the typos during the group chat portion are as intended, because it’s not a group chat if no one’s screwing up what they're saying. I know they're supposed to speak French so, the formatting of their words are different, but I'm referencing the use of English in - you all get the point, right? Je ne parle pas français; I’ve only finished the elementary course. I tried to make it look authentic, but we’ll see. Also, a shout-out to @writingishfanonsideblog for pointing out the pun (you have no idea how long I was waiting for someone to see that).

PART 2:...when she goes on and raves

In a room above the Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie

Marinette is severely stressed. At the moment, she is reminding herself that she needs a break from everything – being Ladybug and the new Guardian, keeping up with her commissions, helping out at the bakery, being the class representative, etc. Clearly, it was somewhat working as Adrien could see from his position. He watches the girl lying down on his lap as he treads his fingers through her soft, dark hair. Her eyes are closed in content (kind of), the lines on her forehead slowly melting away. He smiles lopsidedly as he notices her cute nose crinkle and wiggle every few seconds, her lips in a pout as her mind continues to spew thoughts and ideas inside her mind. He reaches out a finger to boop her nose and says, “Hey, I can hear you thinking. You’re supposed to relax.”

Marinette opens her eyes, her brows even more furrowed. “And I told you that I can’t help it.” She tries to swat his hand that hovers over her face. Adrien laughs as he avoids her hand, returning to combing through her hair. She closes her eyes again and tries to go back to her halfway-decent relaxed state that Adrien so often made fun of her for. Oh, did she mention they’ve gotten closer?

To her amazement, Adrien had finally understood the extent of what Lila was doing. It was quite awkward at first, what with how Marinette was struggling to keep her composure in front of the same person she had fallen in love with beyond his looks. Adrien, on the other hand, was starting to realize that Marinette is someone so precious to him that he would do anything to help her, even if it meant he had to grow a backbone or two. It was working, thankfully, and had not backlashed on him. He had started to be less lenient with Lila’s inappropriate approach and invasion of his personal space, to which he made sure to mention to his father. For once, he felt that he was his father’s son because the day after his confession, he had found himself free of Lila’s grasp (literally and metaphorically). She was still modeling for the brand, though (to the disappointment of him and the many staff who found her performance lacking).

That did not mean the same for Marinette, though. He may have finally stood up to Lila, but Marinette was taking the brunt of her anger. Just recently, his friend told him how Lila was being more aggressive in her approaches, to the point where most of the class were starting to treat Marinette at arm’s length. They could clearly see that the class was taking sides, and it wasn’t theirs. Alya and Nino had been at the forefront of convincing him to talk sense into Marinette and giving Lila a chance. For some reason, they forgot how uncomfortable and mortified he felt whenever the latter came close to him without his permission. They weren’t that close, let alone friends. They were working the same job, at most. Physical contact was definitely not acceptable when he says so.

THE GOOD KIDS (11)

It’syagirlALYA: Hey, Lila. good to hear you’re doing fine, girl!

DeLila: I just don’t want to worry everyone.

It’syagirlALYA: It’s okay, don’t worry about it.

rose-pink: that’s right, Lila!

DeLila: anyway, about what I said…

I just really think that marinette needs to be…

Controlled.

jabberwocky: controlled? She’s not an animal.

sea-monkey: yeah, it kinda sounds…

haarhs

hars

harsh

DeLila: Oh, I didn’t mean it like that. Im just saying she needs to be stopped.

She needs to know what it feels like to be bullied.

brainf.Art: Hey, I think destroying her sketchbook is too much. I wouldn’t do the

same if another person, especially an artist, was being mean to me.

Jules: Nath’s right. If Marinette’s gone that bad, we shouldn’t stoop so low.

rose-pink: We’d be the bullies!

jabberwocky: besides, she already knows what it feels like to be bullied.

Remember chloé?

DeLila: Oh, Im not saying we bully her. Just, I dunno, give her a warning?

It’syagirlALYA: How bout this, lila: we try to keep you 2 apart as much as

possible.

DeLila: But…what if it doesn’t work? Or I just approach her again to really try be

friends with her?

It’syagirlALYA: Look, girl – we’ve known Mari for a long time. Well, more so the

others, but yo get the point.

kneeknow: what Alya means is that you let us handle it for oyu.

sunflower: that way, no one fights anyone.

DeLila: Oh, that’s a nice idea.

sun: Yeah, it is.

DeLila: Anyway, I was wondering if one of you could help me with our math

homework? I was just os distracted thinking about the charity Ive been

doing with Prince Ali on Tuesday that I wanst able to concentrate.

Maximus: I believe I can be of assistance.

DeLila: Thanks, Max! do you think you could send me a copy? It’s just, my mom

wants me to attend some very important meetings so, I won’t really have

much time.

Maximus: Oh. I suppose so, yes.

DeLila: Great!

It’syagirlALYA: Maybe you should take a break now.

sea-monkey: Sleeep.

Jules: Rest.

DeLila: Um, why?

Am I bothering all of you now?

rose-pink: No!

sunflower: it’s just, you said your head was hurting a while ago and we don’t

want to make it come back

rose-pink: or wrse!

worse.

sun: yeah

DeLila: Oh! Right.

I’ll see everyone tomorrow, then?

It’syagirlALYA: Sure.

kneeknow: Yeah.

DeLila: Bye, everyone!

jabberwocky: Yup, bye.

sea-monkey: See ya.

brainf.Art: bey.

bye.

sunflower: bye!

sun: bye.

Jules: yeah, bye.

rose-pink: bye-bye!

Maximus: Good-bye.

HOLD THE EFF UP (10)

It’syagirlALYA: I just had a realization.

Lila kept claiming she’s Ladybug’s bff, but that kinda sounds iffy

kneeknow: what makes you sya that, Als?

It’syagirlALYA: I never relly got a chance to ask LB herself but…

why would someone like lila deliberately tell me, the

LABYBLOGGER

That she’s Paris’s superheroine’s bff, knowing that Hawkmoth

could easily use her against LB?!

jabberwocky: holy sh*t, youre right!

sea-monkey: I may not be the smartest, but even I know that’s dumb.

rose-pink: which means Lila is inn danger!

Maximus: as seen during Animan hunting you down.

Sea-monkey: MAX!

It wasn’t my best moment, okay?

sunflower: and her family!

Jules: she’s not in danger…

brainf.Art: Juleka!

Jules: let me finish: she’s not in danger, she put herself in danger.

sun: does that mean lila’s not really friends with ladybug?

It’syagirlALYA: guess I’ll have to hunt down LB if we want to find out ourselves.

brainf.Art: what if ladybug deflecting about it is just a tactic to protect her?

Jules: I’ll do you one better: why didn’t lila know better than telling other people

something tha could be passed on to HM

No offence, Alya.

It’syagirlALYA: none taken.

kneeknow: Juleka’s right. It’s one thing when LB pretends she doesn’t know

someone for safety reasons. It’s another when you don’t know who

could possibly be listening or watching the interview and they plan

to do with it.

sun: wasn’t there something on the news about someone claiming to be Chat’s

girlfriend who ended up being kidnapped by an akuma as bait?

sea-monkey: ooh! I remememember that!

Maximus: She was heavily reprimanded by Ladybug and Chat Noir, not to

mention her parents for endangering herself.

jabberwocky: hey Alya, weren’t there somepoeple who tried to call her out on

the interview?

It’syagirlALYA: who? The girl ivan was talking about?

jabberwocky: No.

I mean Lila.

Maximus: Alix is correct. I seem to recall about 27% of your comment section

filled with doubts and proclamations of disbelief.

It’syagirlALYA: I think this calls for another meeting. But this time, for different

reasons.

Come tomorrow morning, 10 people in class had a wary look in their eyes. Lila had yet to arrive, but asides from them, Chloé and Sabrina were already seated and talking about whatever it was that had them busy yesterday. Along the front rows, Marinette is seen to be chatting excitedly with Adrien. Now that they think about it, they hadn’t realized when exactly those two got comfortable and closer together (particularly Marinette). After all, it wasn’t much of a secret except for Adrien that the girl had a huge crush on the model. Alya and Nino, mostly, were very confused on how they missed the development on the interaction between their best friends. But before any of them could comment on the newly discovered development, the real person who had been running on their minds had finally arrived.

“Hi, everyone! It’s so good to see you all this wonderful morning.” They never really thought much about it, but Lila always did have this overly sweet tone. It was different compared to Rose’s own way of talking. “I’m glad to announce that nothing too bad came off from my head injury, but I want to also let you know that I got…”

Huh. Not that they didn’t care about the well-being of others, but Lila always did have a way of putting a lot of attention on her. But really, for how long and how much she’d told them, it was too hard to ignore that she always did talk about herself.

“…I could also introduce you guys to…”

Introductions. Hm… well, that was one word they were well acquainted with. There wasn’t one a time they hadn’t heard Lila mention someone new and promise introducing them. it wasn’t that they were using her for her ‘connections,’ but she could at least try to avoid making promises she would suddenly forget about.

Their eyes narrow down on her, following her every move while she is none the wiser of the sudden change of how they see her. Things hadn’t been easy after the short meeting among those in attendance. Doubt had been planted among their minds and initially, none of them knew whether to weed it out or to water it with curiosity. Lila, thinking she has their trust still, goes on and raves of the many things she’s supposedly done.

Lila approaches the one person she knows is her greatest ‘fan,’ Alya, and proceeds to shower her with the many tales she had spun that involved name droppings and not-so-subtle self-praise. She goes on, thinking that all is well, but the others are actually more inclined to observe the same person they once believed at the drop of her hat. They are listening to her words carefully, only this time with more awareness.

TAGS:

@animergirlweeb @sturchling @plsltmesleep @theyellowfeverexperience @rudy-ruby @j-a-n-e--d-o-e @queenmj10 @krispydefendorpolice @the-delta-42

Is that everyone?

#ml fanfic #lila salt #anti lila #miracuclass #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #miraculous ladybug #the class finally using their brain cells #and a hint of adrienette #SSAS fanfic

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probably-writing-x · 5 years ago

Text

Misspoken.

Arón Piper x Reader

Request by anon: can i request a very specific aron piper imagine where y/n is a london college student and she is secretly dating him while visiting him in spain for her birthday they have a big fight where he says something like thats why you don’t deserve to be loved, she gets back home heartbroken , he is really sorry about what he said, he tries to apologize several times in her college to her but at the end he decides to surprise her with a cake and a very sweet message

Request by anon: Hi! I love your fics! Could you write Arón being protective of his gf?

Gif is not my own

Requests are open 🤍

You were relieved as you finally set your bags down in Arón’s flat and knew that this week away to celebrate your birthday was actually going to plan. With you studying at UCL in London and him working and living over here, it was difficult to ever find enough time to see each other. But Arón had been completely set on spending your birthday with you.

“Welcome back!” He grins as he turns around to face you, having carried your suitcase up.

You laugh and walk over to kiss him strongly, cupping his face as you do, “It’s good to be back.”

He grins and lets his hands fall to your hips as he walks you back, “You know, we’ve got some time before my first plan of the day...”

You cock a brow as your legs hit the edge of the bed frame, “Enough time for me to unpack?”

He laughs at your suggestion as you fall back onto the mattress with him, “Definitely not.”

- - - - - -

As Arón had said, he’d set up plans for the entire week that you were here - saying that your birthday deserved to be celebrated over the course of seven days. The first day consisted of the two of you going on a hike through the countryside and the second consisted of a long lie in with breakfast in bed. Now, that evening, you were heading out for a meal at a restaurant in town that he’d said he always wanted to take you to.

“You’ve done too much Arón,” You sigh as he fixes his tie for the evening and you finish getting dressed too, “It’s not even my birthday yet.”

“It is in Australia,” He points out, gesturing to the clock that hung on his wall.

You roll your eyes as he reaches over and takes your hand, “Ready to go?”

The restaurant was only a short walk away so you decided that the warm evening called for an excuse for the two of you to walk down to the restaurant instead of calling a cab. He held your hand so contentedly, baffled as to how he’d spent so long without it. You always managed to make long distance work - you both just knew you had to make the most of the pockets of time that you did have together.

You arrive at the restaurant and the hostess takes you to your table, right by the window with a warm candle and low lighting.

“Tom will be your waiter for the evening, he’ll be over shortly to take your order,” The lady smiles before walking back to the door.

You glance around at the fancy interior, knowing full well you’d already feel guilty about the price he’d be paying in a place like this.

“Arón...”

“Don’t even say it,” He chuckles, “It’s the night before your birthday, I want to treat you.”

You smile gently at his instant response, knowing you too well.

“Good evening, I’ll be your waiter for this evening,” A young boy, about your age walks over, speaking in a clear British accent, “What drinks can I get for you?”

“We’ll have a bottle of champagne for the table, please,” Arón nods, glancing at you with a light smile.

The waiter still turns to you and it’s only then that you recognise him.

“Hey, I know you, right? UCL?” Tom frowns, “I think we took a class together.”

“Yeah, of course,” You smile, “How are you?”

“I’m good thank you, you look great.”

It’s an innocent comment. Nothing more than a polite remark really. But you see the way Arón shifts in his seat like it’s suddenly the most uncomfortable thing ever.

“Well, it’s really good to see you,” You nod, “We’ll have to catch up soon.”

Tom dismissed himself after that and you turn your focus back to Arón.

“Who’s that guy?” He asks, trying to seem nonchalant as he scans across the starters in the menu.

“Tom, I sat next to him in a class during second year but he’s been studying abroad for this year so I haven’t seen him in ages,” You explain, looking through the endless food choices on the menu.

“Hmm, you never mentioned him,” Arón points out, not once glancing up to you.

“I don’t really remember to mention every person I sit next to in class,” You laugh a little, “He’s just a friend.”

Arón looks up and sighs a little, “I’m sorry.”

You shake your head with a smile, “It’s fine, honestly. I’d be a little cautious too if it was someone with you.”

Tom comes over and places down the ice bucket with champagne and two glasses for both of you.

“Okay, and how about food?”

Arón allows you to order first as you pick out your starter and main from the menu.

“Great choice,” Tom shoots you a wink, “And for you, sir?”

Arón shifts in his chair again before reaching out one hand and linking it with yours across the table. Tom’s eyes fall to your hands but he’s likely just in confusion like you are.

Arón reels off his order and closes the menu, “Cheers buddy.”

As Tom walks away, you turn to Arón with a sigh, “Can we please not let this affect the evening?”

Arón takes a deep breath, “You’re right, I’m sorry.”

“I just want to make the most of our time here,” You comment, “Come on, tell me how filming’s going.”

Just like that, the two of you fall back into your old ways and everything and everyone else seems so far from your little bubble. He tells you all of the little stories from set, anything he feels like he’s struggling with for his character and most definitely tells you more than he should do about the storyline for the next season.

“How’s Omar doing?”

“He’s good, yeah,” Arón nods, “He told me he’d have loved to see you this week but we were thinking we could maybe do something in summer with a bunch of us.”

“Yeah, that sounds great,” You agree, taking a bite of your starter, “Like a holiday or something?”

“Yeah, maybe, even if we all head to the beach and rent out a house,” Arón explains, “I’ll let you know. How has uni been? Did you manage to get those projects done in time?”

As your starters arrive, you chat him through everything about university - the best parts, the stresses and the work. You forget all about Tom or how Arón had reacted to his presence, maybe you would’ve done the same if it was someone unknown speaking to him. But there was nothing between you and Tom, just friends.

As the evening comes to a close, Tom comes to collect your plates. Sure, he’d made a few comments as he’d seen you through the night but it was never anything more than that.

“How was everything for you this evening guys?” Tom asks as he leans over to pick up the empty champagne bottle, “At least you can hold your alcohol better than that night in London!” He shoots you a smile.

You laugh it off and roll your eyes.

“What’s this?” Arón frowns, glancing between the two of you.

“She gets wild on a night out, such a lightweight!” Tom exclaims, going to pick up the last of the plates before walking off.

Arón turns to you, “Wild, huh?”

You roll your eyes, “He’s just being silly, it was one of the Christmas balls and I-“

Tom walks back over with the bill and sets it down onto the table.

“Here,” Arón sets down a few notes before he can walk away, “Keep the change and keep your eyes off my fucking partner next time buddy.”

Toms eyes widen a little as he looks to you and back to Arón.

“Don’t look all innocent now, I wonder what your manager would think about you flirting with someone all night whilst their boyfriend sits across from them.”

“Arón!” You warn, trying to keep composure in the public eye, “Thank you, Tom, you were great tonight. I’ll see you around, okay?”

Tom fumbles and quickly takes the money with him to get away from you as quickly as possible.

Arón clenches his jaw and stuffs the receipt into his pocket, not once looking at you.

“We’ll talk about this when we’re home,” You state, standing up from the table and grabbing your jacket.

He reaches for your hand as you step onto the path, never really walking anywhere without a small gesture like that. But you pull away almost instinctively.

“(Y/n)...”

“We’ll talk about it when we’re home.”

- - - - - -

And, as soon as you step into the flat, your patience wears thin.

“You had no right to act that way Arón,” You state calmly, coldly, “You were completely out of line and it was humiliating.”

“Humiliating?” He scoffs as he tugs the tie from his neck, “What’s humiliating is having someone flirt with you when I’m sat right across from you!”

“He wasn’t flirting Arón! He’s a friend from class!” You defend, “Believe me, Id tell you if it was anything more.”

“You’d tell me? Seems like there’s a lot you’re not telling me if you think there was nothing going on there.”

“I’m not saying it again Arón. Tom is a friend. Nothing more than that. I’m here with you, I want to be with you,” You turn around to face him, “Isn’t that enough?”

“You’re oblivious (Y/n)!” He’s losing his patience now, “God! This is why it’s so hard to love you sometimes, you don’t deserve-“

“I don’t deserve what? I don’t deserve to be loved?” Your voice breaks at the words as the clench on your heart tightens beyond repair.

All of his anger drops instantly, “No, no, babe, that’s not what I meant.”

“Forget it,” You shake your head, “Let’s just go to bed.”

“No, no, come on, love,” He goes to reach out for you but you snap your arms back instantly.

“Don’t call me love. The one that’s hard to love, huh?” You swallow the lump in your throat, “I’m going to get ready for bed.”

You change out of your clothes in silence, do all of your typical routine in silence and eventually settle into the bed without a word too. It’s cold in the apartment, too cold for such a warm evening. You wrap your arms around yourself in the place where his should be.

“Please talk to me (Y/n),” He sighs as he sits on the edge of his side of the bed, “I can explain, l didn’t mean-“

“It’s fine, Arón. I don’t want to talk now.”

- - - - - -

The following morning, even though it’s your birthday morning, you make the decision to book onto the earliest flight available and start collecting up the few things you’d actually unpacked since being here. Things would only get worse if you stayed here, and you couldn’t put yourself through that. Arón was still asleep just as you were picking up your bags to meet the Uber outside.

“(Y/n)?” He frowns as he reaches out to your side of the bed and feels that you’re not there.

You glance over at the innocence of his sleeping form and feel such a reluctant desperation to go and lay back next to him.

“Whe-where are you going?”

“I found an early flight, I thought I’d get out of your way,” You explain, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Get out of my way?” He scrambles to sit up, “(Y/n), it’s your birthday.”

“Right, and I don’t want to spend it with someone who finds it hard to love me,” You state coldly.

He sits on the edge of the bed and looks toward you, “You really think that’s how I feel?”

“I think that’s what you said last night, and I don’t care if you didn’t mean it. Words like that can’t just be dismissed by you saying that you didn’t mean them,” You shake your head, “So, I’m going back to London.”

“So, what does this mean? You want to end things with me?”

You glance down at his bare torso, looking so innocent in his appearance, the moon and sun tattoo on his chest always being your favourite.

“I don’t know Arón,” Your voice trembles, “But I can’t risk being with someone who would ever tell me that it’s hard loving me. I’m sorry.”

- - - - - -

The next few days in London are the real killer. You chose to skip out on celebrating your birthday at all and had instantly been wallowing in your own self pity ever since you’d got back. Arón had been trying to call you relentlessly but nothing had worked. You couldn’t imagine picking up the call, knowing yourself too well to think you’d ever be able to resist hearing his voice so pleading. Part of you regretted leaving that day. But he’d hurt you. And you couldn’t just let that pass.

You’re just about to leave to go and get a coffee from the local Starbucks when there’s a knock at the door of your flat. You expect it to be one of your friends, trying to encourage you once again to come out with them.

When you open the door, you’re met with something completely different. Unexpected above anything.

“Arón, what are you doing here?”

He’s in your doorway with a rucksack over one shoulder and his hands held around a brightly coloured cardboard box, “Nobody deserves to celebrate their birthday on an aeroplane.”

He hands over the box and you open it to find a birthday cake inside with the numbers of your age in candles placed firmly in the centre. It’s decorated simply and he’s managed to pick your favourite.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to,” You smile politely, setting the box down onto the side as you’re still reluctant to let him inside.

“No, I did. And there’s a lot more that I need to do,” He sighs, “Just hear me out, okay?”

You hold firmly onto the door handle like it’s going to steady you at all.

“(Y/n), it’s not hard to love you. From the first moment I laid eyes on you on a beach in Spain, to the time you tried to teach me to surf, to now. It’s never been difficult to let my heart do what it was always meant to, fall for you. You make every part of that easy. And you give me another reason every single day to love you. I don’t know how, but you do. It’s so fucking easy to love you, and you deserve every piece of you to be loved and adored and cherished,” He says the words so confidently that you believe them over anything else he’s told you, “It’s not hard to love you. What’s hard is letting myself love. Letting myself be so fucking vulnerable that I give half of myself to somebody else. It scares me that you’ll ever find someone who can give you more than I ever could. That can be more for you than I am. But I promise you I’m getting there, and I also promise you that - if you let me - I’ll prove to you that you will never be hard to love, ever.”

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eddsworldwritingrequests · 5 years ago

Note

Tordedd please!! Maybe angst? But anything really, I’m just deprived of tordedd content 😫

(How did y’all know I love TordEdd >=0 Also I’m really sorry for how long this took, quarantine caught all of us off guard in my household so I’ve been trying to get back on my feet. AND my girlfriend has been staying over with me and she doesn’t know I run this blog.

But in all seriousness, I hope you forgive me with this request! It was like 9 pages on google docs so aaaa---)

------

Quiet was something that Edd had gotten used to. He didn't do it constantly, but staying up was a routine that had gotten a little too familiar for the brunet. So familiar that the dark bags under his eyes showed its prominence.

Coffee was basically an all time drink now. Of course, it would never overrun the amount of Cola Edd drinks on a daily basis. Hell, he even pours the drink into the actual coffee sometimes. However, it certainly was something that he depended on nowadays, especially for moments like this.

He didn't mean to stay up. He never usually meant to, but Edd couldn't sleep lately. Everytime he did, he found himself staring at the ceiling for an hour and a half. Which is what happened tonight, which lead to where the tall man was now sitting.

Edd tilted his foot back and forth, ticking it with the seconds that passed on the hanging clock. Fingernails tapped against the hard surface of the table, the brunet closing his eyes peacefully. His coffee was brewing, and while the man wanted so desperately to fall asleep, he knew he wouldn't be able to. So, might as well stay awake and be productive.

Tom and Matt were probably dead asleep, which is reasonable considering it was 2:30 in the morning. Matt usually fell asleep early, which was good for midnight shenanigans, but that meant the ginger was usually the first one awake. Tom liked to stay up late as well, but he usually only did so because he was out at some bar. Or in some stranger’s bed. Once he gets home, however, he drops so quickly, sleeping like a log. Edd sometimes wonders if he comes back alive, even.

Edd blinked his eyes open halfway, watching the coffee maker lazily. It was whirring, making a low buzzing sound. He wondered why he was still awake, why he couldn’t sleep when his body so desperately screamed for a rest. The light thrum of the refrigerator, the ice maker rumbling every now and then, the damn coffee maker buzzing. And that was all he heard, the little "vrrrr" from the machine, the occasional wind creaking the windows, and the sound of the kitchen fan turning slowly.

That's all he should've heard. It was late, and as far as he was concerned, Edd was the only one up.

Until he heard a crash.

Glass shattering, the noise disappearing just as quickly as it had sounded. It was just long enough for Edd's tired self to process, however. Mostly because he was suddenly on his feet, chair having been scraped back.

He stood still, quiet as he listened. The machine was still whirring, the fan slowly turned. He didn't hear anything else. It had gone completely silent again, as if whoever broke the window had just… paused.

Edd finally moved after a minute of silence. Socked feet tiptoed their way into the living room, staring with wide eyes at the entrance. Down the hall was the front door, where the broken window presumably was. And towards the person who most likely broke it.

The brunet came another step forward before pausing by the wall, hidden behind the corner of the living room entrance. Another sound broke through the silence, the sound of feet crunching glass.

It made Edd freeze in his spot, lips held tight. He was scared to breathe, as if whoever had broken in could hear his noise from all the way in front. Whether they were closer now or not, Edd didn't dare to breathe too loudly. He was still in his spot, heartbeat stuck at the base of his throat.

He could hear the steps coming closer, lightly treading down the hall. They were so light that Edd almost lost track of them, but he managed to keep up. Keep up as he heard them come to a slow stop near him, around the corner of the entrance.

Fuck. Fuck, the kitchen light was on. It seeped past the living room, glowing on the floor. They could see it from the hall, just lightly, but they could see it nonetheless.

Edd cursed under his breath, hearing the footsteps quickly retreat. He couldn’t help but spring into action upon hearing a voice, a soft “Shit” coming from the dark. Without thinking, Edd leaped from around the wall, ignoring his every thought that begged him to just let the man leave. That’s what it sounded like he was doing.

Whatever his thoughts, though, Edd couldn’t help but wonder what kind of adrenaline lead him to harshly grab hold of the figure around the corner, eyes adjusting to the sudden lack of brightness.

"Who--" Edd couldn't finish his statement, grip slipping from this random man's clothes. They started to wriggle out of Edd's grip, trying their best to flee, but the brunet just held them tighter. He pulled them back, arms locking around their chest, heavy breathing now sounding as he tried to get the wrestling figure under control.

Holy fuck, this was easier than Edd thought. Just locking his hands a certain way secured the other, the immense force the cloaked man gave was almost nothing. It also didn’t help how Edd was a whopping 6′4, bigger in size in all ways. He was practically hovering over the shorter man. Not by much, but by way over than enough.

It wasn't until Edd looked down and processed this familiar face that he really loosened his grip. Just enough for the struggling man to notice and pause.

Edd stared down, and as he did so, the other looked up to meet him with grey colored eyes. Bright, even in the dim setting.

"Tord?" Edd questioned, voice quiet. He stared at him with such wonder and confusion, arms dropping from him. It took him a second, but Tord eventually regained his composure, stumbling forward and whipping around. He was standing straight in front of Edd. Eyes wide. "What are y… Tord, is that you??"

The other man smiled slightly, giving Edd the stupidest face the brunet's ever seen. It was dorky, that small gap in the Norwegian's front two teeth presenting itself. He raised his hands slightly, looking embarrassed that he had been caught. Especially over the fact that he had pathetically tried to fight Edd off of him.

"Heeeey, Eeeeeeeeedd…." Tord gave a low chuckle, quickly glancing down the hall behind himself. Edd also took a quick glance behind him, catching eye of the open window and shattered glass. Ah, shit. "Long time no see."

"Y… Tord, what are you doing here?" Edd questioned, coming forward slightly. He raised his hands, waving them slightly. He didn't exactly know what to do with them, didn't know if he should hug Tord or pat him. He was confused. But those nerves didn't disappear. God, no. "I haven't-- You didn't tell me you were coming to visit. It's been years."

"Yeah, I, uhm… I was going to surprise you! I thought I'd pop in last minute, visit since… I had a, uh, dip.. In my schedule." Tord smiled, words lacing over perfectly with a sense of genuine thought. "I, uh, couldn't find the spare key that we used to keep. So I… broke… the window.."

Tord cleared his throat. "Whoops."

The brunet stood there, looking up at the broken window past them. His eyes flickered from Tord to the front door, then back again. He gave the other a smile back. "You didn't bother to check the door?"

"Well, I would've assumed it was locked."

Edd snorted a bit, shaking his head. "Tom got back from a bar about an hour ago. He usually forgets to lock it." Edd pointed past the other, towards the front.

Tord glanced over his shoulder. And, low and behold, his eyes landed on the handle, door held open a bit and, indeed, unlocked.

"Oh." Tord stared. He huffed, frowning a bit before looking to Edd. "Well… Shit, aha, surprise! Sorry to wake you up."

"No, no, it's fine. I was already up." Edd waved off, smile slowly forming across his face.

It was a surprise, it sure as hell was, but Edd couldn’t help that sigh of relief to flutter from him. He was excited, the hands that were raised in the air coming to slowly pat at Tord’s shoulders.

The other stared at him with a weird look, as if Edd was crazy. And, Edd believed he was. Mostly because it had been so long since Tord had visited from who knows where, and the feelings that whirled in his chest didn’t seem to change. That warmth seeping into his cheeks as his lips parted into an excited grin before pulling Tord in again.

He hugged him. Tightly. Arms wrapping around the other, pulling him in close. He forgot how much he loved feeling Tord tense in his arms. He never really seemed comfortable with big hugs like these anymore, it was clear from the occasional visits, but the Norwegian still returned them nonetheless. Always returned Edd’s big hugs with a tight one of his own.

“You could’ve at least called a couple hours beforehand. The living room looks like shit.” Edd grumbled, a light-hearted annoyance lacing through his words.

He could almost feel the way Tord’s laugh flowed over his body, shaking a bit as he huffed out loudly in response.

“I used to live here too, you know.” Tord’s low voice droned from the fabric of Edd’s shirt, face pressed into his chest. “You really think I care about a dirty living room? You should see my living room.”

Edd snorted, shaking his head a bit as his arms loosened around the other. He couldn’t help that rush of happiness surge through his arms as he felt Tord look up, not yet stepping back from him. He had the chance to, but he didn’t.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Says the one who broke a window to get in even though the door was already open. And unlocked.” Edd piped, shooting the other a prodding stare. “I mean, you could’ve at least--”

“Okay! Okay, I get it, stop teasing me.” Tord complained, finally pushing away from Edd. A small grumble came out, hidden in the midst of Edd’s light chuckles. “God, I forget how annoying you are.”

“Ah, yes. I’m the annoying one.” Edd hummed, grinning at the other before whipping around, leading Tord to the kitchen once more.

The Norwegian followed his footsteps, shooting back another comment, going quiet to listen to Edd’s response. His low grumble, little laughs huffing along his words. Edd was a big man. And in return, that lead to him having a naturally deeper voice. Not by much, but when he’s up in the early hours of the morning, a little like this time, the rumble of his voice box settles at the base of his throat. Too tired to put emotion, but just enough given to make Tord.... feel things.

It was a while since he visited. Ever since he left, Tord made sure to never lose contact completely. He’d visit once every couple years, but it was never more than for a day or two. And he only ever saw Edd.

Sure, Tord missed Matt and Tom, but it’s not like he really talked to them anymore. He never had Tom’s number to begin with, the little ball of fire blocking Tord whenever they got too angry at each other. Matt and him, no matter how tight they were as friends, just slowly... started drifting apart. Tord wondered why. I mean, Edd mentioned something about that memory erase gun, but the effects of that shouldn’t have lasted so long. Maybe the ginger was just afraid it’d be awkward to try and text him again.

Matt was anxious sometimes. Sweet and bright as he may be, but a little nervous.

That didn’t matter, though. He’d always have time to chum up with the other two, but it was Edd who he enjoyed spending his time with the most. Sure, he didn’t exactly plan to “visit”, he was actually just ready to pick up his little... toy.

The thought made his smile droop a bit, eyes flickering back to the hallway that lead to his room. It was locked when he looked at it earlier. He wondered if Edd turned it into a storage room or something.

Thoughts were snapped back into reality as Edd asked him something, the Norwegian blinking for a moment. “W--What? Sorry, I wasn’t, uh..”

“It’s alright. I just asked if you wanted some coffee? Unless you plan to head to sleep, but to be honest, you look as bright and alert as ever.” Edd chirped, picking up the steaming mug from the coffee maker. It was silent now, that buzzing noise it made now gone.

Now that Tord could see him in better light, the first thing he noticed was the light stubble on the other’s chin. The beginning of a beard on Edd’s face, now hidden behind a mug as it was lifted to those lips of his.

It made Tord shudder a bit, pulling his eyes up, bright and wide. Observant.

While that peach fuzz the other wore was a sight to see, Tord couldn’t help but lock his eyes on something else. Like the bags under those chocolatey eyes of his. And just how tired Edd actually looked.

Why was he drinking coffee so late? He didn’t plan to actually stay up, was he? And from the looks of it, he was making that before Tord had even broken in. Didn’t he say earlier that he was already up?

“Uh, no, I’m okay.” Tord responded, face kind of slacking at the thought of Edd having sleep troubles. His grey eyes flickered over Edd’s face for no more than a second before staring out the glass doors leading to the yard. “It’s pretty late to be drinking coffee, though. Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

Edd went a bit quiet, bringing his glass cup to his lips, letting it sit there. The void of an answer made Tord shift his eyes back to him, head still tilted towards the grass outside, but eyeing the larger male. All the while sitting down.

“I couldn’t sleep is all.” Edd murmured into his cup, shrugging slightly. “Like always, aha.”

Tord let out an “ah”, slowly nodding his head along before pausing. Pausing because, no, that wasn’t “Like always.” Edd could always sleep without worries, no matter what happened. Back in highschool, he could get into a fight, have a quarrel with somebody, watch some disturbing video and still go out like a light. Edd never took longer than a few minutes to go to sleep. Or, well, that’s how Tord last remembered.

“Oh.”

“Haha, yeah. Don’t worry about it.”

Tord pursed his lips, eyes moving back to the clear view. He eyed the lawn, seeing how it looked untouched and normal like always. He didn’t know why he felt so nervous. From Edd’s happy expression, it was clear that no matter how long Tord had been away, they obviously hadn’t found out about his little secret room yet. They hadn’t discovered anything yet, which was surprising considering they must’ve done something to his room. Maybe while cleaning it out or moving stuff around they found that lever. It was actually quite surprising how they hadn’t seen anything yet.

Tord really wondered how stupid his friends actually were sometimes. “So, I couldn’t help but notice my room was locked. And how we have a second story now?” Tord blinked his gaze back at the other, watching Edd yawn a bit before settling himself down in front of Tord at the table.

“Yeah, Matt has a bunch of crap he doesn’t want to throw away so we got an upstairs and stuck him there. He became quite the collector.” Edd rolled his eyes at those words, bringing his coffee mug down to clink loudly on the wooden surface. “Collector my ass. He’s a hoarder. He hoards junk, not collects.”

Tord let out a soft snort, raising a brow as the smile on his face widened. That sure was different too. Matt being a hoarder, having to take up an entire floor to just keep track of all his junk. Tord shouldn’t be thinking that way, though. I mean, he practically had the exact same thing. Except Tord’s stuff wasn’t junk! It was… hmm.

“And my room?”

“Oh, that’s sort of…. Tom’s room now?”

Tord blinked at Edd. The brunet wouldn’t look at him, but the Norwegian waved his hand to try and grab his attention. Edd still didn’t look at him. He continued to stare into his cup, even as he drank from it. “I’m sorry, Edward. Did you just say that my room belongs to Tom now???”

“Maybe?”

“Edd!!!”

“Look! I turned his old room into a swimming pool, he needed a room and the upstairs doesn’t have sections!! It’s one room, I was not about to make him bunk with Matt.” Edd huffed loudly, frowning at the other as he finally looked up. “You’re crazy if you think I can keep Tom alone with Matt. Absolutely insane.”

Tord knitted his brows, looking confused about, well, everything. Did things change that much? Really? I mean, it’s not like he should’ve expected everything to be the same. Afterall, Tord was gone for eight or so years. Things were bound to be different. Even people, he guesses. “Where am I going to sleep then?”

“You’ve lived here, just knock out on the couch for a day or two before you go back, I’m sure you can manage.” Edd scoffed, letting his nails click loudly against his mug. “Or get a hotel room like you did last time. I’m surprised you came straight here to be honest. You haven’t been here since…. Well, since you first left.”

Tord watched Edd for a moment, watched Edd finish up his drink before quickly making his way to the sink. His chair scraped on the tiled floor slightly, the brunet going quiet after his statement. He turned the sink on, faucet spilling water into his now empty cup. Edd licked his lips slightly, feeling how chapped and dry they were.

He looked uncomfy talking about the subject. Just saying the words “first left” seemed like it made Edd want to quickly direct the conversation another way. It hurt to see that look on his face. Made Tord uncomfortable as well to see just how tired Edd looked. God, why did he look so tired?

Tord fiddled with his thumbs on the table. He had an excuse already made up in his mind, an excuse that he had made up on the car ride here. It wasn’t true, it was really just an excuse to buy him more time, to give him some time to stay here until he got up and left. Tord could spill it now.

Seeing how Edd looked, though, Tord wondered if this was the right choice. He couldn’t take back all he had done but how could he just lie to Edd’s face? Especially if he was bringing his hopes up now only to crush him in the long run. It’s not like Tord can just stop being a leader to an entire damn army, no, he had gone too far. There’s no way he can take it back now.

He was going to hurt Edd in a few days' time, maybe even tomorrow. There was no avoiding it. They would see him come out of the ground with that robot one way or another, it’d take a miracle for them not to notice it. If Tord was lucky, he could get his robot then leave without any of them realizing it was him. He could escape, not say a word. They would never hear from him again and they would never know what happened to him.

That is, if Tord is lucky. And lucky isn’t really in Tord’s vocabulary.

“Uh… I mean…” Tord stared harshly at his thumbs. He hated himself for this, but hey, if he was going to break his heart later, then might as well make these last few days worth it. Right? “I was actually thinking about… moving back in?”

Edd twirled around faster than Tord could process, the Norwegian taking a moment to realize that the brunet was stepping back over to him now. He blinked once more, looking up at the other, watching Edd stand beside him with wide eyes.

Wide, beautiful, puppy-like eyes. Edd was so fascinating, wasn’t he? Tord’s favorite person, the only one who really bothered to keep in touch with him. The one who Tord just happened to fall in love with.

Even after years, seeing that excitement in those eyes of his got Tord melting a bit. Except, he kept his composure. Kept his back straight as that worry in his own eyes crumbled into adoration. Tord couldn’t help but let a wobbly smile form on his lips.

“Really?” Edd questioned, the hopefulness in his voice lighting up Tord’s heart.

He could feel it thump against his chest a bit faster, the Norwegian wanting so badly to kick his feet with joy. He could watch Edd make that face all day. And to think he was looking positive and happy like that at Tord, wow. God, it was enough to make Tord almost forget about the fact that he really was about to throw their relationship away once he grabbed his robot. That little expression made him almost forget about all he was going to do.

“Y...Yeah, I came back here because, uh… I’m moving back in.”

“You’re moving back in?”

“Yup.”

“Like…. For real? Real-real?”

“Yes, Edd. For real-real.”

The brunet let out a breathy squeal, doing his best to keep quiet in his excited state. He flailed his hands slightly, waving them around before pulling a laughing Tord up from his seat. “Stop laughing, this is serious!”

“I am being serious, haha. You’re the one flailing like a damn bird.”

“I am not a-- a bird.” Edd scoffed, letting his hands drop. “And can you really blame me for being excited???”

Tord smiled brightly, stumbling as he tried to push in his chair while taking an awfully close step to Edd. He ignored the loud scrape from the chair, ignored how close he was to the brunet. All Tord really focused on was that smile that framed Edd’s face so perfectly. So much so that it made Tord’s heart jumble up in all these mixed feelings of his. “I guess I can’t.”

Edd smiled. That was how it could be simply put. He smiled, and Tord smiled back. And it wasn’t until Tord took another step forward that Edd really took the chance to scoop him up in his arms again. Bringing him so close that Tord had to lean up in the slightest to hug him comfortably.

Big arms around him, Tord smiled. Hugs weren’t his thing, he wasn’t used to being touched and prodded over. Granted, his dads usually liked to smother him, but other than them, no one dared to hug him. Except these idiot friends of his. And Edd.

Edd’s hugs were the best. They made Tord feel safe and he absolutely drowned in the feeling it gave him. He would stand in his arms forever if he could. But Tord’s job didn’t let him do so. He couldn’t have this. And the thought suffocated him.

Edd loosened his grip, prepared to step back, but he paused. Only because Tord’s own hands came around to squeeze him tightly. And he didn’t let go.

“Not yet.” Tord muttered, voice quiet. He let his head rest on Edd’s shoulder, fingers moving lightly across the back of his shirt. He brought himself close to him again. “Let me just stay here for a bit more.”

Edd bit the inside of his cheek, but he made no objection. He only nodded, a soft little hum escaping him to show his joy before resuming his previous grip.

Tord closed his eyes. He took in a deep breath and stilled his hands, letting them rest around Edd instead of trying to pick and jitter. He wanted to stay here. Enjoy Edd’s hugs until he couldn’t anymore.

He’d pick up his robot tomorrow. Or maybe the day after that. Tord knew he had to do it soon, but maybe he could delay it. Afterall, it was going to be hard to look into Edd’s face and tell him he never cared about him. That he only came for his equipment.

Tord was going to miss this. He was going to miss his friends. He was going to miss him, miss Edd. He was going to mess this all up soon and Tord could feel himself grow queasy and the scenarios that piled in his head. God, he was going to break his own heart. He was going to leave Edd behind.

Just a bit more time in his arms. That’s all Tord asked for, really.

“So… are you going to kick Tom out of my room or what?”

#eddsworld #eddsworld fanfic #tordedd #eddtord #tord x edd #edd x tord #toredd #writing #writing requests #writing request #requests #request

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