#but with ur fists held up so u can punch | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

comfortbucky · 3 years ago

Note

requests? did someone say requests??😌

fluffy headcanon, mafia boss!bucky comes home after being away for a week or so and it’s just a cute ass reunion between the reader & him with lots of kisses & hugs n shit

or(take your pick) :)

one shot, where john walker is really rude to reader(insults her & shit), but she stands up for herself. they(her & john) get into a fight & bucky finds out by surprisingly swinging by her apartment. of course bucky is pissed, but he tends to her wounds. then for some stupid reason, john shows up at readers apartment & bucky loses it. but it ends in bucky admitting his feelings to reader n some fluff 😩

hope you find motivation for at least one of these:😚

hi yes hehe i did say requests🙈

i’m a sucker for tfatws!bucky so- (and john walker is a rat bastard🤣 so lemme go off)

𝗶 𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚ ⋆

pairing: tfatws!bucky x fem!avenger!reader

warnings: john walker (grr), violence! and descriptions of bloody injuries

A/N: also! i sort of changed the prompt i hope u don’t mind too much🥺 // this oneshot will not be taking place during the canon timeline btw but inspired by the events/themes of tfatws

word count: 1.5 k

my masterlist!

completed requests!

Y/N sighed, as she plopped onto the couch after a long day. She, Bucky, and Sam had spent the whole day researching the Flagsmashers to try and track them down. It took all day, partially because Bucky needed a little extra help with learning how to use his laptop. She chuckled at the memory, grabbing the remote to turn her TV on. Suddenly, a loud, aggressive, knock interrupted her thoughts. She sighed and leaned her head on the back of her couch, taking a moment to debate leaving her very comfortable spot, before getting up to answer the door. Y/N knew that she probably should have peeked through her peephole before answering, but she wanted to return to the comfort of her couch as soon as possible. She opened it to see none other than John Walker, greeting her with a smirk. Y/N rolled her eyes.

“What are you doing here, John? How the hell did you even get my address?”

“All government property has GPS tracking in it," he said, pointing to her laptop on the kitchen table behind her. She turned and frowned as he continued. "Look, you need us, me and Battlestar, to take down Karli.” She looked back at John, laughing at Lemar’s alias.

“No way I’m letting someone who goes by Battlestar help me out.” He glared at her comment. “Or you, a Captain America wannabe.”

John took an aggressive step closer, way too close for Y/N’s comfort, as he replied. “I am Captain America, whether you like it or not.”

"You'll never be Captain America," she snapped back. "You don't have what it takes." He glared at her and put his face right in front of hers.

"How would you know? You're a pathetic excuse for a soldier," he spat and Y/N grimaced at John's spit landing on her cheeks. He looked at her, his eyes examining her body. She hated every second of it, his stare making her feel grimy all over, like she immediately needed a shower. “Who’d you fuck to get into the Avengers anyways? Bet it was Steve.”

John’s comment was immediately followed by Y/N’s fist connecting with his cheek, forcing him to stagger back into the hall. She’d heard concerns about her abilities as an Avenger before, calling her weak, fragile, a bitch, etc. But she knew they almost always came from misogynistic men, and was able to shrug their comments off because she knew that she could easily beat all of them to a pulp, no problem. But thinking that she would sleep her way into becoming an Avenger crossed a line. Especially someone she respected and had admired as much as Steve.

John held his hand to his cheek, where he’d been hit, and looked up to make eye contact with Y/N. He smiled and before stating in a condescending tone, “That was cute.” John kicked her in the stomach, launching her onto the floor of her apartment. As she groaned and started to get up, John chuckled and kicked her down before she got to her knees. He went to kick her again when she rolled away, dodging his kick and standing up quickly, panting as she responded.

“God, do you ever shut the fuck up?”

She kicked her leg up to deliver a roundhouse kick to John’s face, spinning around to punch his nose. He stumbled a couple steps back, regaining his balance before swinging a punch towards Y/N. She caught his fist before it hit her and John took the opportunity to use his free hand to grab his shoulder and knee her in the stomach. She gasped, getting the wind knocked out of her. He then threw her into a shelf, shattering several photo frames on the ground. She landed on her stomach, attempting to get up by pushing her self up on her forearms. Y/N felt a warm liquid on her cheek and touched it, pulling it away from her face to see her fingertips covered in blood.

“Asshole,” she mumbled, before standing up to continue fighting.

Several moments ago, Bucky had made the decision to show up at Y/N’s apartment. He pressed some random keys on his computer, and now there was an error message that wouldn’t go away on his screen. Stubbornly, he tried to fix it on his own but ended up making it worse. He sighed in defeat, closing his laptop shut and tucking it under his arm before heading over towards her apartment. Bucky was just down the hall when he heard the sound of glass shattering, his leisurely stroll turning into a sprint to Y/N’s door.

Bucky arrived to see you pinned up against a wall with John’s hand around ur throat. Your hands were desperately clawing at John’s, attempting to free yourself from his grasp. Fear and terror consumed him before a wave of fury took over. Immediately, Bucky launched into action, dropping his laptop in the process. He ripped John away from you, tossing him on the ground. Bucky moved to hover over John, punching him repeatedly in the face. Y/N finally caught her breath and crawled over to Bucky, placing a hand on his shoulder, signaling him to stop. He kept his eyes on John’s bloody and bruised face, lowering his fist.

“Touch her again, and I’ll kill you,” he snarled, releasing John from his grasp.

John rolled over, took a moment to catch his breath. Bucky was standing, fists still clenched by his sides, as he watched John get up and exit Y/N’s apartment without another word.

He closed the door behind him and immediately spun around to see Y/N struggling to get up, attempting to push up from one of her knees. Bucky instantly rushed to her side, helping her to her feet. He grabbed one of her hands in his own and placed his other hand on the small of her back, as he guided her to the couch. He examined her and felt a pain in his chest, looking at her black eye, cut cheek, and her bruised neck outlined with John’s handprint. Without saying a word, he stood up and returned with a first-aid kit from her bathroom. He sat back down and immediately started to tend to her wounds. As Bucky started to disinfect the cut on her cheek, he spoke.

“That was stupid of you,” he mumbled, gently dabbing antiseptic ointment on her cut. It was a drastic contrast from his behavior only minutes ago, nearly ready to murder John. He took a bandaid from the kit and delicately placed it on her cheek. Bucky then moved his hand to assess her black eye, his thumb softly grazing a soft patch of skin under her eye. She frowned and lightly pushed his hand away.

“I would’ve been fine on my own, you know.”

“Sit still so I can take a look at your bruise.” He responded gruffly, lifting his hand and attempting to look at her bruised eye again. She shoved his hand away, this time more aggressively, and tried to stand up.

“Just leave me alone,” Y/N said, wincing and clutching her abdomen in pain, causing Bucky to grab her waist and slowly lower her back down onto the couch. Fucking John Walker.

“Y/N.”

She pulled his hands off her and reluctantly sat down to face him.

“You don’t need to defend me, Bucky,” she spoke, Bucky sensing anger in her voice. “I’m not some weak, helpless civilian. I’m a god damn Avenger for christ sake!” As Y/N shouted, her voice wavered and her eyes started to well up with tears.

Her arms were crossed in front of her chest and Bucky sat with his hands resting on his lap. Although she was speaking to Bucky, she felt like she was more-so trying to convince herself of what she was saying.

“I know,” he said calmly, but with a stern tone, keeping his eyes locked on hers.

“Okay, so leave me alone.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not!”

“Because I fuckin’ care about you!” Bucky shouted, causing Y/N’s face to immediately soften.

Her arms dropped to rest in her lap and she froze as Bucky softly raised his hand to cup her cheek, captivated by his touch. He cautiously moved, worried she would push his hand away again, but she didn’t. His thumb gently caressed her non-cut cheek and he pulled her face close to his. She felt his breaths fan her face as he spoke.

“I know you’re one of the strongest Avengers,” he started. “And I know you could kick John’s ass any day of the week. But I care so much about you and I need you to be okay.” Bucky’s lips hovered over Y/N’s, lightly brushing against hers.

“I need you, Y/N.”

She responded by crashing her lips onto his, moving her hands to hold his face closer to hers. The kiss was full of passion, love, and unspoken feelings. When they broke apart, gasping for air, Y/N smiled at him and ran a hand through his hair.

“I care about you too, Buck.”

Bucky had never seen such a bright light in his 106 years of living.

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hrina · 5 years ago

Text

In The Ring, Pt. II - Cross

PAIRING: Harry x Reader RATING: M WORD COUNT: 7k REQUESTED: highly lol!

hi again! here’s PART 2 of boxer!harry :) thank u all for such a wonderful response on the first part, i can’t explain how much it means to me. i worked really hard on this chapter, so i hope u guys love it! if u do, reblogs and feedback are very much appreciated, and i’ll probably ask for ur hand in marriage in return.

warning: parts of this fic will contain mentions of blood, violence, mild stalking, and sexual content. if any of that makes you uncomfortable, please take care of yourself and keep scrolling <3

u can find the rest of this series on my masterlist, which is linked in my bio! my inbox is also there if you wanna spare a few thoughts about this part. love u guys sm, stay safe out there 💛💛💛

~*~

January 19, 2021

It’s ten at night, and you’re curled up in bed, scrolling through social media. You should be doing the assigned readings for your anatomy class, but you’re procrastinating. Besides, watching video after video of cute kittens peeking their furry little heads out of cardboard boxes is a much better way to pass the time.

Your relaxation period is interrupted when a notification banner descends from the top of your screen. It’s an unknown number, but the content of the message makes your eyes widen in surprise.

Hi. It’s Harry. I’m at the gym.

You tap on the text immediately, waiting with bated breath as you’re taken to a different app. You chew on your bottom lip for a moment, thumbs hovering over the screen before they begin to type.

Hey! I’ll be there in twenty minutes.

Harry’s reply is short, concise, to-the-point—just like him. Oddly enough, it makes you smile.

Okay. See you soon.

~*~

The first thing that Harry notices when you walk through the door is that you’re slightly out of breath. He’s standing in the middle of the ring, his eyes fixated on the opposite side of the room as you enter. Your hair is tied up in a high ponytail, and you’re wearing a pair of leggings and a tank top under your jacket. Your sneakers squeak against the floor as you stride over to him, fingers wiggling in a friendly wave.

“Hi!” you call out, shooting him a kind smile.

Harry leans against the ropes circling the ring, careful not to put too much of his weight on the barriers lest he flip over and fall to the floor. It’s happened once or twice, and each time, he ended up with a bruised tailbone afterward.

“Hi,” he replies.

You shrug your coat from your shoulders as you draw nearer. “How are you?” you ask, peering up at him curiously.

“Good, thanks,” he says. His fingers toy absentmindedly with the silver cross pendant dangling from his neck. “Er…did you run here?”

“What? Oh, no,” you answer with a breathless laugh. “I drove. But I was hurrying—I didn’t want to keep you waiting.”

You’re so fucking sweet. He’s going to throw up.

“It’s alright.” He shrugs. “I don’t mind.”

“Still,” you say, tightening your ponytail with both hands. “You’re going out of your way to do this for me. And while we’re on the subject of that—thank you, again. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Harry says. He slips between the ropes and hops down from the platform. “Shall we start?”

“We shall,” you agree, biting back a teasing smile. “Am I going up against you?”

Despite himself, Harry chuckles. He shakes his head. “Not yet. First, you need to learn the basics.”

“Basics,” you echo, nodding once. “Right.”

He leads you over to the side of the ring, where a pair of punching bags have been strung up near the wall. The arrangement is nothing special—twin leather bags, one brown and one black, filled with sand and stitched together with strong, coarse thread. Reflexively, you reach out, running your fingertips along the black bag and giving it a gentle push. It swings outward before returning back to you. Harry watches you closely, examining the gentle crease between your brows and the slight glaze that smooths over your pupils. He clears his throat quietly, and you seem to snap out of your trance.

“Do you know how to punch?” he asks.

You purse your lips, looking unsure of yourself. “Um…I think so.”

He nods. “Show me, then.”

The blow that you deliver to the bag is weak at best. Harry immediately notices a handful of things that you’re doing wrong. When you pull your arm back and peer up at him, he’s trying his hardest to hold back a smirk.

“What?” You frown.

“Nothing.” He snickers softly, shaking his head again. “It’s just…that was cute.”

“‘Cute’?” you parrot, narrowing your eyes. You scoff good-naturedly, stepping back and holding your arm out in invitation. “You do it, then.”

Harry’s lips twitch. “Gladly.”

The chain hanging from the ceiling rattles when his fist makes contact with the leather. The punching bag itself swings forward in an extraordinary arc before hurtling back in your direction. You gasp when Harry stops it with his palms. He grunts quietly, stilling it before turning around to face you. There’s a small smile playing on his lips, and he’s sure that his eyes are gleaming with a smug sparkle. You just cross your arms over your chest, gazing at him evenly with your chin held high.

“Fine,” you say. “Tell me what to do.”

Harry gets you situated back in front of the bag, standing beside you and studying your posture.

“First of all,” he starts, “you need to make sure that the position of your feet matches the position of your arms.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, shooting him a confused pout.

“Like this—,” Harry reaches for your shoulders before pausing, his fingers only inches away from your skin. “Er,” he clears his throat, fixing you with inquisitive eyes, “is it alright if I touch you?”

You nod wordlessly. Harry swallows down the lump in his throat as his hands close the distance between your bodies. He slants your torso to the side before reaching for your arms, bending them at the elbow so that your fingers—now curled into loose fists—are suspended in front of your face.

“If you’re angling yourself this way,” Harry starts, mimicking your stance, “you need to make sure that your right foot is leading you. But if you stand in the opposite direction—,” he changes sides, adopting a mirror image of his previous position, “—then it has to be your left foot. Got it?”

“Got it,” you say confidently. That same crease is digging into the space between your eyebrows; Harry aches to reach out and flatten it with the pad of his thumb.

“Also,” he says, delicately wrapping his fingers around your wrists, “when you punch, you can’t drop your other hand. Keep it up at all times—you need to guard your face.”

“Guard my face,” you murmur, mostly to yourself. “Okay, cool.”

You throw an experimental punch at the bag, and Harry doesn’t miss the shadow of pain that flashes across your features. His eyes trail down the length of your arm, lingering on your fist. Before you can deliver another blow, he stops you, catching your knuckles in the calloused valley of his palm and halting your movements.

“Keep your thumb on the outside,” he says, peeling your fingers open and freeing your thumb from beneath them. “You’ll break it, otherwise.”

He curls the digits back up, this time so that your hand is settled in the proper arrangement. He then steps back, jerking his head toward the bag and encouraging you to take another swing. “Try it, now.”

The third blow is better than the past two. You beam up at Harry when a promising smack! echoes through the air. He smiles reassuringly at you, nodding his head and tugging at the collar of his t-shirt. “Good. That’s a start.”

“Put me in, Coach,” you tease, bringing your fists up to your face and bouncing playfully on the balls of your feet. Your eyes shimmer as you peek at him from behind your knuckles. Harry presses his lips together to keep himself composed, but he can’t stop the faint snort that slips out of his nose. You laugh cheerfully, dropping your arms back to your sides.

“Okay, so I know how to punch,” you say. “What’s next?”

“There’s four main punches in boxing,” Harry replies. He steadies himself in front of the bag, his left foot extended to provide balance.

“The jab—”

He punches with his left fist, pointed and forceful.

“—the cross—”

He strikes with his right hand, driving the weight of his body into the blow.

“—the hook—”

He curves his arm, angling it accordingly so that he can deliver a hit to the side of the bag.

“—and finally, the uppercut.”

He bends his elbow, scooping upward so that his fist makes contact with the bottom half of the bag. The sand inside shifts audibly as it rattles around, looping in every direction and gathering momentum. Harry turns back to you as it continues to swing in circles, cracking his knuckles loudly and seeking you out.

Your eyes are wide. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think that you look a bit…enthralled. His brow furrows in confusion.

“You alright?”

“Yes,” you say immediately, and he’s taken aback by the breathless quality of your voice. You clear your throat quickly, scratching at your hairline and looking away. “You’re just very…dedicated. That’s all.”

“I’ve got to be,” Harry hums. He turns back to the punching bag and ceases its movements. “This is how I make a living.” His lips quirk up with the hint of a smile. “We can’t all go to medical school and become doctors.”

A weak laugh tumbles from your mouth. “I haven’t even gotten in yet,” you say from behind him.

“But you will,” he murmurs, the reply slipping out before he can weigh it on his tongue. “Without a doubt.”

He pauses when the words finally sink in, his shoulders stiffening and his eyes stamping shut. If you weren’t standing so close, he would have leaned forward and crushed his forehead into the rough leather of the punching bag. His lips mould around unspoken curses as a heavy silence descends upon the two of you.

At last, you finally choke out, “I—thank you, Harry. That’s really nice of you to say.”

“No problem,” he grunts. He steps back, spinning on his heel but refusing to meet your gaze. You’re probably looking at him like that—with soft, glimmering irises and earnestness woven through every cell in your body. If your eyes lock, he knows that he’ll be overrun with the urge to kiss you.

And he knows that if that happens, he might not be able to hold himself back.

“What time do you have to be home?” Harry asks, subtly trying to change the topic.

You lift one eyebrow challengingly, like you know exactly what he’s doing. Still, though, you humour him.

“I told my dad I was going to a friend’s house,” you say, shrugging lightly. “We have time, don’t worry.” You smile as a thought crosses your mind. “Just make sure you don’t get me too sweaty by the end of the night, okay? I can’t go home looking like I’ve just run a marathon.”

Harry’s cock twitches in his shorts at the thought of rendering you sticky and speechless. Of watching you walk away from him with wobbly knees and messy hair. Of dropping you off at home and nibbling on your neck one last time for good measure. He quickly shoos the temptations away, clearing his throat and nodding in accord.

“Minimal sweating,” he concedes. “I’ll try my best.”

Deep down, he knows that you’ll most likely be drenched with perspiration once he’s through with you. You’ll figure that out soon enough, though.

Harry makes his way over to the ring, snatching up a pair of gloves lying on the platform. He turns back around, tossing them to you and fighting a smile when you yelp in surprise. With an awkward flail, you manage to catch them in your arms. You shoot him a questioning look, lifting your eyebrows and waiting for an explanation.

“Put those on,” he orders, clapping his hands together once. “We’re gonna try to perfect your stance, tonight.”

“Why do I need to wear them, then?” you ask, gazing down blankly at the gloves nestled against your chest.

“You don’t need to, I suppose,” Harry says, shrugging. “But your knuckles will probably be destroyed by the end of the night.”

“Oh.” You make a face, wrinkling your nose up in distaste. “Okay, yeah—I’ll use them.”

He smirks, folding his arms over his chest. “We want to be careful, don’t we? Those are the steady hands of a future surgeon.”

You scoff, laughing gently at his quip. “Hopefully,” you say, a sweet smile playing on your lips. “Let’s just pray that I get the right grades.”

You will, Harry thinks, but this time, he bites his tongue to keep the sentiment contained. You’re smart, and you’re beautiful, and you’re kind. You’re perfect. I can’t stop thinking about you. I want to kiss you. I want to fuck you. I want to sleep next to you at night and prepare you breakfast in the morning. I want to make you laugh. I want to make you smile. I want to—

“Harry?”

He blinks. “Yeah?”

You fix him with a benevolent look. “Zoning out on me?”

“No.” He shakes his head, approaching you as you struggle to tug on one of the boxing gloves. His eyes fall to your hands and he reaches out, halting your movements with a gentle, “Let me.”

You peek up at him shyly as he guides your fingers into the glove. He keeps his gaze trained downward, avoiding your eyes. One of his rough palms grasps your elbow as he tugs the Velcro strip tight around your wrist. Once he’s done the same with the other one, he releases you and steps back.

“Thank you,” you say softly. He just nods in response.

“Make sure your feet are shoulder-width apart,” he says, and you spread your legs according to his command.

For a brief moment, the image of you separating your thighs to accommodate his hips flashes through his mind, but he squeezes his eyes shut and wills it away.

The rest of the night is painful—his cock grows stiffer and stiffer by the hour, spurred on by each sweet smile that you send his way. By the time you’re through with the session and bidding him goodnight as he locks up, he’s half-hard beneath his black shorts. He hopes that you don’t notice.

You shoot him a cheerful wave and drive away, and he watches before toddling over to his own vehicle. As soon as he slides into the driver’s seat, he releases a heavy, guttural groan, slouching forward and pressing his forehead to the crest of the steering wheel. Blindly, he sticks his key into the ignition and turns it, and the truck rumbles to life. A quick glance at the dashboard reveals that it’s well past midnight. Only then does he realise the extent of his exhaustion.

He backs out of the parking lot, pulling onto the main street and training his eyes on the road ahead. If he squints, he can still make out the red taillights of your car.

The journey back to his apartment passes in no time. Harry climbs sluggishly up four flights of stairs, tumbling into his home and pressing the door shut with one hand. He drags his feet down the hall and past the threshold of his bedroom, pausing only to rip his t-shirt from his torso before collapsing onto his mattress. Obscure silhouettes dance across his eyelids as they drift shut.

The last thing on his mind before sleep overtakes him is the gentle slope of your smile.

February 21, 2021

One month and a handful of late-night sessions later, Harry finds himself inundated with guilt. He’s constantly plagued by memories of your virtual conversations—short, brief little interactions consisting primarily of him letting you know that he’s free to train that evening. Your responses, ripe with exclamation marks and prattles of gratitude. You’ve taken up the habit of texting him after each lesson, too, composing a quick thank-you message before shutting your phone for the night.

And Harry regrets everything—agreeing to teach you how to box, letting you know when he’s available to meet, encouraging you as your technique progresses. On several occasions, he’s considered breaking things off, telling you that he’s too busy, that you should be focussing exclusively on school instead of on how to throw a right hook.

But then you look at him like that. With bright, trusting eyes and open features and that easy, dazzling smile. And the wall that he’s been trying so hard to build back up—not that it was particularly robust to begin with—comes crashing down.

His match is set to start in fifteen minutes, and you’re not here. You have a midterm tomorrow—your father had mentioned it in passing. You’ve been holed up in your room all weekend, he said, permanently absorbed in the pages of your textbook.

And Harry’s nervous, because you’re his lucky charm. What the fuck is he supposed to do, now?

The minutes seem to fly by—before he knows it, he’s stepping out into the ring with the crowd’s thundering screams echoing in his ears. His opponent isn’t the biggest man he’s ever gone up against, but he’s definitely not scrawny. Harry’s maybe two inches shorter than him—under normal circumstances, the height difference wouldn’t have fazed him. But he’s already on edge due to your absence, so even the smallest observations are proving to be exceedingly disconcerting.

Looking back, he supposes that he should’ve known.

Doomed from the start, destined to fail—whatever you want to call it.

Point being, he loses. Horrendously.

And he’s not quite sure when they bring the stretcher out and peel him off of the floor of the ring, but he knows that it’s sometime after the second round. He blinks rapidly, fading in and out of consciousness as moisture trickles down the side of his face. Somewhere beneath the wooziness, he’s well aware that the match is over. Your father is standing over him, walking at a brisk pace to keep up with the two men carrying him out of the arena.

“What do you mean, he called in sick?” your father spits, his eyes alight with anger. “You couldn’t find anybody else?”

The man behind Harry’s head says something that he can’t quite discern. His response makes your father grit his teeth and pinch the bridge of his nose. He fishes his phone out of his pocket, punching in a number and bringing the device up to his ear.

A few moments later, his expression lights up, relief flooding his features. “Gioia? Yeah, hi…”

Harry’s vision fades to black.

~*~

“…going to have some strong words with the bastard that did this—”

“Gioia, please. That’s how the sport works.”

An outraged scoff. “Who the hell kicks a man while he’s down?”

No reply.

Harry drifts off once more.

~*~

When his eyelids flutter open, it takes a moment for him to regain his bearings. Through the blurriness of his vision, he sees a dim light hanging from the ceiling, bathing his surroundings in a pale white glow. He blinks rapidly, hoping that his sight will sharpen with each flutter of his lashes. There’s a dull pain throbbing against the right side of his torso, battering against his ribcage and pulling an agonized groan from his lips.

The low sound is met with a high gasp. Seconds later, a face is looming over his own. Harry forces himself to concentrate on the person’s features—kind, worried eyes, raised brows, and pretty, parted lips. His heart begins to gallop in his chest.

“Harry,” you breathe. A few gentle fingers card through his hair. The sensation of your nails against his scalp makes him shiver. “How are you feeling?”

“Peachy,” he croaks, his voice hoarse.

Despite the worry swimming around in your irises, you emit a shy laugh.

“Are you able to sit up?” you ask, pulling your hand out of his hair. He nearly whines at the loss.

“Think so,” he mutters. He places his palms flat against the surface beneath him—a bed, perhaps?—and pushes himself onto his elbows. The muted pain in his side flares fiercely, making him choke on his own breath. You reach out for him, setting one hand down on his shoulder while the other wraps delicately around his bicep.

“Easy, easy,” you soothe, tutting disapprovingly. “Be careful.”

“’M always careful,” Harry says.

“Yeah,” you reply sarcastically, nodding your head. “And that’s how you ended up like this, right?”

A short, wheezing laugh punches its way out of his lungs. “Touché.”

Once he’s sitting up, he takes note of the room—well, it’s not really a room. The only thing separating the two of you from whatever lies outside is a thin curtain drawn over what he presumes to be the exit. To his left, a single cabinet with multiple drawers stands only a few feet away. You’re both tucked into a little alcove in the wall, no bigger than a standard bedroom. Harry glances around, his gaze landing on a single plastic chair facing the bed. Everything is set up like a hospital room (but far less comfortable, and severely lacking in terms of medical equipment).

“Where’s Coach?” he asks, creases forming along his forehead.

“He went to go grab us some coffee,” you explain, your eyes scanning his face. “It’s late.”

“How late?”

“Nearly two.”

“Fuck.” His head snaps toward you. “Don’t you have a midterm tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” You chew nervously on your bottom lip. “But it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not,” he says, gritting his teeth and glaring at you sharply. “What the hell are you doing here?”

You recoil a bit at his harsh tone. “Your stupid medic took a sick day,” you tell him, your voice hard. “And my dad asked me to come in and have a look at you. Who knows where you’d be if I hadn’t shown up.”

Regret washes over him. He slouches back against the bed—it’s more of a cot, really—and blows out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay.” You wave his apology away with a quick flick of your fingers. “Just…be quiet for a second, alright? I need to examine you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he mutters under his breath. He doesn’t miss the way your lips twitch as the words sink in.

“Can you move to the edge of the bed?” you ask, gnawing on the inside of your cheek. “I need to see you properly, but I don’t want to make you stand just yet.”

“Sure.”

He shifts his body to the right, slowly dragging his legs off of the cot with a distressed wince. The floor is cold when his feet make contact with the ground, but he pays it no attention. He’s shirtless, clad only in the shorts he’d been wearing when he first stepped into the ring. He purses his lips and feels something stiff realign against his cheek. When he brings his hand up to his face, he finds a cottony piece of fabric taped onto his skin.

“What—?” He looks up at you in confusion.

“It was bleeding pretty badly,” you tell him. “I had to stop it, somehow.”

For the first time that night, he takes you in properly. You’re wearing a baggy t-shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants—it looks like the type of outfit that one would shrug on if they were in a rush to leave the house. Another pang of guilt jolts through his chest.

“What happened?” Harry croaks, pulling his hand away from his cheek.

“My dad told me that the other guy was wearing a bracelet,” you say; frustration drips from your words. “He didn’t take it off before the match started. It’s not a big cut, but it’s deep. You’ll probably need a few stitches.”

“And you know how to do that?” he asks, watching as you circle around the bed and approach the cabinet on the opposite side. He twists in an attempt to keep his eyes on you, but then grunts lowly at the ache that thrums against his side. When he looks down at his torso, he discovers a large splotch of blue and purple decorating the skin covering his ribs.

“I watched my mom do it back when my dad used to coach Artie,” you say absentmindedly, rifling through a few drawers and collecting the supplies that you need. You pause, your eyes clouding over with something forlorn. “Now that I think about it, that’s probably why I want to go into medicine. I think…it would’ve made her proud.”

“It would’ve,” Harry agrees.

He watches you carefully as you make your way back over to him, afraid of prying or saying the wrong thing. Your mother’s death had hit your family hard; he rarely hears you or your father mention her. But maybe that’s for the best—wounds can’t heal if they’re being ripped open time after time again. He would know.

You dump a handful of materials down onto the bed—disinfectant, cotton swabs, tissues, gauze, a needle, thread, and a pack of medical sutures. Harry swallows heavily.

“Do you mind if I…?” you trail off, pursing your lips timidly. Somehow, he understands exactly what you’re referring to.

“No, not at all,” he says. The words fall from his mouth a bit too quickly.

With no further preamble, he spreads his legs, and you step into the space made available between his knees. You lean to the side, reaching for the disinfectant and cotton swabs on the bed, but then nearly lose your balance in the process. Harry’s hand flies upward reflexively, settling on your hip to keep you steady.

You glance down at him with wide eyes, and he hastily removes his palm from your body. “Sorry,” he mutters, looking away.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, and is it just his imagination, or do you sound a bit…breathless?

“You’ve got a couple of scrapes on your face,” you continue. You clear your throat, uncapping the antiseptic and dipping a cotton swab into the bottle. “This’ll hurt a little.”

“It’s alright—fuck!” he swears, scowling deeply at the sting that blooms across his chin. You chew on your bottom lip, dragging the swab over his injuries with practiced, nimble fingers. His toes curl against the cold, concrete floor.

Once you’ve finished sterilising his minor wounds, you turn your attention to the massive bruise on his torso.

“Can I?” you ask softly, extending your arm but pausing only inches away from his skin.

He nods, not trusting himself to speak.

He fights back against a shudder when your fingertips ghost over his ribs. You hesitate, applying a bit more pressure and cringing when he groans. “Sorry,” you whisper, making a move to pull away.

“No,” Harry breathes quickly. He catches your hand in his, trapping your palm back against his side. Briefly, he notes the unmistakable softness of your knuckles, so different from his own. “’S okay. Do what you need to do.”

You nod tautly, pressing your fingers against the bruise once more. Harry grinds his teeth together, trying his best to withstand the pain. You prod around for a few seconds, your brow furrowed in concentration. When you don’t appear to find anything worrisome, you sigh in relief and drop your arm so that it rests limply at your side.

“No broken ribs,” you announce quietly. “At least, not as far as I can tell.”

“That’s reassuring,” he jokes.

A weak laugh falls from your mouth. “I haven’t gotten into med school yet, remember?”

He chuckles. Your eyes suddenly darken, and an angry scowl curls along your lips.

“He kicked you while you were knocked out,” you murmur, shaking your head in disbelief. “Fucking asshole.”

Harry’s eyebrows fly upward, his mouth twitching at your vulgar words. You catch sight of his amused expression, but instead of mirroring it, your frown only deepens.

“It’s not funny,” you say. “He fought dirty.”

“This whole setup is illegal, baby,” he says. Neither of you comment on the pet name that slips out of his mouth. He hopes that you view it as part of an expression, and not a proclamation of his affection. “Fighting dirty—they don’t care about that. If anything, it just gives them one hell of a show.”

“Still,” you mutter, gluing your eyes to the discoloured skin covering his ribs. “He shouldn’t have done it.”

Harry smiles softly, reaching out and tucking two fingers beneath your chin. Your lips part in surprise, and he tilts your face up so that he can look at you properly.

“Thank you,” he says, his tone entirely sincere, “for taking care of me.”

Your throat bobs with a hefty swallow—he can feel it against his knuckles. You lift your hand up to his face, and for a moment, he thinks that you mean to stroke his cheek lovingly. But then you scrape your thumb over the bandage covering his cut, and he’s reminded that this doesn’t mean anything.

You’re here to stitch him back up—nothing less, and certainly nothing more.

“I’m not done yet,” you say.

The two of your drop your fingers at the same time. Harry clears his throat, trying to absolve the tension in the air. You seize some of the other supplies still strewn across the bed, laying them out properly before getting to work.

You’re diligent, removing the bandage on his cheek and using a few tissues to mop up the blood that immediately begins to drip downward, rolling over the jut of his jaw. He curses when you pass another cotton swab over his injury, screwing his face up at the smarting prickle of the antiseptic.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur absentmindedly, keeping your eyes trained on the wound. “We definitely don’t want this one to get infected.”

“Yeah,” he grunts, because he can’t exactly nod with your fingers probing around.

“This is going to be the worst part,” you warn, pulling back and opening the pack of stitches.

You unwind a piece of thread from its spool, taking the string between your lips and severing it with your teeth. Harry watches you closely, anxiety frothing in the pit of his stomach. In all of his years spent boxing, he’s only needed stitches once—the procedure hurt like a bitch, especially since there had been no anaesthetic available. He remembers the pain like it was yesterday, and he’s not looking forward to having to endure it again.

When you guide the first stitch through his skin, he balls his hands into tight fists. His lips tuck themselves into a thin line, and an agonized moan bubbles up in his chest. You squeeze your eyes shut for a brief moment; upon reopening, they glisten with unshed tears.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you whisper. Your voice shakes.

“It’s okay,” Harry grits out. His blunt nails dig into his palms. “Keep…keep going.”

“A few more,” you babble; he’s not sure whether you’re trying to comfort him or yourself. “Just a few more.”

It takes you roughly fifteen minutes (you haven’t really had much practice, after all) to sew his wound closed with five stitches. It is by no means the cleanest application, but it’s not bad. You retrieve another cotton swab and dip it into the bottle of disinfectant, running it along the seam of his injury one last time. After that, you finally blow out the stale air that has accumulated in your lungs.

“Thank you,” Harry mutters. “Truly.”

“No problem,” you breathe. You busy yourself with gathering up all of the supplies, cradling them to your chest and making your way around the bed. As you dump everything back into the top drawer of the cabinet, you say, “Harry. Can I ask you something?”

“Go for it,” he hums. He’s nervous about speaking too animatedly, afraid to disrupt the work you’ve just done on his cheek.

“How long have you been boxing?”

He peers at you from over his shoulder, eyes following your movements as you return to his side of the cot and sit down next to him. “Er…,” he pauses, thinking, “…about ten years, now.”

“You started at sixteen?” you say, blinking in surprise.

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

He smiles softly before remembering the sutures sewn into his skin. A beat of silence passes.

“Can I ask you something?” he questions.

You nod. “Of course.”

“Why did you want me to teach you how to box?” he says. You open your mouth—to feed him another lie, surely—but he carries on before you get the chance to speak. “And don’t say it’s because you were just curious, or some bullshit like that. I want the truth.”

“Harry…,” you begin softly, looking at him with pleading eyes. He shakes his head, adamant and unmoved.

“The truth.”

Your shoulders slump in defeat. Instinctively, you reach for your throat, tugging at the rose-gold chain hanging there and fiddling nervously with the pendant nestled between your collarbones. It looks like you’re trying to figure out what to say, how to approach the situation without revealing something that could potentially make it any worse.

“Do you remember that guy I was seeing a few months ago?” you say, your voice small. “James?”

And oh, Harry remembers. He remembers watching the two of you swap spit on top of the bleachers at one of his matches. He remembers imagining James in the place of his opponent, and then making sure to aim all of his punches directly for the face (he won, that night.) He remembers seeing the sparkle in your eyes slowly start to dim the longer you stayed with him. He remembers the aftermath of your breakup, when James had shown up at the gym and screamed at you to come outside, deterred only after Portia threatened to call the police.

He fucking remembers.

“Yeah,” he spits. The affirmation is coated in a thick layer of venom. “What about him?”

His eyes widen a touch when it all clicks, then, like pieces of a puzzle falling perfectly into place.

“What did he do?” he demands immediately, fixing you with a stern glare. “Did he fucking touch you?”

“No!” you exclaim, shaking your head quickly. “No, no, it’s just…I’ve been seeing him around. A lot. And I’m not sure if I’m just being paranoid, maybe, but—,” you inhale deeply, “—it feels like he’s following me.”

Your name slips past Harry’s lips in a hard, firm tenor. When you look up at him warily, he stares straight into your eyes, leaving no room for you to break away.

“You need to tell someone about this,” he says steadfastly. “You need to go to the police.”

“I don’t even know if I’m right,” you tell him. Your mouth curls down into an apprehensive frown. “I don’t want to cause a fuss, especially if it all just turns out to be one big coincidence.”

“When was the last time you saw him?” Harry asks. A bitter taste settles on his tongue. “How often has this been happening?”

You tilt your head to the side, lost in thought. “Two days ago,” you finally say, shrugging helplessly. “And…I don’t know. I’ve seen him, like, nine or ten times in total.”

“Ten times,” he hisses, “in a few months? That’s not normal, and you know it.”

“Harry,” you plead, tugging nervously at the hem of your t-shirt. “Please. Don’t turn this into something it’s not.”

“How can you—?” he starts, but then you lurch forward, putting a dainty hand on his thigh.

“Please,” you repeat, shaking your head softly. “Just…keep this between us, okay? The last thing I want is for my dad to find out.”

And maybe it’s the tenderness brewing in your eyes when you meet his gaze. Maybe it’s the wilt in your voice, the feeblest he’s ever heard. Maybe it’s the feeling of your fingers on his leg, burning a hole through his shorts and searing a mark—a brand—into his skin. Harry sighs, looking away from you and running his fingers anxiously through his curly hair.

“You’re bloody stupid, you know that?” he asks, scoffing quietly.

“Yeah,” you reply, the corners of your mouth kinking up into a half-hearted smile. “I know.”

“Got you a latte, gioia—”

The dinky curtain in front of you is pulled back by none other than your father, who is holding a tray of coffee in his right hand. He blinks at the scene laid out before him—you and Harry on the small cot, sitting a bit too close for comfort. Your hand on his thigh. You both jump, breaking away from each other and inhaling sharply. Harry clears his throat as you cough into your elbow, standing up and reaching for one of the drinks nestled in the tray.

“Thank you,” you murmur quietly, pressing a gentle kiss to your father’s cheek.

His eyes bounce between the two of you, forehead wrinkling in curiosity as he asks, “What’d I miss?”

You peer down at Harry from over the rim of your cup, panicked and beseeching. He just shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly; the tattoos inked into his skin ripple with the act. His tone is steady when he meets your father’s gaze.

“I’ve got some bruised ribs and a wicked headache, but aside from that—,” he lies, “—nothing at all.”

~*~

Your father ends up driving him home.

He parks the car just in front of Harry’s apartment complex, watching with worried eyes as he slips out of the passenger door.

“You sure you’ll be alright?” he asks.

Harry just nods, waving away his concerns. “I’m fine, Coach, really. Thanks for the ride.”

Your father nods—still looking a little unsure—before speeding off.

Climbing up four flights of stairs with bruised ribs is hell, Harry soon learns. By the time he reaches his floor, he’s panting and wiping a thin sheen of sweat from his brow. He pulls his keys out of his coat pocket, unlocking the front door and staggering into his apartment. A pained whimper slips out of his mouth as he shrugs the jacket from his shoulders.

He slowly makes his way into the bathroom, cupping his battered side over the material of his t-shirt. The water is cold when he first turns the shower on. He grits his teeth, fiddling with the temperature and meticulously removing his clothes as it warms.

The moment the first droplet hits his skin, he lets out a deep, guttural groan. He hadn’t realised just how tense he was until now. He stands under the spray of the water, tipping his head back and letting it wash away every trace of dirt and grime on his body. His hair grows heavy with moisture, sticking to his scalp and his forehead. He leans against the wall of the shower, inhaling deeply. His eyelids flutter shut, and your smiling face appears amidst the darkness.

Almost subconsciously, his hand finds its way to his cock.

Part of him is disgusted with himself. He shouldn’t be thinking of you. He shouldn’t be thinking of you. He shouldn’t be—

He moans.

In the realm of his perverse imagination, you’re straddling him, your arms looped leisurely around his neck and your whimpers echoing into the cavern of his mouth. Your hips roll against his, unhurried and languid and deep. So fucking deep. Harry reaches down with one hand, squeezing greedily at the curve of your ass, and you whine in response, encouraging him to do it again.

He pumps his length in the shower, panting quietly.

Your fronts are pressed together as you rut into his lap, your nipples brushing against the ebony birds on his chest and your silky walls wrapped around him like a vice. He grunts; you swallow the sound down, your hot, heavy breaths wafting out onto his chin. His fingers dig into your thighs when you steady yourself on your knees, doing your best to bounce up and down on him properly. It’s frantic, it’s uncoordinated, it’s sloppy, but…it’s perfect.

Your nails scrape down his back as the two of you move together, a steady series of push and pull, like water under a bridge. If you’re the moon, then he’s the tides, bending and swirling under your gentle light. Every time you rock forward, he meets you there, your bodies connecting with faint slaps of skin on skin. You gaze at him with hooded eyes, lust simmering beneath your lashes. Electricity tingles across his shoulders.

The noises that you emit are music to his ears. Delicate sighs when he nips at your breasts, earthy groans when he hits that special spot inside of you. And woven between them, imploring pleas, murmurs of right there and oh, yes and so good.

It’s embarrassing, how quickly he finishes.

He stands there, leaning against the tiles with his cock in his hand and his release dripping from his fingertips. He has the decency to feel appalled by his actions, at the very least. If you were aware of what he had just done, he knows for a fact that you would never speak to him again.

He cleans himself up, shampooing his hair and scrubbing down every inch of his body. When he steps out of the shower and shuts the water, a wave of exhaustion washes over him, making him sway on his feet. His lips vibrate with a soft sigh.

His phone chimes from where it’s perched on the bathroom counter. When he taps on it, he finds a message from you.

Feel better soon, it reads. The guilt festering in his chest increases tenfold.

Thank you, he says back, shoving the remorse down. Good luck on your midterm tomorrow.

A moment later, your reply comes through.

Thanks! Goodnight, Harry.

Goodnight, he types. He pauses for a moment, debating over whether he should include a little red heart after the word. But then he shakes his head, rolling his eyes at his own insolence and sending the text without a second thought.

He doesn’t even bother drying himself off before padding across the hall and into his bedroom. He collapses onto his mattress, still covered in tiny droplets that bead along his shoulders and trail downward, wetting the duvet. He doesn’t care. It’ll dry, and so will he.

He falls asleep moments later, the repaired skin of his cheek tingling in the dark.

~*~

PART III: Hook

PART IV: Uppercut

if you’re enjoying this series so far, please consider donating to my ko-fi! thank you bunches <3

#harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #eeeeeee okay here it is!!! i love this part a LOT so i hope u guys do too 💘#harry writing #boxrry

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frogtanii · 4 years ago

Note

hi! noah anon here again, um ahaha, i may have been inspired to write a part 2 to my previous atsumu hurt/comfort drabble, i hope that's okay! ive been living for protective!y/n ever since they fought meiko for suga, so i wanted to sort of portray that!

from the way atsumu's breathing had evened out, you assumed he'd finally fallen asleep. exhaustion from the rough night he had taking over as he laid in your bed, wrapped up in your comforting embrace. atsumu's forehead rested in the crook of your neck and his nose pressed up against your collarbone, soft breaths tickling the sensitive skin. his arm laid across your stomach, keeping you close. for the first time since he walked into your room that night, he looked peaceful.

you on the other hand, were pissed; still stewing with rage over the events of the night. the main target of your aggression being none other than miya osamu himself. how could someone be so cold to their own twin?

the more you thought about it, the more restless you got, a pit of frustration growing and twisting uncomfortably in your gut. laying still was starting to prove a difficult task. with all of this frustrated energy you just needed to move — do something, before you went insane. so as carefully as you could, you slipped out from under atsumu, gently pushing a pillow under him for support.

shutting your door as quietly as possible you padded your way into the kitchen to grab a glass of water and an aspirin for atsumu. he'd probably need it for when he woke up, and it was the perfect excuse to get up and move around. however, as you neared the kitchen, you noticed a figure searching through the snack cabinets, grey hairs poking out into your field of vision. of course now of all times you'd run into the object of your current frustration. did you universe hate you or something?

just ignore him, you thought to yourself, no sense in getting into a conflict tonight.

as quietly as possible, you pulled a glass cup from the cabinet and filled it up with water. you had asprin in your room, so there was no need to grab any from the common area. your next objective was to exit the kitchen as quick as possible before your urge to punch osamu in the face increased any more. at this moment, his mere presence was enough to up your anger levels.

however, the second you spun on your heels to leave, osamu was also making his way out of the kitchen, causing the two of you to almost collide. luckily osamu reacted quickly, stepping back and preventing anything from being spilt.

"fucking watch it!" he spit out, expression twisting into one of contempt.

you scoffed at his outburst, ready to hit him with a few choice words, but by the time your lips parted he was already storming out of the kitchen and into the living room. a high pitched voice could be heard when he entered, sending another wave of fury coursing through your veins. "thank you 'samu, you're the best!"

"of course baby," osamu responded, "now let's start our movie."

the noise of some cheesy romance movie soon filled the living room and all surrounding areas, way too loud for this late of an hour in your opinion. it only added to your irritation, and without even thinking you were marching yourself to the living room with conviction, glass of water left behind on the kitchen island.

usually you never sought out trouble, and you weren't too fond of confrontation when it could be avoided. in the beginning of your time in the hyper house, maybe, but as time passed you soon learned nothing you said would change anything. so to save some sanity you resorted to short quips and just plain ignoring your housemates, once your contract was up none of it mattered anymore anyway. but after holding atsumu for an hour while he sobbed, and osamu's entitled attitude, something in you snapped. fuck being the bigger person.

so with your shoulders back and head held high you stormed into the living room, snatching the remote from coffee table to pause the movie playing.

that certainly grabbed their attention.

"the fuck is yer problem?" osamu vetted, standing to square up to you, fists clenched at his side and jaw tense. meiko followed suit, but took her position slightly behind osamu, nimble fingers gripping his bicep.

"my problem? hmm let's see, maybe my problem is the fact that i just held your brother as he cried himself to sleep while you were out here cuddled up on the couch!"

meiko snickered from behind him, and you had to stop yourself from lunging at her. how dare she laugh at his pain?

"'tsumu's fine, he'll get over it. now leave so we can watch our movie." your eyes went wide at osamu's response. did he really not care?

"he's your brother, and you hurt him." the annoyed expression on osamu's face fell slightly at your statement, but he quickly recovered, expression morphing into one that could kill. "don't act so innocent, you were probably in there twisting his mind with your little lies. you know everything that's happened between us has been your fault? you're the one that turned him against me!" his voice was gradually increasing him volume and malice, you obviously getting under his skin.

"oh please, you're still telling yourself that?" you inched closer to the pair, chin lifting up to meet osamu's steely glare, your attempt at intimidation working only on the small woman behind him.

"'samu, shes scaring me, please make her leave," meiko whimpered. Osamu placed a protective arm around her, pulling her into his side, "don't worry baby, i won't let her near you." you rolled your eyes at meiko, her feigned fear sending your patience over the edge.

"oh shut up, meiko," you snapped, causing her to coward further into osamu. "hey, don't talk to her like that!" he shot back at you, eyes darkening as he towered over your form, but you refused to back down.

"i'm texting iwaizumi, he can make her leave." meiko began typing furiously on her phone.

you chose to ignore her, prioritizing getting in your final words before iwaizumi could come to their resuce. "you've got your head completely up your ass if you think anyone but yourself is to blame for your broken relationship with 'tsumu!"

"you have no right to—"

"what the hell is going on here?" iwaizumi stormed into the room, large arms crossed over his chest as he placed himself between you and your victims.

"iwa, thank god! me and 'samu were trying to watch a movie when y/n just came in here and started attacking us! it was so scary, please make her leave!"

you scoffed at meiko's fabricated story, but before you could even begin to defend yourself iwa spoke, "y/n, go back to your room before im forced to take action." despite his dagger sharp gaze, you refused to shrink. you were going to get your point in regardless of any threats iwaizumi threw your way. so shooting him a quick and dismissive glare, you turned your attention back to osamu and meiko to get in one final blow.

"look, i don't know what your problem with me is, and frankly i don't care. but leave atsumu the fuck out your sick little games." the venom in your voice was enough to strike real fear into meiko, who was now completely hiding behind osamu for protection. even osamu's intimidating demeanor faltered at your protectiveness over his brother.

iwaizumi was the first to break the tension, "y/n, go—"

"yeah yeah, i got it, im leaving." your cut him short, giving osamu one last glare before exiting the living room, stopping to grab the glass of water from the kitchen before heading back to your room.

in your frustration you'd completely forgotten atsumu was asleep, accidentally shutting your door back with a little too much force. "angel?" atsumu's sleep drenched voice pulled you from your stewing thoughts, and you felt any and all anger melt away when you locked eyes with him.

"where'd you go off to?" he asked, rubbing at his eyes and sitting up. you snatched a bottle of asprin from your night stand and extended it to him along with the glass of water, "figured you'd want this when you woke up."

the corner of his mouth lifted up into a lopsided smile as he accepted your offer, downing a pill and half the water in one go, "yer too good to me, angel."

you offered up a soft smile as you took the glass and pill bottle back from him and set them on your nightstand. you took a seat on your bed next to atsumu, pushing back his disheveled hair back with one hand, prompting him to let out a content hum.

"i'm sorry for waking you," you whispered, letting your hand trail down the side of his face before coming to rest against his jaw, "how are you feeling?"

atsumu leaned into your touch, "much better, thanks to you. but, can we lay down again?"

you nodded, falling back to a laying position with atsumu following suit. however, this time he pulled you into his chest, holding you in his arms. you sunk further into him, finding it much easier to sleep this time as his warmth surrounded you and calmed your nerves.

i got a little carried away and this ended up a little longer than i intended, oops, oh well! i hope you like it!

— noah anon

hhhh,,, BESTIE OMFG UR SO SO SO TALENTED WTF???? do u have a blog cs if so sharty drop the @ ahaha (jk only if u feel comfy!!) i just mean WOW WOW WOW WOWIE

#j’s asks #anons babey #℗ poker face #noah anon

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dupliciity · 3 years ago

Text

@necromancisms sent : you knew this one was coming, this is entirely ur fault idk why you blamed it on ME ;; “i won’t just sit here and watch you drink yourself to death.” for verse two hiroto and verse three takanashi. i give u full permission to actually sucker punch me with this one

hiroto knew he didn’t have the best habits. they were much more than habits, they were things he depended on to get through the day. but he would never admit that. he would try to hide that he went through a pack of cigarettes a day, that he had started drinking at noon. living out of a bar had not helped by any means, it was easy to take a sip of whatever he liked when kuroguri wasn’t around, and when everyone was out running errands for shigaraki while their fearless leader was shut away in his room. hiroto’s temper had kept him back at their base most of the time, only being called upon when he was absolutely needed. this time alone made him think, and he didn’t like doing that much. once his mind started going it was hard for it to stop, it lead him to thinking about the past and what he had been through. the ‘choices’ that he had made when he didn’t have a choice, when the strings were being pulled by his family. hiroto knew he was not a good person, that much was for sure. even though he was aware, it did not mean that questions about his current life didn’t come to mind. so he DRANK and he SMOKED and he did whatever he could to bottle it up and push it away.

hiroto was not used to having people that cared for him, that paid attention to his behaviors and his demeanor. he grew up in a household that turned a blind eye to his suffering. he honestly didn’t know that it had been noticeable, how bad it had gotten. not until he found himself sat down with the whole league. he had laughed at first, making a joke about how it felt like an intervention. it hadn’t sunk in at first ... not until magne had begun talking about how much he had been drinking. and then toga, bubaigawara, kuroguri ... hiroto just sat there in silence, blinking at the others as they spoke. brows furrowed as everyone put in their two cents, and that rage that he tried so hard to silence began to bubble up inside of his chest. no, he didn’t have a problem!! it wasn’t a problem, it was helping ... right?? it was all he knew to do, to silence all of the thoughts that buzzed in his mind. he was never taught to talk about it, why did everyone keep saying they wanted him to talk about it??

so hiroto does what he felt he did best, LIE. lie through his teeth like he had done his whole life. he was fine, he had to be fine!! so he pushed everyones worries down, he tried to at least. however his voice and his hands were shaky, he was nervous. he didn’t like this, pain being put on display in front of everyone that he held close to him. it didn’t feel fair!! he pushed back, reassuring them that he didn’t have a problem, that he had it all under control. that sometimes he just needed a drink after a long day, that they should all understand with their line of work. it’s obvious that they aren’t buying it, but hiroto keeps floudering and rambling to try and make it all better. so they would stop talking about it. with every silent stare that he received the anger inside of him grew ...

it’s then that takanashi finally speaks, right as the rage begins to bubble up out of him. I WON’T JUST SIT HERE AND WATCH YOU DRINK YOURSELF TO DEATH. he blinks as his boyfriends words hit his ears, wide eyes staring at him. he couldn’t believe it. hiroto thought if anything, takanashi would understand. this was just hiroto’s way to cope, to get through it all. he thought he understood. hands move to clench into fists as they rested in his lap, foot nervously bouncing against the floor as he sat in his chair. he can’t hold it in anymore. “what the fuck??” the words snap out of him before he can really process what he’s saying. face twists into a hurt expression, letting out a sigh. “that’s really sweet coming from you. you don’t handle things the best either, takanashi. none of us do!! i don’t understand why i’m the one being put on the spot here.” the words are harsh, and he doesn’t really mean them. but he knows that harsh words usually shut it down, make all of this stop. they lead people to stop speaking to him, because they can’t stand it.

he huffs then, trying to ignore the hurt that he sees wash over his partners face. he can’t do this anymore, his chest felt tight. he couldn’t get a handle on his emotions. so he stands abruptly, chair sliding out from under him. “i thought you said you were always on my side, huh?? what happened to that??” he speaks directly at takanashi before pausing, then glancing towards the whole group. “all of you.” he adds, before turning his back and walking towards the door. “fuck this, i’m going to my room.”

#necromancisms #( EVERYBODY WANTS TO RULE THE WORLD // VERSE TWO )#( CAN THE KILLER IN ME TAME THE FIRE IN YOU // TAKANASHI & HIROTO )#alcoholism //#addiction //#i mean it out of love i know it is my fault <3 #also can u believe i wrote this after watching hoodwinked ??? bc i can't #i am unwell bestie so unwell #long post //#i hope u are sleeping well and this finds u well in the morning bestie xoxo

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watermelonsugawara · 4 years ago

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oh ya baby write me some nsfw jealous atsumu 🥵🥵 mwuah mwauh

AE RA kamusta ka na mahal!!! this shit took me forever sorry,, i got carried away LMFAOJSKGJDFG

is it obv im whore knee!!!!!!!!! i hope u like it,,, bitch im nervous

...

❥ warnings: nsfw lets get spicy under the cut babyyyyyy; choking, fingering,,, das it srry maybe next time

❥ character: jealous!atsumu x fem!reader

❥ summary: Atsumu knows you’re the most beautiful woman at the gala, but that doesn’t mean he’s willing to share.

❥ a/n: first actual smut smut so ya dont bully me!!!! WTF THIS GOT LONG SORRY???

Also!! lets just play along w my stupid brain and assume atsumu got hella bands and this is a big gala so they had to have a limo,,, i may or may not have been listening to partition while writing this….mind ur fuckin business

Also is this really jealous!atsumu or more like protective!atsumu??? A bitch got the prompt kinda wrong whatever SUE ME

❥ wc: 1.5k omfg

...

You stood in front of a mirror, slipping your evening gown onto your shoulders. For your boyfriend’s charity gala, you decided to wear a simple burgundy dress, the pleated tulle fabric hugging your figure before cascading at your feet.

“Can you help me zip the back of my dress, baby?” You called out to Atsumu, who was finishing up tying his silky black tie. You felt soft kisses feathered along your spine that made you shiver as your boyfriend slowly zipped your dress.

“Don’t start, Atsumu,” you said as you turned to face him, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. You ran your hands down the lapels of his suit jacket, admiring the smooth black material. He looked damn good in an all black suit, the jacket accentuating his broad shoulders and his black button-down hugging his muscular chest. The only thought going through your mind at the moment was to rip it all off, subconsciously taking your bottom lip between your teeth at the idea.

“We haven’t even left the house yet princess, keep looking at me like that and we won’t even make it to the damn limo.” Atsumu said to you in a low voice, noticing the way your gaze lingered just a little too long. You tried your best to shrug it off, rolling your eyes at the comment. You wanted to take him up on that challenge, but instead you walked past him to slip into your heels and head out to the gala.

When you arrived, you two were greeted by Atsumu’s teammates and their dates. You were too engrossed in conversations to see the other men staring at you, but Atsumu did not miss a beat. He quickly noticed how everyone in the venue seemed to hold their breath as you walked into the room, the elegant fabric flowing down your legs and the bustier hugging your chest in an almost sinful manner. With your arms linked, the two of you made your way to the bar to grab glasses of wine. Atsumu became quite annoyed by the glances constantly being thrown your way, unconsciously pulling you closer to him. You were a sight to see, but Atsumu’s patience was wearing incredibly thin.

As the night went on, Atsumu got sidetracked in conversations with donors, thanking them for supporting his team. You were left alone at times, and although Atsumu never trailed too far away from you, the other men at the gala used this opportunity to try and talk to you.

You feel a warm but unfamiliar hand on your arm and you turn around to face a man you have a hard time recognizing. It’s a little more confusing now that these volleyball players are up close and in formalwear, rather than farther away on a volleyball court in uniform. You think he’s a setter, but your thoughts are cut off by his next words.

“Are you here alone?” He asked, the heavy scent of whiskey lingering from his breath. You plaster a forced smile across your face and shake your head, but you barely got to open your mouth before the man placed his hand on your waist and tugged you closer to him. You instinctively put out a hand on his chest to create space between you two that otherwise wouldn’t have existed. The man began to speak but the fear washing over you muddled your senses. You tried to push back but the man showed no signs of letting up his grip on your waist.

“Atsumu!” you nervously called out to the sea of people, trying your best not to make a scene. Your boyfriend heard your faint cry and swiftly pushed past people back to the bar where you stood, with a man holding you unnervingly close. The two of you made eye contact, his anger-filled gaze meeting your frantic one. Atsumu quickly ripped the man’s hands off of your waist and ushered you behind him. You could practically feel his anger radiating off of his body as he stared at the man.

“Don’t you ever lay a fucking hand on her again. I never want to see you near either of us, you’re a fucking goner if I ever see you again,” Atsumu spat, his fists wound so tightly his knuckles began turning white. Rage washed over Atsumu as he held back every urge to throw a punch. The stranger was taken aback by your boyfriend’s venomous words, backing away sheepishly before quickly walking out. Atsumu turned to you and his demeanor instantly shifted from angry to concerned, seeing the distressed look on your face. You were startled to say the least, but more so by the way Atsumu snapped at the man, it’s unlike anything you’ve ever seen from him before.

“Let’s go home,” you quietly said, raising the end of the sentence as if it were a question. Atsumu didn’t even answer, he was already pulling you away from the bar and towards the exit. Atsumu quickly called for the limo. He held you close to his chest as the vehicle came to a stop in front of the two of you, and you both got in.

Your bodies slouched together in the backseat, one of Atsumu’s large hands finding purchase around your waist and the other on your thigh. The warmth of his hand was strong even through the fabric of your dress, causing your cheeks to flush.

“Are you okay, (Y/N)? Did he hurt you?” Atsumu questioned and you shook your head, still a bit stunned by the interaction with the stranger. Your boyfriend cupped your cheek softly before pulling you into a soft kiss. The sweet taste of wine lingered on his tongue as the kiss became more heated, your lips parting as Atsumu’s tongue explored your mouth. You moaned into his mouth as he wrapped his hand around your neck and gently squeezed. Atsumu was first to break the kiss, desire flickering in his eyes.

“I got you, princess. You’re safe with me, always.” You grabbed Atsumu’s tie to press your lips back onto his, his hands roaming all over your body. He moved down to your neck, sucking dark marks into your skin. His hand made its way back to resting on your thigh, his thumb ghosting towards your center on top of the fabric. You felt a heat begin to build up in your stomach from Atsumu’s plush lips dancing across your skin and his thumb teasing you.

You felt Atsumu’s hand on your back, swiftly unzipping your dress and pushing down the bustier to expose your chest. His large hands palmed your breasts, taking one in his mouth, swirling his tongue around your sensitive nipple. You moaned loudly when Atsumu pulled the bud between his teeth, looking up at you with a smirk.

Atsumu pushed your thighs apart so your legs were spread, pulling the fabric of your dress up into your lap. He runs his hands slowly up your thighs towards your core, causing your cheeks to blush almost as dark as your dress. He quickly pushes the damp lacy fabric to the side, feeling your essence with one finger. You clench around nothing at the feeling of his finger brushing ever so lightly across your folds.

“Fuck, you’re so needy already, baby,” Atsumu breathed into your ear, sucking your earlobe. Atsumu brought his hand out from under your dress to in front of your face, motioning for you to open your mouth. You took his finger into your mouth and watched as Atsumu’s eyes widened, watching you taste your own juices. His jaw clenched at the feeling of your wet mouth and lips on his finger, biting back a groan. His hand quickly found purchase under your dress once again, the wet finger teasing your entrance before pushing in. Your eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, his thick finger already causing endless moans to fall from your lips.

“I’m the only one who really knows how to make you feel good, isn’t that right, kitten?” Atsumu groaned, feeling your walls clench around his curled finger. Your moans and gasps were a good enough answer for him as he pushed a second finger into you, sprinkling kisses along your neck once more.

Atsumu’s cock strained against his pants, and he couldn’t help but palm himself at the sight of you. He loved seeing you like this, his long fingers putting you in a trance, unraveling from his merciless touches. Your back arched off the seat as he pumped his fingers into you feverishly. Atsumu could tell you were close to your high as you clenched around him even more, your moans becoming more erratic and desperate.

“It’s like your pussy was made for me, fuck,” Atsumu groaned, “go ahead pretty girl, let go for me.” His thumb circling over your clit, combined with a third finger making its way to your pussy sent you over the edge. You gripped your dress in your fists as you clenched around Atsumu’s fingers, his thumb still rubbing the overstimulated nub, making you shut your legs around his hand. You just barely came down from your high just as the limo pulled up to your house. As you shakily stepped out of the car, the urgency in Atsumu’s steps told you he was far from finished showing you just how well he knew your body.

#alli writes some spice #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya #haikyuu

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jockbots · 4 years ago

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im just saying there are a heap of mussed opportunities in having a trio made up of two Slytherins and a Gryffindor i.e Albus, Scorpius and Rose.

- Imagine if you will; Rose being absolutely ready to square up and fight anyone that breathes in her direction. And Albus and Scorpius already booking it in the opposite direction like there asses are one fire. que Rose being like wtf you coward its just a dragon!

- Scorpius and Rose being like this evil thing looks like a bad idea lets not touch it. Except Albus already touched it and is posseset whoops oh well guess we have to use it in our favour.

- I love the idea that Scorpius is as dramatic as Draco and cannot stand any sort of pain, gross thing or keep his feelings off his face. Insert him catching his finger in the door and immediately getting teary eyes. And Albus being like looks like we're gonna have to amputate. Meanwhile Rose could be clutching a bloody wound in her side like a trophy and Scorpius will cry over that too.

- Albus being so fucking dry that neither Scorpius or Rose know if he's serious or not. Albus is delighted watching them squint at his expert poker face. He also a great liar, and says it all from his dark past. read: being the middle child. Albus despite hating too much attention is the one they send in to do any dodgy dealing.

- Scorpius backs him up by being their talker. He's an encyclopedia bitch and can look you up and down and know exactly where you sit on the food chain and where your planning on going. Rose is like fight? Albus is like threaten? Scorpius is like dismantle this mans whole career in two sentences.

- Slytherin's being shady, cunning lil shits that will only fight unless they have not a single tool left in their arsenal. And Gryffindor's being so gutt oriented that they end up making bigger messes than they started with. But also being like fercly loyal to each other. Like they will be petty af and call each other everything uder the sun, but one bad word to their friends, oh nono go on my fist wants to hear what you had to say.

- bonus edit: Getting into fights to distract bc everyone expects Gryffindor's and Slytherin's to fight. Like Albus and Rose can fight abt shoelaces and make it convincing, and whoever they're distracting just blinks at them while Scorpius mutters a hex. But also Albus and Scorpius getting into pitty party fights works too, and no one ever sees Rose's nutt shots when they're getting comply bowled over by Potter and Malfoy Drama.

- Albus being a chicken shit that waits until he absolutely has to go into a life or death fight before kissing Scorpius and telling him he has gay feelings for him. Que Scorpius having to be held back Rose bc tHE AUDACITY OF THAT MAN. And then when things inevitably turn out okay Scorpius punching him in the gut bc fuck you potter i was so scared

- I just love the idea of Rose being like incredibly brave and intelligent and confident and having to put up with these gay losers that scream when they see a spider.

- but also Rose having inferiority and imposter syndrome bc her mum is The Hermione Granger and despite being just a talented witch and her mum, all the tabloids and fans and propaganda have inflafed her image to someone untouchable and unattainable. And Rose having to come to grips with the fact that her mum would love her even if she just took over her uncle's shop. that she is already great and doesn't need to prove anything to anyone. read also her and Albus bonding bc oh i feel like that all the time it sucks. And her and Scorpius becoming friends bc he thinks shes great and is completely unfiltered in his adoration of her so ye ur mums cool and all but ur awesome and ur my friend? can u believe it?

#albus potter #is a snarky quick witted and dry asshole full of insecurites and gay #rose granger weasley #is superiority meets fearless loyalty and wanting to prove herself to her mum #scorpius malfoy #is bby #pasty gay string bean wanted to go on an adventure and read his book #but then got caught up in the chaos that comes wit potterweaslygrangers #i have a playlist for their shenanigans and most of the time its of albus and pi either bricking it or being fucking nerds #hp #hpcc

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ranmanjuu · 4 years ago

Text

—gen z mc with uesugi-takeda + misc. forces

ahh, i’m so glad people liked my gen z oda hcs! lol it’s usually pretty slow from my writing blog experiences until now, but i’m rlly happy! i was planning to do u-t and the others but then i decided to stop at oda and continue another day. thx for the asks tho! and yeah, i do take requests but it’s more of a pasttime, since this whole blog is just my stupid ideas written out and shared out there.

also someone said that a gen z mc could be old enough to romance the warlords, like, early twenties. and yes, very fair if u wanna romance ur mans with memes and existentialism go for it!! i just think it adds more to the comedy side of this child they have to babysit, while not fearing death or any consequences from their dumb of Ass decisions. someone who fears no death and armed with no braincells is a fool, but a Child who fears no death and armed with no braincells is also a fool, but more bizzare and has That Vibe y’know

@niphredil-14 and @arthotsglasses

tw: s*icidal, violent jokes treated in a light manner

also spoilers to some things of their characters

—kenshin:

who is this,, , sassy lost child??

he first saw you prepared to throw hands with ronins who were being Elite Dickheads. ofc, armed with nothing compared to the sworded-adults, he had to interfere.

no matter how cold he treated you, masking his secret !!!-like concern, you seemed so unfazed through it. you still interacted with him like normal,,,,, why?? do you want a death wish?

and each time he threatened you with,, anything, you responded with, “the only one who gets to hurt & kill me, is ME”

...... what?

he’s convinced you’re the biggest fool of a person. and he’d be right but even so, he has a weirdly strong need to protect you as you two got closer. you’re often with sasuke, so it’s harder to avoid you.

even with all the Horrible jokes you make on a daily basis, if your passionate side with everyone having equal rights of being treated as human, for him it shows a side of you that makes you seem precious and pure and kind hearted.

and the overprotective side increases.

which is, ,, a bit problematic sometimes cause you have the tendency to target and piss off anyone in a 10 meter range by just one (1) sassy comment, along with your lack of impulse control and blurting out everything in your mind. it’s made you a lot of short enemies in the sengoku period, and kenshin would always be ready to slice them down behind you.

sasuke has to tame him down with his Masters degree in kenshin-wrangling.

at banquets, kenshin would often have you beside him. if you’re too young for sake do age for drinking exist in sengoku? probably not. it’s more of sasuke advising for him to not give you alcoholic drinks he’ll have you pouring for him or just munching away at pickled plums or food.

—shingen:

(ngl i kinda had a hard time with this since it’s erasing a big part of his overall character,,, flirting)

once he heard the news that oda had taken in somone as young as you during honno-ji,, ,,,he’s in a very “how dare that demon >>:( taking such a pure soul,....”

and when you’re taken to kasugayama as a captive, you’re,,, surprisingly very calm and whelmed. you don’t have much sign of fear or anxiety in your overall demeanor meanwhile you’re busy dissociating and spacing out to feel those

you actually don’t seem to hate your captor. but shingen isn’t sure if your ‘fingerguns’ is a good thing or not cause it depicts you pointing guns @ him,, (dw is good shingen)

while yes being held hostage—no matter how good you’re being treated—isn’t ideal and kinda not very cash money, you consider shingen v chill. man has a kindheart!! “i diagnose you with good vibes.”

if he ever sees your righteous side, as everyone else, he’ll deeply admire you. he himself is someone who believes in such as well. and hearing the circumstances in the modern world regarding those things (blm, etc.) his heart truly does go out for you. he feels sympathy for such a young person like you having to take action

also your dirty humor around him, echigo’s player, kind of makes him question where and how you learnt it

and,, his illness.

through getting straight to the point and not falling for it each time he changes subject/dodges the question, you managed to get to the bottom of his illness. shingen himself thinks it’s not something you have to burden with knowing—you’re so, so young.

but that doesn’t matter to you. the world’s given you such a shit time, you’re mature enough to understand the situation at least.

and as he finishes his explanation, all there was is silence. it felt wrong to say any of your usual quips,, so all you did was slowly came there and hugged him.

that was more than what he’d ask for.

—sasuke:

oh hell yeah

you are in your element with him. the chillest guy to talk to, and probably the first one you’re the closest to

your phone was dead after like 2 days of use, and you were miserable while hideyoshi, like a typical parent, told you to go outside and into town. sensing your bad mood, sasuke asked what’s up. you deadpanned, “my phone game ended and now i’m ready to commit not breath.” you oslemnly look out in the bustling streets and clutched your fist like an Anime Protagonist, “those boomer memes were right all along... i am absolutely Miserable and Useless(^TM) without it.”

in response, you could’ve sworn he did the Anime Glasses thing as well, “then we at team Moderately Awesome Sengoku Ninja are happy to announce the launch of a DIY phone charger, made with the electricity from a fruit and the main functionality of a solar panel. and has more durability than samsung’s.”

there were Stars in your eyes now. with a big grin, you thank him, “i’d die for you, sasuke.”

“then perish.” he said with a blank look. (yukimura, in the bg: ???!!!??!??!?)

the next day he consentually breaks in through the ceiling and gives you the weird contraption. you’re now saved, soul-wise.

the memes start coming and they don’t stop coming from the two of you. in any situation. whether it’d be at a teahouse, or at a battlefield that can determine your life and death.

and you can have discussions about current world events, or the past ones, with him and he’d understand completely what you’re talking about. it’s those rare nights when you’ve been thinking and have a deep conversation with him in his room, and as an adult, it makes for interesting results as well.

the others are endlessly confused, but you’re both so unapologetically yourselves.

and he’s super protective if the circumstances are tough. he feels bad for dragging another person in the sengoku with him—much less when they’re so young like you.

if you’re enough of a lil shit, once you’re taken into kasugayama, in the nights where you can’t sleep because brain at what would be 3 am, you’d probably trudge over to his room and wake him up to tell him what kind of mind-blowing shit you realized.

—yukimura:

when he saved you from falling to your death, your reaction already set off weird Vibes inside him. what do you mean, “you stopped me from fleeing this fleeting world by the sweet embrace of death” ?!?!?! are you crazy?? yes

he doesn’t waste time getting blunt with you at all either.

once he goes into azuchi as a merchant, he silently observes you talking to sasuke for a bit. what’s with your weird language?? and crude humor???? never in his life has he met someone in your age act like that wtf

even so, he still operates on the basis of ‘‘if sasuke trusts you, i trust you’’, no matter how utterly concerned you make him feel

you have a dirtier mind than him! unsurprisingly. along with everyone else, you often tease the poor soul, a nd you’d gladly tell him what the innuendoes mean ( 69, etc.) and maybe sprinkle in some gay jokes in there

and why do you keep mentioning this “bromance between him and sasuke” ?? what us,,, a bromance????? and why is sasuke in it??

he takes you out to teahouses to eat chestnut dumplings and other desserts with you. you always seem to target the one he doesn’t like the most and have a bit of banter

your relationship is built on banter but what’s different rlly

he treats you much more maturely than other people your age. as in, he doesn’t pull back his punches in words most of the time. you don’t seem to around him also, it looks like.

and, he’s also very protective of you. he regards you as his little sibling, as rat as you may be. and he does care about you—he might just be a bit unwilling to say it

—yoshimoto:

you think he’s very chill, if a bit unique but who were you to judge. and he is, if you ever meet him in echigo or even azuchi

his big liking to art and something of apathy to people is osmething you can respect. there’s something about that kind of Vibe that you find oddly a mood.

and oh boy oh boy you wasted no time pulling up your phone and showing images of what art is in the future. whether it’d be a screenshot of anime, fanart, aesthetic-like ones, palette-themed—the whole shabang.

and, somehow, you were left ranting to him about how some artists in the future get it so shitty for theft, reposting, not crediting, the list goes on (please be a decent human being to artist, sincerely the author) and he can’t help but just listen in silence and kind of thinking about how you’re so passionate about the Struggles of artists. and it isn’t something he sees often in the sengoku era—where war rules most things.

and he does find art from the modern times interesting, how they’re so different and vast in styles. and not only that, it’s not like the future only has one major style like then, each hand can draw such different pictures and still have beauty in each. he appreciates and admires that.

and he does tell you his thoughts ^ while you give your own insight. it’s so fascinating to see someone like you having strong opinions on this.

because, well, rn art is a big thing in our lives as we’re stuck inside. a part of entertainment is looking at any media of art—and he finds his view of art and yours quite the same. you two came from a time of turmoil (one moreso than the other) but still think art isn’t exactly irrelevant just because it isn’t a cure to diseases or the Ultimate Weapon.

you had to Surgically Remove him from your phone so you can use it and to stop him from draining your battery looking at the art

and he often drags you out to town and admire pieces when you’re holing yourself in too much. your comments are always unknown to him, “radical”, “that’s one i can vibe with ngl”, and the list goes on.

and you occasionally call him pretty boy as a compliment rlly

—kennyo:

when you first saw him at honno-ji, and he won’t forget the one (1) line you gave him, all you said to his warning of ooo spooky demons was, “that’s lit fam gtg tho”

and that alone was enough to stun him for a few seconds

honestly you told the others of your meeting with kennyo before they told you it could be kennyo. just a throaway line of “oh yeah there was this dude with a scar across his face.” / “,,, ,....that’s kennyo. he’s really dangerous actually—” / “oh, poggers”

you’re probably kind of half the reason the oda forces found who dun it.

and it was an eye for an eye, kennyo himself found out that you were their child chatelaine, and very close to the others. as per his villain-schedule, he kidnaps you .

he laments about how “such a pure soul such as yours is not to be stained by the demon’s hands”

oh how Wrong he was.

you were the definition of the opposite of pure. and you seemed unfazed, which surprised kennyo but shrugged it off. he was willing to face you screaming and panicking, along with shouldering the sin of doing the deed. but instead, he was met with a raised eyebrow and, “this is unexpected and probably not welcomed but what am i doing here.”

he was stunned for a moment before explaining what he can.

“......... fuck.”

he cringed ever so slightly at your curse. but your attention seems to stray so quickly off of the fact that you were bounded and helpless, to the fact that you have the man doing unspeakable things to civilians and you absolutely don’t approve.

throwing your common sense to maybe be civilized, you went off on a rant of how human rights and how to not be an ass to him. all he could do was just listened, shocked to even cut you off.

when he did, he gave the whole ‘unsaved demon’ shtick, and you weren’t taking that kinda shit. he believed he was truly unsaved—you knew that. but that doesn’t make it okay.

eventually, he left you with a cold end of the conversation.

he admires your spirit in a way—but with what he’s experienced,,, it’s a bit of unreachable for him.

if at any point you saw the soft side of his with animals, you just gaped at him for a split second and whispered, “the gap moe is strong with this one.”

also old man died inside when you said that you’d fight god, along with many things.

all in all, to him, you’re insufferable. but weirdly,, fascinating.

you’ve totally ok boomer’d him once cause he rlly looks old

—motonari:

,,. if your speech to kennyo was bad, he’s going to rant hell.

motonari already knew you were interesting even when his men just spied on you. your behavior, so brash and impulsive, is going to be so fun to have, he thinks.

through some planning to stir up more chaos, he kidnaps you and brings you unto his ship. same as kennyo, you showed no clear sign of surprise, and that’s when he decided you were either used to this in any way, or a fool. both answers, he liked.

you’re kind of really confused on why he’s doing what he’d doing. “i get it, i like to stir up chaos myself but it’s harmless,, most of it—but not until the people are in danger, bitch.”

and by that line, motonari leans towards you with a deadly smirk, “now, i can bite, ‘kay kid? you don’t wanna be in the receiving end... do you?”

“do it, coward.”

and before he could let out even a wheeze of laughter, you continued on on a lecture of, again, not being a dick and letting people live their life in peace. and much less all of this damage, for what? chaos?? yeah you wanted to see the world burn but it wasn’t literally.

however, his patience was running thin. he shuts you up forcefully, and leaves.

even so, after a cooldown period, he still talks to you (,,,, well, that’s kind of a generous term) because, right he was, you were so fun in his eyes.

an interesting observation he made,,, was that you picked up on his big dislike of physical contact. and he’d think with how annoying you were at times, that you’d weaponize it. but you didn’t—in fact, you kept your space (not that you were planning to get close) and respected his boundaries.

he thinks you a bit of peculiar for that decision, some wary, and perhaps naive.

one of the days—the more dangerous ones—he was planning to take you to the oda as bait or something. and you weren’t taking it like that. two days before arrival, a storm racked up. you stood upon the edge of the ship with the rest of the crew watching you like you were a madman.

“the oda won’t want me if i’m dead, would they now?”

motonari stands in his composure, guffawing, “all i need is to make sure they believe you’re alive, kid.”

a smile that showed absolutely no fear and 1000 percent spite spread in your face, “not unless i decimate my own body until all the trail left is my blood. the only one who gets to do that shit to me, is me.”

finally, a look of wavering shows in his face.

you were saved last minute,, and the rest is history.

#ikemen sengoku #cybird ikemen #ikesen #ikesen kenshin #ikesen shingen #ikesen sasuke #ikesen yukimura #ikesen yoshimoto #ikesen kennyo #ikesen motonari #ikesen uesugi takeda #*writing #gen z mc #god i hope my Lack of Ability isn't shown in how other characters are written longer than others #and how i might've badly Fucked up their characters #i've done like.. 3 routes and that knowledge is all i have #stans pls don't @ me #pretty sure i had more i wanted to add here but #aha brain's memory go brrrrrrrr

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smalltragedy · 4 years ago

Text

* justice smith, demi man + he/they | you know gabriel de leon, right? they’re twenty three, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, six years? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to 1984 (infinite jest) by the used like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole waking up in a body as heavy as the dead, emotions always on the verge of spilling over - you laugh before the punch lands, the belief that every encounter you have will be the last thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is october 31st, so they’re a scorpio, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( james, 21, est, they/them )

hi im just reposting gabe’s intro bc its been a very long time n im starting a little fresh hehe. yes i do regret the text color bt im not going back.

VIOLENCE TW

mini playlist.

ghosting ;; mother mother / roam the room ;; citizen / art of doubt ;; metric / thnks fr th mmrs ;; fall out boy / heart in a cage ;; the strokes / where is my mind? ;; the pixies / flowers grow out of my grave ;; dead man’s bones / 1984 (infinite jest) ;; the used / blister in the sun ;; the violent femmes.

statistics.

full name: gabriel de leon.

nickname(s): gabe.

birthday: october 31st, 1997.

zodiac: scorpio sun, scorpio moon, gemini ascending.

label: the icarian.

hometown: belleville, new jersey.

sexuality: bisexual (masc-leaning).

pinterest.

biography.

it’s only rly ever been gabe n his mom n the little new jersey suburbs that r always the same no matter where they go. they dn’t speak abt fathers or brothers or spain or anywhere other than the now, and how its constantly changing bt oddly the same.

his mom’s name is sonia n we love her. she worked a lot as a single mom n p much hs done everything on her own ever since leaving spain.

they dn’t talk abt spain bt we cn talk abt spain n hw sonia hd grown up partially there n partially in the states n hw she’d originally planned to live there forever bt the man she’d fallen in love with ws involved in some. high class dangerous shit n it ws safer fr them to part even if tht involved leaving everything she knew n loved <3

bt its like. ok. bc she hd gabe <3 n they dnt talk abt it so it practically nvr happened. n she tries her best as a mom n usually tht is enough.

they moved around a lot just bc sonia is a very. flighty person. anxious bt nvr seems tht way is just always. tense. gabe didnt think she ws capable of relaxing fr. a rly long time.

she wld commute 2 nyc every morning n after school gabe wld climb onto the train n by the time he got 2 her place of work she’d be just getting off n they’d get a slice of pizza n sometimes they’d go somewhere like central park or coney island (just fr the novelty) bt most of the time they just got back on the train home w/ gabe either doing homework or napping on her shoulder.

when gabe got a little older he’d sometimes skip school n take the train after sonia had already gone so he cld spend the day in nyc. he liked learning bt didnt rly like school. he nvr properly fit in bc of the amt of times they’d move so it felt like nowhere ws. right fr him.

got rly involved in. the punk scene as a young unsupervised teenager n tht led 2 a lot of like. shitty stick n pokes bt also a love of. very loud angry music n a sense of justice tht he held tightly in his fists. got mouthy towards bullies whether at school or in the scenes he involved himself in n started getting into a lot of fights bc of it.

during this, sonia ended up dating n marrying gabe’s stepdad who he calls craig sometimes bt i dnt think thats his name i wont lie to u guys. its partially a joke n partially purposeful disrespect bc gabriel does not trust a single man bt like. man. ‘craig’ is just an accountant. he’s fine he’s a good dude. they once bonded over like. the mets.

violence tw // anyways. when gabriel ws 16 he got into a super super bad fight tht ended rly. terribly n like listen. nobody died bt it ws just. it got blown up very out of proportion n gabe might’ve gotten expelled even tho he wsnt even the one who started it bt thts okay. ‘craig’, or paul, suggested tht maybe. a change of scenery wld b good fr gabe n b4 they knew it they were. moving to paul-robert’s hometown of irving, north carolina. violence end of tw //

he wld’ve complained more bt. fr sonia’s sake gabe kept it 2 himself. it made her happy 2 see them all get along anyways n like. idk he cld put forth tht little effort <3

bt honestly like. he didnt rly get into too many fights once they moved down here n even tho sometimes he ws like. ommgg. i hate this town .. its so washed up .. he still made friends n like. the only thing tht changed ws tht it ws a lil harder fr him 2 acquire illegal substances.

anyways. currently he hs a tattoo apprenticeship n is a professional piercer n like. he plays guitar n writes songs bt thts more of a hobby rn than anything else. mostly focused on paying his rent at port apartments bc as much as he. loves his mom he does not want 2 live with her forever <3 n thts okay!

personality & facts.

overall xtremely passionate person like god. feels emotions so intensely. every time he opens his mouth n talks abt an interest of theirs its just very like. u listen n ur like oh. gained 2 inspiration. thanks.

clings onto his friends p tightly bc he like. nvr rly stayed in one place fr super super long in new jersey so he nvr made very long term friends n now hes like. very clingy HLKDSHLKFSHLKDG also hates to b alone. subtle desperation behind interactions with ppl he rly wld like to be friends with.

like dnt get me wrong hes gotten into. sm fights bt thts mostly bc he cannot keep his mouth shut n he also cnt stand douchebags he like. always wants to tear them down prob bc he ws a victim of bullying. n u know what. we support him. otherwise he loves ppl bt esp if they hv similar interests 2 him.

like golden retriever who bites kind of. intensely loyal but at the same time is very skeptical. things tht good things do not last very long even though they’ve been doing already fr the last few years.

also bit of a nerd. they were nvr rly a big fan of school bt theres smth abt a good superhero comic tht draws their attention more than like. any english class evr. bt seven soldiers of victory? classic. big dc fan.

uh. very into like. hardcore music. hardcore rock. punk. if its loud n angry they r into it like so so much. hs sm tattoos is like. super covered in them its partially bc they work at a tattoo shop n partially bc they do not know hw to manage their money well.

ooohh u know what theyre. kinda moody i wont lie to u. very defensive like they dnt evr wna talk abt their past. has experienced Things n they do not wish to discuss them. will usually like. deflect frm conversations he doesnt wna hv.

in tune with nature. loves fkn taking walks. hangs out in the woods by abernathy creek n lilac ridge bc nobody rly goes there n its just. nice

tries not 2 take anything super seriously 2 the point where when he does take smth seriously its a little scary bc theyre super intense abt it. forcibly optimistic even tho on the inside he feels like a total pessimist. lots of. deep down insecurities tht he projects by attaching himself p firmly onto others. >.>

so so so energetic. can never stay still. always hs to be moving around. restless like tht. probably got it frm his mom. overly protective over the ppl he loves. probably got it frm his mom as well.

goes onto Tangents bt also divert frm those tangents n is generally all over the place.

always cold n always looks tired n like he hsnt slept in a thousand years n u know what. sometimes he just does not sleep.

oooohh theyre a vegan. totally into animal rights. devious little demi man beyond that .. loves horror n the paranormal n believes in like. every cryptic. will debate u on it.

erm not. the kindest 2 themself theyre a bit self destructive. impulsive. drives very fast n parties super hard. said i will hv my effy stonem moment. u dont hv to gabe.

bt ya! luvs oranges n reds n is maybe a short king. hs an eyebrow piercing n like. a lip ring i wont fk around here he IS living his best emo life in 2021. a little outdated on the trends bt thats okay. probably will tell u hes frm new jersey. its a personality trait. smokes the shittiest cigarettes ever.

wanted plots.

just ghosting along ,, dnt even exist 2 me ,, ;; god. firstly just the vast amt of ppl tht gabe hs like. spoken to romantically n then dropped suddenly. n then maybe like. one tht actually Hurt bt they cnt avoid each other bt theyre actively pretending each other doesnt exist n its. hurtful bc it ws like. actually smth nice bt <3 ykno FKLFSDHG

hey hey heyy c’maahn i’m just a little guy ;; n this is the vast amt of ppl tht gabe hs probably. pissed off n hs either fought or been on the verge of fighting just. unable 2 resist a good bicker-turned-duel.

just blistering in the sun ;; they cld b close friends bt also they cld also not b bt just ppl who. indulge in bad impulsive decisions with gabe. general bad influences on each other’s health n just. no good! party hard bt at what cost.

n also ;; like ... rly solid good friendships ... flings n maybe an exe or two tht either ended on good terms or just. horrendous, ppl they’ve distanced frm, ppl also frm up north, piercing customers, bt not tattoo customers bc im p sure they’d get fired if they were just tattoo’ing ppl willy nilly, etc.

#irvingintro #violence tw #(more of a brief mention)#bt still #jst reposting bc its been so long JFGDHFDSGSLFKG

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kazashiiii · 4 years ago

Text

What’s that ?

part 2

previously on ‘ what’s that ? ‘

“ tell me where is Mark right now ? ” Tzuyu asked

“ i-i dont know , probably working " Sana replied

Tzuyu tired to calm herself down after knowing what Mark did to Sana

it’s currently 12:50AM

“ Sana , cmon lets go to bed ” Tzuyu said while dragging Sana

- time skipped -

Morning 9:45AM

Sana woke up aggressively knowing that Tzuyu wasnt beside her she was worried and she quickly ran down the stairs to check if Tzuyu was there but her presence wasnt there

Tzuyu’s POV

chaeyoung and i are currently at some random cafe , im ranting stuffs to chaeyoung cause i didnt have anyone else to rant to

“ so what happend ? “ chaeyoung asked in concern

“ s-she was raped “ i said while breaking down

“ WHAT ?! " chaeyoung said loudly

“ she was raped , by Mark “ i cried even more

“ W-WHAT ?! MARK ?! “ Chaeyoung was shocked knowing that it was Mark who did that to Sana

Sana’s POV

" should i call her ? ” i mumbled to myself

“ but what if she’s busy with work ? wait it’s saturday tho ”

suddenly my phone rang , i quickly picked it up without checking the caller ID

“ hello ?? Tzuyu-ah~ "

“ Tzuyu ? nahh babe don’t u miss me ? " the person on the other line said

“ w-who are you ?? where is Tzuyu ?? ” i asked in concern

“ shushh bbygirl , how can u forget me ? we did so much that night u even enjoyed it ”

“ m-mark ?! ” i said shockingly

“ thats right babygirl ” Mark said

“ h-how did y- ” Sana was about to finish her sentence when Mark interfered

“ not important babygirl , i miss you . i miss touching you and inse- " before Mark could finish i quickly end the call

“ oh my jissos , how the fuck he have my number ?! ”

No one’s POV

“ Chae , i think i better go off first im scared Sana is worried abt me ” Tzuyu told Chaeyoung

“ you didnt tell her where u were going ? ” Chae asked

“ nah she was sleeping ” Tzuyu answered

“ alrightt2 take care let’s settle Mark tonite i’ll drop by ur place ” Chae said

“ do you know where is Mark’s hangout place ? ” Tzuyu asked

“ hmm probably Canvas Club ” Chae said

Tzuyu then waved Chaeyoung goodbye and drove back to her house

Sana is currently nagging at herself , when Tzuyu appeared at the door Sana quickly run up to Tzuyu and hugged her

Tzuyu hugged back

“ sorry i didn’t inform u where i was ” Tzuyu apologised

“ where did u go ? ” Sana asked curiously

“ meet up with Chaeyoung , she has a problem with Minari ” Tzuyu lied

suddenly Sana’s turned into a worried face as if a mom had lost their kids

“ heyy , what’s wrongg ?? ” Tzuyu asked in concern

“ n-nothingg ” Sana replied

“ are you sure ? cmon tell me what’s wrong “ Tzuyu said while caressing Sana’s back

“ w-well , M-mark called me just now ” Sana said

“ WHAT ?! ” Tzuyu said loudly

“ h-he called me and- ” Sana was cut off by Tzuyu

“ Sana listen to me im gonna kill that asshole alright , im gonna make sure he doesn’t bother you anymore okay " Tzuyu said while caressing Sana’s cheeks

“ T-tzuyu please don’t get yourself in trouble , lets just hand him over to the police ” Sana said

“ shh , let’s eat breakfast i bought u some breakfast ” Tzuyu said

“ komawo~ ” Sana said while clinging onto Tzuyu’s arms

-time skipped -

“ Sana-ah ? ”

“ yess chewyy~ "

“ do you mind going to bed first ? cause Chaeyoung wanna rant to me about Mina ”

“ o-ouhh , right now ? ”

“ yea “

“ but its late tho “

“ she really need someone go rant to right now she got into a big fight with Minari "

“ ahh okay , ill be waiting for you “

“ you should sleep first “

Sana didn’t say anything , before Tzuyu take her leave she kissed Sana’s forehead and walked out the door & entered Chaeyoung’s car

Sana’s POV

“ Minari and Chaeyoung got into a fight ? but they looked like they’re in good terms " Sana thought

meanwhile Tzuyu & Chaeyoung are now heading to Canvas Club to whack that asshole

suddenly Sana’s phone rang

“ h-hello ? ” Sana said

“ Sanake , its me Minari ”

“ phew i thought it was someone else ”

“ i wonder who u were expecting "

“ yahh why did you called me ? ”

“ have you seen Chaeyoung ? ”

“ she’s with Tzuyu "

“ ahh i see , she didn’t told me where she was going tho ”

“ im also not sure , Tzuyu told me that you both had a huge fight ”

“ fight ?? we’re in good terms tho ”

“ huhh ? Tzuyu told me yall had a huhe fight tho “

“ no we didn’t “

“ ohh , ill call u back “

meanwhile , Chae & Tzu have arrived the club Tzuyu was so ready to beat that asshole until Mark noticed them

“ well , well , well look what we got here “ Mark said

“ YOU ! ” Tzuyu said while pointing at Mark

“ yes ? ohh wait u’re Tzuyu right ? and you are ? ” Mark looked towards Chaeyoung

“ none of you business ! ”

“ ohh wow , Tzuyu your girlfriend is Sana am i right ? damn just let go of her i can give her more satisfaction “

“ you raped Sana didn’t you ! ”

“ woah2 i didn’t rape her , she wants it so you know i just gotta go cause why nott “

“ she didn’t wants it you idiot ! ” Tzuyu’s blood boils , her fists was clenching tight

“ tell you what , i really did have a great time with her it was fun and i wish i could do it again ”

“ dont you dare . ”

“ why not ? she likes it too , i bet she’s begging for it more though right now “

“ enough “

Tzuyu then threw a punch on Mark’s cheeks which cause his lips to bleed

“ woah someone is angry , wanna know something i fuck her better then you ! ”

Tzuyu wanted to punch Mark’s cheekbone but eventually Mark managed to block and he hits Tzuyu’s stomach very hard and cause Tzuyu to fall to the ground .

Chaeyoung quickly ran towards Tzuyu wanting to help Tzuyu get up but Mark managed to kick Chaeyoung on the stomach

“ Tzuyu , tzuyu tzuyu . enough just let her go she can have more fun with me i have a dick unlike u ure using ure useless fingers to fuck her “

and with that Tzuyu got really mad and she tooked the wine bottle and hit Mark’s head

but for some reason Mark’s head is made of metal he still managed to punch Tzuyu on the stomach

Tzuyu quickly got up and punched Mark’s face as hard as she could which caused Mark to fell to the ground

Chaeyoung got up slowly and held Tzuyu up walking back towards Chae’s car , they’re going back to Tzuyu’s house

Tzuyu checked her phone and 15 missed calls & 35 texts from ‘ Sana Bibi 💘 ‘

“ shit2 ” Tzuyu said in pain

“ w-whyy ? ” chae asked

“ S-sana ”

-time skipped-

Tzuyu’s house

12:15AM

*cough* Tzuyu coughs due to pain on her stomach

“ T-tzuyu ?! what happend ??! ” Sana asked in concern

“ nothing , why are u sleeping at the couch ? ”

“ i was waiting for you , Tzuyu why are there bruises ?? what happend ?! ”

suddenly Tzuyu faints .

——————————————————————————

omg , i feel like i did a really bad job here so sorry hope y’all enjoy this quick update will probably update when im free .

#sana minatozaki #twice sana #twicenet #imagine #more and more #chou tzuyu #tzuyutwice #twice satzu

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freddiesaysalright · 6 years ago

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hiii i love ur writing! could u please do an imagine with ben as rog where just before they go to the farm rog punches a guy in a club defending y/n’s honour (his childhood bff and the bands stylist for years!) but then he can’t play drums because of his hands so y/n steps in as they record bc rog has secretly been teaching her during tours and guides her thought it and it’s real cute and fluffy and they fall for each other at the end etc? if poss! 😊

Oops, fucked around and wrote a novel for this one lol Hope you like :)

Something burned your ass. You jumped away from the heat, and swatted away a man’s hand that was down there, a cigarette between two of his fingers.

“Watch it!” you shouted at him, patting down the singed fabric of your skirt. “You put a hole in my clothes!”

“Couldn’t help it,” he returned with a drunken smirk. “Just had to get a handful.”

Your mouth fell open. At that moment, Roger approached. When he saw your face, he glowered at the man.

“What did you do?” he demanded.

“This idiot just burned me with his fucking cigarette grabbing my ass!” you cried, still in disbelief yourself.

You cocked your hip to show him the hole in your skirt and the black mark on your skin. Roger’s face darkened.

“Sorry, mate,” the guy said to Roger. “Didn’t realize she was your girl.”

Roger didn’t answer, but drove his fist into the guy’s nose. You cheered as the man fell back and hit the floor hard. You stopped smiling when you saw Roger shaking out his hand.

“Shit, Rog, you alright?” you asked, taking his trembling hand in yours.

“Man’s got a hard fucking face,” he groaned, wincing as you touched his knuckles.

“Let’s get you to hospital,” you said. “I think you’ve broken it.”

Bruises were already blooming across his fist. You drove him to the emergency room, where an x-ray confirmed he had broken two fingers. They bandaged him up, gave him pain medication, and sent you on your way. When you got home, you helped Roger to the couch before bustling back into the kitchen to get him some ice. You placed it on his hand.

“Thanks, by the way,” you said. “For defending me at the club.”

“Any time,” he returned.

“You didn’t correct him,” you recalled. “When he said I was your girl.”

“You’re my best friend,” he said simply. “That’s my girl. In a sense.”

You giggled. “Whatever you say, Rog.” You waited a beat. “Are you gonna be alright to play? You go to the farm in three days.”

His eyes went wide and he groaned. “Fuck!”

You came to the farm with the band. You were their stylist, and although they weren’t making any public appearances, Roger insisted it was part of your job to come with them. You guessed it was because he was too proud to ask the guys to help him with his broken hand.

You watched them rehearse, and pity moved in you as you watched Roger. With a hand out of commission, his drumming was suffering. He just couldn’t keep up without hurting himself. The rest of the band went to take a break, but Roger stayed, working hard on getting the beat down. You came into the room and tried to offer some encouragement.

“Maybe you can put off recording until it’s healed up a bit?” you suggested.

“No, the schedule is what it is,” he replied. His face brightened in a way you knew to mean he had an idea. He held his sticks out to you. “You play it!”

“What?!” you gasped. “Rog, I can’t!”

“Sure you can, I’ve been teaching you for ages,” he insisted. “You play it for the record. Just until my hand is better.”

“I’ll fuck it up,” you argued. “I’m an amateur.”

“C’mere,” he said, getting up from his seat. “Sit.”

Groaning, you obeyed, taking the drum sticks from him and taking a seat. He reached over your shoulders, placing his hands on top of yours. His chest was pressed into your back and you could feel his breath on your skin. You tried not to shiver.

You and Roger had known each other nearly all your lives. You were neighbors as kids, and he often came to your house when the abuse became to much at his own, and vice versa. Since then, you became each other’s fiercest defenders. Your love for Roger ran deep. Deeper than your bones. You also knew you loved him as more than a friend. It broke your heart each time you saw him take another woman to bed, and it happened often enough that you were an expert at hiding how it hurt you. But moments like this - of unexpected intimacy - those were the times when it was hardest for you.

He began to guide you through the rhythm of the song, slowly. He was so close to you, you could barely focus on what he was teaching you. You forced your mind to the moment, focusing on the drums instead of the feeling of Roger’s body against yours.

“Try it on your own now,” he said.

He didn’t back away from you completely. He stayed touching you, his hands on your hips now. You shook your head, took a deep breath, and attempted the line. Of course, you messed it up.

“It’s alright,” he said. “Just try again.”

He rubbed his hands up and down your sides and a shudder went through you.

“I can’t, Rog,” you said. “Not with you…touching me.”

“I always touch you,” he replied, confused.

Your feelings were coming to the surface like a freight train. You couldn’t do anything to stop them. Your defenses were tied to the track and he was going to run right over you.

“Roger…” you trailed off, unsure what to even say now.

He turned you around so you were facing him. He was just centimeters away from you. His eyes held yours.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“I love you,” you blurted out. “I love you so fucking much, Rog.”

Oddly enough, as long as you’d been friends, you never said “I love you.” It was just something you both knew, and it never had to be said. But this was different. You both knew that too.

His expression was hard to read. Something stirred behind his eyes, and before you could ask him anything, he crashed his lips onto yours. You let out a small squeak of surprise before dropping his drumsticks and wrapping your arms around his neck. You’d thought about kissing Roger. You’d dreamt about kissing Roger. But nothing compared to what it felt like to actually be kissing Roger. He was passionate, but not rough. Sweet, but not reserved. He said everything he needed to say in a kiss. But when he pulled away he said it anyway.

“I love you too, Y/N.”

#roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor x you #roger taylor imagine #queen #queen imagine #bohemian rhapsody #borhap #ben hardy #ben hardy x reader #ben!roger x reader #ben!roger taylor #ben!roger imagine #borhap boys #borhap imagine #borhap cast

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deluxedolans · 6 years ago

Note

Numbers 93,53, and 149 pleaseeeeee

hi, baby! thank you so much for wanting to see my takes on these prompts💙 I love you and hope you’re having a good weekend!! also sorry this ended up being really long!

A/N: I know absolutely nothing about Fortnite other than Victory Royales, so sorry for any inaccuracies hehe.

I am not currently taking requests for any of the drabble prompts. 💙

Prompts: #93. “You didn’t just wake me up at 2am because you were ‘in the mood’”, #53. “That wasn’t very subtle.” & #149. “I just need ten minutes.”

The sun beamed down on your bikini clad body, as you reclined back in your lounge chair, the cool ocean breeze running through your hair. One hand dangled over the side of the chair, your fingers grazing the sand, while the other held a refreshing piña colada. You threw your head back in bliss, your cheeks facing upwards to soak in the heat of the sun. Suddenly, your hand that hung over the side of the chair was embraced by a larger one. You looked down to see Ethan’s hand enveloping your own, rubbing it back and forth as his lips were saying words that you couldn’t understand.

“What?” You asked him, asking him to clarify his words, or speak up so you could hear him.

In response to your expression, he then began to tap your hand in urgency. “Babe, what are you saying?”

“Y/N, wake up! Wake up!” Wake up? You thought you were already awake. Then you felt two pairs of fingers begin to poke into your side …

“Babe, wake up! I have to show you something!” Ethan’s voice rang out throughout the bedroom, his excitement evident.

“Hmmm? I just need ten minutes.” You still weren’t fully awake yet, and to be honest, you didn’t really want to be. From behind your eyelids you could tell it was still dark out and definitely way too early to be woken up.

“Babe, babe, can I just show you something for one second, open your eyes, please!” Ethan shook you gently, and grabbed at your hands, encouraging you to sit up in bed.

“I swear to God if it’s your dick, Ethan, I’m gonna deck you,” you warned, your voice thick with sleep.

“I’m not naked, but if I were, would that be so bad?” Ethan inquired. “I can take you any place, anywhere, anytime–.”

“The time is not now, Ethan!” Since you had yet to make any movements, Ethan scooped you up in his arms. Your eyes popped open at his actions, annoyed at his persistence.

“Look, baby, I got a victory royale again! I played in advanced mode too, so all the guys I placed against were amazing. It was touch and go for awhile but–.”

“So you didn’t just wake me up at 2am because you were ‘in the mood?” you interrupted, pushing your hair back from your face.

The big grin on Ethan’s face brought warmth to your heart at his happiness, but also disappointment at the realization that his desperation to wake you up wasn’t because he wanted to fuck you.

“No! See! I won, babe, I won–.” You smiled softly at him, settling back into the pillows. “I’m very happy for you, babe,” you said as you rubbed your eyes, glancing at the TV screen at the front of the room decorated in bright colors indicating Ethan’s victory.

“You gonna come to bed now?” You asked, raising a brow, and patting the space beside you.

Ethan shook his head, reaching back for the controller that was left on his gaming chair, “Nah, I’m probably gonna play for a bit more. I’m sorry for waking you, babe, I just got excited.” Ethan’s smile displayed all of his teeth, his enthusiasm for his PlayStation clear in his facial expression.

“After all that, you’re not coming to bed?” You were incredulous; Ethan literally woke you up in the middle of the night to tell you about him winning a round of Fortnite, (which was not surprising in the slightest), but the fact that he woke you up and wouldn’t come cuddle was a little annoying.

“Nope, I’m gonna play a few more rounds. You can go back to bed, though, baby.” You ran a hand over your face at Ethan’s words; you were wide awake now. You always had a hard time sleeping when Ethan wasn’t right there next to you; when you had laid in bed hours earlier, your head was settled on Ethan’s bare chest, and his arm was wrapped around you tightly, but now the space next to you felt cold and lonely, the need for your boyfriend growing stronger with each passing moment.

You sighed softly, trying to cuddle down under the covers. You slid open your phone, and noticed you’d received a few texts while you were asleep. One was from your mom saying good night and that she missed you, the other was from your best friend, Annie, responding to a meme you had sent, and the other was from an unknown number. Curious, you clicked the contents of the text to see what this mystery person had said:

Unknown (11:32 PM):

Hey Y/N, it’s Mike. I’m drybk rn, and just wanted to say I miss u

You internally rolled your eyes. Mike was a guy from your Intro to World History class that you had to do a year long project with last semester. Mike was very nice at the beginning of the year; always offering for you two to work on the project at his place, and buying supplies for the assignment. However, whenever you and Mike would go to the house you shared with the twins to work on your project, you could feel Ethan attempting to contain his possessiveness from a mile away; constantly interrupting the conversations you two would have regarding any class notes, his eyes narrowing whenever you’d laugh at a joke Mike would make, and continuously walking by you two in the living room, making sure that nothing suspicious was occurring.

In spite of the fact that Ethan trusted you, he always had gotten bad vibes off of Mike; Ethan claimed that he could just tell that Mike had a crush on you. However, you were fully, and completely in love with Ethan and you were deeply convinced that Mike didn’t see you that way; all things that you reiterated to Ethan time and time again, but still, his concerns surrounding your history project partner persisted.

You scrolled on to the next message,

Unknown (11:35PM):

I miss when we’d order pizza and hang out

Hang out? You guys were working on your history project … you weren’t “hanging out”.

Unknown (11:36PM):

Are u ignoring mw????

Unknown (11:40PM):

Answer me

Your eyes widened at his urgency; maybe Ethan was right about Mike having a crush on you.

“Babe?” You called out, attempting to drag his attention away from the flashing television screen. Ethan ignored you; too engrossed in his game to hear what you were saying.

“Babe, I have to show you something.” You cringed internally, your current words sounding so familiar to what he said only thirty minutes ago.

“Hang on a sec, babe, I’ll be there in a minute,” Ethan murmured, his fingers punching into the controller furiously as he attempted to shoot down the enemy.

Unknown (12:00AM):

I jsut wanna see ur beautiful fsce and then I’ll be good

The messages went on and on all the way up until one ‘o clock when they stopped.

“Babe, I really need to show you something,” you urged, your eyes practically bugging out of your head as you saw the texts escalate.

“Just let me finish this round, and I promise then I’ll snuggle with you, baby.”

You sighed. Then, your phone began to ring, of course, the number popping up unknown. At first, you thought of ignoring it; clearly you had zero interest in Mike. However, maybe this phone call would finally snap Ethan out of his gaming trance.

“Hello?”

“Y/N? I’m so glad you answered! I misssss you so much. I need to talk to you,” Mike slurred, his voice loud as he attempted to make his voice heard among the wild background noise.

“Listen, you’re drunk, please stop texting me–..”

Upon hearing your command, Mike’s voice immediately dropped several octaves, “No, you listen to me. Eddie is no good for you, I can be so much better for you.”

“His name is Ethan, you jackass, and I don’t like you that way, please stop contacting me,” you pleaded, your voice raising as you yourself became frustrated. He knew you were in a relationship, and still he was being an asshole.

Ethan’s head turned back quickly when he heard his name, and he paused the game as soon as he saw you were on the phone. He took his headset off, now giving you his full attention.

“Who are you talking to?” Ethan mouthed, his eyebrows scrunched up in confusion.

You put your phone to your shoulder, blocking the speaker from your mouth, “Just guess.” You responded, hitting a button so the call was on speakerphone.

“He treats you like shit, I bet he can’t even fuck you right with his chode dick. You deserve so much better than him, Y/N, and I can give you that. Come over here and I’ll make you scream just by looking at me–.”

Ethan’s eyes turned dark as soon as he heard Mike’s drunken voice come through the speakers. “You have got to be kidding me right now. I fuckin’ knew it!”

Ethan took the phone out of your hands, his hands shaking with rage, “The only way she’s gonna be screamin’ is when she’s running away from your ugly ass. Don’t you dare call her again. In fact, don’t call my girl, don’t look at my girl, don’t even breathe near my girl. There’s a reason she’s with me and not with you, asshole. I knew you were a fucking prick from the moment I met you–.”

“Y/N, call me when you’re ready for a real man.”

“You motherfucker, you call me when you’re ready to handle this like a real man. Fuck you, you motherfucker, take a hint, she doesn’t want you. We have more fun together in one second than you’ll ever have in your miserable life. If I ever see you even inhale in her direction, I’ll wreck you. Leave her the fuck alone.” And with that, Ethan hung up the phone, his chest heaving, and his free hand balled in a fist.

Ethan’s mouth open and shut several times in both anger and shock.

“I told you so.” Ethan whispered, his eyes narrowed in anger. “Have I mentioned I hate that guy?” EThan growled, pacing around them room.

“Well, no shit. That wasn’t very subtle,” you said flatly, walking after Ethan.

You sighed, “baby, I’m sorry I–.”

Ethan whipped around suddenly, grabbing your hips and pulling you in so your foreheads were touching. “No, you tried to tell me; don’t you dare apologize to me. I’ll be spending the rest of this night making it up to you, and I don’t care if it’s three AM.” Ethan smirked, picking you up by the back of your thighs and walking you back to bed.

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hopeishappinessff · 6 years ago

Text

Holding Onto Hope: Chapter 54

Chris

There was something moist against the side of my face, probably drool. My head was pounding to the tune of what felt like a migraine. My body ached like I had an incurable strand of the flu. There was a throbbing pain in the side of my neck as if someone tried to break it. My eyes opened into slits and shut right back because night had turned to day and the light punched me dead in the face.

I made up my mind… somebody beat my ass and left me stranded on a mattress in an alley to die. That was the only logical answer to why I felt like literal shit laying on the softest surface. If someone stuck a pistol in my face and demanded that I tell them where I was and what happened to me, I’d be dead in a second. I really had no clue where the hell I was, how I got here, and why I felt this way… I’d never felt this way in my life.

Something wasn’t right though. I could feel my stomach contracting in and out of queasy knots… I was deathly afraid to move. As I inhaled slowly through my nose, not even air was agreeing with my stomach right now. Licking my dry as the Sahara Desert lips, I struggled to swallow and that was it… that was the icing on top of the cake. I was going to throw up.

It was now or never… mind over matter… all pain no gain… I needed to get to a bathroom, now! Bolting upright from the side of the bed that once cradled me into a numbing slumber, I blindly recalled my surroundings and moved to the right side of the room. There was a familiar door situated there and once I pushed through it, I silently thanked God that it was indeed a bathroom. I hurled my body across the small space and landed on my knees in front of the open seat in just the nick of time.

Everything I’d ever eaten from the day I was born flew like hot searing lava from my mouth. The vomit plus the excessive liquor I’d ingested just hours ago made my eyes water to the point that I was literally crying. God, I could only imagine how much of a hot mess I looked like right now. I continued to puke for what felt like hours, praying that no one would come bustling through the wide-open door, but with just my luck… I heard footsteps entering the room. I coughed, relieving my throat of a few small chunks that left me feeling like I had a sore throat, then quickly flushed the toilet because I was too embarrassed for anyone to see the revolting sight. Sniffling nonstop, I wiped at the corners of my eyes to rid myself of my vomit induced tears just as Hope waddled around the corner. I wanted to smile at the picture-perfect sight of her, standing there with a hand wedged against her widened hip… but by the time my eyes landed on hers, I was almost stunned by the peeved expression on her face.

“I’m sorry,” I blurted, quickly attempting to explain why I was a blundering ball of mess on her bathroom floor, “I got way too carried away last night and now I have the world’s worst hangover…”

“Your phone has been ringing nonstop all morning,” Her face held not one hint of humor as she tossed the phone down on the floor in front of me, “You might want to answer it. That number just won’t seem to stop calling… and texting.”

With furrowed brows of confusion, I glanced down at my ringing phone and frowned at the unknown number flashing on the screen.

“I don’t know who this is.” I muttered, evidently loud enough for her to hear.

“Check your text messages. I’m sure you know exactly who it is.” And with that, she turned and stomped her way back out of the bathroom and the bedroom altogether. Staring out after her, my eyes connected with her side of the bed and how perfectly untouched it looked, as if she’d gotten up sometime in the night and never returned.

My mind drifted back to what she’d said on her way out and I quickly looked back down at the phone just as it stopped ringing. Snatching it up from the floor, my thumbs scrolled frantically from screen to screen until I reached my messages and suddenly my heart stopped, my next breath got lost somewhere on the way up, and my entire body grew hot.

From: 804-732-1001

3:32 AM

Hi handsome, this is ur new admirer… Rose ;-)

From: 804-732-1001

3:37 AM

Hope u made it home ok. Miss ur sexy self already

From: 804-732-1001

3:45 AM

Ur friend was a cock blocker at the strip, don’t u think?? We could have had so much more fun!

From: 804-732-1001

4:01 AM

Until we meet again, handsome…

There were a few more messages following that one, but I stopped abruptly after scrolling past a picture of her exposed breasts and the three piercings in the valley between them. And to think my drunk ass really thought Hope sent me a picture of her breasts last night… no, it was this girl and she was a fucking lunatic! Though I still felt queasy as fuck, I got my ass up from that hard floor as fast as I could, leaned over into the sink to swish a bit of water around in my mouth, then I bolted back out of the bathroom. The migraine blazing through my head had me feeling like I would pass out at any minute, but I didn’t care about that… I needed to get to Hope, now.

I heard commotion in the lower level of the house and I flew down the stairs two at a time then raced around the corner into the den. The boys were all lounging in there, Dontay and Rashad included, but I didn’t care about them either… where was Hope?

“Where did Sy’Diyah go?” I blurted.

“The kitchen.” One of them said. I think whoever it was went on to say something else, and I may have caught the tail end of a question pertaining to Rose’s crazy ass, but I couldn’t give a fuck about that right now… my relationship was potentially over at this very moment.

I suppose I should have taken a bit more time upstairs to really consider how I was going to handle this situation. Or maybe I should have stuck around longer in the den to hear exactly whatever it was that whoever asked me. Because now I was standing in the doorway of the kitchen with four different pairs of eyes glaring at me and I immediately felt like a microscopic object beneath a lens from their cold, hard stares. It looked like the girls were all happily working together to fix up a nice breakfast, but the moment I set foot in their cook space that all came to a screeching halt.

“Sy, can I talk to you for a second?” I mumbled bashfully, keeping my eyes on her even as the other three stared at me like I had a disease.

“I actually think you should probably go home and get some rest, Chris.” That stung… she was the only one who ever called me Charlie and I loved it… I loved the intimacy behind it and I loved the way it sounded coming from her lips. Chris… sounded so basic and like I was in trouble.

“Please let me just… let me talk to you for only a second Hope.” I eased a bit closer to her, though she kept her back to me as she continued to dice a few tomatoes on a cutting board. She sighed and dropped her head back, turning only half an inch to barely face me “Just go home… please.”

“Hope…”

“So ya’ll nigga’s really met some hoes at the club last night? And brought they nasty asses right in that section with ya’ll, huh? Fucking trifling as fuck…” Tameka said, surprisingly calm. I glanced at her briefly, but quickly returned my stare to Hope who’d turned completely to face me.

“Then have the audacity to bring that fuck ass nigga in this house, knowing he was on some hoe ass shit too! Ya’ll ain’t shit, I swear yall ain’t shit. Got a whole baby mama cooped up in the house waiting for your dirty ass to come home and for what… you already found your nut for the night at the club. You ain’t shit Chris and neither is that fuck nigga Kendrick!” Tameka started out fairly calm, stalking toward me slowly with a sharp tipped index finger aimed at me. By the time she reached the end of her rant, she was screaming and damn near running at me and it took Destani and Nalay to hold her back.

“Tameka, that’s enough!” Hope hollered, shutting down the whole charade before it could progress even further, “Can you guys just take her outside to cool off for a minute?”

The girls both did as she asked, but not without Destani sending daggers my way like I’d done something wrong to her… and to my knowledge, I hadn’t done a thing wrong to anyone. Hope waited until the back door shut before turning her attention back to me with a frustrated sigh.

“I don’t want to deal with this right now Chris. I just want you to go home and let me clear my head before you try to explain whatever mess you made last night…”

“I didn’t make a mess last night Hope. I’m not leaving here until you hear me out because I did nothing wrong. Just listen…”

“I don’t want to listen because there is nothing to hear. You have nothing to say to me right now. There should be no reason at all for some random girl to be blowing up your phone, sending you pictures of her breasts at four in the morning. There is no way you can explain that to me.”

I was standing close to the refrigerator at this point and because of that, it became my target within an instant… I could feel my right fist curling into a tight ball and before I could think back to any of my therapy techniques to get myself calm, my fist went flying.

“Just fucking listen to me!” I roared. I felt the rage building like a slow fire in my chest. I hadn’t felt it in so long thanks to months at a mental institution and medication to suppress it… it almost felt, good. Adrenaline also pumped so fiercely through my veins that I could no longer feel a migraine, or the body aches from a long night out… or my fist that’d just slammed into the refrigerator door. Glancing at the stainless-steel door, I froze at the sight of a visible dent in it. There was a whole dent in the refrigerator door… what the fuck was I thinking?

My wide-eyed stare fixed back onto Hope who was now cowering away from me near the counter close to the refrigerator. God… what had I done? I punched that got damn door and she was standing that close to it all along? This was… horrible. I felt like a fucking monster.

“Hope… I’m sorry…” I started to whisper and move closer to her… until she pushed her right hand out toward me… the hand that still held the knife she’d been using earlier.

“Don’t… just don’t. You need to leave, now.”

I could hear feet shuffling behind me… the boys had come to hem me up and drag me out of here. This is how it always goes, right? I make a fucking fool of myself by threatening my girlfriend. Allow my inner demon to unleash itself on the wrong victim, then I’m left to get hauled off like a criminal. That’s exactly what I deserved though. There should have been no reason for her to stand there with tears quietly trickling down her rosy cheeks, staring back at me in utter disbelief and disappointment. There should have been no reason for the fear that glazed over in her eyes… but there was a reason. Me…

“Hey man, what the fuck is going on?” Dontay was the first to reach the scene and he quickly snatched me up by my left arm and I let him. Clearly this was a volatile situation… Hope was still standing there with the knife pointed at me and her left hand was nestled protectively against her belly. My baby… how the fuck could I do this?

“God…” I muttered pathetically. Before any of them had the chance to round me up and ship me off to my mom’s house, I gently tugged my arm out of Dontay’s grasp, then quickly excused myself and rushed past them all and out the front door. What had I done?

Hope

I didn’t understand what had happened. Didn’t understand why it happened. Didn’t understand how he snapped… but he did. He charged right at me and only feet away from where I stood, he unleashed the power of an army of men onto a door that was so close I could feel the wind from his fist when he threw the punch. He took literally all ten steps back right at that precise moment. He was right back at square one. My heart shattered at the thought, I dropped the knife onto the counter, and broke down right there in the middle of the kitchen. To my surprise, Rashad was the first to rush forward to catch me before my knees completely gave out and he held onto me. He gripped me tight and stood there as I cried a river all over the front of his shirt.

The boys all crowded around like my protective saviors and I cried even harder… it never failed to amaze me just how much they cared. They were all like brothers to me and it truly warmed my heart to witness something as powerful as the circle of support they formed around me. I stood there crying with them huddled around for a while and by the time my tears slowed down to soft whimpers, the girls had reemerged from the back patio.

“Babe, what’s wrong? What happened?” Destani burst through the door and practically snatched me right out of Rashad’s grasp, “What did you do to her?”

“I didn’t do anything. She just got a little worked up.” He explained, for the first time in over a year addressing her directly. I could feel her body tensing against me as she held me close to her like the overprotective friend she was. She clearly wasn’t expecting a direct response from him, but she didn’t let that show on her face.

She quickly schooled her features and sent a strong scowl his way “Where did Chris go?”

The thickest layer of silence washed over the kitchen. No one uttered a word and for that I was thankful. Lifting my head from Destani’s shoulder, I glanced at Rashad for a moment and conspicuously peered at each of the boys for a brief second before turning to her.

“He had to go home.” And I left it at that. This one would have to stay between the boys and I for now. I didn’t need any additional drama between the girls and Chris… I didn’t want this to escalate any further than it already had.

I wasn’t sure if Destani bought my lie or not, but she didn’t mutter another word… perhaps because Rashad was in such close proximity and he’d just spoken to her, something she wasn’t at all prepared for.

She stayed quiet even as I pulled away from her and turned to the boys as I wiped up the remaining remnants of my tears “We’re going to finish up breakfast now. You guys can head on back to the den and we’ll let you know when everything is ready.”

They each seemed to be fairly hesitant to walk away. They lingered there, staring at me as if I would fall right apart if they ventured too far away. It wasn’t until I cracked a reassuring smile to not only let them know that I was indeed alright, but to also thank them for coming to my rescue before they finally exited the kitchen one by one.

“What was that about?” Nalay asked after a few awkward moments of silence.

“Nothing,” I blurted quickly, “Everything is fine.”

We got back to work on the breakfast I’d promised the boys, me being the first to get back to my work station. The girls all followed suit and of course I could feel a piercing stare from the other side of the room. I knew it was Destani. She was looking for answers because clearly something had just gone very wrong. But I didn’t have anything for her. At some point I needed to learn how to manage my relationship all by myself without running off to my friends searching for advice. Lord knows I loved them all as if they were my own sisters, but… I felt like I needed to be a big girl about it and for once, keep my mouth shut. Not to mention, I didn’t want his own childhood friends passing judgement on him the way Tameka had done only minutes ago. I felt like I would tarnish his relationship with these girls if I blabbed about what went down just before they came back in the house and I wouldn’t dare risk that.

The remainder of breakfast was cooked with light conversation that was started by Nalay who, of course, never failed to take it upon herself to sense anyone’s distress. She seemed to sense mine in an instant and I truly appreciated her for that.

My aunt had gotten home not long ago and was upstairs knocked out, somehow through all the commotion. So, we summoned only the boys to come join us out on the deck for breakfast. I noticed that Tameka made it a point to ignore Kendrick, who’d made it a point to sit right beside her. I smirked at the sight… he needed to give her time, she would come around eventually. I felt a sudden pang of guilt as I sat there surrounded by their lively conversation and laughter once my eyes drifted for only a second in the direction of Ms. Joyce’s house… maybe I should have just listened to him. I should have given him the opportunity that he begged for to explain himself to me. No… I had to continue to think strong and not give in to my soft spot, which was him. He needed time to cool off and get his mind together and I would give him just that. The episode that he’d had in the kitchen came as a complete surprise to me, so I needed him to get a grip and fast.

The entire day had nearly gone by, everyone had gone home, and here I sat on the couch in the den watching a documentary on Netflix… alone. I hadn’t heard from Chris since the incident this morning, not even a single text. It surprised me to a certain degree, but I was okay with it. He needed this… I needed this. I was almost proud of him for not caving in and reaching out to me because just as he was a soft spot for me, I knew I was that plus more for him. I remembered like yesterday when my loved ones used to insist that he had a heavy reliance on me… Destani and my aunt would constantly drill me with the story of how much I meant to him and how he seemed to barely function without me. Over the past year alone I’d learned the ugly truth of his extreme dependence and though I vowed to never leave his corner, I needed him to figure this one out on his own.

I’d gotten so sidetracked by my own thoughts that I failed to realize that my latest documentary had just ended and I was sitting there in complete silence. But my thoughts were so loud, I couldn’t even hear the silence in the room.

I almost laughed at the realization of myself sitting there on the couch, all alone, with no one to keep my company… I wasn’t used to it at all. The silence was short lived when I finally started up yet another documentary and seconds after that, I heard light footsteps padding down the stairs.

“Hey baby, you hungry?” I nearly forgot my aunt was even home and I quickly swung around with a smile to face her.

“Oh not right now, but I’m sure I will be in about an hour or so.” I said.

“Well you just let me know when and I’ll whip something up for you,” She drifted further into the den and plopped down on the end of the couch I was sitting on, “What you in here watching girl?”

“Just some nonsense on Netflix, but you can change though.” I extended my arm out with the remote in my hand, but of course she shook her head and refused to take it. If only she knew just how consumed I was with my thoughts… I’d barely been watching much of anything on the TV. We both turned our attention to the television and sat in a comfortable silence for a while, but eventually I could feel her stare against the side of my face.

“Have you talked to your dad or Tawny lately?” She asked.

With a smile I nodded and glanced over at her “I spoke to Tawny last night and I’m actually scheduled to talk to her again in about an hour and a half.”

“You’re scheduled to talk to her, girl what?” She laughed.

“Well she made me promise to make myself available every night around nine-thirty so she can facetime me to check in.”

She continued to laugh as she shook her head and sighed “That girl is something else, I tell ya.”

“I talked to my dad a few days ago. They’re really excited to get here. Every time I talk to him, that’s all he talks about.” I giggled.

“Aww, well I’m glad to hear that. I know I talked to him yesterday evening and girl when I tell you I’ve never met a man more excited to be a grandfather.” We both laughed and after a while the layer of silence washed back over us. My aunt’s eyes were still fixed on me… I could feel it. It’s almost like there was more that she wanted to say, but for some reason she was hesitating to say it.

“Sweetheart,” Turning my head to face her, I stared into her concerned eyes and waited for her to speak, “Is everything alright”

My immediate instinct was to nod and tell her that everything was fine, but… I would be lying to her if I did. And if I lied to her, she would know it.

Dropping my gaze to my twiddling fingers atop my belly, I sighed “I don’t know.”

“Mmhm, you know Auntie knows her girl. What’s on your mind baby?”

I sighed, yet again, and shook my head. My thoughts were all over the place so it took me a while to get a grip on at least one so that I could properly convey it to her “I’m just… I’m so confused Auntie. I guess I’m starting to wonder if Chris and I are ready to enter parenthood together.”

“You don’t think you’re ready for parenthood?”

“Well,” I paused, glancing over at her and silently egging myself on to just let my thoughts flow “I don’t think he’s ready for parenthood. I mean, I know he already has Jaylen, but… he barely gets any interaction with him.” “Well what makes you say that? What happened that’s got you thinking he’s not ready?”

“He went out last night with the boys. He actually didn’t even want to go, but I wanted him to because I thought it would be good for him. So I talked him into going and he got home really early this morning, and… he must have met someone out last night...” I was almost too ashamed to give any details about this half of the story because this part was only a reminder that, perhaps, Chris hadn’t changed.

“And why do you say that? What makes you think he met someone?” My aunt asked, sitting up a little straighter in her seat.

“His phone was ringing nonstop after he got here. Over the past few months I’ve been sleeping as light as a feather, so it woke me up and I got up to silence it. I didn’t mean to go through it… I really didn’t. I didn’t even look through anything, I just… I saw the text messages that came in between the phone calls and… it was just easy to tell that that was someone he’d met last night.” I kept the story at that… didn’t bother to go into any details about what was said or the picture that was sent. This wasn’t something I’d ever openly discussed with my aunt… Chris’s infidelities. It made me feel uncomfortable to even think about sharing that embarrassing truth with her.

“Hm, well have you had a chance to talk to him about it? Did he explain to you who this person was and why they were calling him at that hour of the morning?” My heart dropped at the sound of that question… I hadn’t had a chance to talk to him about anything because he snapped and I silently threatened him with a knife before I could.

“No ma’am.” I spoke so lowly with my head dipped in shame, I was sure she probably hadn’t even heard me.

“Maybe all you need to do is talk to him baby,” She leaned back into the cushions of the couch and crossed her arms over her chest as she laughed, “I bet it’s just all these hormones you’re dealing with that had you overthinking and jumping to conclusions, right? Talk to him… I’m sure he has some type of explanation.”

Slowly shaking my head, I licked my parched lips and stared at her with brows twisted in defeat “He snapped in the kitchen this morning Auntie. He tried to explain himself to me, but… I didn’t want to hear anything he had to say, so… he snapped.”

She froze in place and stared at me blankly for a while, almost as if she was registering exactly what I’d just said “What do you mean, he snapped Sy’Diyah?”

I had two options at this point. I could either continue this story in its entirety and inform her of the new dent on the front of her refrigerator, or I could just let her mosey on in the kitchen and discover it for herself. I sighed and shook my head…

“He wasn’t too happy with me cutting him off and refusing to let him explain himself. So… he punched the door of the refrigerator. And in response… I stuck a knife in his face.”

The room grew deathly silent then, with the exception of some British man discussing the southern pacific on the documentary that was playing in the background. I was afraid to look up at her. Afraid to discover the shock and disappointment on her face.

“Sy’Diyah…” Her voice was hushed and the sound of it tempted me to turn to face her, but I couldn’t, “Look at me baby.”

“Is he ready for this Auntie?” I mumbled feebly. I could feel that familiar heavy feeling of my throat closing, preparing itself for an onslaught of tears. This was indeed a difficult reality for me to grasp… the reality that I had a boyfriend who suffered from two different illnesses that wreaked havoc on his mental and emotional stability.

The cushion of the couch directly beside me dipped with her weight and I continued to stare down at my hands, even as she reached in to lace her fingers over the top of mine.

“I can’t answer that for you honey. I can’t…”

“Auntie,” The first tear fell and I quickly reached up to swipe it away… I was so tired of being the world’s biggest cry baby, “Did I make a mistake?”

The cool tips of her fingers suddenly tickled at the bottom of my chin, applying the slightest pressure to get me to lift my head. She stared into my pain-stricken eyes as if reading my soul and her face morphed into about three different expressions until she finally settled on sorrow. I felt her arm slither along the back of my shoulders and suddenly she was pulling me forward, tugging me into a hug only she could give.

“You did not make a mistake sweetheart. Remember what I told you when you were a little girl? You were only about ten years old and I told you… nothing you do in life should be branded as a mistake or regret. Every decision you make, good or bad, shall teach you lessons, help you grow, and make you the person you are with each passing day.”

“But, I… I… I don’t know if this is a good idea anymore. I don’t know if I can handle this Auntie. I love him, so much… but… I have a child who needs my love now. She is my priority. It’s my job to make sure she’s safe and secure, no matter what…”

I sobbed against her chest as I listened to my own words. I had never, ever, in the entire span of time that I’d known Chris, spoken of him this way. Like a… a criminal. But here I was, mapping him out to be some violent stranger who was going to do harm to my daughter. He was her father… he would never hurt her. Yet, why did I feel so conflicted and compelled to… question his stability?

“It’s okay darling, trust me… it’s okay,” She cradled me close to her, my head rested comfortably between the crook of her neck and her chest and her right hand caressing my hair and the side of my face, “You know, when you were only one week old and your father placed your tiny little body in my hands and asked me to… to take you and care for you, I became a mother at that precise moment. I’ve obviously never had children of my own, but when the instincts of a mother kick in, it simply can’t be ignored. It is your duty, Sy’Diyah, to love and protect this little girl with everything in you. I recognize that that desire will never, ever leave you… because you are your mother’s child, you will be a phenomenal mother.”

I felt like a little girl with the way she held onto me. I guess I hadn’t realized it, but… I needed this. I needed my Aunt’s touch and love. I needed her guidance and soothing words of wisdom. She was the only mother I’d ever known… I needed her maternal touch.

“And one thing I do know honey, is that the young man next door… the father of your child… he is the love of your life. You two were created especially for one another. God crafted you, and only you, with the ability to love that boy in a special kind of way that even I can’t fully comprehend. I don’t know the ins and outs of your relationship. I don’t know what makes the two of you tick. But I do know that you would both be heartbroken if you gave up.”

Sniffling quietly against her chest because my tears had subsided, I blinked slowly and sighed… every word she’d just spoken eased me back to my senses and I felt a thousand times better. I raised a hand to wipe the remnants of my straggling tears and lifted a hand to my belly. My baby… I prayed that God gave me the strength to be at least half the woman that my Aunt is for me, for this child.

“Thank you Auntie. You don’t know how much I needed that.”

“Oh I know exactly how much you needed it girl, I was just waiting for the day.” She laughed. Pulling back away from her, I turned to face her with a raised brow “What do you mean?”

“You know that motherly instinct we just talked about? I just… knew.”

I smiled and swept a few strands of hair away from the side of my face that’d gotten stuck from my tears “I really hope I can be all of what and who you are for my daughter. I’ve never met a woman with your strength and knowledge.”

She grinned, hard, and snorted through her nose with a shake of her head “If only you knew your own strength. This little girl… she’s already blessed and she doesn’t even know it.”

I felt the warmth of her palms against the sides of my belly and I peered down at the sight… yeah, baby girl was tremendously blessed.

“Now, my suggestion for you is to get some rest and focus on this pregnancy. Don’t stress yourself with anything or anyone. You should be resting and nesting right about now, not worried about some knuckled headed, love struck boy who had a hissy fit against my refrigerator.”

She laughed and I laughed right along with her… I really did feel bad about the fridge.

“He’ll come back, just give him some time. Ya’ll are deeply in love, true enough. But perhaps a little bit of a break will do you both some good.”

She was right… I loved Chris with everything in me, but now more than ever… we did need some time apart. I just hoped that he would feel the same.

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