#i have a really bad headache i probably should delete all of this

[aerodaltonimperial]

I'm really not used to people paying attention to me, I just sort of lost most of my wrestle fandom friends in the past year or so, and I guess I just want to say hi? Thanks for being here? I've gotten more followers in the past week than I've gotten in several months. 💚

[talaok]

Good afternoon honey, I was wondering if you could write dark! Joel x plus size reader where the reader is suffering with body image and that night you go out to a club and meet Joel but smut? love the blog🥰

Pairing:Joel Miller x plus size!reader

Warnings: body image problems, negative talk of reader's body and self, smut| dub-con, unprotected p in v sex, a bit of degrading, and dark! Joel

A/n: ok ok ok I've never written a plus-size reader so if this is bad just tell me, honestly, I'll delete it, it's fine (yes I'm really nervous about this, I'm scared it's disrespectful) thank you so much for the ask tho babe💗

The dress looked absolutely horrendous on you. It was too tight and too loose in all the wrong places.

Your curves looked like they were stretching the fabric so much it was gonna tear the moment you took a step, and the makeup on your face now just looked like a pathetic attempt at driving people's attention away from it.

This was a mistake, you sighed, looking at the loser staring back at you from the other side of the mirror.

I should have never agreed to this, It's so fucking stupid.

You mumbled to yourself as you unsuccessfully tried fixing the dress in any way that wouldn't make it look so incredibly ridiculous.

Maybe I can pretend I'm sick or something, 

Maybe I got a really bad headache all the sudden,

Maybe I got fucking infected, I don't know, that would be believable. I can just start making some weird ass noises and I doubt she'd still want to go out with me.

"Hey, you ready?" Kora opened the door, causing all your plans to fall apart with one single action.

"yep" you forced a smile "all ready"

"Great, let's go!"

fuck my life man.

__ __ __

"Are you serious?" you asked, actually kind of mad

"I know, I know, I'm sorry"

"you've just met him" you pointed out, frustration and annoyance lacing your tone.

"I know" she repeated "but-" she sighed, glancing back at the man "he's so hot y/n, I mean-"

you rolled your eyes "Whatever, go have fun, I'm just gonna go home"

"no don't go home, you can have fun without me," she said "Maybe with someone else..." she raised her brows suggestively and you felt one breath away from punching her.

You shot her a look.

Yeah, like anyone would want to "have fun" with me

"what?" she asked, clueless

you stared at her, the same expression in your eyes.

"you know what"

"oh my god," she moaned "again with this thing? Y/n you're hot as fuck, anyone with half a brain cell can see that"

You remained silent.

You hated the pity party of having everyone constantly lie to you about how you looked.

Just tell me the truth. I look like shit.

It's fine, I know it, you know it, the whole world fucking knows it so stop talking to me like I'm a fucking baby and tell me the truth.

I can take it. Trust me, I've been telling it to myself since I was born.

"in fact..." A small smirk tugged at her lips as her eyes focused somewhere behind you " I think somebody definitely noticed" she grinned like an idiot as she stared at someone behind you.

"shut up" you stopped her "You know he's not," you said "He's probably looking at you"

"Oh no" she shook her head, that stupid smile still tugging at her lips "No he's definitely looking at you" She waved at him and you immediately grabbed her hand, forcing it down

"stop! what are you doing!?"

"I'm helping you out" she smirked "You'll thank me later," she said with a wink, turning to walk away but not before chuckling a taunting"Have fun"

Goddamnit

You could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks as you sneakily tried to catch a glimpse of whatever Kora was talking about.

She was probably bluffing, you thought as you slowly turned, but just then, you had to think again.

A man was looking at you, no, not looking, staring.

His eyes were pointed at you like a viewfinder in a gun. 

He was sat at a table alone, an empty beer bottle clutched in one hand, and the other one relaxed on his leg.

He looked focused, like a tiger watching a gazelle.

His salt and pepper beard suggested he was older, and so did the lines across his forehead.

But most of all... his eyes were the tell.

His deep brown eyes staring back at yo-

shit

You turned away.

Fuck

I was staring at him,

You clutched your purse to leave, but a voice stopped you in your tracks.

"hi sweetheart"

He sounded exactly how you'd imagined.

You turned to him, your eyes glimmering with shame

"hi" you breathed "Sorry if I bothered you"

He chuckled "A pretty thing like you could never bother me"

he sat down "Besides," he said "I was staring at you first"

You forced a chuckle as an awkward silence fell between you.

"I saw your friend left," he said, sitting down on the stool next to you,

"yeah" You nodded "She does that a lot"

"that's too bad" he cooed "well maybe not entirely" he considered, something switching in his tone.

"What's your name sweetheart?"

"I-I'm y/n"

"y/n" he let your name roll out his mouth with ease "pretty name for a pretty lady" he commented, "I'm Joel"

"nice to meet you" you mumbled, stumbling over your own words.

Was he coming onto you? 

"the pleasure's all mine darling"

He definitely was

But, like... why?

"I'm sorry-do you- do you know my friend?"

He grinned, his white teeth showing "no,"

"she didn't like, tell you to come here or anything?"

A small laugh fled his throat "no sweetheart"

"oh" you breathed "so you came here 'cause..." you trailed off, 

" 'cause you caught my eye from the moment you entered, and when I saw your friend leave you here all alone, I couldn't not offer a bit of company"

You felt a shy smile spill from your lips

" 'got a pretty smile angel" he smirked 

"t-thank you" 

He chuckled again "Why are you so nervous sweetheart?" he asked, his hand traveling to your thigh and stopping all oxygen from getting to your lungs "Is it me? Am I so scary?" his voice got lower as he inched closer "I don't bite y'know?" he joked "not unless you want me to"

A small gasp fled your throat, making him chuckle.

"what is it, angel?"

"I-I'm sorry I'm just not- used to this"

"Now I don't believe that" he murmured "A sweet thing like you?"

"I just-"

"What?"

"nevermind"

"If you want we could go back to my place, and you can tell me all about it with a little more privacy" he suggested, "what do you say?"

Your cheeks were as red as the fire burning in his eyes.

"I-" you stuttered

"I can show you a good time angel"

"I'm sorry" you breathed, leaning away "I'm-I'm sorry I have to go to the bathroom" You stumbled over your own words, clutching your purse and rushing off the stool and through the groups of people in the club.

You didn't even realize you were bumping and hitting every person in your trajectory as all you were focused on was that damn door right in the corner.

Oh my god, what felt like the first actual breath you'd taken in ten full minutes, finally left your mouth as you entered the bathroom.

"oh my god," you mumbled to yourself, walking to the sink to look at your reflection in the mirror.

"what the fuck was that?" you sighed 

Am I dreaming? Is that it?

If that's it this is not funny brain.

I'm so confused,

This is... I mean this is just-

What the fuck is this?

He's hot. Like hot hot and I'm... You looked at yourself, and I'm me.

You took a deep breath, looking around you.

The green stalls were empty, and the music was still blaring from the other side of the door.

You could still picture him, feel him. He was so close to you, and you could feel every molecule of your being dancing as his hand remained on your leg.

God, what the fuck

I don't even know how old he is.

And just then, the door opened.

You turned the faucet on to pretend to be washing your hands, but a voice startled you.

"there you are"

Your eyes snapped open

"T-This is the women's bathroom"

Joel smirked, "you thought you could get away from me that easily?" he asked, taking a step towards you.

"I-" you took a step back, but he followed.

"I was being nice there," he said "complimented you and shit" 

Your back was to a stall and he was right before you.

"and what did you do?" he asked "you ran"

"I didn't mean to, I was j-"

"what, angel?" he mocked "You got shy?"

"well don't you worry" His hand went to your chin, tilting it up "I'll fix that right up" He took another step, imprisoning you "I'll help you out sweetheart, mh?"

Your mouth gaped open to say something, but before you could, his lips were on yours, and his hands on your back were forcing you flush against him.

His tongue moved into your mouth as he quite literally shoved you into the stall behind you, pressing you against the closed door.

"thought you could get away from me?" he growled, kissing your neck as his hands roamed on your body, one of them roughly grabbing your ass "Thought I was just gonna let you go?" he asked, now looking at you.

"oh no angel" he kissed your mouth "I have to have you" he murmured "And I will" He kissed you again, and this time, you found yourself reciprocating.

This was wrong and scary and weird, and still... countless butterflies filled your belly.

"there you go" he praised you "That's a good girl" He moved some hair out of your face " 'knew you wanted this too," he said "knew you'd be good, angel" He smirked before you felt his hands go to your waist.

"turn around for me"

With a little push from him, you did, finding your cheek flush against the door.

"god baby" his hands took in every inch of you, adoration clear in his tone "Wanted to fuck this body of yours since I first saw you" he explained, as he slowly rolled your dress up to your waist until only your panties were left to cover you.

"it's what you wanted too, isn't it," he asked, suddenly grabbing your arms to force them together behind your back "You wanted to be fucked like a little slut didn't you?" he continued as his hand pulled your panties down, the cold hitting your core "didn't you angel?" he urged, his grip tightening as he kissed your neck again.

"I-" You didn't know what to say. you were feeling too many things at once.

"Tell me you want this" he breathed, and you heard his zipper being undone.

"tell me you want this angel," he asked again, his hot breath on the skin of your neck "C'mon, I know you do"

" I do" you admitted, and you felt him smirk.

"that's right" He nodded, positioning himself at your entrance "and you're gonna get it" he promised, pushing himself into you hard.

"fuck" Your moan resembled more of a scream as you tightened your fists on your back

"What angel, can't take it?" he taunted, speeding up " 's too big for you little slut?"

"y-yes" you begged, making him chuckle "I can't take it"

"yes you can" he groaned "You're gonna take it all in this little tight pussy and you're not gonna complain about it, understand?"

"understand?" he asked again, his threatening voice spilling in your ear.

"y-yes I'm sorry"

"good girl" he praised, resuming his violent pace, as a cry fled your mouth and tears filled your eyes.

He smacked your ass and you gasped, but before you could let out a moan, his hand covered your mouth.

The door had opened, and two women had walked in.

"we gotta be quiet, angel" he whispered to your ear

"can you be quiet for me?"

"can you be a good little girl and keep that pretty mouth shut for me?

"mh-mh" you nodded, your breathing made difficult by his hand on your mouth

"atta girl," he said, still fucking you, but much slower, and to your dismay, much deeper.

He was hitting undiscovered spots inside of you, and the mix of the pain from his cock stretching you with the pleasure of each thrust was making it really hard not to moan.

"fuck" he groaned softly in your ear "You've got the tightest little pussy angel," he said "Squeezing me so good" he breathed " like it's made for me"

You whined

"Like you were made to be my little slut" he whispered "and have this little cunt abused by my cock"

Your eyes were wide shut, your orgasm approaching as he kept hitting you so fucking well.

"you coming angel?" he asked and you nodded "We're gonna come together" he purred "I'm gonna fill you up real good" his breathing was ragged "and then you're gonna get out there and dance with my come leaking down your thighs"

"you understand?"

You nodded 

"no cleaning up," he said "I want everyone to know how much of a slut you are" 

The women's voices resumed. Or maybe they never stopped. You had no idea of what was happening beside your impending orgasm.

"fuck" he groaned "Such a good fucking slut" he whispered, his head falling in the crook of your neck, as the door opened again and the women finally got out.

His hand left your mouth

"you coming angel?"

"y-yes"

"then let it all out baby"

[fulloflambing]

just yap about my most recent work (how i made it, the alternate plots or endings), and my future posts :D

writing that story took soooo much brain juice from me i feel like my brain has become a wringed sponge. im honestly rlly proud i managed to finish it😭

ive had writing experience before here on tumblr but i never rlly put alot of effort into it and it often made me feel bad about how i finished my stories. i always just thought about a vague plot, typed away, and posted it. some people enjoyed it n i was grateful for that but whenever id reread my own stories it would make me criticize myself and make me unmotivated to write, which eventually made me delete my old writeblr.

but ever since i've come back, and especially with 'heaven can wait', i rlly took my time to rewrite things i didnt find fitting. ive stopped writing just to post, but writing to actually enjoy and better my skills. im honestly proud of myself for taking the time to do that because i am, truthfully, a very impatient person n i hate redoing things. actually, i rewrote the story by like the 3.5k word mark TWICE and made sure i was truly happy with it. the plot was actually supposed to go two ways!:

kinich would find reader in their home, and they could comfort eachother real quick in the house before kinich escorted them to the survival shelter. kinich would then make a promise to reader to come back alive and boom boom fighting wham he comes back to them and boom emotional reunion!

^ i changed my mind halfway while writing this because i wanted the story to have more depth and to make it more about reader and kinich both experiencing grief and negative emotions more. this plotline was just too lovey dovey and chill for my liking.

2. kinich reunites with the reader in the end by finding her dead asleep in the tribe's infirmary.

^ i didnt like this ending because i felt like it would've been a boring climax to the heavy emotions of reader as she was separated from kinich thinking he was dead. does that make sense? like it felt like a boring way to end off y/n's part after building up all these negative thoughts swirling in their mind just for her not to even see kinich come back from war to have those negative thoughts be swooped away from her in a romantic light. it was cute tho, kinich would've been whispering 'im home' as he admired reader as they recovered but i didnt want a calm ending for the story. i wanted a passionate, emotional reunion type :) like very 'light after the storm'-esque type of ending!

some parts of the story i dont like but i feel like is the part i could do for the story was how mavuika defeated the abyss? i CANT WRITE ACTION FOR SHYT!!!! so it took so much deleting and rewriting and paraphrasing it actually got me a headache just to write that small section 😭😭

on a more exciting note, the next thingy ill write is probably for kinich's birthday! im very torn about what ill write and when ill write it because i have exams right after kinichs bday so i dont think ill have time to write for it.

but after i figure out and post a birthday special for kinich, i'll be writing a more angsty, heartbroken-y story kind of related to 'heaven can wait' but if things went wrong. its really not an alternate ending, more of like "if it ended this way, this would've happened." its been a plot thats been marinating in my head for awhile and i think you guys will rlly like it! its gonna be angst with comfort but still sad ending hihi sorry.

i have alot of canon fanfic ideas that i wna write as soon as possible but i feel like i should switch it up and write some modern!au fics. and maybe with other characters (my other favs! capitano, xiao, thoma, etc.). i also feel like i have to prepare a 100 follower special soon but i have nooo idea what to do for it huhu THANK U BTW GUYS FOR 81 FOLLOWERS AAA IM SO TOUCHED

in short, i have a lot and i mean srsly alot of kinich ideas rn but my schedule is gonna be cramped this week. but after ill be free again! my problem is i just dont know what to write first 😔💔

anyway, maybe ill do a poll or something :) ILL SEE WHAT I CAN DO!!

if you've read this far, thank u sm and i appreciate it >< ill do my best to write as much as i can.

[mojavepumpkin]

monday, february 26th

8pm

so i just deleted an entire blog post on accident. upsetting. highly upsetting infact! so yesterday i went on a 10 mile hike with J, saw H. it was a good day. stayed up a little too late. but it was a good day. spent only 2 hours and 30 minutes on my phone.

today has been a good day. i still feel weird. like im missing something. i hope that goes away with some time. today was also good. only one bad thing has happened and it has been the deletion of the WIP post, i thought i posted it too. just very upsetting. better to not think about it i suppose. well now there is a second bad thing - dog will not stop barking. this is why im a cat person. third bad thing - my mom playing videos at full volume in the living room while we're all in here.

okay. good day. i had a good day. art was fine. we got our project in biology, kierstin wasn't here again. math was fine - i dont really understand but i can get by. i need to do the homework in there. we started the great gatsby - i really like it. REALLY LIKE IT. anyway, met L for a walk at the library. ended up doing like 7ish miles, we talked the whole time. it was fun. he was supposed to volunteer for the library, but we spent the whole time walking and talking. i got a book from the library (Jane Eyre) , with his assistance. We ate at mcdonalds - which was surprisingly very good. sidenote; the library has very nice bathrooms.

as soon as i got home i played basketball for another 45 minutes until the sun went down, listened to a podcast during. took a shower, now im writing this. stayed busy during the afternoon, and am better off for it probably.

ive started leaving my phone in places i am not when i dont need my phone. also; new idea on limiting time on reddit and other stuff - i should set a timer on my phone for like 30 minutes and set that time aside for using reddit and stuff. pretty good solution.

i wonder how tomorrow will be. i work. i close. i go to school for the full 7.5 hours too, plus like 5 at work. i'll be at home for approximately 20ish minutes before 10 o'clock. i hope theres time to do math homework in art because if not im in deeep shite if theres a homework check. im tired. im full. i wonder if theres anything else that i have to say. i have a mini-headache. i dont want to go to public speaking tomorrow. i gave away 2 pairs of shoes. i made one of my favorite meals;

Bread (preferably french, and toasted (just like how i like my men))

Sour cream (or greek yogurt)

Sauteed and sliced mushrooms.

its so delicious. i also had a chicken breast with some gravy. and a diet coke - heavenly.

anyway, its probably time i go. cya.

[restinslices]

I’m ranting about being depressed because I don’t wanna keep spamming my friends. You don’t have to read this. I’ll probably delete this later.

Quick trigger warning for depression, mental illness in general, sewer slide thoughts, just a bunch of icky feelings. I am not feeling cash money

Going through hospitalization and thinking “wow, I’ve gotten better” only to get extremely depressed again is so disappointing. I went through multiple hospitals from January 2022 to around August or September of 2023. Now I knew I’d get depressed again because that’s just how life is, but I didn’t think it’d get so bad. I’ve gotten depressed since then and I’ve handled it pretty well but now I’m exhausted as fuck and the fact I lowkey wanna *insert windows shutdown sound* is so disappointing and makes me feel like a complete failure because I thought we were better than this twin. I’m both sleeping all day and have no energy to do simple things like walking to the other room and not being able to sleep at all. I’m both glad I’m alive and don’t have some illness, and “if someone were to shoot me, I’d probably thank them”. Like??? It feels like all the work I did means absolutely nothing. Like everyone put their faith in me and I’m letting them down over and over again. Especially this time.

And I don’t know wtf I’m doing. I feel like people really don’t understand how hard it is to look forward and have solid goals when you were never supposed to live this long. I didn’t think I’d make it out of middle school. Then I did. Then I didn’t think I’d graduate high school. Then I did. And it’s like “well… uhh, this is awkward”. Everyone has something they’re doing and you still can’t believe you’re actually alive and breathing still. It’s such a pathetic feeling and I hate it.

And my family has a tendency to not really pay attention or validate anything I say because I’m the youngest sibling and I always make jokes. If I don’t say “I’m gonna kill myself”, no one actually listens to what I say which is frustrating because I don’t feel like I should be at that point to gain a bit of sympathy. A lot of times, I just wanna rant and know someone is listening. I remember I tried this with my mom and said how I felt like no one listens to me because they only see me as the goofy sibling and she said, very irritated, “well you can’t change how people see you”. My mistake for interrupting the game on your phone. And this is a constant thing and I’m always bouncing between “wow, I really wish I felt heard” and “dude stop bitching”. I’m finna start tweaking and climb up my walls.

But yeah. I feel like dog shit because depression and wanting to Kate Marsh is beating my ass right now. And I feel like a failure for not being able to just thug it out. Idk. I feel like me being this depressed just shows no matter how much help I get, I’m never gonna be the person people want or need me to be. I’m always gonna be the fuck up. Younger me would despise me. She was so smart, confident, pretty, thin, sociable, mentally stable, plus other shit. She was recognized as young and gifted because of how great her grades were. Now I can hardly do math without getting a headache, I stutter a bunch, my confidence is ass, I’m clearly not mentally stable, I get panic attacks if I’m in public for too long or when talking to new people, I’m everything she never wanted to be. She would be BLOWN if she saw how she ended up.

This isn’t me fishing for sympathetic messages or attention. I’m just getting shit out.

Before I end this, I wanna make it clear that this is NOT a sewer slide note. I’m just stressed and sad and I feel like I’m bitching to my friends irl too much so I’m just venting here. Will I delete this later? Find out next episode.

[fioras-resolve]

so like, i find myself frequently aggravated with the gaming video essayist sphere for making videos that keep threatening to be really good. but they frequently disappoint me because, well, they're not made for me. i'm a game developer of many years, i know most of what they're talking about already. you could make a case that these kinds of "authoritative voices" present a strict orthodoxy for what video games "should be." and there's some truth to that, but honestly, i'm more irritated that they're mostly just Some Guy With A Take.

i think Game Maker's Toolkit is a really easy point of attack, because he's a very popular game design youtuber with a very clear bias toward specific types of games and who only started actually making games recently, but honestly i like gmtk. his stuff about accessibilty has been massively influential on me, his Developing series where he explains his process for developing his game has been really insightful to me, and like. honestly his vids are just comfort food for me, i don't know what else to tell you. his stuff is pretty entry level, and if you're looking to actually make a game you'll definitely need to read up or watch gdc stuff to get the full story, but he's like. fine. he's okay. i'd even call him really good, but i know that's my tastes.

the thing with gmtk, right, is that even before he was a game developer, he still did his due diligence. he checked out the interviews, the talks, and even got to talk to actual developers about their craft. i put my faith in him that he knows what he's talking about, even when i disagree on a particular take. i cannot say the same for other youtubers in the same space, who seem to be operating mostly on vibes and gut reactions. you don't need to be a game developer to have something to say, i like Errant Signal a lot because he's approaching games with actual criticism and not just review. but if you're going to make a statement on what makes Good and Bad Game Design, then you should probably have more under your belt than just youtube videos.

but the thing is, right. a lot of these videos are not made for me. punkitt has compared the experience to being a competent chef in a world of phonies, but these videos aren't all aimed at competent chefs. these creators aren't trying to be game design teachers, they are trying to be tastemakers. they are trying to communicate to fans of games as a fan of games, why they like or dislike something.

and sometimes they don't even do that. there's this one channel that does like "the competitive history of [x] pokemon" and it just lists that pokemon's competitive viability in chronological order. it's so BORING and it keeps THREATENING to be good. because there's one video of theirs i actually like about the history of Stealth Rock, this problematic mechanic and how game freak have tried to combat it over the years. it's really fascinating to me because i love competitive game design and it presents a really cool case study in how one mechanic can cause massive headaches throughout the entire series. i love that stuff! but pretty much every other video is not nearly that cool, and is clearly just made for pokemon fans to have more content to consume, and i just, ugh, you're almost interesting, why do you have to do this! there's a lot of videos like this which are just cataloguing some feature of a game or series and they don't feel the need to answer "why care" because you caring is presupposed. but like, tell me why you care, man! or is this just content to you?

idk, i think it's really easy to just be some schmuck with a hot take who thinks this hot take is worth spreading. or you might have a basic understanding of game design theory and think you're prometheus for spreading it to the masses. i'll admit that i sometimes say things when i only half-understand what i'm talking about, and i can only hope i rectify those moments by emphasizing the corrections or deleting the original posts. but i like to think i still have something interesting to say, because when you think about games as long and intensely as i do you basically have to form interesting opinions. but having an internet presence is innately an act of arrogance, and i think some people could stand to keep their arrogance in check.

but honestly... something i've been thinking about recently is the question of like, "do i have the credibility to be worth listening to?" i like to think i'm better, more qualified than the youtube men who peddle opinions as orthodoxy, but like. i am fundamentally just a bedroom game designer who has never been in The Industry and who mostly just makes whatever cool thing comes to her head. Daybreak Hearts is the first time i've done this seriously and talked to artists and started making a presskit and shit. i know i'm as prone as anyone to saying things off the cuff that sound utterly unhinged to people who don't already agree with me. and i try to curb that. but am i not also just some guy with a take? i am just as arrogant as any of them, i just try a little bit harder to back it up.

...man i have thoughts about The Gaming Video Essayist Sphere but i'm afraid to talk about them. can someone tell me to give my thoughts so i feel more emboldened to?

[seijorhi]

No Strings Attached

A commission for the lovely @hearteyes-candyskies, hope you like it bby! 💕

Bokuto Koutarou x female reader

TW Age gap, power imbalance, manipulation, toxic behaviour, nsfw(ish)

Three months ago, you would have laughed at the very idea of having a sugar daddy. 

Then again, three months ago you were still living with your boyfriend and had a steady paycheck coming in every week. You can blame losing the latter on bad luck and an asshole boss, but the former-

You knew your relationship with your ex was far from perfect, but coming home from losing said job to find him buried balls deep in your next door neighbour was a bit of a slap in the face. 

Needless to say, in the space of a few days you were out a job, a boyfriend and an apartment. Which, somewhat inevitably, led to you being six wines deep, slumped over your best friend’s bed, sobbing over the wreckage of the life you’d built, suddenly ripped out from beneath you.

You can’t really remember whose idea it was, only giggling drunkenly between yourselves as Misuzu set up your ‘sugar baby’ profile. “Shh, no this is gonna be great,” she’d said, hitting at the hands that tried to grab back your phone. “Meet some hot rich old dude, ride a little dick, let him shower you in cash; all your problems? Poof, sorted!”

And even with the heady, rose tinted haze of your wine fuelled inebriation, you knew that it was just a joke, a bit of stupid fun born more out of an attempt to cheer you up than a viable plan to get the tattered remains of your life back on track. Calling some old creepy dude ‘daddy’ and pretending to love him (not to mention the whole letting him fuck you thing) just for a little money wasn’t exactly your idea of a good time.

Plus, you were fairly sure that you weren’t what most people had in mind when they thought ‘sugar baby’. It wasn’t ever meant to be anything serious, just dumb, drunken fun with your friend.

So when you woke the next day a little after mid morning with a head full of regrets and a pounding headache, the last thing you expected was to find a message from BigDaddyKou82 waiting for you, better sense told you to ignore it.

Honestly, you didn’t really want a sugar daddy, your love life was enough of a mess without throwing in a power imbalance like that.

You should have ignored the message, deleted it or shot him a quick reply politely explaining that you weren’t interested so you could put it out of your mind, and you would have-

If Misuzu hadn’t caught sight of the message first, snatching the phone out of your hand with a gleeful shriek. 

—

If you’ve learned anything in these past months, it’s that Bokuto Koutarou doesn’t do anything by half measures. So when he tells you he’s booked dinner for the two of you at an upscale restaurant in the city, you should have expected the package that’s hand delivered right to the door of your shitty little apartment. The dress is beautiful, expensive - though you could tell that just from the elegant matte black box wrapped in golden ribbon it arrives in. It’s exactly his style; short, revealing and just dancing along the edge of impropriety, not that that’ll bother him in the slightest. 

But it is gorgeous, and loathe as you are to admit it, it flatters you well.

It’s not the first time that he’s bought you clothes, your tiny closet’s almost overflowing with pieces he’s gifted you. He likes seeing you in the things he’s bought, sometimes a little too much, you think. But you’ve learned it’s better just to go along with it - he gets this wide eyed, beaming grin whenever he sees you dressed in the pretty things he’s bought you, and the sight of it never fails to make your cheeks heat, warmth curling in your stomach. 

The dress was not unexpected. The soft, lacy lingerie that comes in the accompanying box, on the other hand - that was new.

And of course, you barely have time to unwrap your gift when your phone flashes to life, an incoming call from the man himself.

“D’ya like it?”

The giddy excitement in his voice is unmistakable, and if you close your eyes you can picture the look on his face - golden eyes all hooded and hungry, that glittering, eager grin he wears when the two of you are out in public but his mind’s occupied with all the filthy, wonderful things he wants to do to you the moment you’re alone. 

Not that he’s ever that patient. 

“Um, it’s…” Fingers tentatively reach into the tissue paper, pulling the sheer, lacy bra out, warmth blossoming in your cheeks. The matching panties - a tiny scrap of lace held together with bows and thin black straps - really aren’t much better. Like the dress, the lingerie is clearly well made, probably cost more than your weekly rent, and the delicate set is arguably gorgeous (you can’t even argue his taste), but–

“You’re gonna wear it for me tonight, right, baby?” 

It’s not really a question; of course you will, because you always do. You would have thought by now that you’d be used to the gifts he showers you in. 

“Yeah, but Kou, you really didn’t have to spend all this money on me. Dinner’s enough,” you tell him, setting the lingerie back down. 

Dinner, and everything else for that matter. 

A chuckle echoes down the line. “But I like spoiling my girl. Like buying you pretty things,” his voice dips, “like tearing ‘em off you afterwards, too.” 

And despite all the apprehension curled up inside of you, a shiver of excitement runs down your spine. 

—

“So…” Misuzu pushes, leaning across the countertop with her chin resting on her palm and looking entirely too pleased at your discomfort.

“He… asked me to meet him.”

Her eyes widen, sparkling in delight as she gasps, “For dinner?”

“For a drink - one drink,” you clarify. You elect not to tell her that he’d initially tried to sway you into dinner, and it was you who’d talked him down to a drink. Truthfully, you’d probably feel more comfortable getting coffee, but meeting at a bar was fine.

One drink, and if things got awkward or he turned out to be a creep you’d be out of there in a heartbeat. 

“Oh my god!! My baby Y/N, all grown up and manipulating old, lonely men for money. I’m so proud,” she wipes a fake tear from her eye and bursts into a fit of giggles.

A crinkle appears between your brow as you frown at her, “He’s not even that old,” you grumble, “and it’s not like that. You know it’s not.”

“No?” she asks, her lips curling into a teasing smirk. “You know, for somebody who was so against me messaging your soon to be sugar daddy, you sure move quickly.”

She laughs at the glare you shoot her way. “You were the one who started this.”

“Mhm, and you were the one who didn’t stop it. Funny that, don’t you think?”

She looks like the cat that ate the canary; smug, glittering amusement written all across her face. And you hate, more than anything, that she’s right.

Because you’d meant to put a stop to it the moment you managed to wrestle your phone back from her. Afterwards, you’d blame the lingering hurt of having your heart broken, the insecurities and bitter humiliation that plagued you, the feeling that you weren’t good enough to stop your boyfriend from straying for making you so pathetically vulnerable and desperate for approval - but when you opened the chat instead of the sleazy come on’s you expected, his first message makes something inside of you flutter, warm and pleasant.

Holy crap, you’re beautiful.

Not exactly a sonnet from Shakespeare, but you can’t remember the last time any guy, much less your ex, called you beautiful. 

It didn’t exactly hurt that instead of the aging, creepy looking letch you were half expecting, the profile picture showed a rather fit, attractive man in a crisp, black suit with silvery grey streaked hair and an easy grin. Of course, it was a fifty-fifty chance that the pic wasn’t even him, or if it was then it was outdated or heavily edited, but it was enough to make you pause.

Enough to make you… curious, if nothing else.

But ridiculously attractive or not, you weren’t going to lead him on. If he wanted some pretty, simpering thing to fuck and throw money at, to call him daddy and be his sweet, obedient little girl - that wasn’t you. You’d explained that you weren’t really sure if this was your thing, that you probably weren’t what he had in mind, but surprisingly he hadn’t been put off by that.

Well what’s the harm in finding out for yourself? Maybe you’ll like it more than you think ;)

—

There were rules, when you started - lines you both agreed wouldn’t be crossed.

First and foremost, while it wasn’t exactly a conventional relationship - at least, not the kind you were used to - it was still a relationship of sorts, and there was an expectation of honesty in lieu of absolute exclusivity. You’d tell him if you were seeing anybody else, and Bokuto would tell you the same. Considering sex was on the table, it made sense.

You swore right from the beginning that you wouldn’t allow yourself to become financially dependent on him - you knew all too well that relationships were fickle things to begin with. That kind of dependency was half the reason you were in this position in the first place, and you wouldn’t - couldn’t - let that happen again. That didn’t mean that the arrangement wasn’t transactional. After a few initial meetings that went better than you expected, the two of you came to an agreement; a nice little sum of money he’d deposit weekly in your account in exchange for you being there when he wanted you. Dinner dates, skype calls when he’s travelling, spur of the moment weekends away in expensive hotels - whatever he wanted... within reason.

The thing is, despite his flaws - the little funks he gets into, his immaturity despite the age gap between you, the way he clings to you, mopes if you don’t pay him the attention he wants - you genuinely like Bo, he’s oddly endearing. Loveable, even. He reminds you a little of a puppy; eager for affection, bright and boisterous with boundless energy (and enviable stamina). He’s sweet and adoring and funny and he has this uncanny ability to make everything else fade away when you’re with him, to make you feel like you’re the only woman in the room, beautiful and perfect and entirely his-

But that didn’t make him your boyfriend. 

You weren’t lovers, and whether it was in two weeks or two years, you both knew this arrangement had an expiration date. And because of that, there were no strings attached. At any point, either one of you could end it without an explanation - no questions asked, no feelings hurt. 

—

Truthfully, you don’t know an awful lot about Bokuto’s line of work, only that his position within the company is senior enough that he can move around his schedule pretty much as he wants, leaving him free to see you whenever he likes. 

Which wasn’t a problem when that was once or twice a week. 

“Sorry, Koutarou, you know I can’t. Maybe tomorrow?”

The petulant whine that echoes down the phone fills you with an odd sort of  guilt. “Why not? You said no on Friday, too,” he pouts. “I miss you, baby. Wanna see you again.”

You shove down the faint, flickering unease that nudges at your gut. You’re not his girlfriend, and you find yourself wondering whether or not he sometimes deliberately lets himself forget that.

Nibbling at your bottom lip, you frown, “I told you I have work today. It’s too late for me to try and find someone to cover my shift, and if I call in again-”

You can kiss your job goodbye. You’re already on thin ice with your boss, and it’s not like new waitresses are hard to find these days. 

“Well… what time do you finish?” he asks, his voice thick with dejection, as if he already knows what your answer’s going to be.

You bite back a sigh, “Late. I’m on close again.”

The short silence on the other end of the phone is deafening. “… I’ll come pick you up afterwards.”

This time you can’t stop the soft sigh that escapes, “Kou, I’m gonna be exhausted, I won’t be any fun to be around.”

“Still wanna see you. You’re always working,” he grumbles. “Feels like you don’t have time for me anymore, baby.”

Slowly your eyes flutter shut, and you take a deep breath. It always comes back to this. “I need this job, baby. We’ve talked about this… I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? I have the whole day off, I’m entirely yours.”

“All mine, hm?”

You smile, “All yours, promise.”

He hums in acknowledgement, not entirely happy, but temporarily placated. “Fiiiine. But I’m holding you to it.”

As if you expected any less. “I have to go get ready for work. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“I’ll see you later,” he promises, and you hang up a moment later. 

When he said that, you assumed that both of you were on the same page as to what ‘later’ meant.

Three hours into your shift, you hadn’t expected to return from the kitchen to find a grinning Bokuto lounging in one of your booths.

“He asked for you specifically when he came in,” one of your coworkers tells you, shooting you a playful wink. “Didn’t know you were into silver foxes, Y/N. But I can’t say I blame you, he’s hot!”

“Yeah, thanks,” you mutter distractedly, glancing over your shoulder to check your manager wasn’t watching before making your way over.

The smile on your face is tight as golden eyes flicker towards you. “Bokuto,” you begin quietly, “what- what are you doing here?”

An odd look passes across his face at the use of his family name, but the smug grin remains. “You said you had to work tonight,” he says with a cavalier shrug, as if that explained everything. 

“Yes, because I’m working! Kou, I need this job, I can’t-” you break off with a huff, darting another glance over your shoulder. Thankfully, your manager’s busy berating your co-worker for a screwed up order and hasn’t noticed your absence yet.  

Taking advantage of your distracted state, Bokuto reaches across the table to take your hand in his, his thumb stroking back and forth along the back of your palm. “Hey, hey, relax. You’re here to work, I get it, baby. I’m just here for some food, cross my heart,” he swears, drawing an imaginary X over his chest with his finger.

Gently tugging your hand back, you ignore the hurt little pout he gives you. “So you decided to drive twenty minutes across town just to eat here?” you ask, trying to keep the exasperation from colouring your tone. 

He shifts a little in his seat, cheeks flushing a dusty pink under your narrowed stare. “… Well, maybe I wanted to see my pretty girl, too,” he admits, “But I swear I’ll be on my best behaviour!”

Somehow, his words don’t fill you with confidence, but what are you supposed to do? Kick him out? Snap at him for coming despite the fact you told him not to? Taking a deep, steadying breath through your nose, you force yourself to relax. Bokuto’s not hurting anybody by being there, and so long as he keeps his hands to himself, so long as he behaves, it won’t be an issue.

He’s a paying customer, and you’ll treat him just like you would anyone else who walked through the restaurant’s doors.

Yet despite trying to reassure yourself of that, you can’t escape the niggling sense of unease sitting in the pit of your stomach. Even if he’s the perfect gentleman tonight, the perfect stranger, you’ve worked hard to keep your boring day to day life and the one you’ve created with him in nice, neat, separate boxes. Bokuto hasn’t met your friends or your family and outside of Misuzu they don’t have a clue about your arrangement with your attractive if somewhat clingy benefactor.

You don’t want them to know.

Him being here threatens that - it makes you nervous.

But you’ve been with Bokuto long enough to know that you can’t tell him that without hurting his feelings, and you definitely don’t have the energy to deal with that tonight. It’s a conversation for another day.

Instead, you allow a small smile to tug at the corners of your lips, “You know the food’s pretty average here, you might be disappointed.”

Bokuto grins again, mischief sparkling in those golden eyes, and your traitorous heart skips a beat. “Yeah, don’t think that’ll be a problem,” he leans in closer, “I’m far more interested in what’s for dessert.”

Warmth floods your cheeks as he snickers. 

—

For the most part he keeps his hands to himself, but you can’t quite bring yourself to relax when you can feel those golden, hungry eyes burning a hole into your back as you move around the restaurant serving other customers.

You pretend you don’t see the scowling glower he sends to the harmless office-worker who spends a good forty five minutes flirting with you every time you go over to check on his table.

Bokuto orders enough food to feed a small army and stays until close, leaving a more than generous tip on his way out. 

It goes without saying that he waits for you to finish up. The moment you slip out the door, calling out one last goodnight to your coworker, he’s on you, pushing you up against the brick alleyway wall, hiking your legs up over his hips as his mouth attacks yours, greedy and eager, swallowing up any and all protests you might’ve had.

He doesn’t take you home like you ask, but back to his penthouse suite, and neither of you get much sleep that night.

—

You’re halfway through washing your hair a few days later when your shower head splutters once… twice… and stops completely. 

A blockage in the plumbing, your landlord informs you rather apathetically. It’s affecting the whole floor and it’ll take at least a day or two to get somebody out to fix it properly, leaving you without running water for the entirety of that time.

In hindsight, there were at least three other people you could have (and probably should have) called first, but he’s already answering the phone before the thought even occurs to you. 

And then it’s too late to backpedal. You find yourself grateful that he can’t physically see the way you flush and fidget, pacing around your living room as you awkwardly try to explain the reason you’re calling at ten in the morning. 

“Would, I mean, i-is it okay if I come over to use your shower? Just for this one time, mine kind of got interrupted this morning.” 

God, from the way you stutter, stumbling over your own tongue, you’d think you were asking him to marry you. You’ve spent the night at his countless times before, but asking for a favour, even a small one like this - maybe you’re toeing an unwritten line in the sand? Bokuto isn’t with you because he loves you, he’s with you because it’s mutually beneficial for both of you, because of an agreement. 

He wants fun, easy, not you saddling him with minor inconveniences. Calling to ask him to come save you, albeit from something as mundane as a lack of access to a functioning shower, feels like something you’d ask your boyfriend to do. 

Not your sugar daddy.

But just as you’re about to backtrack and apologise for interrupting his morning, he speaks. “What d’you mean? Just come stay with me till it’s fixed.”

He says it with such certainty, as if it’s the most obvious solution and for a moment you’re stunned into silence. “A-are you sure? I don’t want-'' Don't want what? To be an inconvenience? A problem? “I don’t want to be in the way,” you finish lamely.

Bokuto just laughs, “Don’t be stupid, baby, of course you won’t be in the way. Just swing by the office and I can give you the keys. Or I can just get you another set made? I don’t know, we can figure it out later. I’ll see you soon, ‘kay?” 

And you have to admit, as apprehensive as you were stepping into his penthouse alone for the first time, showering in Bokuto’s fancy ensuite bathroom (which you’re fairly sure is bigger than your actual bedroom) is a hell of a lot nicer than doing it at home. The lotions he has are all expensive brands with french names you’ve never even heard of before, but they smell amazing and they leave your skin feeling all soft and silky. Even the shampoo he’s bought for you to use is far nicer than the one you have at home, though you’re secretly pleased that its scent’s similar - your favourite, actually. 

Did he buy them knowing that or was it just a coincidence, you wonder. You never thought to ask. 

Without work, or Bo for that matter, to occupy your time, you decide to take advantage of his gigantic TV, opening up Netflix and settling into his ridiculously comfortable couch… 

… And wake, a few hours later to the feeling of fingers carding through your hair and a pair of lips pressing against your cheek. 

Bokuto’s home, you realise with a start, and there’s drool on your chin. Face burning with embarrassment, you hastily wipe it away with the back of your palm and try to sit up, only for Bokuto’s hand to wrap around your wrist, halting you in your tracks.

“No, don’t get up, baby,” he says, easing down onto the couch beside you and shifting your head onto his lap so he can continue threading his fingers through your hair. “I like coming home to this.”

Still half asleep, curling up and nuzzling further into those warm, thick thighs of his, you miss the intensity of the adoration burning in golden depths as he coaxes you back to sleep.

—

The two of you are in bed, your cheek resting on his chest, his arm slung over your waist and knuckles brushing idly along your side, when Bokuto breaks the comfortable silence. 

“Move in with me.”

You tense in his arms, heart skipping a beat. For a split second, you’re almost positive that you misheard him. “I-I’m sorry?” You push yourself up onto your elbow, turning your head so that you can look at him properly.

But Bokuto doesn’t miss a beat. “Move in with me,” he repeats, golden eyes bearing down on you.

The expression on your face is frozen halfway between disbelief and hysteria, and you’re staring at him, waiting for that stupid grin to break across his face, for him to laugh and tell you how ridiculous you look, because of course he’s joking.

He’s joking, right?

“Koutarou,” you begin slowly, “Wha- I don’t… Why would you want me to move in with you? We barely- I mean, we’re not…” 

He shrugs his shoulders, “Why wouldn’t I? It makes sense. My place is bigger and nicer, and I like having you here with me. Feels right.”

It feels right??

“I-I can’t just move out of my apartment, Kou.”

His eyebrows knit together, and he huffs, “Why not? It’s a shitty apartment.”

“That’s not the point!” Knocking away the hand that reaches for you, you push yourself all the way up until you’re sitting properly. “I don’t want to move.” 

Owlish eyes narrow, a flash of irritation sparking. “Why not? It makes perfect sense for you to move in here with me. You wouldn’t have to work at that stupid job anymore for one,” he huffs. 

“Bokuto, I’m not going to quit my job,” you mutter. “We’ve talked about this.”

“Why, though?!” he explodes. “You don’t need the money, I’ve told you I can take care of you, whatever you want, baby, name it and it’s fucking yours. You don’t need to work and you don’t need that shitty little apartment!”

Like a crystal glass slipping from numb fingers, the fantasy you’ve convinced yourself you’ve been living shatters into a thousand jagged shards in the space of a single breath.

Oh, how naive you’ve been. How fucking stupid.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you inhale deeply, “Kou, that’s not-”

Strong fingers grip your jaw, and your eyes shoot open as he tugs your face back towards him. Your breath catches in your throat, heart hammering painfully against your ribs. His eyes are wide, pupils blown out, but it’s the intensity in his gaze as he stares at you, the blank expression-

“I love you.”

—

39 missed calls. 72 unread messages. 

Flowers, bouquets of roses, peonies and chrysanthemums piled up by your door between boxes of chocolates and other gifts you won’t bring yourself to open. 

Wide eyed, Misuzu gingerly steps over them, holding two steaming mugs in hand. “Holy fuck,” she murmurs, and for the first time since this stupid, awful mistake began, there’s not a trace of mirth to be found. “Y/N, I…”

But she doesn’t have the words, and you can’t blame her. 

“He told me he loves me,” you sigh. “He asked me to move in with him and told me he loved me, and I grabbed my clothes and all but ran.” You still can’t get the image of Bokuto’s face out of your head, the raw, aching hurt swimming in his eyes as you all but stumbled over excuses in your haste to get out of there. But he didn’t lift a finger to stop you, didn’t say another word.

He just watched numbly, hunched over against the headboard as you fled.

There’s a short beat of silence between the two of you as she sets down the drinks and collapses into the chair beside you. “And… do you love him back?” 

Exhaling loudly, you drop your face into your palms. “I-”

You like how he makes you feel beautiful, the filthy, wonderful praise he lavishes you in when the two of you sleep together, the way he touches you, fingers and mouth so eager to please as his cock fills you, inch by delicious inch.

You like being adored, treasured, and you liked Bo, but… you don’t love him.

That was never on the cards, that wasn’t what your relationship was.

Every line he ever crossed, every boundary he toed, you keep replaying them again and again over and over in your head like a never ending loop. You hadn’t even wanted this whole stupid sugar baby relationship to begin with, and every step of the way he was the one to coax you forward.

And you let him, swallowing down your doubts and your insecurities each and every time. You let him think that this was something else entirely… 

How had you not seen this coming?

“No,” you admit.

The hand that takes yours is soft, and when you glance over with eyes beginning to burn with unshed tears, Misuzu squeezes it gently. “Then end it. Walk away.”

And with your head on her shoulder, her arms wrapped loosely around you, you type out a short message to Bokuto. No strings attached and no questions asked, you’d promised each other that much when you’d started this mess. You wonder if it still holds true. 

I’m sorry. Clearly we were on different pages and want different things. I didn’t mean to lead you on or for things to go as far as they did, but I can’t do this with you anymore. 

You send it and block his contact, and when the tears come and painful sobs rip their way free, Misuzu holds you tight and murmurs soft reassurances. It’ll pass, all breakups hurt.

—

A week after your ‘breakup’ you get a notification on your phone that money’s been transferred into your bank account. 

For a moment, you think that maybe it’s an accident, a recurring transaction he’d simply forgotten to cancel (you doubt he’d even notice) until you click into the transaction itself.

It isn’t the sum itself that startles you - twice the usual amount - but the short note attached in the description.

I need to see you. Please.

You transfer the money right back into his account.

—

Without your weekly supplement from Bo, it doesn’t take long for you to come to the realisation that your current salary just barely covers rent and your bills, and if you want to eat anything other than two minute noodles in the foreseeable future, you’re going to need either more hours, or a second job. 

Thankfully, the timing works out well. When you go to your boss with your most winning smile to try and convince her of your plight, she simply shrugs and agrees, having had to let one of the junior staff go only a few days before. The one catch being that instead of working a mix of morning and afternoon shifts with the occasional closing thrown in, you’re now exclusively on close, five nights a week, Tuesday through Saturday.

Mostly, it doesn’t bother you. The shifts are long and you always leave feeling aching, drained and barely human, but usually it’s quiet enough, and so long as you can get the last few lingering customers out early enough, the actual close runs pretty smoothly between you and the other staff. 

It’s not what you really want to be doing, but you’ve learned to make the best of it. This is adult life, and for the first time since high school, you’re supporting yourself entirely. It might not be the greatest job in the world, and there are absolutely days when you just want to throw in the towel completely, but there is a slight pride to that fact. You don’t need anybody in your life to coddle or support you, you’re figuring this shit out as you go along.

You just wish, sometimes, that you could do that without having to work until the early hours of the morning.

On paper, the kitchen closes at midnight and the last customers are supposed to be out within half an hour of that. Then, between yourself and another server, you can usually get the restaurant tidied up and closed a little after one. 

You knew right from the moment you clocked on that tonight wasn’t going to be one of those nights. The girl who’s supposed to be on close with you called in sick and your boss hasn’t bothered to replace her.

It’s not the first time you’ve had to close by yourself, but it’s still a pain, especially when the last few customers take forever to finish up and leave. 

One of the kitchen staff offers to stay back, his bag slung over his shoulder, hand already on the door handle but you just shake your head with a tired smile. 

“Nah, I can handle it. Thanks, though,”

To his credit, he doesn’t immediately take the offered out. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. See you tomorrow.”

Without any help, it takes almost twice as long for you to finish up, and it’s a little after two when you finally flick off the lights and lock the doors.

Your feet are killing you, and all you can think about is sinking into your bed at home, burrowing into your blankets and sleeping for a week straight-

“Hey, baby.” 

Leaning against the hood of his car, arms folded across his broad chest and eyeing you with an unreadable expression, is Bokuto. 

The tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. 

There's nothing inherently threatening about him being here, but it’s the middle of the night, you haven’t seen him in almost two weeks and you don’t need to glance around to know that the car park’s empty. There’s nobody in sight.

Just you and him, and the few feet of distance separating you. 

“K-kou, what are you… what are you doing here?” 

He smiles at that, the way his name slips from your lips, but only for a fleeting second. It fades, and a cold, uncomfortable feeling settles in the pit of your stomach. 

“I missed you, y’know?” He pushes off the hood and takes a step towards you, “You didn’t call me.”

He’s always been bigger than you, towering over you looking like some Adonis with those rippling, powerful muscles of his. You used to like that strength, squealing in wicked delight when he’d hoist you up with a grin, hands gripping your thighs, squeezing your ass, your back shoved up against the wall so he could drive his cock deeper into ‘his pretty fuckin’ pussy’. 

But that was then. 

You’ve never been scared of his strength. Even that morning in the apartment, he didn’t lash out, didn’t scream or yell, he just… shut down. He wouldn’t hurt you, you know that.

That doesn’t stop you from skittering backwards like a frightened little bunny, your back hitting the wall.

The very moment you do, you watch as his eyes widen in surprise, hurt flashing for a split second-

-before they darken, his face twisting into a scowl, and you can’t escape the feeling you’ve made an awful mistake. 

Dread creeps its way up your spine, tightening like a vice around your chest, making it hard to breathe. Your brain is screaming at you to run, adrenaline surging through your veins, but even as your heart races and your breathing spikes, you can’t seem to move your legs.

It wouldn’t make a difference even if you could - with your back up against the literal wall, Bokuto and his car blocking your only escape route, you’re trapped; a fact that hasn’t escaped either of you.

Paralysed in fear, you can’t so much as twitch as he takes another slow, calculated step forward.

Desperately, you open your mouth - to try and placate him? To apologise? Scream for help? - but all that escapes is his name in a choked, breathless whisper. 

“Bokuto���”

As he stares at you, he almost looks regretful.

Almost, if not for the grim determination resolving like steel in those golden eyes of his. “I love you, and I know you love me, too,” he says, closing the gap between you. “I’m doing this for us, baby.”

[lauras-collection]

✮ electric love | part 2 ✮

Harrison Osterfield x fem!reader | fwb!roommates au

|| Masterlist || Series Masterlist ||

Summary: Living with your best friends Tom and Harrison is all fun and games until one drunken night alone with Harrison, you give in to your attraction to him. You tell yourself you should leave it at that, forget about the night you spent with him and move on to not ruin your friendship, but neither of you can stay away from each other. So without considering the possible consequences, you make a deal. But how are you supposed to keep your shenanigans from Tom? And how are you supposed to not break the number one rule of an arrangement like this: do not fall in love.

Words: 3.8k

Warnings: SMUT 18+ [fingering, protected sex, riding], a smidge of angst, reader and Haz being horny idiots again, but this time sober. 

A/N: For the record, I know pubs aren’t usually open that long, but my favourite Irish pub in Brighton is open until 4am on the weekends. so I imagine Tom working there :D 

Hope you like it!! 

Feedback is always appreciated ❤️

It’s still dark out when you wake up, and it takes you a few seconds to realise where you are. You blink a couple of times and when the coffee table still littered with cans and empty bags of crisps comes into view, the evening before comes back to you, and you realise that Harrison is still laying behind you, his arm wrapped around your waist. 

Panic starts to creep up your spine, and suddenly you feel like you’re trapped. You sit up quickly, not even bothering if it wakes Harrison up. The blanket falls from your frame, and you realise you’re still naked. 

This can’t be happening. 

You pull the blanket back up to cover yourself as Harrison starts mumbling incoherently. Patting the coffee table, you try to find a phone, you don’t care if it’s yours or Harrison’s, you just need to know what time it is. 

“What’s going on?” Harrison asks, rubbing his eyes as you finally feel the sleek surface of a phone display underneath your fingertips. You lift it up to see the time, it’s just after four in the morning, and if you were slightly panicked before, it’s kicking into high gear now. Tom will be back any moment, and there’s no way you’ll let him walk in on this if you can prevent it.

“We fell asleep.” You stand up, dragging the blanket off of Harrison’s body, but he doesn’t seem to mind. For a moment, you’re distracted by the sight of him in his boxers. His pecs and abs illuminated by the moon shining into the window. With a small shake of your head, you turn around and start to scramble your clothes together. “Tom will be back soon, we need to get out of here.”

Harrison finally gets moving and, for a while, all you’re able to hear is the two of you shuffling around and your heartbeat drumming in your ears. You rack your brain as to how to handle this situation, what to say to him. 

You’re still standing there, the blanket wrapped around you, as Harrison pulls on his sweatpants, his shirt hanging over his shoulder.

And then you just stare at each other for a long moment.

“I’ll just—“

“So do we—“

You both start talking at the same time, the air around you filled with awkward tension. And you hate it. You can already feel a headache coming on, and you want to just fall asleep and forget what happened. 

Not that it was bad, that’s not it at all. It was amazing. But you don’t want this to change anything between you and Harrison. You love your friendship the way it is, you won’t risk ruining it with sex. Except… maybe you’ve already done that.

“I’ll see you in the morning.” You mumble, and without waiting for a reply, you dash towards your room and quickly close the door behind you. 

You let out a deep breath before getting rid of the blanket and finally putting your clothes back on. You know that you need to get some sleep to counteract this hangover, but there’s no way you’ll be able to. 

You feel disgusting, you’re covered in dried sweat, Harrison’s scent is all over you, and it does nothing to ease your anxiety. You contemplate taking a shower, but when you hear the front door close softly, followed by Tom’s footsteps moving around the flat, you know that will have to wait until the morning. 

It’s been a week since you slept with Harrison and you can’t stop thinking about him. While you caught yourself fantasising about him every now and then before you crossed the line, now you know what it feels like to be touched by him. To be completely consumed by him. And with every day that passes you crave his touch even more.

Getting a taste of him did nothing to soothe your longing for him. On the contrary, it made it worse. So now whenever he’s close, whether that be him waiting for his toast to pop out of the toaster while you’re making a tea, or him sitting next to you on the sofa, your mind goes places it shouldn’t while thinking about one of your best friends. 

It’s frustrating. You don’t have the time or the energy to find someone to hook up with to fuck Harrison out of your system. That’s probably what got you into this predicament in the first place, to be honest.

And the fact you still hadn’t really talked about what happened was eating away at you. There just hadn’t been the right time to bring it up. It’s been a stressful week for both of you with work and uni assignments, and if you had a few hours of spare time Tom was always around. You couldn’t just say ‘Hey Harrison can we talk about that thing that happened?’ Without Tom getting suspicious. And the last thing you wanted was him finding out that you and Harrison had sex on the sofa while he was at work.

It isn’t really awkward between you two. You still act normal around each other, it’s almost like nothing changed if it wasn’t for that underlying tension that always fills the air when you’re alone with him. 

You delete the last paragraph you’d written for your essay with a groan. It didn’t make any sense anyway. Taking an English Lit class for extra credit sounded good when you first started the semester because with Harrison being an English Lit major you had someone you could ask for help right here living with you. 

The irony of your situation makes you laugh. You contemplate quitting the class altogether, but there are only a few weeks left in the semester and all of your work so far would’ve been for nothing. 

So you push all your confusing feelings to the side, close your laptop and pick it up. You don’t have to look far to find Harrison. He’s sitting in the living room, feet on the coffee table while scrolling through his phone. 

He looks up when you let yourself fall next to him on the couch. The corners of his mouth lift into a smile and he locks his phone as he turns his body to you.

“What’s up?” 

This is the first time you actively search out Harrison’s company since that night and you feel a little guilty that you’re doing it because you need his help.

“Can you help me with my essay?” You give him your best puppy dog eyes. “It’s for English Lit and everything I write seems dumb.” 

The look in Harrison’s eyes gets a little softer as he nods his head.

“I’m sure it’s not dumb” He reassures you “Let’s see what you’ve got” He reaches his hand out for your laptop and you give it to him after unlocking it. His eyes flit over the screen as he reads over the measly excuse of an essay you’ve written. You can’t help but think how pretty his profile is. 

“When’s it due?” He asks casually and you have a feeling he won’t like your answer.

You glance at the time on your laptop display, almost ten at night. “In two hours?” you press your lips together as Harrison’s head whirls over to you.

“Y/N! Why didn’t you ask for help sooner?” 

You obviously can’t answer that question honestly, so you shrug your shoulders and say, “I wanted to do it on my own, but I’m incompetent so it didn’t work” 

“You’re not incompetent!” He insists. “Look, what you’ve got so far is pretty solid, we just need to build on it.” His fingers fly over the keyboard as he starts to work on your essay. 

As he types, he explains what he’s doing and occasionally asks a question. And an hour later your essay is ready to be handed in. 

“Thank you so much for your help,” You say after you successfully sent the essay to your professor. 

“Don’t mention it” He places his hand on your knee, giving it a squeeze and your breath catches in your throat. Images of the night you spent with Harrison start flashing through your mind as your eyes lock with his. He looks as taken aback as you feel, but neither of you dares to move. 

The warmth of his hand is burning into your skin and you hate that just one touch from Harrison is enough to get you so worked up. 

You clench your thighs together subconsciously and when Harrison's eyes leave yours for a second you know he noticed. The air around you is tense, thick with anticipation as his hand slowly moves up your leg. His eyes are boring into yours and you try your best to keep calm but your breathing is already heavy. 

You don’t dare to say anything. As unsure as you are about what Harrison is thinking right now, you don’t want to ruin this moment.

His hand slowly moves further up your leg until his fingertips reach the hem of your shorts, then he pauses. Your heart is beating out of your chest and you know he’s giving you the time to say something. To tell him to stop. But you don’t want him to stop. 

Biting your lip you give him an almost imperceptible nod and then his fingers slip under the fabric. You spread your legs a little allowing him to move closer to your heat and when his fingertips brush against your panties both of you take in a sharp breath.

“You’re soaking,” Harrison whispers, almost in awe.

“Been thinking about the other night a lot.” You say and lift your leg that’s closer to him until it’s laying on top of his, giving him more access. 

“Yeah?” he asks, his thumb gingerly pressing against your covered clit. “Me too”  

A moan falls from your lips and you reach out your hand to grab his forearm. Harrison stops his movements for a moment until you squeeze his arm.

“Keep going” Your voice is already hoarse, the pulsing between your legs almost unbearable. Harrison licks his lips, then gently moves your underwear to the side. And then his fingers are moving through your slick folds.

You throw your head back with a groan. You’ve been dreaming about his touch for the past week and there was nothing you could do to satisfy that craving. Nothing but being touched by Harrison again. 

“That feel good?” Harrison murmurs and places a kiss on your shoulder.

“So good” you breathe, you’re hot, your blood rushing through your veins and you can already feel beads of sweat starting to build on your forehead. “More” You mewl, tightening your grip on his arm.

Harrison hums and then you feel him entering you with his fingers, the heel of his palm pressing against your clit and it’s almost enough to make you cum right then and there. 

Harrison starts slowly moving in and out of you, his fingers slightly crooked, looking for that one spot. When you let out a moan and dig your fingers deeper into his forearm he knows he found it and continues to rub against it. 

Your whole body is covered in goosebumps, your muscles tense as you throw your head back and lift your hips in an attempt to get closer to him. Harrison starts trailing kisses up your shoulder and neck and when he starts sucking on your sweet spot there, you’re a goner. Your pussy starts clenching around his fingers as your orgasm washes over you. You barely make out Harrison humming against your skin. 

When you come down from your high, Harrison’s fingers are still inside you, moving ever so slowly as to not overstimulate you. You’re a long way from overstimulation though.   

“Need you” You press out between groans, while you enjoy Harrison’s kisses and his fingers pleasuring you, it’s not nearly enough. 

Harrison removes his hand and you find yourself pouting, but then he lifts his hand, your arousal shining on his fingers along with his ring. And then he puts them in his mouth, licking them clean with a hum, his eyes fixed on you and it might be the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Let’s take this somewhere else.” He whispers against your skin before scooping you up. You let out a small squeal and wrap yourself around him tighter. “Your place or mine?” His hot breath hits your ear and while waiting for your answer he trails some more kisses on your neck.

“I don’t care.” you manage to say and moments later Harrison kicks a door shut with his foot and lays you down. You’re surrounded by dark blue bedsheets and Harrison’s scent. Without any hesitation, Harrison gets back to covering your neck with kisses. His hands moving under your shirt pushing the fabric up your body. With one swift movement, you get rid of the shirt, now laying in front of him in your bra and shorts.

The way Harrison is looking at you makes shivers run down your spine. 

“You’re so fucking sexy, Y/N,” Harrison mumbles, his fingertips trailing over your newly exposed skin. Arching your back, you push yourself closer to him, your need to feel him reaching a new high. 

As soon as Harrison’s taken off his shirt, you run your hands over his toned torso until you reach the waistband of his grey sweatpants. He tenses for a second and lets out a shuddering breath when you tease your fingers under the fabric. You need to bite your lip to keep in the giggle that’s threatening to fall from your lips at his reaction. You never thought he’d be this responsive to your touch. 

While Harrison leans down to nip at the soft skin of your neck and collarbones you reach into his boxers and wrap your hand around his cock. Harrison lets out a low groan, his hot breath hitting your skin.

He’s hard and heavy in your hand, and the thought of him inside of you again makes warmth pool between your legs. Harrison curses when you slowly start to stroke him. He rests his forehead against your shoulder as if to collect himself, his soft curls tickling your skin. 

And then he lifts himself up enough so he can look at you, his eyes dark. 

“You sure about this?” A tiny voice in your head is aware that sleeping with Harrison again, this time sober, is crossing a line that can’t be uncrossed. But haven’t you already crossed that line last week when you told him to fuck you? Right now, you don’t want to think about that, though. All you want is him.

Your mind is quickly distracted from all of these thoughts when you take in the sight of Harrison on top of you, and you nod eagerly.

“Yes. I need you.” As if to emphasise your words you tighten your hand around him a bit, making Harrison groan.

“Fuck” 

You let go of his cock and place your hands on his chest “Are you sure about this?” As much as you want this right now, you won’t do anything he isn’t willing to do. You don’t want him to feel pressured just because you need a release, and you need it from him.

“Yes. Fuck yes. Just… gimme a second or I’ll cum way too soon” He lets out a strained laugh and you can’t help but chuckle as well. While Harrison hovers above you, you bury your hands in his hair, slightly scratching his skull with your fingertips, causing him to let out a low moan. It’s not the first time you’re doing this. Whenever you feel like he’s stressed or upset about something it’s a sure way to make him feel better.

“I love it when you do that.” He hums before leaning down to bury his face in the crook of your neck. 

He starts placing kisses on your neck, his hands moving back between your legs. Your hips buck up the moment his fingers touch your clit. 

“I think a second is over” You pant out while he draws lazy circles on your sensitive bud. You can already feel the coil in your stomach tightening again. 

Harrison lets out a laugh before pulling his hands away to take off your shorts.

It doesn’t take long for both of you to completely undress and him to put on a condom and then he’s positioned between your legs.

You run your hands over his arms, his biceps bulging as he hovers over you. Has he always been this muscular? 

You have no time to further think about that because in the next moment he’s placing his hand on the back of your knee, spreading your legs wider before lining up his cock and pushing into you. 

You throw your head back at the feeling of finally being filled again, digging your fingertips into his back as he bottoms out. 

“You feel so good.” He murmurs and then starts rolling his hips into you. One of his hands is holding your hip as he picks up his pace. 

“Fuck, I love your cock.” You mewl out, causing Harrison to chuckle darkly.

“I know you do. The way your pussy was dripping just at the thought of it spoke for itself” 

Your walls tighten around him at his words and you arch your back, spreading your legs further. 

“I wanna ride you.” You say, and it only takes Harrison a few seconds to react. He pulls out of you and easily rolls over so you’re on top of him.

Harrison’s hands are on your hips, helping you balance as you sink down onto him, before moving to your waist as you try to find the best angle for yourself.  

You gasp when the head of his cock strokes a particularly sensitive spot and, just like last time, your reaction doesn’t go unnoticed by Harrison. His face breaks out into a smile and his hands cup your breasts, playing with your nipples. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you groan.

You feel the tingling sensation start to spread through your body, getting more intense with each of your thrusts.

“I’m close” 

“Yeah? Need me to make you cum?” He has the nerve to smirk up at you, his curls falling into his flushed face. You can’t help but notice how beautiful he is like this. He would be even more beautiful if he wasn’t being such a tease right now, though. 

“Yeah, I’d appreciate it” You grind out. It’s not like you couldn’t take matters into your own hands (literally) but you know Harrison is able to take you there. If he can do it drunk he shouldn’t have a problem sober. Hell, he did it earlier on the couch. And you’re going to take advantage of someone else making you cum for a change. Who knows when you’re going to get the chance again? 

“I’d love to watch you make yourself cum while riding my dick, though.” He grins. When you glare at him he bites his lip and returns his hands to your hips. “Maybe another time.” 

And then he tightens his grip on you, holding you in place as he starts thrusting up into you, still at the perfect angle. You have to place your hands on his chest to support yourself as he pumps into you, your tits bouncing with every movement and then suddenly he wraps his lips around one of your nipples.

Your mouth falls open in a silent cry, you’re only seconds from finally being pushed over the edge. And then his finger finds your clit and you’re done for. 

Words that don’t even make sense fall from your lips and you just barely notice Harrison’s words.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking sexy like that. Coming around my cock.” His words are strained as he keeps fucking into you, chasing his own release “Look at you. So good. Fuck.” 

And then you feel him twitch inside you before he releases into the condom with a guttural moan. 

Spent, you fall onto his chest. Both of you breathing heavily. After a few moments of catching your breath, you pull off him and let yourself fall next to him. 

“So, that happened again.” You say, staring at the ceiling while Harrison disposes of the condom. Now that the fog of desire has lifted and you can think, more or less, clearly again, you realise that this was probably not the smartest thing to do. 

Harrison lets out a chuckle as he joins you back on the bed. He’s laying on his side, his head propped up on his hand. 

“It did. How are you feeling about it?” 

You turn on your side as well to face him. 

“Not to blow up your ego or anything but I don’t remember the last time I’ve had sex that amazing.” 

“You don’t remember last week?” There’s a smirk on his face, so, with a roll of your eyes, you throw a pillow at him. 

“I remember.” You narrow your eyes at him. “But I mean before that. It’s been so long.”

“Yeah, same.” 

You never thought you’d find yourself in bed with Harrison. Have you thought about it? Yes. But you never thought it would actually happen. Let alone twice. And you never in your wildest dreams would’ve thought you’d be so… compatible? Even in long-term relationships you had in the past, it took a while for you and your partner to get to know each other's bodies. 

But with Harrison, it seems like everything just comes naturally. Your bodies so in tune that it just works. 

An idea starts forming in your head. 

“What are you thinking so hard about?” Harrison is your best friend for a reason. Sometimes, he can read you like a book.

You bite your lip. “I don’t know. You might think it’s stupid.” 

“I won’t think it’s stupid.” He pauses for a moment. “OK, maybe I will, but I promise not to laugh.” 

“That’s not really reassuring.”

“I’m sorry.” He smiles. “Please tell me.” 

You play with your fingers, plucking up the courage to tell him. 

“So we both agree that the sex is good, right?" Harrison nods. "And we both don’t really have the time or want to, like, hook up with random people, right?" Another nod from Harrison. "So wouldn’t it be… convenient if we—“ You wave your hand between the two of you.

“If we—?” He raises his eyebrows. He’s gonna make you say it, isn’t he?

“Sleep with each other. A friends with benefits agreement if you will. No strings attached. No obligations.”

“Just sex?”

“Just sex.” 

You hold your breath waiting for Harrison's answer.

A/N: Oooh, what will Harrison’s response be? I think we all know lmao. I hope you liked it! I’d love to hear your thoughts! 

electric love taglist: @blueraindrops​ // @spideyssunshine​ // @defensive_sarcasm17 // @captainbucky13​ // @frenchfrostpudding // @the-fan-18​ // @hotforharrison​ // @osterfieldvol6​ // @castawayclaires // @littlebookbengal​ // @bigbootyjudys-blog​ // @abcxrandomx // @74limelight​ // @lolooo22​ // @justsayk​ // @mountainsforwords​ // @t-hollanderr​

everything taglist: @spidermanlondon​ // @duskholland​ // @tutuabby28​ // @missevrythingg​ // @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh​ // @thenoddingbunny-blog​ // @emilykjh​ // @clara-licht​ // @hollandfanficlove​ // @calltothewild​ // @crybabyalexxx​ // @hazardosterfield​ // @calsthomas​ // @quaksonhehe​ // @sinisterspidey​ // @thirzaholland // @tombrina​ // @outshineallthestars​ // @serendipitous-amor​ // @soincredible​ // @trustfundparker​ // @writertoo18​ // @viagracex​ // @skamlover200​ // @wonderlandfandomkingdom​ // @wehavetomakeourheartssitstill​ // @thearchersupremacy​ // @itstaskeen​ // @camimndess​ // @allyz​ // @technosoot​ // @fanficscuziranout​ // @parker-hollandx // @givebuckyhisplumsnow​ // @dangerouslovefanfic​ // @ertherealrose​ // @i-married-a-pineapple // @miraclesoflove​ // @bi-girlwrites-2000​ // @seasidetom​ // @katcontrreras​ // * * // @fallingforfics​ // @destinedbooklover // @parkerpeter24​ // @selfcarecap​ // @moonphoric // @just-a-littlebit-of-everything​ // @emistrash​ // @badreputationlove​ // @turtoix​ // @haloxmendes​ // @anjalika03​ // @iamsherloki-wholocked​ // @the-fan-18​ // @white-wolf1940​ // @aidinniram​  // @heyhihellowhatsup0​ // @blackbat2020​ // @keithseabrook27​ // @annathesillyfriend​ // @hoodpankow​ // @practicallylivesonline​ // @keithseabrook27​ // @millennial-teenybopper​ // @beautifulrose0809​ // @parachutepanties​ // @jamiealenaa​ // @hallecarey1​

harrison osterfield taglist: @hjoficrecs​ // @lolychu​ // @hazardosterfield​ // @hollandbroz-n-haz​ // @emilyg453​

series taglist: @softholand​ // @svturtles​ // @cloverrover​ // @goodgirlgonetom // @justafangirlduh​ // @thegirlwiththediary​ // @beyond-the-ashes​ // @parkerbunny​ // @bearsbeetsbarnes​ // @keithseabrook27​

[anonquack]

| History |

Alex Quackity x Reader, Oneshot!

Word Count: 5047

Warnings: None! Just some curse words.

Summary: Breakups hurt. Confrontations hurt. Separation hurts. But when it feels like all is ending, you and Alex always find a way to make things work. [Angst -> Fluff]

After a loud plop of a box against the floor, you brought your hand up to wipe away the sweat that was now resting on your forehead. Yuck.

In an effort to avoid letting your thoughts take over and throw you into a spiral of regret and sadness, you had been cleaning and reorganizing your room. You took this moment to look around, eyes scouting every inch of the room in search for something you could've possibly missed.

The room looked almost spotless at this point. The box you had just plopped down onto the floor contained a lot of the stuff you planned on throwing away. Everything else had been dusted, thoroughly cleaned and placed back where it belonged. Looking at your organized, comfy, bed made you realize just how tired you felt at this very moment.

But there was no time to rest. Rest meant time to think about what had happened. Time to think about what had been lost.

You let out a small sigh as you walked over to the untouched part of your room; the closet. This part didn't necessarily have to be organized, since no one would come into the room and specifically open up the closet. But at this very moment, your brain was telling you to clean EVERYTHING in this room.

As soon as you opened the door to the closet, your eyes landed on an item you did not want to see right now. As your eyes continued to roam across all the clothes on the hangers, it started to dawn on you that this might've been a bad idea. Maybe cleaning closets really wasn't necessary.

There were multiple of Alex's hoodies on the hangers, all looking as comfy and cozy as ever, but at this moment they didn't bring that comfort and happiness they usually would. Rather, they brought back all those painful thoughts you'd been trying to avoid.

You gently bit at your lip, slightly frustrated since you'd been 'doing well', cleaning and trying your hardest not to let your thoughts roam.

Your stubbornness to not rest and keep cleaning had been your own demise.

You weren't really sure what to do. Part of you wanted to take one of the hoodies off its hanger, put it on, and crawl into bed. The rational part of you knew you should probably return these to him. You had no business having these in your room anymore.

That thought alone made your stomach twist and turn. It really was over. These past few days had felt like an absolute nightmare, but at the end of the day it was reality. You and Alex had actually broken up. It was all history now.

You reached into the closet, grabbing all the hoodies and placing them onto the chair near your bed. They were a problem for another time. The closet was going to be your distraction for now. You'd avoid facing reality for just a little longer as you organized the shirts and sweaters in your closet.

—

It sucked. Not having anything to do, having nothing to serve as a distraction from the fact that Alex would no longer be a part of your life. You were now sitting on your bed, playing with the strings on the hoodie, remembering how these looked on him.

They fit him so well, some fit loosely against his figure, others fit just right, showing off his toned figure. You vividly remembered how the material of the hoodie had felt whenever he wrapped his arms around you, whenever you would hug him and just snuggle your face close to him, looking for a source of heat.

The memories of how you acquired these hoodies also came flooding back. Some had been him noticing it was cold out and you lacking common sense to bring a sweater to keep yourself warm. Him pulling off the hoodie and handing it to you, the way his cheeks turned red as you thanked him, his eyes narrowing and telling you it wasn't that big of a deal.

Other times you'd directly ask to borrow his hoodie. One that smelled like him just in case he couldn't visit or hang out in the near future and you were in dying need of his affection.

You wondered whether these hoodies might still smell like him. As weird as it might've looked, you were now on your bed, bringing the hoodies up to your face and holding it close, snuggling your ex's damn hoodie to see if it still smelled like him. It was so fucking stupid. It was over.

You set the hoodie down as you felt your eyes water. Not because of sadness, but irritation towards yourself. You'd already spent days crying your eyes out over the breakup, and yet here you were again. There had been progress made already, and now it felt like you were back in square one just because of some fucking hoodies. Cloth.

You gently pinched the bridge of your nose as you took a moment to recollect your thoughts. You'd return the hoodies, and be done with him once and for all.

Picking up your phone and pressing onto his contact, your message history flashed onto the screen. Old messages were spilling all over, making a mess of you all over again. Not what you wanted at all. You'd wanted to delete his contact number and erase the messages, but hadn't been able to bring yourself to do it.

And now, once again, you were dealing with the consequences of being unable to let go. You tried to ignore the old conversations that were on display, instead pulling up the keyboard and typing up a civil message to send.

y/n found some of your hoodies at my place. mind if i give them back?

You felt an uncomfortable feeling settle in your stomach as you waited for the message to deliver, waited for any sign that he might've read it. Waited to see if he would even answer. Maybe he didn't want them back. Maybe part of you hoped you'd at least get to keep something of his, something that made your relationship with him feel real. Made it feel like it indeed happened and wasn't just a part of your imagination. Part of you didn't want it to officially come to an end.

Giving away the last thing of his you had meant officially putting an end to this. Whatever the fuck you had with him. You hadn't even noticed you were biting at your nails until the loud ding brought you back into present time.

alex sounds good. where would you want to meet?

It was starting to feel real. The split was at hand's length away. Meeting him to hand the hoodies over solidified the end.

y/n maybe the library? its near both of our dorms.

alex alright. see you in 20?

y/n yea.

Such simple discourse was already eating at you. This wasn't him. But that was to be expected. You weren't his anymore and he wasn't yours. Nothing would ever be how it was.

Even with that realization, you still looked at yourself in the mirror, checking to see if there was any signs that you'd been crying, or just you looking like shit overall. A few glances and strokes to the hair and you were ready to go, the small stack of hoodies resting on your arm as you walked out of your dorm room. To officially end things.

—

As you walked towards the library, you noticed it was rather quiet. Nobody was out and about at this time, it was peaceful. It gave you a moment to really reflect on all that had taken place. What had lead to you being here, on your way to officially cut all ties with Alex.

It had been a misunderstanding, really. Something that was going to happen eventually. Being college students with different majors and goals was challenging enough. But balancing the giant workloads and quality time with your partner had proven to be difficult for him, and perhaps even you too. There was effort being made in the beginning, but recently it had just not been the same. Perhaps things change, feelings change, but it didn't change the fact that it hurt.

After a few confrontations and harsh arguments, he had stated that he didn't want to be in a relationship if it meant that attention was required of him this often. He admitted it felt like a chore recently, having all his school work and also having you to deal with, especially when you got confrontational.

It had been heartbreaking hearing him say that you were the reason for his recent headaches and that he no longer was enjoying the aspect of a relationship. He wanted space, he wanted to have a moment where he could do absolutely nothing. Not have to worry about another individual's feelings. It was valid, and you had agreed that it would be best if you two just broke up. Clearly if you two weren't going to be happy, it was better to just end it.

You really couldn't blame or hate him. He was studying law, and you could only imagine how stressful and difficult it must be. And to have to worry about a relationship on top of that must've been hellish.

You couldn't shake off the memories though, all the great parts of your relationship. You struggled too. You had homework too, but he was the highlight of your college experience.

Even if you were drowning in homework, you knew you could waltz into Alex's dorm and just cuddle with him for a bit. You knew he would walk into your room any second of the day just to declare you two were going to take a break from studying to go eat at this place he'd found near the university. He was the light that shined brightly and took you out of the holes you dug yourself into when you worked too hard and barely had time to take care of yourself.

You thought you had the same effects on him, but instead you were draining him of energy. The hangouts and time spent wasn't a nice break for him, it was a chore. It was something he felt obligated to do.

You shook the thoughts away as you noticed the library getting closer and closer. Once you got there, you walked in and headed to where you knew he might be waiting, or where he'd know to go if you were the first to arrive.

Fortunately for you, he still wasn't here, so you simply took a seat and looked around the library. You could feel the guilt settling in your stomach. Perhaps this felt like a chore as well, having to come all the way out here to meet with you, just to get some hoodies you could've dropped off at his dorm. 0 interaction needed.

The small bell rang, notifying everyone inside that the front door had been opened. This was it. He was here. You held your breath as you waited to see Alex, if it even was him who had just gotten here.

Surely, it was. He was wearing these black sweatpants, a white baggy shirt, and his beanie that neatly tucked away the strands of hair that would usually hide his facial features. He looked good, to say the least.

You watched as his eyes scanned the room, looking for you. Once his eyes finally met yours, you felt your breath hitch in anticipation as his brown eyes finally met yours for the first time in about a week or two. It was so nice seeing him again, it felt right, but this was most likely your last time meeting with him.

You watched as he walked over to you, a small, polite smile on your lips as he came closer and closer. Once he was finally standing in front of you, a small, "Hi-" slipped out, which you instantly regretted. It sounded so pathetic.

"Hi." He replied calmly as he took the seat across from where you had been sitting.

He actually sat down. This meant he was planning on sticking around for a bit, right? If he wanted to leave right away, he would've stood, extended his hand out to show that he wanted you to hand him the hoodies. But here he was now, sitting in the chair across from you.

Usually when you two came to the library, he was seated beside you, arm wrapped around your waist as you two scanned a textbook of a shared electives class or both did your own studying. It was always so peaceful and actually allowed you to focus on what you were studying. His presence was so good for you, but it was recently made clear the feeling wasn't mutual.

Right.

You cleared your throat, not ready to hand over the hoodies just yet. "How have you been..?" You asked, trying to maintain a calm tone.

It might've been stupid to try and make conversation with him, but you were hanging on by a thread. You'd risk it, push your luck until the thread snapped and disintegrated in your own hands.

"I've been.. alright. You?" He hesitated to answer, and was currently avoiding eye contact, staring down at the table and then your hands that were placed on top of the hoodie stack.

"I've been okay. Big change to get used to." You admitted, a small chuckle escaping your lips. It was not a laughing matter at all, but you couldn't help it, especially since you were feeling rather nervous.

"It is a big change." He admitted as well, finally looking up to meet your gaze. The eye contact broke your heart. Usually looking into his brown eyes would heal any and every scar that may appear on your heart, patch up anything that may be breaking, but now it was these brown eyes that were killing you and breaking you apart.

It was now your turn to look away, settling your gaze on the strings of the hoodie, hands playing with them absent-mindedly.

The soft fabric against your finger tips reminded you why you were here in the first place, making you finally look up at him again. You were surprised to see that his gaze was already on you. Although your eyes widened slightly, you quickly brought them back to normal and cleared your throat, pushing the hoodies forward and towards him.

"Found these in my closet and figured you might want them back. They've been washed." You clarified towards the end as you watched him take hold of them.

And that's when it was official. They were now under his possession again, not yours. The hoodies were no longer yours, he was not yours. You could feel the lump forming in your throat at the thought, and figured it wasn't a good idea to be at this library for even a second longer.

You watched as he looked down at the hoodie stack that he was now holding. It seemed like there was something he wanted to say, yet was clearly holding back. It was a horrible sight to see. You knew you'd be thinking about this gaze, the words his eyes screamed, the words he failed to verbally say now. It would eat at you during late nights in the near future.

—

Now that the hoodies were in his hands, he realized just how real the breakup was. He hadn't been doing too well himself, beating himself up for reacting that way, for lashing out on you that way. For saying things he hadn't meant, and had only said because he was stressed out and in serious need of space. That was all it was.

And now here he was, sat in front of his ex, receiving the hoodies he had gladly gave them. He remembered when he handed each of these, what the occasion was and how cute you'd looked once you'd put it on. The pride that had filled his chest at the sight of you in his hoodie. How lovesick he'd felt whenever you came to his dorm with his hoodie on, when you wore it out in public and let everyone know that you were indeed taken. By Alex himself.

And now here he was. You couldn't even look at him for a few seconds without having to tear your eyes away. He wondered if you had cried just as much as he had, if you had blamed yourself or called yourself clingy, annoying, the worst of the worst because of the horrible things he had said to you. All things which he greatly regrets now.

When he had walked into the library, he'd spotted you almost instantly, sat at the table where you two would usually study, looking as cozy as ever. If he hadn't fucked up so badly, he would've walked over, wrapped his arms around you and left the softest kiss on your lips, maybe one on your jaw as well as he mumbled "hi baby," against your skin. The laugh that might've escaped your lips at his words and actions, the fact that he can't experience that anymore because he fucked up. It was killing him.

He knew that any second now, you'd stand up and walk out of his life permanently, and there'd be nothing for him to do about it. He'd already caused enough damage with the bullshit he had spewed just a week ago. He couldn't ask anything of you. Not a second chance, not a moment of your time so he could explain that he didn't want to lose you. That he had just been stressed and taken it out on you, tried to blame it all on one person rather than just taking a step back and thinking things through. Admit that he had fucked up. It would be extremely selfish of him to fuck up in the way that he did and then ask for you to forgive him. He just couldn't do it.

He wondered if you could tell how awful he'd been doing. Was it obvious that he hadn't slept? Too busy replaying the scene where he had broken your heart over and over again as he lay in bed, avoiding any and all responsibilities. When you'd reached out to him, he had been laying in bed, quickly getting out and trying to look as composed and not like he'd been feeling like absolute shit this whole past week.

But now he was sitting across from you and the hoodies were in his hands. The exchange had been successful and there was now no business for you to be here. Any second now, you'd stand up and leave him here. For real this time. He wouldn't get to see the way you smiled with your eyes, wouldn't be able to hear nor cause your wonderful laugh. Wouldn't be able to hold you close whenever he pleased, wouldn't be able to kiss you as many times as he wanted. Wouldn't be able to whisper secrets to you as you two lay in bed at 3 in the morning.

No. He had lost those privileges a week ago, as soon as those horrible words left his mouth.

The sound of you clearing your throat brought him back to his senses, along with the sound of the chair scraping against the floor. He quickly looked up, catching the words that were slipping past your lips.

"Well, now that you have your hoodies, I should probably head back to my dorm now." You said softly, an awkward smile on your lips. It was clear you weren't necessarily sure how to say goodbye. He wasn't either.

His thoughts were racing at a million miles per hour in his poor brain, your moves were almost in slow motion in front of him as he panicked and tried to figure out what to do for you to stay.

No matter how many times he had lied to himself and told himself that he would be fine with you finally walking out of his life, it was exactly that. A lie. He wasn't ready. He wouldn't ever be ready to lose such a wonderful person that had walked in and changed his life for the better. Not at least without explaining himself. Asking for a second chance, as selfish as that might've been.

As he stood to his feet, the loud scraping of the chair against the floor caught everyone around you two off guard, especially you as you almost bumped into his chest as he suddenly blocked the path with his body.

"Y/N." He said, almost breathless. Your eyes were wide in confusion at the new barricade that stood between you and the door.

"I-I'm sorry." He finally said. Even if it was just two words, he already felt much better. He wanted you to know, to know that he was indeed sorry for ever saying such horrible things to you.

The shock in your face was evident, your mouth opening and closing slightly, truly at a loss for words. He took this as a sign to continue.

"I'm sorry for the things I said to you that day. They really weren't true. I was just– so stressed and I needed to take that out on someone. And you questioning me and asking why I'd grown distant just pushed me over the edge and I snapped at you. But I didn't mean a single word I said. I love you so much, Y/N. I couldn't fucking live with myself this past week, it's been eating me alive, the fact that I said those horrible things to you. You that could never do harm, you that has helped me so much throughout the years I've known you, whether it be as a friend or as my lover." He paused, it was so clear he was suffering from a severe case of word vomit, and people were staring now.

Your eyes had softened slightly as you listened to his word vomit, but you were cautious, it was evident to him. Your stance said it all. You looked around for a bit before letting out a small sigh.

"Not here, Alex. This is a library. Why don't we go talk somewhere else?" You offered softly, gaze way softer now, almost as if you were being cautious of the state he was currently in, scared he'd fall apart any second now. He silently nodded, leading the way out of the library with you quietly following behind him.

—

Your heart was beating rapidly against your ribcage, unable to truly process what the hell had just happened. Was that real? Did it really happen? Or was this a cruel joke, and soon you'd wake up on your bed, clutching one of his hoodies tightly to your chest.

You were walking behind him as he lead the way out of the library. You replayed the words in your head, unable to grasp that he had actually apologized.

You had gotten up to leave, saying your final goodbyes to him, and that was what lead him to crack. He had stood up quickly to block your path, and had began to spill his apologies, explaining how he's been a mess and feels horrible about the things he had said. He hadn't meant it. You weren't a bother. The relationship wasn't a chore. He perhaps still wanted you.

You had mixed feelings about all of this, especially considering the pain he'd put you through this entire week. But you also were obviously not ready to throw away a relationship that had lasted this long, and that had been going so well up until last week, when he presumably accidentally took it all out on you.

You were brought back to reality as he stopped walking and turned to look at you. He had lead you two to a coffee shop, one that you two frequently visited. Not for the coffee, but for the pastries and other drinks they sold, all quite delicious and a perfect breakfast for when you both were running late.

You looked at him as he opened the door for you to walk in. As you walked in, you were immediately hit with the smell of the freshly baked pastries. He then asked if you could sit while he ordered.

It didn't take long before he was back, with the usual orders you both got from here. It was touching, and probably an effort from him to patch things up. You thanked him for the drink and delicious smelling pastry before taking a small sip, awkwardly seated as you waited for him to speak again, attempt to explain himself further.

When he realized you were just waiting on him now, he cleared his throat. "Y/N, I'm really sorry. I hope I didn't make a scene or anything at the library. It was just, kind of a desperate last minute attempt to fix things between us."

Us. Us. It left a savory taste on your tongue. It felt right. Yes, Alex, us. You and I. That's how it's supposed to be.

You shook your head, "Nono. It's not that. It just- caught me off guard obviously, and well, I didn't want you to get in trouble for speaking a bit loudly, at the library."

He smiled, a small chuckle leaving his lips at the slight teasing tone at the end of your sentence. God, you had missed his laugh so much over the past week. It always managed to cheer you up no matter how bad things were.

"So uh, I'm sorry once again, Y/N. I know what I did was shitty, I've been beating myself up for it this entire past week. And even if you don't accept this apology and you want nothing to do with me after this, I just need you to know that I could never ever mean the things I said. You mean so much to me, and I just- I fucked up big time. You're not a chore at all. In fact, you make my life better, but it just took me so long to realize just how much you've positively changed my life. I'm so sorry for being distant. It's school, I promise. It's not because I don't love you anymore or anything. It's impossible for me to not love you, I hope you know that–" He paused to take a moment to breathe. He had just dumped all of this information onto them again. But he was just so scared that you'd up and leave any second now. He had to let it all out before it even came down to that.

"It- it was a bit of an overload, regarding information." You said once you realized he was waiting for a response. "It might take me a while to think about this. I mean, what you said really hurt me, Alex." You confessed, watching as his expression saddened, it was obvious he regret it. Everything he had said. "Don't get me wrong, I still love you, so so so much. Words cannot explain." You said, hand shyly reaching out to grab his. He responded almost instantly, fingers interlacing with your own. His hands were warm, against your own. You'd missed his warmth so much, and finally having it, even if just for a few seconds was sending you over the moon.

His grip on your hand was tight, but not tight where it hurt. It was tight, as if he was trying to prove to himself that you were real, that you were really insinuating that you'd give him a second chance. And honestly? Of course you would. This man meant the absolute world to you. And you understood where he was coming from, why he'd done what he did. It didn't take away the fact that it hurt, but you understood him, and would forgive him, eventually.

"I love you too." He said softly, gaze meeting yours as he smiled softly. "Take as much time as you need. I really am sorry, I'll never stop being sorry for the horrible shit I said. But no matter the outcome, I'll accept it."

His words meant the world to you. Even if you knew you'd accept his apology soon, it still meant so much that he just wanted you to know he meant what he was saying, even if you decided to leave forever.

"Thank you, Alex." You said with a small smile, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, trying to tell yourself as well that this was real. You felt him squeeze your hand back gently as well, and smiled slightly bigger at the memory that he did this whenever he wanted to reassure you about something. You really did love this man.

The day had started off with attempts to forget the very man you were currently holding hands with, attempting to get rid of every trace he had in your life in attempts to heal, attempts to move on. But he had stopped it all. He had apologized, admitted to the horrible week he's had, admitted to his faults, and was willing to accept if you no longer wanted him in your life.

But how could you ever wish that in regards to Alex? The one that brought sunshine into your life, the one that made everything better just by being himself.

Things were going to get better from here on out. Alex apologizing and stopping either of you from leaving each other's lives was a clear sign of that. From now on, you wouldn't allow such atrocities to take place either. You two would work on this.

As you stared at Alex who sat across from you, you couldn't help but smile at the possibility of having him back. Having everything go back to normal. It was clear he was thinking the same, as he gave your hand a gentle squeeze and smiled at you so brightly, almost bright enough to leave you sunburnt. Alex was sticking around, and so were you.

Maybe you wouldn't have to give the hoodies back after all.

[xavadak3davrax]

Crisis of lust /George Weasley

Lawyer!George

Summary: Fred and George are the most powerful lawyers England has seen in years and y/n is fresh out of college and looking for a place to do her internship. What happens when George decides to hire her? A lot of things.

Warnings: Smut (18+), daddy kink, dom/sub (Dom George) and if you squint very much dom y/n for mere seconds. Spanking, female receiving oral, male receiving oral, unprotected sex (because somehow I find that hot lol).  There’s angst and fluff and mentions of things such as anxiety and more sad moments but nothing extreme!

a/n: this is lawyer George, it’s 11.7 k words. I got carried away and ended up making this in only one part aha. As always English in not my first language, any mistakes or wrongly worded phrases, please excuse me. Titles are not my thing so yeah this is just horrendous. As a lot of people around tumblr say: don’t be shy, reblog! Thank you so much to everyone who even takes time to read my stuff. Love you all!

⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘

Weasley’s Law Firm was the most famous law firm in whole England. They were known for hiring the best of the best. They also got the worse of the cases there is. Fred and George worked extremely hard on those cases and that’s what got them where they are today. Every murder case there was they were the first, people came to.

They had all the knowledge, all the experience, all the fame. Although they started small, they very quickly became who they are today because they are that good. Now both of them only take on the biggest cases and usually they came from very famous people, otherwise they keep themselves busy by taking their firm a step further.

While Fred was busy working on a case from a famous singer who was now being accused of murdering his wife and a whole lot of love affairs in between, George was working on another very important thing.

Interns. Every year their firm hired at least two interns. Becoming an intern for them was extremely difficult, and the skills required were almost never met (reason why they either ended up with one intern, or none at all). The type of work they needed from them was not fetching coffee or take some copies of some documents. They required their help all the time and their knowledge. Last year they had taken two, top of the class and they showed to be so good they recommended them to another very good law firm that took them in that moment. How could they not? Coming from the Weasley Firm they were the best of the best.

This year however things were proven to be a lot more difficult. It looked like anyone wanted to join them, people with so little qualification that George wondered how they even met the requirements to apply to their firm. Universities usually advised certain students, who they knew not to be good, or had the necessary demands, to just not attempt their chance at it.

George’s headache was even stronger now, and it only had been two hours since he started.

“Mate need your help.” Fred’s voice took him out of his trance and made him look at his brother. George nodded and Fred put the documents on his secretary. Pointed with his head towards them and George picked them up and had a look.

“Oh shit.” George said, laughing a little loudly. “She was involved with his assistant. That does make him suspicious. Finds out his wife his sleeping with his assistant, feels betrayed, takes his chance when she’s in the pool, makes it look like an accident.” George looked at his brother who nodded.

“I mean yeah, but to confirm that theory we need acces to the cameras he has displayed around his house. He’s been refusing that since the beginning, told him how that makes him a suspicious and that he should just give us those, since we’re trying to help him not get convicted. Any advice?”

“Ginny is very good with persuasion, maybe we should give her a call? She’s always our best chance.” George suggested, and when Fred widen his eyes, he knew he had had a brilliant idea.

“Yeah thanks mate. I will. By the way still looking for interns?” Fred nodded to the papers in front of him. He had to look through every curriculum.

“Yes, this year is proving to be hard. Everyone thinks they can get in, almost everyone had a bad average grade.” He brough his hands to his red bright hair and pulled at his hard, letting a groan leave his mouth. “Can’t take this shit anymore.”

Fred came around the secretary and leaned down next to him to get a better look at the people he was looking at. All of sudden his hand came to the table and pointed at girl. “Look, she finished top of her class, with 20.” George opened his eyes and looked at where he was pointing.

“How did I miss her?” it came out in a whisper, only because George was a little loss at her beauty. Sure he had seen a lot of beautiful girl applying to his firm, and he had a lot of them working for them, but he never saw anyone like her.

He tried to pull if thought out that. She was no minor, after all she had finished college and was looking for a place to do her internship at, but that didn’t mean it would not be wrong.

“I don’t know, but you did. And let’s look at the rest…” Fred said in a wondering voice his finger coming over the list of names. “You also have, his name is Elias, he’s in the same situation as y/n.” He looked at his brother, then got up from the crouched position he was in. “You were making a big fuss. I mean I clearly understand your point, besides these two no one else is even close. But I found you the interns. I have to do your job and mine.” He joked in the end earning from George a punch in his arm. That made Fred groan.

“Go on about your day asshole, I will take care of the rest. But thanks for the help.” George screamed the last part a little because Fred was already exiting the door and closing her.

So George arranged his secretary so the only things in front of him was y/n’s and Elias resumes and applications so he could read them and actually decide if they were to be hired or not. And if yes proceed to send an email to them to tell them the news.

Some people might think they would prefer to give this job to their secretaries and let them do this. But one year they did that, and ended up with some of the worse people they could find, just didn’t know how to do the simplest of jobs. It might sound mean, but they had a reputation to maintain.

So every year they alternated had to who had this job. This year it had been him. And after an hour of so of reading everything, he did decide to hire them. So he proceed to write their acceptance email.

⚘

y/n was sitting in her sofa, a tub of her favorite ice cream in her hand. She was in her last week of collage (ever) and she was patiently waiting to receive any type of email from the firm she had applied to do her internship.

She would be lying also if she said she hadn’t receive some emails already accepting her. The problem? Well they were all last options, those were she said to herself ‘if I don’t get in it I will need something to cushion the fall’ her mother had told her that expression and it stuck with her to this day.

y/n really, really wanted to work for The Weasleys. They were the best of the best, everyone was racing to get a place in their firm. She wanted to be confident, with her grades how could she not? But she also knew a lot of people were had good has her, she for sure would be competing with the best of the best.

She was close to answering one of the emails of the firms she already got an email from.

She sighed. Looked at the pot of ice cream and then got up to go get her computer. When she had it she came back to the sofa and slumped on the couch and groaned quietly. That stupid horrid anxious feeling coming down on her. Every time for the last few days when she was to open her pc that’s how she felt. That desire to see an email from that firm.

When she opened it for a few seconds she didn’t get any notifications.

“Fucking stupid computer.” She muttered, sometimes her pc didn’t connect to the Wi-Fi and she hated that. Because then she would get millions of notifications that she didn’t get because she wasn’t connected. But it connected a few seconds later and she was flooded with messages.

In between all of those if she wasn’t paying any attention she would’ve missed it, probably deleted it too. The email she was so dreading. She didn’t know how they worked. Did they sent an email if you didn’t get in? or did they just sent if you got in? some firms would do both. Not that y/n had gotten any, every single one was accepting her and very eager to work with her.

With trembling fingers, and her breath caught in her throat she open the email, but closed her eyes quickly before she could read what it said.  

“breath, everything is going to be ok. Even if you don’t get in, you have a lot of other option.” She pepped talked herself, and then after what felt like an eternity to compose herself, opened her eyes and started reading.

Her mouth moved but no sound came out as she read through every word. The words “congratulations” “we’ve accepted you” “we wait for your response for further meetings” making her mind go dizzy. And then a scream left her lips.

“I got in, Oh my god I got in.” She almost threw her computed on the ground from how happy she was. Every night she didn’t sleep, every night out she had denied her friends, every hour in the library and every cent her parents had spent on her was worth it.

Her parents weren’t rich or even close to it, but they had promised her and her siblings that they would pay for their education until they could. When she had entered the best university and the most expensive she told her parents she would find work and pay for everything. They told her no. Her mom and dad found each a second job and payed for it, even finding a small flat in the middle of nowhere but still close to where she attended, for her to stay in. And now, everything they ever did for her was paying of.

After calming herself down she started to formulate a response to the email. And then proceeded to call her parents, steric and with a smile they were sure they could hear and see from the other side of the phone.

⚘

She started today. Although very happy and grateful for the opportunity she couldn’t help but let the nerves consume her. Some money she had money a little while a go from some old clothes she sold, she decided to spent it on a new suit. She didn’t very much like dresses, and skirts. In all the important meetings and presentations she had throughout her years in collage, she always wore suits.

But for her first day on the firm, and to give a good impression she couldn’t just wear one of the old ones. So she bought this black suit. The pants were all black and a little tight and came to rest on her ankles. The jacket of the suit had a little cleavage and was supposed to not be worn with anything underneath. She had only her bra in, one you wouldn’t be able to see. The jacket closed beautifully around her, and made some of the nerves subside. Her confidence radiating all over her. ´

She looked at herself one last time in her mirror and then picked up her purse and rested it on her shoulder.

“You can do this.” y/n murmured as she closed the door of her apartment and made her way to catch the bus. A bus were if her plans were correct, she would arrive 30 minutes earlier, but she didn’t care. She wouldn’t have to get in until the hour they had arranged, but at least she knew she would be there at said hour and not be late on her first day.

Can you imagine, being late on your first fucking day and give her (hopefully) new bosses that impression? They would deny her right then and there and she would not have the chance to show her potential.

As planned she arrived early. Their firm was one of the biggest and modern building in the city so it wasn’t hard to miss. She decided to get herself a little comfort drink while she made the time pass. When only five minutes were left for her interview she entered the firm. Everything was spacious, and very open and they got all the light in here that was possible. She felt small in such a big space. Although taking and studying law, she always had social anxiety. The friends she had were the most amazing people and took her right under their wing and always made her feel safe. She wishes they were here to help her.

“Hi, my name is y/n y/l/n, I’m here for an interview, I-“ her words came a little shaky. She took a deep breath and smiled at the lady behind the big counter, her face had a smile that made y/n a little less nervous.

“You’re here because you are the intern right?” she completed her sentence and then wrote something on her computer. “The other intern is also here. You both will be interviewed at the same time, Mr and Mr Weasley will both be in there to talk you through everything.” She gave her something of a smile. “You can take the lift, they’re in the last floor. Iris, their personal secretary will instruct you when to come in.”

“Thank you so much.” y/n said, bid her good day and then went on her way. When she got to the second floor she was met with a beautiful modern entrance that had some very good looking and comfortable chairs in. In the middle a glass table with some law magazines. ‘of course,’ she thought to herself ‘what else would they have here’ she laughed a little.

She she looked better she found a tall, blonde guy sitting in one of the chairs. The white button down he wore had hugging his muscles very well, y/n might’ve felt drool pulling in her mouth. It only intensified when she looked at his pants and the way they hugged his legs. His black necktie made everything look together. He didn’t wore a jacket that’s why. The jacket was hanging in the arm chair.

“You must be y/n.” he said, getting up from his position to come and greet her. His hand stretched out, the veins in his hands very prominent. She had to put herself together, she was here to work.

“Yes, and you are?” she was a little lost, the lady downstairs hadn’t told her his name, but told him hers.

“Elias, it’s a pleasure.”

“pleasure is all mine.” She smiled.

“The lady at the front told me to wait here, she will call us when they’re ready for us. Do you for any reason know how they look?” He asked quietly trying not to bring attention from the people working in this floor. From what y/n understood, their offices were here, and their secretary was also here but some other people worked here to. Potential important lawyers?

“Ahm… no, not really. Tried to look them up but no photos. Very private aren’t they? Wonder how they do it, being so well known among everyone. Specially famous people.” y/n said when she brought her thoughts to focus on Elias again. She sitting next to him and they chatted for a little, until they were called.

“They will see you now. You can go down the hall, and it’s the last door to your right. It’s the meeting room.” Iris spoke eloquently, and that made y/n and Elias share a worried look before they got on their merry way.

“That made a little nervous, I mean, didn’t expect much less from someone who works with such big people, but… you know what I mean?” Elias spoke, worry in his voice. Not being able to form many words do to her being nervous, y/n just nodded.

“Do the honors.” y/n managed to let out, a small and brief smile on her face. Elias opened the door after knocking and hearing a ‘come in’ from inside.

The table wasn’t full of people but fore sure y/n would have a hard time, until they introduced themselves, knowing who Fred and George were. They had invited other lawyers, she assumed, from their position and all, she had to be. She was now regretting accepting this.

“Please com in and have a seat.” One man with spiky, red hair pointed to the chairs that had y/n’s and Elias name. They proceeded to do just that.

“I’m George, this is my brother Fred, and these are some of our best lawyers. Please don’t be frightened we just like to make sure the interns we are giving a chance have actual potential and are not just ‘grades’, that’s why they are here.”

y/n had to swallow very hard and hope to not be heard. If she was gonna have to work here and look at that all day was she gonna be able to do it? God helped her. If she thought Elias was attractive mere ten minutes ago… what did she thought of these two men, who were clearly twins but somehow had differences that made her more attractive to the one who was speaking.

“We are going to make a series of questions, from all of us and see how you answer and handle very specific situations. “ It was Fred speaking, he held what she expected to be a smile on his face, while his brother had a way more serious demeanor.

They nodded, not knowing if they should speak or not. George held his eye on the girl slightly longer than he did on Elias. She was more beautiful here than in the picture she had presented in her portfolio.  How could he handle that? And if they kept her she was to work on their floor all the time? He needed to control himself, now.

The questions started and they alternated between y/n and the boy next to her, making sure the majority of the questions were different for both of them, to actually see their potential and not some copy of the others answer.

When it ended y/n felt like her heart could be heard by everyone around her and that it would come out of her chest. She didn’t have a very good perspective on things, in a way, if they were good or bad. So she didn’t know if she had done a good job, the faces everyone had at the table didn’t help a little.

Elias gave her a look, a reassuring one. And under the table, like they’ve knew each other for years he squeezed her hand gently.

“I think you both did an amazing job, I think everyone agrees?” Fred gave a questioning look around, starting at his brother and then to their co-workers. Everyone was nodding. “So I think this is all, you are hired as our interns.”

She could scream again, like she did when she had gotten the email saying she was accepted. But she controlled herself. Gave Elias hand a squeeze back and when everyone got up they both followed them.

“I think my brother will now sort with you both every last detail. I won’t be present mainly because I have an import case to work on, but we trusted each other with our lives. So you won’t miss me.” Fred tried to loosen the mood with a small inexistent joke.

Everyone started to leave and only left George, y/n and Elias there.

“If you would follow me please, my office will be a bit more comfortable than these chairs.” He passed through them and like lost puppies they followed to his office.

They spent hours talking about everything. George wanted them to be on the same page, and following everything precisely. y/n tried her best to memorize every word he said, but it started to get harder when after a while George felt bored of his position and dragged his chair away from his desk and then crossed his right leg over his left knee, leaving him in a powerful and extremely hot position that made y/n have to cross her legs and try to be as discreet as possible while trying to alleviate some of the pressure she had.

Why was she acting like a stupid teenager? For heavens sake, this was her work place, that was her boss, and she should not even thinking about him as other than that. But when his hands came to rest on his crotch her attention switched to the very prominent bulge he presented. Her eyes were not there for even a minute, but she still felt guilty when she looked up to see him looking at her. She looked away fast. He continued with what he was saying.

y/n hoped Elias was oblivious to the situation.

After while George got himself of that position and looked at both of them.

“This is everything, if for any reason something comes up you can always ask Iris, or any other thing, email me or my brother or ask Iris to speak with us. Right?”

He popped his tong and proceeded to get up when everything was settled.

⚘

Their first official day started the next day. And then after that is was smooth sail for a while. y/n helped Fred a lot in his cases and he loved how she was just so vibrant to have around. Took him a while to get her out of her shell, to show her she could treat him as a friend rather then her boss. He felt like he somehow could trust her a lot and when they were very concentrated on a job and they were both tired he would tell her bits and pieces of his life. Usually about his girlfriend Angelina and how they’ve been tighter for years and he is thinking of proposing. Or how he feels old and wished he could be an intern all over again. To which y/n would say:

“Aren’t you considered the youngest and most successful lawyer of all time?” Those were facts, Fred and George were in fact all of that. At twenty five they had a massive empire, that they built from scratch and with only the help of a very few close ones.

He would share small details of his childhood, of him and George. Usually those gave y/n some hope that George would one day be to her what Fred was to her. But until now all she got from him were small short and cold answers from anything she was working on. Usually Fred asked her to go bribe them out of him. Elias was the one who worked more closely to George and even him was usually in other lawyers offices doing close work with them.

“George is stubborn and weird sometimes. He always loves to work with you lot, I don’t understand why this year is different.” Fred stated, looking at y/n for a moment and shrugging when he couldn’t find an answer to it.

“Mister knows everything and everything needs some closure, is now left speechless.” y/n joked and they both laughed a little loud. His office door open because the case they were working on required y/n to leave all the time in search for answers. They didn’t notice George at the door.

He cleared his throat. Fred looked at him, and y/n that on the other side of the desk, back to George turned around to also look.

“Elias is sick and had to go home, I have come important matters to take care of, would it be a nuisance if y/n could do it?” She noticed he spoke more to his borther than to her.

“Sure, what she was doing can continue tomorrow or whenever Elias comes back. Right y/n?”

“Yes of course. Mr. Weasley you just have to show me what to do.” She got up and showed herself ready to work. After her first day her clothes were a little bit more casual, but she still wore pants, but George still had dificlty in not imagining those beautiful legs wrapped around his head.

‘Get your head out of your gutter George’ he always thought to himself when these thoughts came, ‘she’s young, and working for you.’

“Yes, come with me.” He instructed and turned around to leave. y/n waved to Fred and closed the door after she left. She knew her work with him wasn’t nearly done, but without Elias she would have to split herself in two and help both of them. Since Fred always had her help, he would have to to what he could for the time being without her.

“We have to through all these voice messages, the case calls for it and four ears are better than just two.” His voice was always so serious how could he work like this? Elias never complained to y/n on their lunch break or when they decided to do something outside work, that almost always ended up in work talk. They just didn’t have much in common besides that.

“yes sure, can you give me paper and pen or a pencil will do just fine.” George gave her a puzzled look “Well with Mr. Weasley every time there’s voice calls or something we take notes to pin point important stuff.” George knew that by Mr. Weasley she meant Fred but she knew that outside she called him Fred, they were that close. She had only ever heard Mr. Weasley came out of her mouth when it was related to him.

“Yeah you’re totally right. Here. Have this.” He gave her the notebook in front of him, the one that had all the important notes on the case. She sat down on the chair in the same place of Fred’s office and waited for him to start the audios.

She placed her head on her hand, and her elbow was resting on the desk. She looked at George who just started the audios and the tried to concentrate. Silently throughout all the time she was there she took many notes, George was a little taken aback, what was he missing that she clearly wasn’t, when it ended she looked at him. He barely had time to start something because she started first.

“So according to the first call, the lady in question didn’t know the person on the other side, but that person knew her very well, otherwise how could they be so sure of such personal information. The thing was she wasn’t paying attention and didn’t notice any of the signs of what was to come.” y/n started, and when she continued talking and demonstrated so well everything he didn’t dare to interrupt her. Although by the end he knew the girl in front of him has just solved him the case. He was also a little embarrassed because some of his notes were not has good as hers.

“You just solved me a casa.” George said astonished with what had just happened, his mouth opened in surprise and the look y/n gave him was brilliant.

“Did I? Really?” She couldn’t hold her happiness, although working here for a while and helping, and having done so much, Fred usually referred that she had done much more than any other intern they’ve had, she hand’t actually solved a case by herself. Fred and her always came to conclusions together.

“Yes, yes you just did.” George couldn’t believe that the case he has been working on for the last week and a half, and that he was getting to a road with no end was just solved. When he decided to listen to the audios he didn’t expect much from them because he thought he had worked through everything. Well, he guessed wrong. “Do you have any idea what this case might’ve costed me hadn’t you just solved it?” George wondered out loud. She denied, not being able to form words. The way he was looking made her panties soak, which is a current occurrence because every time she see him even from a far he manages to do something to her.

“It would cost us millions of dollars and very bad fame. You see we are working with some of the most influential people England has. Winning is very important.” George said.

“I thought every person you worked with was influential and important?” It came out a genuine question.

“These people can manipulate everything around them, if they wanted to end mine and Fred’s career, they could with a snap of their fingers. Winning them this case on the contrary, will give us something in all out time working he never had in this scale.” He stated. “Thank you so much for your help.”

Well that was first, y/n never heard him say a ‘hi’ to her, and a ‘thank you’ to anyone else.

“You can go have your luch now, I’ve kept you here for… oh for a long time.” He said when he looked at the hours. Two o’clock was away past their lunch our. Fred hadn’t come knockinh why? They always had lunch together. “How about had as a thank you I offer you lunch?” What a bold fucking move George Weasley, what will people think if they see you out and about with your little intern ahm? ‘Fuck that’ George thought to himself.

“Is it appropriate?” way to ruin the opportunity y/n, she thought.

“Lunch as co-workers of course. Celebrating early the win.”  He persuaded, now that he was all in, might as well convince her. When she nodded he continued. “Well have you ever tried the Italian on the main street?”

He meant the beautiful restaurant that looked straight out a movie? The one she’s been eyeing since she started working here, but the prices have kept her way because lord forbid her of spending fifty pounds on a fucking meal?

“I was thinking maybe something more on my price range?” She suggested, trying not to offend him, or look poor in front of him. She wasn’t and the money she received working for them was good but she started to pay for her stuff now, to relieve her parents of the bills and so money was always a little tight on her side.

“None sense, I will pay for us both. No one needs to know. Now come on, or we will eat our lunch when we’re suppose to be snacking” He was already getting up, got his jacket of the back of the chair in a swift motion and walked to the door.

No one was to be seen in the hall, which was weird given the hour of the day. Everyone came from lunch and this was the hour of chatting a little bit, drink a coffee or something else and going to the bathroom before resuming their work. Some forces where on their side because besides Iris, no one saw them leave together. And Iris was nice enough to keep everything to her.

The restaurant was to the brim. y/n thought they would have to wait hours or not even have a place. But the very nice employee at the front, as soon has he saw George swiftly pull them in and into one of the best tables they had.

“I’m a regular.” He justified, when they were seated and her eyes weren’t on him for once but instead on the menu.

“yes of course.” She wanted to had, and the most powerful man there is, but she kept that to her.

“If you have any doubts choosing I would suggest the chicken marsala.” Did he think, even though she had just solved his case, that she was dumb? The tone in his voice suggested everything but a suggestion. It was almost a command. What type of fifty shades was this? Although she did like the dominant side he radiated to her.

“Sure, I’ll have that.” And George gestured to the employee working around the tables on the place they were before starting their request. And while they waited they talked. In just few minutes he felt like he was Fred in there. Because y/n was talking openly and so freely that he couldn’t believe she was doing that to him.

It felt nice for her hear her talk like that, like she had no worries and that she felt safe in speaking to him like that. He also talked and y/n was surprised he even wanted to share something with him.

“I also lived in a flat while studying, me and Fred shared one I mean.” He corrected. “Two teenagers leaving alone in a apartment after coming from a big family? Sweet, we were in paradise.” When y/n laughed he had do contain the smile that was to appear on his face.

“I can’t even begin to imagine what two boys would do all alone.” Her tone was suggestive. George coughed a little trying to hide the smirk in his face. If she was trying to rile him up and get something out of him it was working.

“law if difficult, but we never studied they way some of our pears did. We partied, and people were impressed because they never expected the best parties to come from law students, yet, they did come from us. Took us a while after collage to build our reputation to what it is today, a lot of people didn’t take us seriously. Then Fred hit the jackpot with a giant case and things just grew from there. I had my big moment a few months later.”

Now that was all information y/n had no idea about. Fred never shared that with me.

“Fred shared a lot of things with me but never that. I’m shocked.” When George looked at her accusingly but in a joking manner she found herself correcting what she said. “I mean, it’s just… I’m sorry, but you both have this like dominant strong image around you that it’s hard to think you ever did party. There’s zero photos of you on the internet, all of your cases have closed doors. I mean? People create an image, even if not the correct one, about you.”

“You have a point there. You have very good points that I didn’t have any idea about. But then again Fred took you all to him so it’s hard to know anything.”

“Mr. Weasley just likes the way I work.” She felt the need to justify herself almost immediately.

George rolled his eyes a little. “Still, you are working for both of us and although Elias does a good job I found out only today how hard working you are.”

If he was trying to make her feel guilty or sometime of thing it wasn’t working.

“Well, Mr. Weasley, I never worked for you because first, today was the first time you actually felt the need to call me and only because it was urgent and Elias wasn’t there and because every time I try to ask you something, for Mr. Weasley’s work you always answer me shortly.” She stated. George lost words at that, but only for a brie moment.

The next words that came from George were fast and wouldn’t have made any sense if y/n didn’t have all her attention on the beautiful man in front of her.

“I don’t have you work for me because, “he stopped for a moment, thinking his brain might stop him there, but was wrong, “because it is wrong to fantasize about someone who works for you, someone who is your boss. Is it not?”

Her cheeks started to feel warm, and her body was next. She squeezed both hands together and crossed her legs tighter tightly, the warmth from earlies mixing with we warmth from now.

“It is profession to crush on your boss?” She wanted to come out like is words hadn’t just affected her, but it came out shyly instead. George’s breath came out uneven and he put both of his hand on top of the table and closed is hands into fists is knuckles turning white from the force. He breath very deeply, y/n watched his nostrils flare and his eyes turning a very dark shade.

“It is. But I guess we’re both bad at keeping things professional.” He wanted to ass more but their food arrived and he was forced to tidy up is posture and look like he wasn’t hard under his pants.

They ate in silence. And when they finished George paid for their food, and when they got up he put a hand on the end of her back, almost at the curve of her ass.

“We should keep things professional.” y/n got way from his touch and looked at him. “Wouldn’t want to loose my job because I wanted to fuck my boss no?” The smile she gave him made him know that wasn’t scared of what they had said at the table. And that if both of them found it hard to hide the sexual tension before, now that they were both made aware that it was returned, it would be even more difficult.

⚘

George ended up winning the case that same week. Fred had made Elias and y/n work very little that day and in their floor they did a small celebration party due to the fact that this was major win for them. Everyone wanted an interview with both of them, their phones hadn’t stopped ringing. Iris had to put it on hold so she could come celebrate with them since they had insisted. They were in the meeting room, and although they were known around, Elias and y/n stayed in a little corner, champagne in their small cups a little bit of cake in their hand. Elias had chocolate and y/n had red velvet.

“You know we are not alone in this room right?” Fred asked his brother, coming up next to him and bumping his shoulder. George looked at him questioningly. “You know other people will notice if you continue to look at her like you wanna rip her clothes of.” Fred joked and laughed when George mumbled angrily under his breath. He was regretting telling George what had happened at lunch and even more so telling him the crush he’s had on his intern since she started. Although Fred stated, and very well, that of the crush he already knew. If any of the thing either one or the other did that made him have his confirmations. It was small things Fred would notice. Like every time George came into his office and almost every time he had nothing of interest to say, he would find a stupid excuse that Fred was always to nice to snitch on him in front of her. Or how her looked lingered a little to much when she was in his presence, and how Fred had to call her name various times before she looked at him again.

How George only seem to need something from him in the hours y/n was in his office. How, if she wasn’t there, George would be caught red handed with nothing to say or do, because he just wanted to look at her.

“Shut up.” He said angrily. “Stop trying to make me do something irrational. It’s wrong. And we’re not in the right place to have that conversation.” He wanted this conversation to be the end of it, however Fred was not done.

“You know I don’t mid right? If things are done correctly I wouldn’t mind.” Fred looked at his brother. They were both tall, taller than almost everyone in the room, so they both had a good look over y/n and Elias at the end of the meeting room, close to the door.

“What is there to be done correctly? Haven’t you understand she works for us? And let me also tell you from what I’m seeing when her year long internship ends that the possibly of us hiring her is big?”

“If someone else doesn’t hire her first.” Fred said only to tease him. He was very much planning on hiring her, and planning on giver her a notice before the internship ended so they could assure her position in the firm.

“They won’t. We are the best of the best. And as you said before she had other opportunities but waited for ours. Do you think she would be stupid enough to say no?” George scoffed and then moved his head from side to side, his eyes still on the girl in green. She brought a suit today, she knew today was gonna be big and she had spoken briefly to George the other day and told him about it. She was gorgeous.

“Elias and her are alone in the corner, why don’t make yourself useful for once little brother and go talk to her. Oh look just faith speaking.” Fred said the last part when Elias was pushed to the side by one of his colleagues, a lawyer who was been working on a small case.  

George composed himself the best he could and made his way to her passing some people who were congratulating him again, and wanted to talk but he had her on his mind.

“May I just say, you were very impressive today, Mr. Weasley.” She beat him to it, speaking first. George had invited y/n and Elias to watch firsthand, front row seats at court. She was very thankful for such a big opportunity, she hoped one day she would be where George was, and be has amazing has he was presenting all the facts and making everyone subdue to him and his ever brilliant knowledge.

“Thank you. Couldn’t have done it without you y/n. You were brilliant, and I wish you could’ve been there. Be the one to defend.” He had his back turned to everyone in the room and since he was tall he covered y/n a little. He was lanky to she could still be seen.

“I think I will have many opportunities no? I mean working for your firm will give me a very good profile, and people will want me, that is, if you give good recommendations.”

“We could always skip the recommendations and hire you.” She looked at him her eyes big and shiny, having him say that made her heart beat a little faster. If she could work for them permanently and be a lawyer to them? Dream come true.

“That would be very nice, yes.” She tried to keep her cool, and then closed the distance between them, but trying to not make it to noticeable for other people not to see. Her mint scent hit his face and his teeth came to rest on his bottom lip, her closeness made him nervous. “Working for you permanently would be a challenge no?” she had her arms crossed, but uncrossed them to rest on hand on his arm and squeezed it. She was about to cross the biggest line there was.

“I could do so much more than working couldn’t I Mr. Weasley? I bet I would look good working on my knees, under your desk, only for you so see.” She spoke almost inaudible, only he could hear it and with the noise everyone was making he was sure they didn’t have a clue what she just said. To everyone else they were just chatting about his win.

George trembled and he had to put all his willpower into not doing something stupid. He had no words. And didn’t have time to say, Elias came up behind her and called her, and he lost all her attention. People had the nerve to always be interrupting them. She left, because they both had to work on something Elias needed help in, and y/n always ready to please, offered to.

⚘

After that, if they thought they had ever felt sexual tension, then they weren’t expecting to go through this. Fred couldn’t take George anymore, everyday in his office going on about how he needed to get laid. How lately he just felt like everything was building up and the work piling on his desk wasn’t helping.

“You should just go to y/n, I think she would be more than willing to help.” Fred hadn’t meant for his words to sound wrong and George understood where he was coming from. Fred felt y/n’s sexual tension before he even hit the floor at 8 am every morning. He even asked Angelina for some advice on how to try and make them understand that he was ok with them.

George wanted to scream at the top of his lungs. “You are no fucking help, ever. I might as well visit my ex.” He stated. In that moment y/n was knocking on the door, she was speaking before she was looking and knowing George was there. “Fred I brought you what you asked, and also some ideas for presents for Angelina.” She said, and finally looked up, every word she was gonna say next. She has just called him Fred in front of his brother. She would only say that if he was alone. Fred didn’t seem to mind.

“Thank you so much y/n. My brother here was just leaving right George? Me and y/n have some things to do.” He looked at George who huffed and left without another word to y/n.

“Sexual tension still?” She questioned, bold question to make to anyone but her and Fred were more than co-workers, they were friends now and he didn’t mind.

“Yes. You two should meet up.” Came Fred’s voice sounding uninterested, and y/n rolled her eyes as she sat in front of him starting her work. Fred looked at her when she wasn’t looking and wanted to laugh at the annoyed and very frustrated face she had.

When five hit the clock Fred got up, after staring to organize his desk minutes before.

“I’m going, don’t wanna be late to my date with Angelina. You’re staying?”

“Yes, there’s still so much to be done and the lady hasn’t stopped calling Iris today asking for anything we might know. This is going to take while.” y/n stopped what she was doing for a moment to look at Fred. “Do you want me to leave? I can go to my desk or the meeting room?” The desk she barely used, it’s only use now being of support to her bag and computer.

“No, you can stay I trust you. Just please don’t stay up to late. Tomorrow we can give her something to occupy her mind.” She nodded, and said goodbye as he left and closed the door behind him.

y/n only got up two hours later to turn on the light in room because it was already dark, but her brain so focused on what she was doing that she didn’t think much of it.  

“Fred are you seriously still working?” Came a sudden voice that scared her and made the pencil she held drop to the floor. “Shit sorry, y/n? Where’s Fred?”

“Mr. Weasley left sometime ago, a date with his girlfriend. He let me stay because I have to finish this.” She pointed to the papers in front of her and the proceeded to pick up the pencil. George came in and closed the door behind him. She had to prepare herself to bask in his presence, his knowledge and his extreme intelligence. y/n was not only fisically attracted to him, but also mentally. He was just so intelligent it was scary sometimes to work with him, even though she had helped him solve that case a sometime ago. It was still hard because she was afraid to make any wrong moves.

“Well I thought it was just him in here and was gonna tell him to drop his work and go home. It’s not him but it applies to you to. Besides I had to stay up late too, I’m the only one here and the security will want to close everything up in a short time. I bet if they had done their patrol already that you wouldn’t be here.”

“I will leave when they come here, but for now I have to really finish this.” She turned to her work again, trying to ignore his presence completely. He came closer to her and put a hand on her shoulder.

“Well I have nothing to do at home, I can help you with what’s left. Two heads are better than one.” He said. He pulled a chair from a corner and put it next to hers. She gave him some papers for him to analyze. “Surprising that Fred stayed with this case, i usually take care of financial stuff.” He said more to himself than anything but y/n heard.

“I think he only took it because I told him I like this type of cases and could help him. I’m doing most of the works, he’s working on the arguments and such.” She looked at George. Being the end of the day, he has his shirt unbuttoned, his tie was hanging from his left pocket of the jacket and he just had a tired look on him.

“Ah I see, stealing you all to himself.” y/n denied with her head. “Unfair, seen as he knows very well I’ve been meaning to talk to you since the party the other day. Or did you forget what you said?”

Shit, y/n wasn’t expecting him to act on it. But oh boy, how she was happy he did. Every dream she’s had since that day was of her on her knees sucking him of until he cums in her mouth. While he calls her little pet names and makes her stay with his cock in her mouth because it’s warm. And then in her dreams he would slap her ass, slap her little clit until she trembled and made her call him ‘daddy’. The name would come out shy at first and then when he was destroying her it would come out more strong and sure.

She swallowed hard and pressed her legs together.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He put his hand on her leg and pulled them apart, so her legs were separated and he looked at her sternly. “Keep him this way.” He demanded.

“I thought you were gonna help” she whispered, hand coming to rest on top of his and caressing his long fingers. Shit, they would hit every spot inside her so good.

“And I am, aren’t I? I’m attending to a more important and demanding matter.” His hand came up from her knee to her thigh and then leaned inside towards her core, he could feel all the heat radiating from there. She nodded and guided his hand to be right on top of her still clothed pussy.

“Please, help me.” She said sweetly and seductively, any doubts she had and concerns if the should even be doing this in the first place all melting away.

“Yeah? Want my help baby girl? Since you like to be so bossy and know it all, tell me, what do you want me to do?” George pressed his fingers, quickly finding her clit and letting the pressure there for a moment, a moan coming from her mouth.

“Undress me, and please touch my pussy. I’m so wet.” She pleaded.

“Then get up, come on now, be a good girl.” He sair almost impatiently, and saw her get up and fumble with the buttons of her jacket and then with the button of her pants. “Shit.” George was amazed how good she looked, the black panties and bra she had made her look even more delicious if that were possible. The panties were laced and so her wetness could be seen from them. “On the desk.” He instructed, and y/n without thinking did what he asked.

If Fred ever found out they had sex in his office he would never see the end of it and he might as well think about creating his own firm because… wow.

“I’m so wet.” She brought her hand to his hair and pulled on hit the groan that left George was brutal. “Please kiss it.”

George didn’t need to be told twice, he brought his lips to her covered pussy and kissed, although mixed with the fabric of her panties, he could very much taste her distinct, sweet, taste. He kissed it again, and again until she was restless enough to pull his head back her eyes a darker color.

“Take them of.” She order, George looked amazed at her commanding tone.

“be careful there little thing, might just stop here.” He had taken his hand to move her panties to the side exposing her engorged and redish clit, asking to touched. She mewled, her hand coming to rest on her belly and her fingers digging a little.

George took his mouth to her clit and sucked it gently, gaining from her the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. He sucked again so have that reaction again, her legs came to rest on his back pulling him to her. She moaned his name.

“Sound so fucking good moaning for me princess, just love it so much.” He took the moment she was distracted to rip her panties open, she gasped.

“What the fuck George.” She looked at him incredulously.

He slapped her thigh and squished it. “Watch you language there or daddy might just leave you hanging.”

The fact that not only had he used the word ‘daddy’, the word she so dreamed of him calling, he had also called himself that. He couldn’t be real.

“No please.” Any dominance she might have tried complete disappeared at his words. Two of his fingers played with her wet hole while his mouth kissed the inside or her thigs, kissed just above her pussy, above where she wanted to be touched the most. Her eyes closed and one hand was behind her, to support her and the other still on her belly.

He entered the two fingers, slowly, looking at her, at the way her head fell back, his name fell out of her mouth, and the hand on her tummy came to push him agains her cunt. Non verbally stating where she wanted his mouth to go.

HE wasted no time attacking her clit with his tongue, his fingers moving slowly in and her out her allowing to fill her, to be close to her.

“Daddy, shit.” Her legs slid down his back almost to his butt, they were shaking a little.

“You just so good baby girl, so sweet, fuck, I’ve been imagining this ever since I saw you. How tight you would be, how sweet, how responsive to your daddy.” He moaned, he was so hard the zipper on his trousers opened a little. His free hand came to unbutton and in a very messy way he pulled his boxers down and freed his cock.

His cock was swollen, red, and we was leaking the stinky susbstance y/n wanted to taste. It came slapping to his belly, rock hard. He put his hand on it stroking slowly letting some moans slip out of his lips, which came shocking against her clit and she shook.

“Fuck. Are you touching yourself daddy?” She asked innocently, pulling some of the red hair that had fallen onto his face to have a better view of his wet swollen lips, from mounding at her pussy.

“I am baby, I am, you just, taste so good, feel so warm and squishy.” All the vibrations from his voice were crashing on her clit making her even more sensitive.

“I- I’ gonna cum, George, fuck.” She was so close, so so close, but he stopped, seized his movements at her pussy but his fingers still buried inside of her.

“You’re gonna come, with me deep inside that little pussy, yeah baby?” He asked, moving away from her. Pulling his fingers, she sighed happily, and took his hand as soon as it was out her. Bringing her face close to his hand and putting his fingers in her mouth, sucking feverishly on them.

George groaned, the hand on his cock pressing his tip and he felt like he could come there at sigh.

“I wanna suck you cock daddy, please.”

“Since my girl asked so nicely, I can’t say no.” Hearing him say ‘princess’ ‘my girl’ made her stomach feel with butterflies, and her heart skip a beat. Shit this crush was way out of hand.

She bounced of the desk, and pushed his chair a little, the wheels helping her do so. She came down to her knees, the view making George think the most sinful things.

Her hand took his out and put it in his thick thighs. Her mouth close to his where she left small wet kisses. Her hand started to stroke him, coming from the base all the way to the rudy red tip. She took the pre-cum that was coming out and used it had lubricant making the sensation so much more intense to him.

She opened his legs to fit in between them and looked up at him for a brief moment, her pussy pulsing around nothing wishing to be touched. He had his head back, both hands at his thighs kneading the flesh there. His mouth opened looking like his was gonna moan but no sound came out.

She understood them we was trying to control himself.  

“Moan for me daddy, let me hear you. Let me know I’m making you feel good.” She squeezed his tip tightly and his hole body shook, a moan he couldn’t control of her name.

“You’re making me feel so good, shit, your hands are so small and can barely wrap around my thick shaft isn’t that right pretty princess? And why don’t you put that dirty mouth of your to work.” Her mouth came to meet his tip and engulfed it in her lips, sucking softly on it, her hands massaging the rest of his cock for now.

Her tongue playing with his tip and then she not so slowly took more of him into her mouth. Her hand resting on his balls and massaging them. And then coming up again twisting around the part of his cock she didn’t have in her mouth.

He put his hand on her hair, making a pony tail out it and helping her guiding her movements, even thought she didn’t need that, he just wanted to feel in control.

She breath in deepley and relaxes her throat and before he knew it she was taking him all of him in, hitting the back of her throat, gagging around him, her spit and his come dripping down the corners of her mouth.

“Sucking my cock so messily baby, but so fucking good- ah fuck” he cried out his legs feeling numb from all the pleasure. Her hand moving more vigorously on his balls. She pulled out slowly, her free hand not touching him, touching her needy clit.

“Come on, up you get.” He was out of breath, pulling her by her hair and instructing her silently to sit on the desk again. He got up, one hand spreading her thighs apart and the other stroking him, the color red spreading from his head all the way thru his length from the way he was feeling.

“Next time, daddy, I’ll suck your cock until you come. I won’t let you pull out.” y/n said, hands coming up to knead her breast thru her bra.

“Take that off, want you naked while you make a mess on my cock.” He smacked his cock on her clit the sudden touch making them both shudder. With trembling fingers she tried to pull open her bra, and with some difficulty she eventually managed.

George filled her up nice and slowly letting them both ride the high of feeling each other so closely. George feeling her up all the way, her pussy adjusting to his size. He was big, long and thick and y/n hadn’t had sex in a long time and no guy she was with was that big. George was way above average and she could feel it very well and would feel it even more the next day.

“Daddy shit.” Her feet met his ass and pulled him towards her, George wasn’t all in but her sudden movement made him do just that, fitting snugly in her pussy, brushing her sweet stop that made her spasm around him.

“You are just perfect all over aren’t you baby? So perfect and angelic but the dirtiest whore for your daddy.” His hand took the hair that still fell on his eyes and his other hand touched her clit and pressed it, sinful sounds coming from her, her clit touched and played with along with the pressure and size of George’s cock making her senses stop working and her loosing every train thought she had.

“I’m gonna love to play with this pussy.” He started moving his hips, taking his hand of her clit and taking both her legs in his hold. He bent her legs at the knee and close tho her chest the knew position made her scream. He hit her g-spot right there and then, and her legs became gelly.

“Found it baby, now touch you precious clit for me.” He instructed and she did has she was told, all the pleasure she felt becoming to much, her pussy was throbbing, her nipples were hard from all the pleasure and his cock inside her felt heavenly. He was so smooth, and heavy. She made rapid little motions on her clit while George sped up his movements his hips meeting hers ever, bottoming out with every thrust and touching every little part of her cunt.

When her legs started to quake powerfully in his hold he knew she was starting to get close. She had been teased and denied one orgasm, and she would do it again if he demanded, but the way her breasts moved with power of his hips and strokes, and how she clenched around him swallowing him holy he knew he would be mean to do that.

“You gotta ask for permission.” He slapped her hand way from her clit to pus his there, to control the pressure and the little up and down movement.

At first she couldn’t form words, her vision was going white, the shots of pleasure thru her body to much.

“P-please can I cum?” A gentle whimper came from her mouth as the waves of her orgasm become stronger.

“Yes baby, go ahead soke my cock.” His hand moved even quicker on her clit and that’s when they both felt it. Her orgasm rippling thru her, strong waves of pleasure felt all over her body, her legs quacking, her arms stretched out beside her, her pussy convulsing, her juices coating his cock deliciously.

“Squeezing me so tight baby, I’m gonna fucking come.”  She puts her head in a way that she can look at him, all destroyed and proper fucked out. He doesn’t have time to warn her again before his climax comes crushing down on him. He almost looses his balance for a second, so strong that everything in his body paralyzes. He buries himself to the hilt in her pussy letting his cum shot deep in her and falls on top of her, his arms don’t give him much support but allow him not to crush her. He hides is face in her neck.

“We really did it ahm?” came her voice, sounding still a little afar since he was still recovering from his strong orgasm. He just nodded unable to form any word.

She waited a little, her hand gently brushing his back making goosebumps appear on his skin. The gentle and sweet gesture making his heart flutter.

“We did.” Came out after a while, finally regaining his posture and picking himself up, pulling out of her. The movement making them moan a little, the emptiness she felt felt weird. She was somehow already used to being full of him.  

He pulled her by the arms so she could sit on the desk and not stay laying down.

“Does this change anything?” She asked shyly. He nodded.

“It does, because, I’ll be dammed if I don’t make you mine.” Intertwining their fingers he brought to his mouth to kiss. She smiled britlhy. “If you want me, that is.”

Her answer came in an attack of kisses all over his face and ending up in his mouth.

“We didn’t even kiss thru all that shit. And you kissed my cock.” He joked and she punched him gently on his chest.

“Watch your mouth. And also how we will explain to your brother this?”

“What he doesn’t know doesn’t hurt him.”

They got dressed, both of them taking their time because their bodies were still not at the maximum potential. A knock on the door startled them.

“Mr. Weasley are you still in there?” It was the guard. George made a gesture with his finger over his mouth for y/n to keep quiet.

“Yes Augustus, be out in a minute.” George said a little loudly and finished up getting dressed and waited for y/n to do the same, and then proceeded to organize the mess they made so Fred wouldn’t know about anything.

Opening the door Augustus was there waiting, a few feet from the door he smiled at George, did he knew it was George now that he could see him? Or did he still think it was Fred? Wouldn’t look good if he did, Fred is probably at home with his girlfriend.

“Augustus, my brother gave us some last minute work and we completely forgot the time. I’m so sorry.” George apologized. Augustus understood then is was not Fred. He only nodded, looked at y/n and also nodded and then watched them leave, their hands intertwined while he heard a little laugh coming from the girl.

⚘

Next day y/n came in at the same time as always, but neither Fred or George were to be seen. She sat at her desk and started to work on the things she should’ve done yesterday but got a little to busy to do so. Fred came in first.

“Good morning y/n. Already working on the case?” He asked bewildered, stopping in front of her desk. She nodded, now that she was seeing him, after what she had done in his office words were hard to come out her mouth. “Good, well when George comes in can you please tell him to come to my office? Iris is coming in later today so I can’t leave her that warning. You can also come in with them for us to work on the case.”

She nodded again, her words still not forming. About half an hour later came in George, way later than usual since he came in at the same time as Fred or a little after. When they made eye contact the smile he shared with her was so big and bright that made some of the nervous feeling she had subside. She had spent all night overthinking if that was a mistake, but by the looks of it wasn’t.

“Mr. Weasley your brother wishes to speak to you.” With some of the lawyers doors opened she had to address him like that.

“Thank you y/n, gonna put this in my office and then I’ll go right in.”

And when he came around she got up to follow him. Silently she spoke to him.

“he said to come in too, so we can work on the case.” She felt the need to justify herself.

“Ah yes, the case you should’ve worked on yesterday I am correct? Got a little to distracted no?” He put his hand on her back and pulled her to him. He kissed her lips gently. If her hands weren’t full she would’ve put his face between them. They were lucky that they in a part where no one could see.

“Ah fantastic that you both still know how to follow some orders.” Fred said, when he saw both of them enter his office. y/n swallowed hard, that sentence had a lot more meaning to it.

George tried to hide his smile, he thinks he might know what could come out of this, but how did he know?

“Next time you both decide to shag, which mind you I have nothing against, finally actually, do it at home, in George’s office somewhere… but please not my fucking office.” He looked at both of them trying to portrait himself as mad but failing terribly. A smirk resting on his lips.

y/n wanted to hide so badly, dig the biggest hole ever and burry herself there from how embarrassed she was.

“Hod do you know?” George asked incredosly, one thing they refused to have were cameras in their offices, it was a private place for them.

“Well my dears there’s a thing called a fucking phone.” He pointed to the phone he had on his desk, it was used to call around the firm, but Fred had his house number on there in case Angelina needed anything and couldn’t reach his personal phone. “Having my girlfriend pick up the phone, and come in the bedroom saying ‘someone is having sex on your office’ sure makes you both have a good impression. Lucky me I was at home with her when that happened.”

George looked at y/n who was feeling hot and embarrassed all over. Shit, it must have been her in the moments of pleasure she might’ve pushed some button. Fuck, shit.

“Just that. But finally you both decided to do it, I was done earing from one or the other just plain bullshit.” Fred rolled his eyes, continuing to write what he was doing. “Even Angelina was happy, not about the phone sex, about you two getting your shit together.”

y/n looked at George and took his hand in hers again.

“So are we together?” She asked him.

“Yes, but to make it official let me take you on a proper date. Today, sound good?” She nodded.

“Great you two, but please don’t let it end in office sex.” Came Fred’s voice again, making the three of them laugh.

[lilyrachelcassidy]

Birthday Cake

A/N: Suprise folks!!! *me laughing maniacally* The whole scenery for this fic somehow appeared in my head and I just COULDN’T let it slip away, so... My biggest inspo for that was @drawlfoy!! Remember her posting the fic where Draco and Reader work at McDonald’s and are total suckers in their job (arguing with the customers; preparing wrong orders; etc.)? Dee unfortunately, deleted this precious, but it’s stuck to my head ever since (lol lol, it’s the moment where Dee wants to get rid of something, but I kindly remind everyone it existed). Therefore I present to you the next Draco x Reader fic related to our fav fast-food rest. This time, however, they’re not working at the same workplace but... I'm going to stop here cuz I don't want to spoiler :P

**The second thing that triggered me to write this fic is the YouTube video I recently saw with a lady who orders the 'specials' appearing to be out of the menu list of McDonald’s, through the Drive-Through. She asked for a birthday cake, was laughed at a few times, but eventually got what she wanted. Applause for the attitude!!

About the fic (context, my bitches): ofc it’s the modern AU, non-magical world. Draco’s the worst boyfriend ever but always manages to turn things into their righteous place. 

Summary: The birthday is upcoming, and Draco is in a rush to think up an idea for a perfect gift. His ingenuity fails, however, and leaves Y/N very unsatisfied with a disaster that has been forged. 

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: my brain playing a total psycho, language, alcohol, sexual undertones/allusions to sex, Pansy being too much of her self... deal...

Tags: @drawlfoy @eltanin-malfoy

Such an unrestrained desire to strangle somebody you hadn't felt in a long time.

Really.

Today was your birthday, which you had been widely announcing for almost a whole month to people you might have accidentally forgotten about it. Having your boyfriend, Draco, on your mind in particular.

You doubted he would have the guts to omit your big day, though as repeatedly as he had done for a few years back. But something between foresight and the second sense of prevention told you to keep reminding him every day of the upcoming event, with a heap of birthday-themed emojis and uppercases in the messages.

Everything was planned out in your head: him picking you up from your house with the sharp-red cabriolet that he used only for special occasions; him driving the two of you to the fanciest restaurant he could find in town; him bestowing you with a nice-looking, golden necklace or a different piece of jewelry you had been suggestively pointing out in the store's exhibition; him booking up a hotel room for you two to celebrate.

Either way, that was much beyond your expectations, as it turned out. And now you were sitting in the front yard of your house, waiting for him to show up.

'If he was going to at all.' This thought invaded your mind for the last hour, try as might to subdue it. An hour you had been sitting tight, hoping it was only a delay caused by a traffic jam or other irrational explanation he could come up with. But you were deceiving yourself, you eventually presumed -- you had been checking up your phone every one minute, only to see if any message notification popped up on the screen, other than birthday wishes from friends who actually cared for you.

2.02pm: Nothing.

2.03pm: Susan 'Happy birthday bitch!'

2.04pm: Instagram notif. (Someone liked your photo, which you had posted before leaving your room, posing in front of the mirror in the best cocktail dress you could find in the wardrobe.)

2.05pm: Nothing yet again.

2.06pm: Still... Peace and quiet.

"Fuck it...Enough," you muttered under your breath, an annoying disillusionment falling like a heavy mile stone on your chest. Tears suddenly started sprinkling in your eyes at the regret, and you were very reluctant to admit that your friends were right -- Draco Malfoy was an egoistic, negligent, self-absorbed pri--

"Hi." You heard the raspy, panting voice says. "Sorry for the delay."

You blinked slowly, stupidly. You raised your head to assure yourself it was him. That his expression actually corresponded to his words and showed some kind of remorse for standing you up. But no... There he was: standing in front of you, plainly confident and unashamed, with his cocky smirk provoking you to slap him.

Oh, how much you craved to slap him right now. "Where to the fuck have you been?"

"I've tried to pick this up," he explained, simultaneously lifting up the paper bag he'd been carrying in his hand. The big, exclaiming letters 'McDonald's' with the brand's logo were printed on its exterior, and it was fully stuffed with something inside.

Not quite comprehending, you furrowed. You attempted to hide the venom in your voice, but somehow it found its way to leak out. "Couldn't you do that in advance?"

"Nope..." It was his turn to furrow, looking almost shocked with the question. And thanks to all those years of your relationship, you knew it was his piss-poor estimation of time taking over. "It was a last-minute surprise."

"Sounds like it," you commented irritably. "What's that?"

"Your birthday present, sunshine," he drawled happily, ignoring your remark. He sounded positively delighted and satisfied with himself at surprising you with that because he saw a slight crease of shock painting on your forehead. "Here you go."

You took his deposit out of his grasp, still quite unsure. What if his gift would only make a situation worse? Can it get any worse with Draco's total lack of tact? Yes. But it was only one way to find out.

Without even stealing a second glance at him, you ripped off all of the packaging that had been folded around, protecting the contents. You tried to do it carefully and without any impact of emotions revealing the way you felt inside, but your hands were shaking with rage, and you couldn't quite contain yourself. You had been highly aware you shouldn't have expected much from him, but still...

You wondered if the universe was playing against you.

There was a moment of tense silence as you struggled to deal with all the wrappings. Rather unfortunately, you wished you hadn't put so much effort in opening your so-called 'gift' because as you finally did, it only angered you more, seeing as the disappointment laughs at your face. And yes, as a matter of fact, the universe was against you today...

"Are you kidding me?" you asked in disbelief, fury reappearing in your eyes. "A birthday cake?! From McDonald's?" Ugly, little cake with the creepiest smiley face of a clown. It wasn't even fresh, you realized, when you smelled it and felt a musty reek of a freezer, it probably had been kept in. A confusing sense of sadness in your chest couldn't reach any higher at this point.

"Don't you like it?" he asked, detecting the wrath in your eyes. At that, you felt the dumbest urge to laugh and never stop. "I thought it'd be something original."

"Oh, I love it," you said sarcastically, a faint voice of hope telling you it was only a very bad joke was still lingering in your head. But it wasn't a joke.

"It's not just--" He struggled to form a coherent sentence. "I've been asking Blaise and Theo about any ideas. I told them, what you had said to me -- 'you didn't want anything fancy.' So we decided it's... something."

"Of course I didn't tell you I want anything, you dolt!" Your voice raised up almost two octaves, and the pulse sped up so fast it entailed a headache along. A neighbor from the opposite garden who was watering the flowers looked at you, startled, and eyes widened your exasperated tone. You didn’t care. "It's how it works: you don't tell other people you expect them to buy something!"

"But I'm your boyfriend. You shouldn't -- er-- feel uncomfortable to tell..."

"Exactly! As my boyfriend, you should have known!"

"Well... I didn't. If that's what's bothering you, we can...we can..."

"Stop." Listening to him and his pathetic excuses was the last thing you were going to do now. "What – why would you even – " You sputtered out, unable to process or express exactly what you were feeling. There was definitely anger and indignation. Curiosity, for another, as to why Draco would even fall for such foolish and ill-considered idea, and -- to the top of it -- hope it would make a good fit. And possibly, the last and most satisfying part, was the wicked impulse to throw the cake directly into his arrogant face, letting him taste his own medicine he had been serving you for years on each failed birthday.

"You know, for once, you could pay more effort and try doing something nice for me," you told him firmly, deflating to calm down your buzzing nerves.

"I've been tr--"

"Do you realize how much it costs me to pretend to be happy when you forget about me? Last year, I organized a big-ass party for your birthday, inviting over all of your friends and buying the best booze I could find to celebrate it properly," you said harshly and pretentiously, as you intended. "The best part is, you didn't even thank me." You stared at him, wringing your hands and expecting to perceive any trope of shame in his eyes. For the first time, you actually did.  

"Listen, about that--" he calmly attempted to cut off your monologue.

"No, you listen..." Did you really want what was upcoming next? Maybe it was about time. "Today, I decided I'm standing up for myself. So, for the last time, get out from my porch."

He bristled, the thunderstruck air hanging around him. "Because of the stupid cake?"

"What?! No! It's just... I feel like you don't give a damn about me anymore." Gulp formed in your throat, and the tears finally left your eyes at the consciousness of what was happening. "I think we both deserve some time."

Your eyes moved to his, and you almost wished you hadn't looked. He was watching you, with pursed lips and a pure mixture of every emotion: anger, sadness, resentment, pretension, dejection. The faintest of his flustered blushes appeared on his cheeks, and you suddenly wished you could hug him. "So you are putting us..." His finger pointed at him and you as if expecting clarification. "...on a break? Is that what it is?"

You were truly torn, to be honest. Becoming single on your birthday was the last wish you had for this day, but you felt a strong sense of adequacy and pride for building up the boundaries of tolerance. Besides, seeing as it was heading nowhere, it was only a matter of time that your relationship came to an end.  

Although, it hurt. A lot. "Yes."

You darted your eyes from him, not wanting to study his reaction in case it caused you to meltdown and jump to his embrace, apologizing endlessly for your words. You loved him. But you didn't regret what you had just said.

Something like a dry chuckle of disbelief escaped out of his mouth. "Is that what you really want?"

'No,' your thoughts prompted you instantly before you could even contemplate. 'I want you to say so many things you're never willing to say. But you don't know.'

So instead, you lied: "Yes."

All expressed, you spun around without peeking back and rushed into your room, already knowing there was no more sense in strives to make this day any better; all of it would bring only bad associations. It would be depressing, even more than it already was.

God, was it how the break-up pained? Because if so, you wanted to be deceased. The world spun suddenly, and you sank to your knees, shaking madly and doing your best to find your way back to your bed, located a few mere meters from you. Part of you felt numb, but your head was wide awake and alarming you that something in terms of a disaster had just happened. Because it did. The clutching in your chest was unbearable, and tears were dashing out of your eyes like a living waterfall, which made you bury your face in your hands. Never have you ever wanted to be so drunk before.

And so many questions rung up in your head at once.

Did you make a good decision? What if you are going to miss him, yet knowing you could never call? What about college -- are things about to get awkward?

No answers.

But you knew someone who would be able to reply to them.

With the blurred by tears vision, you struggled but managed to find your phone in the purse, and then clumsily scrolled through and tapped in your list of contacts before holding the phone to your ear.

Please answer, you begged. Please, please…

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" Pansy's voice roared from the other side of a line, as always, enthusiastic.

"Pansy." You tried to sound less brokenly than you were, feeling marginally worse at the reminder of your birthday. "Is Daphne around?"

"Ouch, you're a really nasty bitch sometimes, you know. I'm not goin' to point out today, but since you didn't let me end my wishes, I'll note that for the future reference." You were sure she was grinning at the teasing, seeing as much as she liked that. Normally, you wouldn't mind, but... "How--"

"Pansy, please..." you sobbed out, almost desperate to have someone to consult and share emotions with. Daphne -- contrary to Pansy, who could be very judgy sometimes -- was someone you had especially on mind now. "I need to talk to her."

You heard her sigh; the kind of sigh she used to either prove her resignation or concern. But, as much as it surprised you, she suppressed her curiosity and, without a second word, obediently handed the phone over to Daphne. At least, that's what you assumed because you heard a pause and subdued mutters in the background.

"Y/N?" the milder tone spoke up, and you felt suddenly very strange as if submerged in water of relief; relief to hear the familiar voice. That released you from keeping a distant attitude, and yet again, a sadness washed over you, triggering a loud wail to come out of your mouth. "Y/N, is everything alright?"

"No..." you sniveled, unable to collect yourself together. "I-I... We br-brok-e up."

"You and Draco?" Daphne asked, astonishment evident.

You nodded but then remembered she couldn't see you nor read your expression. So instead, you forced your vocal cords to work again. "Mhm..."

"What happened?"

Restoring the story in your brain again, you told her everything, still tearfully but much more coherently this time. You avoided the details, briefly skipping from one utterance to another, as your conversations had gone, and you were very much thankful she didn't press for more information about the prospect of the situation. If it hadn't been her sporadic gasps or loud inhales of breath, you would have almost presumed she wasn't listening. However, she was, and as soon turned out, Pansy was as well.

"That's bananas!" Pansy shouted somewhere from the back as you had ended, and despite your gloom, you giggled quietly at her comment.

"Shush," Daphne tried to silence her, covering up the fact she had put you on the speaker. You didn't mind because you knew Pansy, who would definitely expect Daphne to cite the whole conversation if needed. But knowing Daphne as well, you could bet she flushed more than she would want to at that point. "So it all started because of the cake?"

"And the delay," you added. "But it's not just about that, obviously. It feels like... he completely stopped caring. And I don't want to be stuck in a relationship where everything is about sex and having fun only. Draco wasn't looking for a commitment, which..."

"Sucks,"ended this time Pansy unhesitatingly, who wasn't now screaming from the other part of a room but openly participating in the discussion.

"Yeah," you agreed.

"As for me, I think he might love you more than you know, Y/N." It was Daphne talking again, and she sounded positively convinced about her view as for someone who had hardly exchanged any word with Draco for the past few years. As if reading your thoughts, she continued. "I've observed you a lot. I know he might seem unemotional, but it's you who discovered him. That must require a lot of trust, you know."

You contemplated, and some of the memories and images from your first encounter run across your brain, try as might to suppress it: spotting each other at the party; binging some whisky shots together; flirty teasing; the very masculine scent of cologne; and then... more spicy recollections -- eager lips pressing against each other; against each others' necks; against other parts of the body; stripping off the clothes in the passionate haste...

Receiving a long moment of silence, Daphne took a second chance and asked. "And what's with you? Do you want to end it?"

It felt like standing before the oracle of truth. Therefore, you couldn't deny it in front of yourself. "No."

"So what're you still doing there?" commented Pansy impatiently, and you could imagine her rolling the eyes. "Get out and find him!"

She was right. You will.

XOXOXOXO

"I thought I'd find you here..."

No. Actually, you didn't. 

You had tracked Draco's phone with your own one with some help of an app that, as the two of you had established still in the relationship, would be a good idea in case of an emergency. That in itself proved to be more than helpful, believing that your argument may be pinned as something in terms of an emergency, right?

So having access to his location, you had found out he was in the park where he had taken you on the first date, shortly after dinner, to watch the sunset that, as he had described, 'was a typical cliche from every romantic movie.'

But you had fallen for that. So much.

You hadn't been aware the place had actually some meaning for him until now, and that... God, that he had even remembered it. Time showed, however, that it indeed did, to which your heart reacted with a happy jolting. But also with a nasty sting of nostalgia following shortly after.

Yet, that only had encouraged you to make up your mind and go looking for him, which hadn't been such a difficult task per se. He was sitting on the bench, in the shade of a tree, and hiding his a little too delicate skin from the sun rays. As soon as he had heard your voice, his gray eyes flew up to see you standing a few meters away.

"What are you doing here?" was the immediate question that tumbled out of his mouth. He arched his eyebrow, and to your surprise, he didn't even look angry or sad with you. Nothing near the edge; actually, almost something like the amusement was painting on his face.

"Aren't you mad with me?" you asked intrigued, completely forgetting about his question.

He frowned. "Why would I be?" His tone was so mild that you weren't sure if he was referring to the double meaning; but then he smirked playfully and said, "Besides, I knew you were coming."

"Wha-- How?" you asked, eyes dilating a fraction, in shock.

He smirked, pointing at his phone in an explanatory manner. After a moment, you finally figured out what he meant: the app must have registered he had been tracked and that your phone was trying to find his. At this notice, you reacted with a wave of flush, suddenly regretting your previous lie. His smile only widened at your expression. "Wanna sit? It's plenty of room here."

"Mhm..." You nodded, pleased to accept his offer, and walked over to the bench, doing your best to hide the evident embarrassment on your face. You felt strange he had taken you with such ease, seeing as merely two or three hours ago, you had burst at him like a cram-full volcano of unspoken emotions.

Draco shifted a package from his side, making more space for you to sit, and it took you a moment to realize it was a McDonald's cake from earlier. Everything started from that -- a stupid, little piece of cake which stood up between...

You shook the thought away, taking a seat next to him, close enough to smell his sandalwood cologne. "You didn't answer my question," Draco reminded you. "What's so important to make you track my phone?"

"I'm sorry, okay?" You rounded your face to him, flustrated, leaning at the backrest of a bench. "That's why I came. I wanted to apologize."

"Oh... Couldn't you call?"

You sighed. "I figured you wouldn't want to talk to me after...you know... our quarrel," you said half-despondent, half-desperate, watching your feet as if it were the most interesting thing to peer at now. "I didn't mean what I said earlier."

"I know," he said. Out of nowhere, he was gently grasping your palms which forced you to look up directly into his intense gaze. His eyes were swirling like molten silver at you. "But I should be apologizing, love. I made a mistake, okay?" His hands traveled all across to your tense shoulders, squeezing them lightly. "I know I should be more... affectionate with you. And this was...dumb. A dumb mistake. With that cake. But I'll try to be better if you give it another shot."

He looked so serious that you instantly believed him. You wanted to actually, with all force of longing, which grew up too rapidly in you when he wasn't around. Draco was a fool, you could easily say. But he was your fool, which was a thing you couldn't be more proud of.

Peeking slowly in the other direction, you asked, out of the topic, "You remembered the place?"

"Of course," he puffed jokingly, smiling. "Our first date. Officially our place from then on."

"Right..." You smiled back.

Honestly, the mere fact that he had called this spot 'yours' warmed up your heart, and you felt yourself grinning at his never-before-discovered emotionality. To assure yourself you weren't the only one caring, it was all you needed to hear.

The whole moment was intense, and now, you realized, is when you should have hugged him. Kissed him. Said something back at his sincere endearment.

But instead, spotting plastic cutlery next to your 'gift', you asked, "So what's the taste of the birthday cake?"  

And you knew he had caught the subtext of your playful inquiry. And you knew that soon you would work things out again. But, as for now...

"I thought you would never ask."

XOXOXOXO

A/N: Looooooool. Such a drama-comedy, right? And I could easily say It feels like 50% Draco-x-Reader / 50% Draco-x-BirthdayCake... But whatever (2am is working like a drunken bud, folks). Happy beginning of August :)

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

Friday Night Stabby best quotes part 19 (23/04/21)

*the crew enter for the first game of the day* Etho: I forgot how to play.

...

Joker: Where was Skizz? Brody: Skizz is dead. Joker: Okay, and where was Skizz’s hair? Impulse: Oh gosh. Etho: Probably also dead somewhere. Evil: Maybe Skizz’s hair strangled him.

...

Etho: I found Mrs Tango in storage. Brody: Excuse me. WE found Mrs Tango. How DARE you. Etho: Okay. WE may have found Mrs Tango in storage.

...

Astro: Did you decide to kill [Skizz] because you didn’t want to see his hair anymore? Joker: Oh if I was gonna kill him because of his hair, I would’ve done that a long time ago. Impulse: First kill, yeah. Joker: Yup, that would definitely have been my first kill.

...

Astro: You’ve been quiet, Joker. And Skizz is dead again. Joker: Uh, yeah. He is. I’m busy celebrating because his hair is no longer visible. Tango: *votes* Joker: Tango, are you voting for me? Tango: I dunno. Joker: You’re a liar. Whatever.

...

Mrs Tango: I just realised I was muted. Brody: She was muted. We were just with her and she was muted. Mrs Tango: And I have a problem pushing buttons. Brody: That’s not true, you press my buttons all the time. Joker: That’s not hard to do, though.

...

Etho: Whatcha got, Skizzle? Skizz: Dude, I’m telling you. Joker was the speedy one and I’m gonna tell you loud and proud: I WISH I was the one who killed him but I-I didn’t. Lower engine, I saw nobody. Brody: That’s not really- That’s not really selling me. Skizz: I wanted so badly to be the one to kill him. I know you can hear me, Joker.

...

Brody: I was on the far right side of the map. Endless: I can confirm that Brody was over there cuz I was harassing him. Brody: Annoyingly, he was.

...

Evil: Not good, Brody. Not good. Brody: What? What’s not good? Evil: The fact that you were running away as I watched Tango’s body fall. Brody: You cannot confirm that. Evil: I- I can. Brody You sure can’t. Evil: I sure can.

...

*Astro, Joker, and Impulse are dead, Skizz is giant imposter* Etho, alive: -so the lovers must’ve been Astro and Impulse. Astro: Nope, we weren’t lovers. That slow, gigantic little jerk just killed all of us. Impulse: Who killed you, Joker? Joker: Uh, Endless did. Endless did and Skizz came right by me. Astro: I mean, Skizz was right there too. Skizz is the other killer. Impulse: Yeah, Endless killed me, then Skizz killed Astro, then Endless killed Joker, I got it. Astro: Okay. So I’m the only one who suffered the disgrace of being killed by the giant.

...

Etho: *reports a body* Tango, immediately: Whoa! I just saw Tango Tek run right by me! That was cool! Brody: Did you? Tango: I sure did! *pause* Etho: Hey everybody!

...

Astro: Skizz, I hate you. Skizz: *laughs* Astro: How DARE you kill me [as giant]. Impulse: Killed by a giant! Ouch! Astro: How DARE you. Skizz: I know! It was SO great, dude! I was SO slow! And the best part was Endless had just gotten a kill and you came in, I was all “I’ll take care of that”. Astro: I… I’m gonna go stand in a corner and feel bad about myself.

...

Skizz: Hey, buddy. Don’t kill me, please! Impulse: Why? Skizz: Cuz I don’t wanna die!? That’s a weird question!

...

Tango: OH is [Joker] a giant murderer? Etho: He’s a giant murderer. Joker: How DARE you, sir. Tango: Don’t vote him out! This is comical. I wanna enjoy this. Joker: How DARE you! Impulse: Let him suffer! Joker: WHAT DO YOU MEAN LET ME SUFFER?!

...

*Tango’s body is reported, Joker is giant* Joker, laughing: I don’t even care! It was worth it! Evil: I found Joker. Impulse: He got one. He got one, did he? Evil: He got Tango! Etho and Impulse: *laugh* Impulse: Tongo couldn’t run fast enough. Evil: So the question is do we leave Joker in or do we kick him out? Joker, still laughing: Tango ran into a corner! It was so funny! Impulse: I guess we gotta get him this time. Joker: Wait hold on, can I just say how funny it was that Tango was like “c’mon big boy, what are you gonna do?” and then ran and got trapped in a corner! Cuz the thing wasn’t there to take across! Impulse, laughing: Oh no! Joker: And the only other thing he could do was go down a ladder and get stuck! Oh, so worth it.

...

Astro: I can kinda vouch for Evil because I was up in the shower having a real hard time and he was- he was coaching me. Evil: Ah- Uh- I- Joker: *bursts out laughing* Evil: I- I was helping you in the shower, you are right. Brody: Uhhhhhh… Etho: No jokes. No jokes, please. Brody: No jokes?! What?! Etho: Nothing, nothing. Brody: Why do you hate fun?! ...

Endless: Whoever was responsible for sabotaging communications over and over again can- can do things. Astro: What would- What would- What would you like me to do, Endless? What- What would you like me to do? :) Endless: You know what you can do, sir.

...

Impulse: Keys or you’re sus! *Impulse and a few others run up to keys despite not having the task* Impulse, laughing: Look how many people did! Skizz: You’re a jerk! Impulse: Gottem!

...

Astro: I’d like to speak to the room here. Will everybody PLEASE stop killing my lovers! I’m tired of it!

...

Tango: Endless’s body is right at the bottom of the entry chute, right- in Happy Town. Mrs Tango: What? What’s Happy Town? Tango: Ohoho. If I was imposter, I’d show you >:)

...

Etho: Joker, where were you? Joker: I don’t know. Etho: Joker…! Why must you do this to me?

...

Impulse: I’m sorry Etho, I was a worthless imposter. Skizz: Impulse, you were a better imposter last round when you weren’t imposter.

...

Impulse: When I called out “keys or you’re sus” at the start, Joker didn’t go do keys. Etho: Gotta be honest, Impulse, sometimes I don’t do keys just to spite you. Impulse: ...fair enough. Tango: That makes me so happy in my core right now.

...

Impulse: The bones have gone bad, okay? The bones have gone bad. Brody: I still like your bone, Impulse. Impulse: Thank you, ‘ppreciate that. Evil: Wow… Brody: What? What?! Impulse: It’s not weird. Evil: No, not at all.

...

Joker: *calls a meeting* Joker: I’ve discovered something about Skizz. *pause* Etho: Voting Skizz! Skizz: Do you wanna elaborate, here?! Joker: No, I cannot. But we should vote for Skizz. *pause* Etho: Voting Skizz!

...

Skizz: So it’s Brody and Mrs Tango. Brody: How is it Mrs Tango? Skizz: I dunno, she voted for me. Brody: That’s not how that works.

...

*after Evil sheriffed imposter Tango in the first 10 seconds of the game* Impulse, getting voted out: I’m deleting this vod. It’s not getting uploaded to YouTube. Brody: Aww, sad. Evil: And- And now I’m gonna get yelled at- Tango, loud enough to wake the dead: EVIL YOU JERK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

...

Brody: I’m gonna tell you why Evil’s the best right now. [Tango] just screamed at all levels and I didn’t get a headache from it so my life is complete. Tango: Thank you for my new compressor, yes. Evil: Because Tango has a compressor now. Brody: Yes, because he has a compressor. Tango: I NEED MY COMPRESSOR!!!! Brody: Yeah, see? It’s perfect. Etho: This is nice.

...

Etho: It’s usually not good to go to specimen first round cuz usually a body gets reported right away and you won’t finish your tasks. Endless: Oh, right. Cuz the imposter’s stupid. Got it.

...

Endless: So guys, remember that game when Joker didn’t get in and we had a great time without him? Tango: That was a good game. Joker: Oh my gosh! Impulse: That actually was the best round of the night, yeah. Joker: WOW.

[depressedacadamia]

Do you want to keep your opinion or your knee caps?

Prompt + pairing: College au, ‘Photo’ + fierrochase

A/N: So tHiS wAs A rEqUeSt- thank you to the anon who requested this! You'll notice that the duolingo owl meme has inspired the title of this and towards the end, I have Alex quote Lemony Snicket. I dont have much else to say except the list of prompts that I had pinned on my tumblr dashboard is now a link on my masterlist. Currently pinned is Will solace's birthday week prompts- I hope you guys enjoy this and please comment! <3 from persephone!!

Read on a03           Masterlist          WritersMonth 2021

“T- Jeff, Give that back right now!” Magnus yelled as the 6 pack of red bull- which he had slammed on his desk 10 minutes to midnight- was snatched away from his very eyes.

“Hell no!” his best friend shouted back. “ I’m not watching you throw away your health! Hey Sam- Back me up here!”

Samirah, who had only entered the dorm to steal another one of Magnus’s good pens which he had probably stolen from Alex or T-jeff, simply shrugged. “ I’m pretty chill if he wants to shorten his lifespan by a couple of decades.”

“Seee! That's what a good friend does- ignores all your terrible mistakes and lets you live your own life.”

Samirah, had taken a red bull from T-Jeff, because god help him if he had tried to stop her. “I’m not your friend.”

Now , you, the reader may be wondering- what on earth am I witnessing right now before my very eyes?

Allow me to kindly explain. What you are viewing is what is called the ‘ College phenomenon’. Currently, on the 19th floor of their dormitory building, Magnus Chase was about to drink 6 red bulls in an attempt to keep himself awake for the entire night; why would anybody do this to themselves, you may ask?

Because, college.

And in reality, Magnus had a very long project that- of course- was due tomorrow. Sure, his cousin Annbaeth was smart but even Annabeth left work to the very last minute. He could feel his head pounding from the previous caffeine consumed when he decided it would be a good idea to chug several espresso shots.

He could feel his boyfriends smirk as he entered the room. He felt slender arms wrap themselves around his neck as a tinge of green hair fell down to tickle his cheek. A warm cheek pressed against his, in a somewhat comforting manner.

“You look like shit,” Alex pointed out.

“Thanks, that’s exactly what I want to hear from my boyfriend,''Magnus grumbled. He frowned and suddenly, he felt a light peck on his lips.

“You’re cute when you’re grouchy.”

Despite his awfully foul mood, Magnus couldn't help but feel a small blush paint his cheeks and burn to the tip of his ears from hearing such a compliment- after all, he looked like shit (and felt like it) and yet here was his prim and gorgeous as ever boyfriend telling him that he looked cute.

“I came here to steal your stationary Magnus, not witness an awkward first date,” Samirah took another sip of the red bull.

Magnus pouted. “ How come you let her drink the red bull, but you don't let me?”

“Uh- Because she’s terrifying,” T-Jeff retorted.

“Thank you,” Samirah smiled, flicking her headscarf over her shoulder.

“And there’s no way I’m letting you drink all of those,'' Alex reminded Magnus.

T- Jeff continued, “ And he is also terrifying.”

Annoyed and frustrated, Magnus slammed his head directly onto his desk. He ignored the blearing pain that struck through his head like lighting due to the stupid hit. He ignored the annoying words that began to blur into one another as he drifted off to sleep- and perhaps he ignored -or, or maybe he didn’t notice- his boyfriend moving him to his bed and snuggling up next to him as they fell asleep.

The next morning, Magnus was semi surprised to find that he was A- in his bed, B- not suffering from a headache and C- lying down next to Alex. When did he even get into bed, let alone with Alex?

“Your staring is interrupting the quality of my sleep,” he groaned as he shifted himself slightly, resting his head on the blond’s chest.

“When did you get here?”

“And that's a question I never want to hear from you in the morning,” Alex mumbled, “ I put you to bed idiot- you’re sincerely welcome.”

Magnus felt a flush rising to his cheeks as he sat up. “ O-oh.”

Alex yawned as he grabbed Magnus by the arm and yanked him back down to the -let's be frank here- uncomfortable mattress of his dorm.

Soon they were both fast asleep, in each other’s arms; not aware of any of their surroundings or of Mallory snapping a photo of them.

“Delete it now!” Magnus cried as he tried to grab the phone from T-jeff who was currently showing off the photo that Mallory had sent the group chat.

While Alex seemed quite unfazed by it, it seemed to have caught the unwanted attention of all of their friends- therefore pushing Magnus into a very uncomfortable spotlight.

Magnus couldn’t help but feel like he was 15 again- out on the cold streets, people staring at him as he cowered away from the harsh glares, sympathetic whispers but no true hands being held out to help him. He couldn't stand the idea that every one was watching him, staring at him, talking about him. But this was infinitely worse because not only could they all be talking about him but they could also be talking about Alex.

He could feel his face burn as his friends laughed with innocent delight at the cute photo of the couple sleeping in each other's arms. His eyes were stinging, blurring together reality and his confused nightmare and maybe it was real or maybe it was his confused version of reality but he could have sworn to have seen a sliver of concern flash across Alex’s face.

“Delete the photo.” Her firm voice rang out. Magnus watched, half stricken with awe and the other half still shaken with fear, panic and misery.

“What?” T-jeff and the rest were confused. “ C’mon Alex, it’s just a cute picture of the happy couple.”

“The couple is no longer happy because of the photo- delete it.”

“You seem pretty happy to me.”

“Do you want to keep your opinion or your kneecaps?” Alex hissed, her eyes narrowed into slits, anger portrayed like the eye of a hurricane nearing the ocean- like a tornado near a lit splint. Nodding eagerly, they all agreed to delete the photo. Subtly calling for Magnus for some couple related reason, she managed to get them alone.

Bonus:

His hands came to cup Magnus’s face, the tears finally falling. None streamed down his face as he kept his head bowed slightly- hiding it from Alex.

What was he meant to say? How do you comfort a crying person?

“Was it really that bad?” Alex asked, trying to keep his tone soft. “ Did you really not like them taking photos of us?”

Magnus shook his head.

“I need you to talk to me, Magnus.”

“I… I didn’t like it.” His voice was meek, soft, and purely vulnerable; and as he slowly raised his head, Alex was all too stricken with the sight before him. Magnus’s eyes somehow still seemed gorgeous, red rimmed and shiny from the tears that befell from them. His cheeks were flushed,his ears tipped in red and his blond hair sheltering his face like a small child.

“Why?”

Magnus paused. He was hesitant to answer the question, after all- who wouldn't be nervous to tell their partner about all the previous trauma they’ve endured?

“It reminds me… of a bad time,” Magnus’s voice only seemed to get quieter. “ I..”

“You…”

“Iusedtobehomeless.”

Despite his innocent attempts to prevent Alex from understanding him, he felt two hands hold his face very gently and bring it closer to his boyfriend who stood before him. He felt uncomfortable as Alex burned his eyes at him. Their pupils locked onto one another and Magnus wasn’t sure whether he should look away or not.

“...What…?”

“I was just wondering if you had fallen down and broken your head in the process,” Alex thought aloud.

“What?” Magnus’s confused voice and expression was something Alex told himself he’d have to save in his head to view later.

“I’m not going to judge you because of the misfortune you’ve lived through. I’ll love you as misfortune loves orphans, as fire loves the innocent and as justice loves to sit down and watch everything go wrong,” Alex murmured as he placed a small kiss on Magnus’s nose.

[blxetsi]

modern hange zoe dating headcanons

lowercase intended !

hange zoe x gn!reader

- first, their love language is definitely a mix of physical touch and verbal affirmations

- idc idc theyre the best of both worlds 🤩

- you prefer verbal affirmations over physical touch (or vice versa) ? their immediately making a mental note and showing u love with whichever one u like more

- i think they'd be a scientist or researcher ?? maybe they'd study the human body or like global warming ?? idfk but would definitely go into the science field

- also i personally love the idea of moblit and them being together 😳🤚 idk i love the idea

- but since YOU are with miss hange id like to think they stayed friends after the breakup 😌✨ theyre both mature ppl (and hot)

- moblit is always third wheeling w you guys. you and hange could be making out and he'd sit there with his iced coffee like 😐

- hange i feel is a very forgetful person, so like, dates and stuff (things made on a sort of short notice) they tend to forget about, but things like birthdays and anniversaries are NEVER forgotten

- ofc they'll make it up to you after you call them from the restaurant youve been waiting in for over an hour

- but sometimes it does hurt that they value their work so much, you love that they find joy in what they do and are dedicated, but it just feels like they prioritize work over you

- and hange understands ! and they start trying to be on time for things like that. is also constantly reassuring you at random times that they love and care about you

- also loves to spoon you. will literally wrap around you like a koala in bed. doesnt matter if its too hot and youre both immediately sweating, will trap you with their insane amount of strength and never let you go until either they wake up or you wake up begging to use the restroom

- i feel like when theyre working from home (which is everyday in a pandemic 🙄 even tho these headcanons arent really structured around pandemic modern times) they forget to eat/drink when they get reeeaaaallllyyyy into what theyre researching

- could be on the verge of discovering a new genetic mutation (idk) while also being on the verge of passing out due to dehydration

- theyll come out for dinner and be like "yknow ive been having this weird headache all day"

- "probably because you havent drank any water today"

- will stare at you like "🤨" before replying "nah i dont think so 😹"

- you have to threaten letting them starve to get them to drink some water. and as soon as they do theyre chugging three cups

- five minutes later theyre like "babe ! it worked ! youre awesome"

- lots of pet names like babe/baby, my love, my darling (in a dramatic english accent), honey, and any others that youd prefer

- has a weird love for the cartoon archer (yknow that adult show with like 10 seaons ??)

- will literally no nothing about the plot or characters, and will only put the show on for background noise while theyre doing something, but will ALWAYS recommend archer to others and say its their favourite cartoon if asked

- also loves the amazing world of gumball (you got them into it) actually watches the show and loves it, yet never thinks of it when asked "what shows should i watch ?" or "what are some shows you like ?"

- if youre like, an artist or something like that, they genuinely LOVE anything you make

- you made them a little painting ? theyre hanging it up in their apartment. you created a clay vase or something ? buying flowers to put in it rn (doesnt even take care of the flowers but yk)

- if youre having a bad day theyre dropping everything for you (unless its super important then theyre saying "how about i move my work to the bed and we can cuddle ?")

- if you need to rant theyre actively listening while trying to work. will accidentally start typing what youre saying onto their word document. ends up having to delete three whole paragraphs about that bitch at work smh 🙄🤚

- loves taking showers/ baths w you (NEVER in a sexual way though) they genuinely find it fun to wash each other's hair and stuff. if you ask them to wash your back theyre shoving their hands in your armpits and tickling you like,, mf ill fall and take us both down 😐

- definitely an ass/thighs person. doesnt matter how big or small, loves it.

- also a dish collector in their room. their room and office are in the same space, so youll find them with cups and plates on their desk where their research is supposed to be like bae,,, i think youre growing a new kind of mold 😍🦠💥

- talks so passionately abt their work and coworkers to you. theres this new intern at their job and hes the sweetest and brightest kid they know. his names armin and they speak about him SO highly

- also has a really cold nose ?? u love to kiss it bc it makes them shiver bc of the temperature difference

- has weirdly soft hands. youd think theyd be kinda rough bc of all the weird shit they touch for "science" but no. the hands are perfect

- doesnt know how to take care of things around the house (like handy stuff) so they beg levi to come over.

- he reluctantly does bc hes their friend but will nod at you as soon as he walks in and says "i hope hange isnt being too annoying today"

- immediately youll defend them and say zoe hange could never annoy you bc hange is the love of ur life and all he'll do is say "youre lucky then. i envy you."

- you and hange both know hes using his dry humour, but as punishment hange follows him around the place and annoys him even further

- also tries to convince you to get a dog at the weirdest of times ???

- itll be three in the morning and theyll just whisper in your ear "we should get a dog"

- theyre allergic to cats so if you suggest that they say "no ill die if i go near one"

- if youre allergic to dogs theyll say "okay fine a baby then"

- "how will we get one ?"

- "we'll steal it. or go looking through a dumpster"

- what did they say 😳😳⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️

- you shut down any ideas of a dog or baby for a long while after that

- loves squeezing your cheeks, and would love if you did it to them too

- will literally just sit in bed squishing them and request you do the same. so you both just sit facing each other criss crossed, squishing each others faces while giggling

- ive made this pretty long already so this is it ! but yes, they love u through and through

a/n

second headcanon babyyy !!! hope u all enjoyed !! my asks r open if u wanna request something !! (also please request something 😭😭😭 )

[peeterparkr]

perennial;tom holland|one.

chapter one: yellow chrysanthemums

↳ flower meaning: neglected love or sorrow.

story summary: After the war, Tom let the flowers die of thirst, Harry decided to water dry flowers and Timmy never stopped taking care of his. But flowers speak for us, flowers have meanings. And like flowers, maybe you’ll keep on blooming, it’ll be up to you if you decide to wither. And it’ll be up to you what flower you end up choosing.  

chapter summary: the explanation, the flower shop

pairing: tom holland x y/n

warnings: angst 

word count: 7.9k

prologue  next chapter   perennial masterlist.

perfidy  ( series masterlist)

wanna be tagged?

hi, first chapter is here, cry with me :) thank you to @peachybloomss​ for beta reading and being the real MVP

There are flowers that are popular among people. Most of them we don’t know the meaning to. There are the obvious ones, like roses. Romance, love, passion. But roses have been used too many times, it’s a shame, they’ve lost so much meaning. How can something so beautiful and incredible wear out? People who give out flowers without meaning anything barely can see the beauty behind them. That’s the problem with red roses. People now give them out without meaning it. 

They usually let them dry out. Yes, that’s the problem. They let the flower die by itself in one empty vase. 

Sometimes we give them our meaning. Most times we don’t. We choose them because they’re pretty, because of the colour. After all, they match our personalities. It seems to be a shame when you let something so beautiful die. 

Some people like flowers now and then, they use them for seasonal colour. It doesn’t matter then what type of flowers you give them. There are people who give out flowers to ask for forgiveness, some others because they were minded by someone else, some others because they like the pretty smell.  

How can someone let something so beautiful die? 

That’s the only question Tom had when he heard it: ‘She’s gone.’ Had she given up so easily? 

She hadn’t waited. She hadn’t tried to reach out for him. And it didn’t make sense. 

Except she had. And Tom was cursing when he hadn’t answered. He still had a voicemail. 

“Where did she go?” Tom asked the girl standing in front of him. 

“I—I am not supposed to tell anyone,” she said. “However, she asked me to buy daffodils every day to give you, I guess she didn’t think I could only buy some and keep them in a pot, but she told me you give you some daffodils, yeah,  if you ever came and look, here they go, good thing I did buy them today.” Cherry—that was her name, handed him some yellow flowers. 

“What—?” Tom was confused. He didn’t want to believe it. 

“New beginnings,” Cherry grinned. “Take what you want from that—“She was about to close the door. 

Tom stopped her. “Why did she go?” 

Cherry rolled her eyes. “Daffodils.” 

“What—?” Tom blinked. 

Cherry sighed. “Daffodils. New beginnings, now—They’re perennial, to take care of them—“

That’s all Tom needed to know,  he guessed. New beginnings.  But it barely made any sense. 

He didn’t want to be rude to Cherry, but he barely paid any attention to her. He really didn’t care about flowers. Just the ones he had bought. What had Cherry said they were? 

Chamomiles. Primroses. Heleniums. Yellow flowers. 

“Did you hurt her?” Cherry had asked. “Or why did you bring her these flowers?” 

“Yellow flowers have meaning to us,” he had explained. 

Yellow flowers. 

Just like the flower pot in his car. Daffodils. Stupid flowers that gave him no explanation. 

New beginnings. 

He had left Cherry because he really didn’t want to explain it to her. Cherry was clueless about it. How this was horrible. 

Y/N was gone. 

Why had she left? 

Tom looked back at it. It could’ve been easier. As if he had just walked out of a war zone. 

He had noticed how y/n’s apartment had felt cold. And it probably didn’t have anything to do with Cherry or that y/n had left. That apartment felt like it had been freezing for a while. 

And even if Tom had known that they had been crushed from the start, he hadn’t expected her to run away. Y/N didn’t do that. Sure, she reserved herself. He knew that she stopped going out, and he knew that she would be alone all the time. But she never left. She never did that. 

Y/N was gone. 

It didn’t make any sense. She had thrown it all away and they were back in the start. Back where y/n had been. Roles switched. Now there was Tom, hurt. 

Tom now knew how it felt to be hurt by yellow flowers. He felt like he was drowning. And she wasn’t there. He felt stupid.  Very stupid. Of course, y/n would leave. Y/N was selfish and y/n was stupid. 

And he loved her. He was the idiot.  He still loved him. 

And Tom didn’t understand why this was all so complicated, because he was angry, but he felt guilty. Because he should’ve gone and searched for her earlier. He should’ve read her letter earlier, but pride was stupid. 

And it was clear, even if New York had been only for a short time, it was not a hoax. He needed a reason, another reason to love her. Because he didn’t have many reasons to love her, but love per se. He was losing control. 

There was Tom, trying to call her but it sent him straight to voicemail. What would Tom do with some perennial daffodils? Let them die of thirst? He didn’t want to take care of those stupid flowers.

Flowers? That was her way of saying goodbye? New beginnings. His life was pathetic now. 

He needed answers. He had a pain in his chest, intermittent pressing. This was the first time one of them ever forgave each other.  But had they? Because he was angry at her again. 

He still had her voicemail. Did he have the courage to hear it? 

Maybe there were answers. 

“Tom, I know—I know you won’t talk to me,” she started, her voice was cracking.  “I—I’m sorry. Maybe you have read the letter I gave to you. You probably haven’t. Or if you did then I guess—It’s lost, isn’t it? I’m just—You’re the only one I care about right now. You were right, I may deserve to be lonely.” 

Tom felt a headache growing. She really didn’t deserve it. 

“But I don’t want to be,” she continued. “I can’t—I really. A chance was presented okay? And if you—Please call me back. I don’t know if I should take it or not, and I know you don’t care, I know but… I guess I don’t even know I really, really wanted us to work out and I hope you can forgive me someday. I’m just so confused because there’s a chance to start a new life and I’m not sure if I want to. It’s not in London, I’d be leaving and—Maybe it’s for the best, you probably don’t want to see me anymore. I just feel like I’m drowning Tom and maybe this is the only way out. I know there are a million things I should say to you but right now I just—I’m sorry, Tom.” 

Did he blame her? It had taken him a while to listen to her. He was hurt, though. She shouldn’t have left. Now he had everything to remember her. Because why had she given him everything? 

Maybe it was her way of saying goodbye. She said she wanted to erase herself of the narrative. But it felt… incomplete. 

And he thought about it, had anyone talked to her those days? Even if he had been angry. Maybe she really was alone. Because who did she have? Her brother? 

New beginnings. Did he need to have one, too? But he didn’t feel like having one. Not right now. Where had she gone to? 

He needed answers. 

Rome? New York? She wouldn’t. 

She said she didn’t want to go back to another war. And in her mind they would be infinite. 

He did blame her. She threw everything away, she gave up on him. 

But then he thought about it. How this had turned out. He had to look back. Was y/n hurt, too? How hurt had she been? 

This time, the last time. How many times had she not felt the way Tom was feeling? 

Nothing good starts when someone enters war. Someone will get hurt. And maybe y/n had been right.

Tom should’ve known better, she would be the first one to leave, no matter what. Because it would’ve led nowhere. They had started declaring war and they had walked out of a battlefield.

Had she left with Tim? Had she left because of Harry? 

The second question was really the answer he needed to. Tom was, even if it was arrogant to admit, sure y/n loved him. Maybe that’s why all of this didn’t click. She had left. 

Though Tom was hurt he wanted her to know this time it was different, this time he really didn’t care about their past. Not the bad one at least. He cared about the one he could build up. Whatever had happened to them, he wished it hadn’t. He needed to look out for her. He didn’t care anymore about this.

Nothing could save him but her.  Did he have to move on? Finally move on. 

But he couldn’t because they were meant to be and they made sense.  And it made no sense.

Maybe y/n had run out of hope. But god, why hadn’t she fought more? She could’ve tried a bit more. 

Unless… she hadn’t wanted to. After all she had written the letter before Harry had kissed her. Had it awakened anything in her? 

But Harry said it hadn’t. 

He waited a few hours to call her again. There he was, on his bed, staring at the ceiling waiting for answers, updating every five seconds every single social media of hers. She hadn’t deleted anything. That was good, right? 

But she gave no sign of her new location. So he called her. 

It finally rang,  a few times. But then—

“Tom,” her voice was low.

He couldn’t speak.  He lost his breath. 

“Tom? Are you—are you there?”

He hung up, quickly. He couldn’t talk to her. He couldn’t say anything.  Why had he called? 

She called him. 

He answered. 

“Tom?” She said again. 

“You left,” that’s the only thing he could word out.

“I’m sorry,” she said. He could tell she was already crying. 

“What for?” He asked. 

“Everything.” 

Tom gulped as he sat up. He was nervous, he cracked his fingers anxiously. “Why did you leave?” 

She didn’t answer right away, he heard her sigh.  “Because knowing us,” she sighed. “This is the best that I could do.” 

“Why?” Tom questioned. 

“Because Tom—Look where we were standing okay, and—Though I—really wanted this to work, I love you so much but after— I don’t know if it can ever—“

“You gave up.” 

She stayed quiet. 

“You gave up,” he stated again. 

“I’d never give up on you,” she admitted quietly.

“Then what are you doing?” Tom ran a hand through his hair, before standing up. 

“Tom maybe this time we were through,” she said. “I—And I know it’s stupid.” 

“You think?” He frowned as he paced around the room. “If we love each other—“

“Yes, Tom but we cant pretend that all of this didn’t happen, and look at the way it started okay? We need to heal, completely. And maybe we will see.” 

“But right now—“

“Is there really anything we can do?” She asked, she was stressed. 

“You could’ve stayed, for starters.”

“I didn’t leave for the sake of leaving, I was going to stay,” she admitted. “Because I thought you would show up.” 

“And I did, and you were gone,” he gulped as he plopped back on his bed. 

“I had to go,” she sighed. “And I’m going to miss you, god, I’ve missed you all this time.” 

“Then—come back, or… I can’t be okay with knowing I let you go again, okay? I can’t.”

“But you didn’t, you did show up,”  she gulped. “This one is on me, Tom.” 

“Where are you?” He asked. 

“Los Angeles.” 

“Okay, I’m going, I’ll take the first flight—“

“I—But,  Tom I need time. You need time,” she cried. 

“Time for what?” 

“Healing.” 

“Fuck that,” he sat up again. “I love you, I need you. We will heal together.” 

“Tommy. Please.” 

“No, you're throwing us away,” Tom snapped. 

“No, I am not, I love you,” she sighed. “That’s why—“

“What the hell then?” 

“Tom we can't start out again with wounds, or else we will end up in the same place,” she explained. 

“Is this about Harry?”

Quiet. She went bloody quiet. This had to be about Harry. And that didn’t make sense. 

“Y/N?” 

“It’s complicated,” she admitted. “It’s not in the way you think okay? you need to fix everything with your brother. He matters more than I do.”

“What the fuck—?” He frowned. “What about the letter? And the DVD?” 

“Take it as my collateral,” she said. “I love you, that’s not changing.”  

“Do you love Harry?” 

“Tom, I had to go because he still… You saw it, didn’t you? He fucking kissed me, and I can’t--I don’t want to hurt him.” 

“But you have no trouble hurting me,” Tom pointed out. “I’m right here y/n.” 

“I’m not trying to hurt you, Tom,” she said. “But Tom, we can’t, we can’t pretend it didn’t happen, okay? And I’m gonna go back, okay? I need time to think about everything.” 

“Y/N this is fucking stupid we both said it how we hated that we loved each other and never did anything.” 

“I am doing something because I love you, I am letting you heal.” 

“If you love me then you wouldn’t have left,” Tom snapped. 

“If I had stayed, do you think we would’ve worked out?” She questioned him. 

“Yes,” he lied.

“You don’t believe that,” she stated. 

“So you’re asking me to move on, then?” He frowned. 

“I—“ she didn’t say anything.

“Are you?”

“No,” she said quickly. 

“So you’re asking me to stay here waiting for you like a complete idiot?”

“No,” she sighed. 

“What do you want then?”

“I don’t know Tom.” She was so stressed. 

“You want me to see other people, then?” He asked. 

She didn’t answer. 

“Y/N?” 

“I don’t--but” She sighed. “I guess you can do whatever you want.” 

“Well, why not be together? if that’s what I want. ” 

“I don’t know Tom, we are fighting already, see? This is my point-” 

“I’m fucking asking why you left,” Tom said. “I’m… And daffodils?” 

She was crying now, he could hear it in her voice and he could hear the deep breath she’d taken. 

“I’ll go to L.A.,” he said. 

“No, Tom, you’re missing the point,” she sighed. “Just a little time, that’s all I need.” 

“No, y/n, you gave up,” he sighed. 

She sighed. “Maybe I did! ” she snapped. “But because I thought I had lost everything, and I kind of did, alright? I did one bad thing and I lost everything, and I know, I know, it was bad, but what do I have left, Tom? You do understand that--Maybe I was thinking, hey look at us, we kept hurting each other, and-” 

“Y/N you’re making no sense, I’m going to go to L.A,” he stated. 

“If you love me you’ll understand why I need time,” she sighed. 

He clenched his jaw. “Why L.A.?” He questioned. 

“It’s not a hey, I’m escaping to find myself, okay? I actually did have a reason to come here, I’m...Look, originally Cherry told me to switch places with her, then Timmy and Emma--” 

“Tim?” Tom frowned. 

“They’re coming to LA, too,” she said. 

And it made sense, she was crawling back to Tim, that’s what it all was. This was her going to the happy place, just like she had done after Rome. 

“Tim, huh.” 

“But I didn’t accept their offer,” she continued.

“But Tim?” He scoffed. “You’re throwing us away y/n, literally all the good things, you said fuck them, right?” 

“Tom I’m telling you I’m not doing that, are you even listening to me? I- We need to heal.” 

He sighed. “And are you listening to me? If you’re gone, how the hell am I supposed to heal? We should work it out, okay? I’m trying to go back to what we were in New York!” 

“But that’s not us, okay, not right now, this is us,  I know, Tom, I want to… Fuck I know, and I won’t be able to move on, okay? This is not me running away from you, this is me trying to make some sense of myself.” 

“And you go with Timmy!” He yelled. 

“I’m not going with him!” She snapped. “And even if--He was the only one who acted as a friend, I have no one Tom, I really have nobody maybe I need a friend-” 

“You have me!” He pointed out. 

“Do I? Am I supposed to go to you when you’re the one I’m crying for?” She said. “I need to--” 

“You’re not the only one who’s sad, you know?” 

She sighed. “But think about it, will we work?” She questioned. 

Now it was Tom’s turn not to answer. He maybe didn’t believe they could  work but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to fight for it. 

“Honestly, Tom, how many things have we--Have we let go because of each other?” She questioned. “I’m…” 

“You don’t want us to work.” 

“I do, that’s why we need to wait, okay? Then we can try again,” she sighed.  

“This is me trying,  y/n,” he pleaded. 

“I can’t let myself try something right now knowing I hurt you,” she said. “I can’t forgive myself.” 

“And I can’t forgive myself, either,” he admitted. “Why LA?” 

 “They’re making my script,” she said. 

He sighed. “The same script that made this whole mess?” 

“Yes, Tom but--” 

“That’s just fucking great, y/n.” 

“I-” 

“No, you’re right, I should move on.” He hung up. 

Tom laid down, staring at the window. The moon wasn’t there, neither the stars, only dark clouds. He really wished she hadn’t left. Because he was not going to search for her. 

And y/n on the other side of the line wished he really hadn’t hung up, but she knew that it would make no sense on calling him.  He had called her just as she had arrived at her aunt’s place, she hadn’t walked into her place yet and had sat on her suitcase as she talked to him.  And she couldn’t believe it, she was crying outside a flower shop, with a suitcase and her backpack.  The sun was about to set. How pathetic did she look? 

So good for her new beginnings. 

But she walked in, with barely any emotion left. She wished too she hadn’t left, but there was nothing she could do now, or was there? 

Maybe she did want Tom to go and look for her, and she really wished he was as stubborn as usual, and she wished that he wouldn’t listen to her. It’s funny how they never said what they truly meant. Because y/n still felt guilty and that’s probably why she didn’t want to see him, because she feared she’d hurt him again. And y/n was angry, too. She’d done one thing wrong and all had blown up. 

How many times had Tom hurt her? He had built it around that. Y/N still needed to heal that. Because even after everything, she was still aching. You know, you can never truly heal from a broken heart. Once your heart is broken, it can’t be mended again.  The pieces never really set. 

But when will she see him again? Maybe after this Tom didn’t want to see her. And this was her fault, she had left with no goodbye. And she wished she’d given him one last kiss, had she known the one she’d given him would be the last, she would’ve made it last longer. She would’ve treasured it. 

And why had he said that? Didn’t he remember? Why and how everything happened? Because she had been hurt, too. But she still wanted him. And she had apologized but he hadn’t, and maybe he didn’t have to, but she wanted to hear an apology, and he hadn’t given it to her. 

Why did they always put each other through hell? Why couldn’t she just forget her pride and forget everything and run back into his arms when that’s all she wanted. But she needed to protect her heart, let it heal. And let him heal, otherwise they’d end up in the same place. But they didn’t work, or did they? 

That’s the only question y/n had, because they had New York, but it seemed like only part of their imagination, and sure, it had been perfect. But it was like they had ignored it. This was them, the yelling over the phone, the stupidity. 

No, she wouldn’t pull any more perfidies and she knew Tom wouldn’t either, but she didn’t know if they could go through it again, she didn’t know if their love would foresee their pain, one can only ignore it for a while. And she knew they’d probably bring it back. Unless they healed, she knew that once Tom healed, he’d rather sleep alone. Because he would see it. Would she, though? 

But she hadn’t left because she wanted to run away from him. She had left because there was a chance, and at least she could try to make the script something beautiful. Like they had, their love story. Turn the ugly things into good ones, turn the tears from sorrow into tears from laughter. It definitely wasn’t perfect, but it was theirs. And it probably had ended now all because she had left. 

But then again, she really needed to make something beautiful out of that mess, and maybe this time, make sure Tom reads it until the end. 

She feared Tom would move on, carry on. He had said it: ‘see other people’. She hadn’t even thought about that. She wouldn’t. 

But she had to get him out of her head, she needed to see her aunt. She had decided to stay with her until Emma and Tim arrived, they’d look for an apartment for the three of them. 

Was that wrong? Living with her ex? But nothing would happen, she knew that. Her heart only belonged to Tom. 

How stupid it was, the sky had never looked so pretty. A perfect sunset that was the warm hug she needed. She needed a new beginning. 

She wiped off the tears, and walked into the coffee and flower shop, y/n guessed that since it was in LA, it probably had to be more than flowers. A bell rang  as soon as y/n had walked in, the smell of coffee and flowers filled up her nose, and the woman working on the counter looked up. 

Auntie Eliza,  she hadn't seen her in a while. The woman was what you’d expect from someone who owns a flower shop in Los Angeles. She wore long skirts, and her hair up in a messy bun,  it seemed like the woman flowed, in a way, she seemed calm, and had bracelets and many earrings, and rings, many rings. So different from y/n’s mother who was a business woman and always very neat looking, but one could see the resemblance. The woman was gorgeous, no wonder Cherry looked like an actual model. 

“Y/N, dear,” the woman grinned. “I’m glad you’re finally here!” 

She approached her to give her a hug, and y/n only smiled. 

“Have you been crying my dear?” She asked right away. 

Sometimes it’s easier to let it out on a stranger than on people you’re closest with.  They don’t judge. And though she was family, she was merely a stranger. She’d seen her just a few times, her mother and her were not that close and living in different countries. 

But y/n never really liked to open to strangers. Or to anyone in general. 

“I… No, not really,” she gulped. “I’m probably allergic to the… weather here in LA,” she lied. She looked around the shop, it looked like the perfect place to cry in, to find a new beginning in. It was… just the calm she needed after crying over the phone. 

Her aunt laughed. “Oh, let’s hope not! I’ll show you your room in a bit, it’s upstairs if you want to go by yourself, second room to the right,”  she said. “I’m glad you’re staying here for a few days, you could help me out with the shop,” she said. “It’s been a mess, really, since Cherry left.” her aunt said. “Let me…” She took out her phone. “I’m texting your mother to let her know you’re here already. How is she by the way?” 

“Good, good,” y/n said. “Fine.” 

“She told me you really needed a break,” She smiled, looking up. “So I’m going to assume your allergies come from said break you really need.” 

Y/N gulped. “I-” She sighed. “Yeah, I guess.” 

“You haven’t changed,” Eliza laughed. “Still that same y/n that dresses up like you’re Marty McFly’s girlfriend.” 

Y/N grinned. “Yeah, yeah, I guess,” she chuckled. 

“I was about to close the shop,” Eliza said as she pranced around the room. “I was going to water the flowers and clean up,” she explained. “Are you too tired or would you mind helping me? It’s okay if you want to rest.”

“No, I’ll… help you.”  

She gave her some 

That had helped her. Get a little bit distracted at least. Somehow the flowers had her full attention. It was so nice. Except whenever she saw yellow flowers of course. That’s when it stung. 

“These ones are pretty,” y/n pointed out as she was delicately touching the petals of some yellow flowers. 

“Hm?” Eliza looked up. “Oh,  the yellow chrysanthemum,” Eliza nodded. She then stared at her. “Why do you like them?” 

“They’re yellow,” y/n said. 

Eliza nodded. “Most yellow flowers mean joy,” she explained. “Not those ones, though. Those mean neglected love”

Y/N scoffed. “Leave it to me to find the only ones that mean something sad” 

Aunt Eliza watched her. “Flowers speak for us,” she said. “This break will suit you, y/n,” she said. “Your mother told me what happened.” 

“She did?” Y/N sighed. Her mother had told her yet nobody had really seen if she was okay. Maybe that was why y/n had run away, if nobody would care then she’d go to somewhere where she could be happy, at least. Or pretend to be, at least. “Funny, thought she didn’t know.”

“Yes, she did” Eliza nodded. “Don’t be hard on your mother, it’s her best friend’s sons we’re talking about, and Elaine was never good with comforting.” 

Y/N nodded. 

“And as far as I know, you’re not exactly the one to speak the most about your feelings,” Eliza commented. 

“No, I don’t speak about them, I write them,” she said. “But that’s what led me to a mess. To do the worst thing I could’ve done, hurt the love of my life and push away my best friend.” 

“But it also opened a door to Hollywood,” her aunt pointed out.  She walked over. “The chrysanthemum, you know, no matter how sad its meaning is… they still make the sorrow pretty, don’t you think?” 

Maybe it was pretty. Time to make her sorrow pretty. Yellow. Yellow meant joy and happiness and cheerfulness. Maybe it was time to change the meaning of yellow flowers. 

But she wanted to go back to Tom. She wouldn’t carry on, though. 

Tom who probably would move on, who would try to move on. Yes, he would try to.  Because Tom couldn’t understand anything. 

Tom thought maybe she was right, maybe y/n had robbed him of being happy, he thought about it, how he was always angry because of her. Because he couldn’t have her and when he had they fucked it all up.  Except in New York, or Rome. 

But that… hadn’t been them. And he wondered if something had gone different, where would it have led? 

He looked at the daffodils and then at his phone, waiting for her to call again. She didn’t. 

But he made the decision, he had to move on. She had made the decision for both of them, hadn’t she? Maybe she was right, maybe they needed to finally carry on. But he didn’t want to. 

The next days were awful. And he kept waiting for another call. She never called him. But he wasn’t feeling alright. 

Of course, he didn’t tell Harry, did Harry know? Was Harry aware that y/n was gone? 

He didn’t tell Harrison.  He talked to nobody. He didn’t want to explain it. Because this was pathetic. 

He did go to the doctor, though, he didn’t understand what was going on. With his body, his mind, his heart. 

“Your body's going through withdrawal from love. You got used to having this exchange of happy chemicals between you and the person you were with. And now it’s gone and it’s normal to have a physical reaction. You’re experiencing high levels of stress which releases cortisol in the body. You’re grieving, Tom.” 

That’s what they had said. He felt stupid after going to the doctor. He hadn’t really believed it, when he had read it. Heartbreaks making him… sick? 

How did he not see it? Y/N had said it, how she had gone to the doctor, too. Was this her plan? To make him feel like she had before? 

The doctor had said: Let yourself feel, go out with friends. Keep yourself busy. 

But he didn’t want to. 

With his airpods plugged in the whole time, sad songs to make him even sadder. His heart was aching, because the girl he loved was gone. Because she had given up.  He couldn’t stomach it.  He did water the flower pot, though. Cherry had warned him they would dry out but that they’d end up blooming again, eventually. 

Tom had been spending time with Cherry, the girl was nice. She searched for him, asking him to show her around the city. And for those few days, it kept him busy .It was nice to have someone out of the whole damn circle of hell.  It was easier, in a way. Because Cherry didn’t judge him, and she didn’t ask awkward questions about y/n. A new friend, Cherry, she made him smile again, nothing else, she was so different, maybe because she was from outside his usual type of friends. 

 She was one of the few people that barely knew about Tom and y/n. She knew the whole: “Enemies” thing.  But she was making him forget his sorrow. Because Cherry didn’t know about anything else but their childhood, before the yellow flowers. 

“What happened with y/n?” She did ask, at one point. 

“Nothing.” 

“I’m no idiot, Tom, your flowers spoke, and hers did, too,” Cherry said. 

Tom really couldn’t tell her. “We both hurt each other.” 

“I can tell,” Cherry said. “Her yellow roses and tulips? She was asking for forgiveness.” 

“Yellow flowers mean a lot to us, that’s it,” he admitted. 

“And what flowers will mean something to us, then?” She had asked. 

Tom didn’t even know what she meant by that. And honestly, didn’t know if he could care. His mind went back to y/n.

When things were simpler.

He missed y/n. That was something that he couldn’t help. 

Had she stayed, what would’ve happened? Would they have just ignored it and ended up in between the sheets one Saturday evening with rain pouring down? Passionate kissing, with crescent moon shaped scars on his back. Sweat dripping down, and gentle moans, and sighs, and eye rolling toe curling movements. Exploring and memorizing each other’s bodies. Again, and again. 

Ignoring everything that could happen and everything that had happened. Them from New York. 

But maybe that’s what had saved them back then, not talking about who they really were, because they had ignored everything else in New York. Maybe y/n was right, New York wasn’t them. New York was a fantasy. A fantasy that Tom couldn’t keep out of his mind. But that was not them, not entirely. 

This, their yelling, and the ignoring and the pride speaking was them, with problems and fights and ignoring each other. That’s who they were. He couldn’t deny it. 

Maybe they were both. And he knew that one didn’t erase the other. But he knew that one was stronger. 

But he loved y/n. And maybe her hope was gone, but she was still the love of his life, no matter how horrible this had gone , he could never love someone as much. And he could try. To move on; he had to go on. But how could he? If she was the only thing in his mind. 

They hadn’t really tried, if he really thought about it, it’s like they had only had a trial. But now the years didn’t make sense, because even if they’d built up this, he couldn’t deny that they had built it upon insults, and hatred and broken hearts. Maybe she was right. 

Did he have to move on? He didn’t want to.  However, he knew… that maybe it was for the best. 

He really didn’t want to move on, so he had called his agent, because maybe something could work out.  And maybe it made no sense, but he could pretend he was okay. Maybe it was because he was greedy, or very stupid, but he wanted her to believe that fine, she had decided to leave, but that he’ll be fine. 

He was fine, a nice song would be playing in the background. Believing he was the only one crying. 

Was he, really? 

Did she miss his lips as much as he missed hers? The dexterity that they’d both shown they could be able of. It was stupid, yelling at the wind for answers. And who else would she go kiss now? That’s what Tom feared, that she’d find somebody else. Or Timmy? Tom wasn’t prepared to see her move on. Because that’s what she’d asked him, to carry on. And though he would forget his sorrow for a few minutes when he was around Cherry, his mind would go back to y/n, and his heart would keep on aching. 

But Tom knew he had to talk to Harry, and he went and searched for his brother. Harry hadn’t been talking to him. And Tom knew that if anybody understood y/n was Harry. Though Tom wasn’t as sure. 

Tom felt different. All his life he had been told that he didn’t know y/n, but did he really not know her? 

Not like Harry.  Harry probably was the only person in the world that had learned to understand y/n.  Except Tom knew, the only thing Harry had never understood about y/n was why she kept choosing Tom. 

Harry had initially not wanted to talk to Tom. He truly didn’t want to. But he had agreed to see him. Their parents had been very careful around them, they were angry at Tom, understandable. 

“She’s gone,” Tom said, after a while. They had been sitting outside their parents house, the treehouse only standing there as a reminder for Tom to ache even more. He felt it again, that pressing on his chest. “Left weeks ago.” 

“I know,” Harry said, crossing his arms. “Found out the day she left,” Harry told him. “I didn’t get to say goodbye.” 

Tom frowned. So Harry had gone to look out for her. 

“I didn’t, either” Tom said. “It was too late.” 

Harry shrugged. 

“I’m sorry,” Tom said. The apology seemed simple but it carried too much weight. Tom had never been good at apologies, no matter how many times he had apologized to y/n throughout his whole life he’d never found a way to make them mean what he really meant. 

Harry clenched his jaw. “Yeah,” he sighed. “I’m sorry, too.” 

“For what?” 

“I’m pretty sure she left because of me,” Harry said. 

And there it was, the way Harry understood y/n. The way Harry knew y/n head to toe, from the meaning behind her words and thoughts she could get. Spoken words and silences. 

“Where did she go?” Harry asked.  “I saw her before she left.” 

Tom felt… different. Even Harry had come earlier. “What happened?” Tom asked, curiously. 

“She initially didn’t want to see me, as if she was hiding from me. She felt guilty. And she-- She,” sighed. “I don’t know.” 

Tom didn’t talk. 

“I guess I wanted an answer,” Harry admitted. “I didn’t--I don’t know.” 

“You still love her, right?” 

Harry grimaced as he shifted in his seat. He gulped as he played with his phone. “I asked her what I could’ve done better. If in another lifetime it could’ve been me,” Harry said. “She didn’t have an answer.” 

There was that fear Tom had always had, how selfish it was of Tom, he was so arrogant. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry said again. “I know you are in love with her, and she is in love with you, but I couldn’t help but wonder, you know, the late nights, the laughing, the stories we made, the photographs hanging here and there. The way she knows me and the way I know her, and because the story was built up that way, you know? And now I’m here knowing I fucked it up, because now the weekends will come and she won’t be there, and I know that I’ll find something funny and I won’t be able to send it to her. I will have to watch those movies alone, and I don’t know… I don’t understand my heart,” Harry admitted. “Because I lost her forever, and I know that.  And I… I read the script. And I know it, I need her, you know? It’s hard because what I feared the most was losing her friendship and now I don’t have anyone to talk with, she’s the only person I could trust on this, and I can’t believe I fucked it up so much by not thinking about her, about you. I shouldn’t have kissed her. Because maybe, seeing the story now it probably only meant that we were supposed to be friends.” 

Tom felt guilty again. 

“But you know, even.... Even if I wonder if she misses me, I know… I know that it’ll never be the way she feels about you, you know? And I don’t… want her, too.” 

Tom looked away. “I can’t hide it anymore, Harry,” he said. “I know you love her and I spent my whole life trying to make her love you and I guess I never stopped to see how I felt, you know?” 

Harry finally looked at his brother. 

“And I know it, I’m stupid for doing that, but I still… now I saw it, I accepted it and I wanted it to work this time, and I know that this last time… I just wanted to erase everything I’ve done, but maybe y/n’s right we can’t really ignore who we are, and we can build it up from there and we can’t pretend it didn’t happen, but then she wrote me something and I saw it and… And Harry I...I know you loved her, but I am so in love with her, too and I… I couldn’t even tell her I was sorry, too.” 

Harry kept quiet. 

“I am so in love with her, and I can’t get why she left is she loves me, too.” 

“She did one bad thing and it all blew up in her face, meanwhile you spent your entire life hurting her and no one really gave you shit for it,” Harry pointed out. “I understand why she left. I would’ve too.” 

Tom frowned. 

“I thought about it, how we didn’t… We were too busy with ourselves blaming it on her and we didn’t stop to see what we did wrong,” Harry continued. “I got angry at her for never telling me about her feelings but I never really said anything either, I got angry at her for not kissing me back when I shouldn’t have done it. Yes, you got angry at her for writing a script where she was taking revenge but you never stopped to think how much you’ve hurt her among the years, and how she’s doubted herself for her entire life because of every single comment you’ve directed her way,” Harry said. “I know y/n, but I still can’t figure that one out, how even after everything she decided to open her heart to you,” Harry scoffed. “I’m not trying to blame it on you, but-” 

“I… hadn’t thought about that,” Tom admitted. “But why did she give up just now after we knew we could-” 

“Now we both know how it feels to be rejected by y/n,” Harry joked. “Maybe you should read her script,” Harry said. “You’d understand it,” Harry nodded. “You’ve always said she never noticed, but she did, she was the only one to notice that you could have feelings for her.” 

“I’m just--I don’t understand how she threw away all our progress, you know?” 

“Was she the one to throw it out?” Harry questioned. 

Tom frowned. 

“Before the… incident,” Harry said. “She told me about the script,” Harry admitted. “And how she had no idea how to tell you, but that she wanted to, she was trying to find a way to tell you but you had already pushed her away.” 

Tom pinched the bridge of his nose. “Then I exploded and did what I did best, hurt her.” 

“Yeah.” 

“How do you even know all of this?” TOm frowned.

Harry chuckled. “I’ve spent my whole life listening to her rant about you, she never understood you and… I read the script, Tom.” 

“I just want to get her back,” Tom sighed. 

“And I want Emma back,” Harry said. “But here we are both.” 

“Emma, then?” 

“Yes,” Harry sighed. “She’s the love of my life and I was stupid enough to get my heart be confused.” 

Tom understood, though. He would’ve been confused. Tom himself had been confused about it. 

“I guess when Emma threw the ring at my face, I thought--You can’t lose more, you know?” Harry sighed. “But it was stupid to think, I don’t know, I was broken hearted, I dunno, I think I searched for y/n because I was too broken hearted. It’s easy to look for some familiarity you know?” 

Tom shrugged. “Dunno.” 

“And now I’m… I miss Emma too much, and I can’t seem to deal with the heartbreak, I lost the love of my life and my best friend all in the matter of days,” Harry coughed. “I dunno.” 

“So you don’t have feelings for y/n anymore?” Tom questioned. 

“I don’t know, but even if I did that shouldn’t fucking stop you, Tom.” 

“I-- You don’t mean that.” 

Harry nodded. “Yes, because she was supposed to love you, and you love her.” 

“I don’t miss her that much,” Tom lied. He didn’t know why he didn’t want to admit it. “How am I--- fuck, I do, and I’ve never felt this bad, I went to the doctor, and I… I still can’t,” Tom knew his voice was cracking and his fingers were shaking. “I just… For the first time, I know Harry, I know you loved her but--” 

“No, no,” Harry shook his head. “I… I’d rather let her be happy with you.” 

“But it doesn’t matter now, she left and fuck, it’s all shit right now,” Tom said. “And she didn’t accept my… I don’t know.” 

“Well, go after her,” Harry frowned. 

“She told me not to,” Tom gulped. 

“You don’t know her at all, do you?” Harry shook his head. “You know, there’s a part of me that really wants to help you out with this. So my advice is go after her.” 

Tom gulped. “I know her enough to know she really doesn’t want me to be there.” 

Harry clenched his jaw. “How stupid would it be of me if I helped you get the girl?” He asked to the air, mostly to himself. “I could easily sabotage you, I won’t but… Do I want to help yet another guy get the girl I was in love with my whole life?” 

Tom gulped. “I’m not asking for help,” Tom said. 

“I know,” Harry said. “I wouldn’t do it for you,” he shrugged. “But maybe that would be my way of telling her I fucked up and that I’m sorry,” Harry groaned.  “And if I make sure she knows I was the one to help you and then… If she’s with you, then I’ll be with Emma, and I know that’s the most selfish reason I could come up with but I--I don’t know. 

Tom chuckled. “That’s the most selfless selfish thing one could do,” Tom shrugged.

“Where did she go?” Asked Harry. “If I know her enough she probably finally went to Greece, to start her Mamma Mia fantasy,” he laughed. “But guess I don’t know her anymore. And Emma’s gone, too.” 

“Los Angeles,” Tom said. “They’re making her script,” Tom explained. “Emma is in LA, too, with Timmy.” 

Harry looked up, hopeful. A ray of sunshine hit Harry. 

“Tom you do realize that this is even easier than you thought?” 

And it probably was, especially with Harry’s new plan or idea or whatever he was coming up with,  but Tom really, wasn’t brilliant. Because maybe it was easy seeing it all from outside the problem. But Tom hadn’t been careful. Tom never stopped to see his actions. 

And y/n, she really didn’t want to move on. She had continued to work at the shop in her free time, she liked to be surrounded by flowers. Learning its meaning and drinking coffee, making corrections to the script, helping her aunt. 

Maybe it really was fine making her sorrow prettier, and she really was trying to keep herself busy, going out, having fun or pretending to have fun, with her new roommates, Tim and Emma. 

Pretending to be fine. Not wanting to move on just yet. And she wouldn’t have made the decision to move on until she had seen it, and y/n thought about it, how she wasn’t the kind of flower that was popular among people, she wasn’t the type of flower that people knew the meaning to. And maybe she finally understood how it felt to finally die out of thirst. 

Maybe y/n shouldn’t have gone back on social media, and maybe it had been a mistake to follow her cousin’s Instagram. She probably should’ve gone out with Tim and Emma instead. She wouldn’t have seen it, and realized that maybe Tom had let the flowers she’d given him dry out. 

A picture of Cherry’s lips on Tom’s cheek had taken away the little hope y/n barely had. As if someone had drowned her in her room and there was no escape. Funnily enough,  drowning and everything, y/n thought about it, maybe she was the kind of flower that people let die of thirst in an empty vase. 

prologue next chapter   perennial masterlist.

perfidy  ( series masterlist)

wanna be tagged?

tag list  @spidxrparkxr @mukesnugget @anxiousdesignerdancerbandlover @happywolves81   @sentimentalquackson @applenter @silver-winter-wolf    @dark-infernal-instruments @claredolphinbear24 @bookgirlunicorn  @tomshufflepuff @avengersgirllorianna @nevertoofarfromivar @saintlavrents @herofiennestiffinashardinscott.  @tomzfrog @tomzfrog @tohollandback @awkwardfangirl2014 @spideysimpossiblegirl  @everythingbooknerd  @xapham @xapham @xapham @tomhollandisagod @danicarosaline @laurfangirl424 @vintageroses1014516 @cinnamon-roll-peter   @the-lost-fairy-tale @lala-florez @lala-florez @healthyassdonut    @ilcveyou3000 @xxtomxo @socorroann @muffinmari25   @cassindeansass  @rogers-obsessed-barnes-curious @southsidespideyy @nathaliabakes @nathaliabakes @marvelstuck @embrace-themagic @bradfordbantams @sanniegirl1214 @softholand  @softholand @fairytaleparker @underooling @griff1ndor @griff1ndor @thatweirdomimic @avengersgirllorianna @reginalaufeyson-holmes @better-daisy @yeahimcrying @allmonstersxarehuman @spider-manholland @itstaskeen @itstaskeen @georiaang @sebxstianbarnes @kissingtrutharchives  @snoopy3000 @prettymessygurl @spideyparkerstark @fanfic-4-you @lexshead @officiallyunofficialperson @mannien @whitewolfandthefox @melodiclovesong @bizzlepotter @localfangirlx  @localfangirlx @acceptance07 @witchythingscore @witchythingscore @swaggyspiderman @localfangirlx  @queengemsworld @liberty0123 @stiles-banshees @itsjusttor @stretchkingblog97 @annathesillyfriend @dangerousluv1 @tomshufflepuff @thewayilookatbacon @petersdiaries @emjaywrites @swaggyspiderman @infamousmany @jungeunave @forevermore-euphoria @ispiderdudei @ispiderdudei @literalfsngirltrash @quacksonhq @it-is-rebel-owl-ma-dudes @desir-ae @desir-ae @unbelievableholland @peterporkpie @justanotherusername80 @smolpeachees @thenoddingbunny-blog @quackeroos @spideyyeet @astoldbydanid @astoldbydanid @hollandcreep @hollandcreep @milly7110 @milly7110 @rubberducky-jrr @rebekkah4766 @farfromtom  @farfromtom @oh-whatabeautiful-parker @coveredinthemessimade  @shameless-self-promo-of-a-shrub @sweetiesangster @thatdamjoke @annathesillyfriend @l0ove-sick-blues @witchythingscore @witchythingscore @bookworm06  @sandtopearl  @lala-florez @ohfudgeiamgorgeous @chaoticpete @shezzalocked @ @lowkey-love-loki @harrysleftchelseaboot @cosmicholland @frenchfrostpudding @badbitchydecisions @w4ybefor3nir4na @americaswritings @ilovepeterparker13 @lukesbabylon @iamaunicorn4704 @iamaunicorn4704 @simple-things @oh-annaa @sip-portteam  @herondale-snow-carstairs @t-holland2080 @tony-starks-ego @quaksonhehe0 @stargazerholland @marvelslut-musicalnerd @hotrubycrab @sovereignparker @peter-parker-tony-stank-trash @belleknows @mysticalinsomniac @nycparkers @nycparkers @anythingthaticareabout @spn-assemble-seven @tanyalooovesyou @somethingchaotic  @heartofholland @peachybloomss @youcompletemesk @emyla3305 @emyla3305–butt  @hollandstanevans @farfromtom @farfromtom @southbeachfeeling @eridanuswave @tonguetiedholland @wolvesofthewinter @quacksonobrien @dcnerd98 @ifntelyinspirit @electraheart-3174 @julialucena5 @itsmilamawson @harryssuckz @unabashedlyhardkitty @xstarbae @xstarbae @tiredfeels @peterbparkerrwrites   @averyfosterthoughts @darethedragonknights  @hannahholland1811 @justanamesstuff @emyla3305 @abbiefangirls247 @onewithnomightypowers @itscaminow @youllbemineandillbeyours @hotrubycrab  @spidey-holland-96 @awkwardnesshabitat @chloecreatesfictions @primadonnasdream @slytherinambitious @maybecharming @where-art-thau-romeo @viagracex @viagracex @sspidermanss @pcterparxer @whatevshollandarchive@aleyabee @applenter @lovewolfspirit @viagracex  @xallyouneedislovexx @panicattheeverywherekid  @pcterparxer @getthatfireexitdoor @redhoodparker @scarlet-mind @cakepopcriss @allthisfortommy @aleyabee @perspectiveparker @let-me-luve-you @xxpeachyxo @m-a-r-i-n-t-p @superstarchick @notjustpenandpaper @morbiddanvers @runaway3 @runaway3 @peterbxrnes @the-crazy-fanfictionist @lu-morningstar @th0ttie4tommy @riasaurusrex @riasaurusrex @frustratingpaperclip @readheadwriter @geesquariid @noxceleste @a-mnd   @peterparker-rickybowen-mybabies @witchything @peterporkpie @bookworm06 @panicattheeverywherekid @imthefloor​ @ohmyquackson​ @seaveyheartful​ 

[darker-soft-starker]

Starker High School AU, Pt. 2 (Pt. 1, Pt. 3, Pt. 4, Pt. 5)

-----

Peter will admit that during he took an extended moment during his journey home to grieve the loss of his free afternoon, and indeed the impending headaches.

And the rest of his future, if he was honest.

Not that Peter was prone to melancholy by any means, but with this assignment his fate was officially sealed, there was no misunderstanding. He was going to fail this assignment. He was going to, for the first time in his academic career, be forced to submit garbage of a caliber worthy of Tony Stark. It will forever be a black mark on his academic record.

No respectable college is going to accept him after this. In fact, he might as well drop out of school now and hit up Mr Delmar for a job. All of his prep for his MIT application is as good as useless after this. Extracurriculars? Goodbye.

Because it’s confirmed.

He’s doomed.

Swaying with the motions of the train, Peter types a text to Ned, the only person who might provide him with some much needed sympathy.

>  I’m doomed >  paired w/stark for an assignment lollllllllll.  >  help

Maybe Peter could trade with Ned. Maybe he could plead with their teacher, for honest fear of his life and scholastic integrity. He wasn’t even exaggerating. In no known iteration of this universe could Peter amicably work with Tony Stark. It would be like Harry Potter sitting down for tea with Voldemort, or Frodo and Sauron chilling with a pint and a pipe in Bag End. 

It was unthinkable. Implausible. Laughable.

And Peter would laugh, were it anyone but him in this situation.

The feeling is unusual. Never had he found reason in his life to truly dislike anybody before, everyone could be redeemed or given the opportunity for penance. Natasha has said more than once that Peter would offer the devil himself a sandwich if he appeared. 

Tony Stark on the other hand? No sandwich for him.

Well, maybe a slice of bread. A stale one.

While he waits for Ned to responds he catches sight of his injured reflection in the train window, which is admittedly pretty gnarly. Even with his hood drawn up, there was a noticeable berth allocated to him in the busy carriage between himself and the other passengers.

< sux. can I have ur lego hogwarts if u die?

> dude :( pity me.

< lol. so, can i?

Peter sighs.

> sure. Look after May for me, bro. delete my internet history.

< deal. godspeed

Pocketing his phone, Peter wonders if it’s too late to take up praying.

---

By the time he’s back in his apartment his mood has managed to swing back up.

Tony Stark is not going to be the arbiter of Peter’s fate. Hell no. He’s smart, he’s creative and hardworking - it isn’t up to anybody but Peter to determine his outcomes. If he has to do the assignment with Stark then he will. And he will work his hardest. 

If he has to do it sharing the credit with Stark, well, Peter knows a concession when he sees one.

No matter how reluctant he is.

But he powers through it, like ripping off a bandaid. It’s fine! He’s a Parker and he’s come this far in life already against ill, Parker-like odds. What was being paired for one assignment with someone who escaped the nearest hellmouth? 

It’ll be fine. 

Probably.

Not letting himself linger on his fears, Peter clears out his previous plans of going on a YouTube spiral and eating sour gummies until his teeth stick, instead utilising the time to get his foot in and and begins prepping for the assignment. Cursory, preliminary research at first, before the inevitable deep dive begins.

Neanderthal, Peter scoffs, mad all over again. Who is Stark to call Peter a neanderthal? He’s second in his class. He’s a straight A student. He likes school.

And as much as he is moderately skilled in, and enjoys JV, it’s not like he received his scholarship to study at Midtown based on his physical prowess.

The graze on his cheek that stings every time he yawns is proof of that.

Stark can eat his entire ass and choke on it, he thinks darkly, as he continues his research. He doesn’t know the first thing about Peter.

The data is sobering as he delves into job listings and statistics of his projected salary in a three year margin. This is really what his teachers earn? Wow. Depressing.

The contrast of expected salary versus the forecast of steep student loans is disheartening further still.

Teaching quietly slips from second to third on his list of ideal occupations.

Turning on a playlist on his phone, Peter continues to compile notes, amassing a truly gargantuan amount of tabs on his browser. His computer, old enough to be on its’ last teeth, whirrs loudly in protest.

It’s not until his room goes dark that he thinks to check the time.

Ah, shit. It’s nearly six.

Peter pauses. Should he tidy up the apartment?

...Nah, no point in breaking a sweat for Stark.

He continues typing. Then he hesitates, fingers suspended in mid-air. 

But what if Stark sees his unfolded laundry out on the dining table and publicly shames him for his old-but-comfortable Bulbasaur themed boxer shorts?

Goddamnit.

---

A quick, cursory clean ensues and leaves a relatively orderly Parker apartment. No freshly laundered underwear is in sight.

Peter wraps up just a few minutes before six. Right on time.

Taking a seat at the now clear dining table Peter drums his fingers on the surface and waits.

And waits.

And waits.

---

He knows when Tony finally arrives when he hears the sound of a car pulling up outside his apartment block. The riffs of a Roxette remix can be heard playing loudly  from the ground to the seventh floor of his apartment, the bass so thunderous it reverberates the windows all the way up to his floor.

Drumming his fingers on the kitchen table, Peter checks the wall clock again. It’s nearly seven.

Tony’s late.

Not that Peter is particularly affected with surprise that Tony is incapable of following basic instructions, but still. Really? Really?

By the time there is a knock on his door, Peter is already before it, his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face. Every second between Tony pulling up and his ascent to Peter’s floor has him positively fuming. He can’t believe how this day played out. It started with such promise. He had such innocuous, but high hopes.

Clearly, he miscalculated.

Feeling a touch petty, he waits to answer, listening to Stark knock a second and then a third, more insistent time before he rouses enough calm to open the door.

He instantly regrets it when he does. 

Tony’s expression is curious one as he breezes right passed Peter without waiting for further invitation. There’s a smudge of something dark on his brow, his otherwise white undershirt smeared in dark stains.

Peter watches incredulously as the other boy drops his backpack by the door with a thump.

“You’re late.”

He closes the door behind Tony and scowls at the other boys easy posture, hands shoved into his pockets, eyes taking in the apartment.

“I didn’t realise you lived all the way out in fucking Queens. Do you have any idea how bad traffic is at this time of day? Also, your elevator doesn’t work. I just climbed seven flights of stairs, where’s the hospitality?”

“Try earning it.”

The other boy rolls his eyes. “Like it’s worth my time.” He breezes past Peter and slides his leather jacket off his arms, tossing it atop of his backpack in the corner. “Look, I’m here now. Okay? You can unclench now. So, do I get a tour or what?”

“Or what. This wouldn’t have been an issue if we had just started straight after class like I said.”

“Oh I’m sorry,” Tony clutches his hands to his heart before gesturing to the room. “I didn’t realise I was interrupting your busy Friday night, Parker. You got a keg and the rest of the meatheads stashed away somewhere?”

Without waiting for a response, Tony wanders around the living room like a curious child in a new play room. His gaze inspects everything all at once, from peering at up close at the wall mounted photos and hovering his grubby hands over the oddments and knick-knacks speckled throughout the space.

Apprehensive, Peter can’t help but shadow him, afraid he just let loose a hurricane in a china shop.

Without asking, Tony picks up May’s old Magic 8-Ball and gives it a good shake. Peter’s fingers itch to reach over and stop him, but stops himself because then that would require actually making direct skin contact the other boy.

Not worth it.

“Cannot predict now. Huh,” Tony says to himself before placing the ball back in the wrong spot. 

They both watch silently as it rolls precariously close to the edge. 

“Anyways,” Tony helps himself to an armchair, lounging back and spreading his legs wide. “I know your long-term memory is probably as defective as the rest of you, so don’t strain yourself recalling that I had other priorities.”

“Like what?”

“Like literally anything that isn’t being around you,” the other boy grins. “Now, are we doing this thing, or did you invite me over so you could bitch at me?”

“I didn’t invite you,” Peter grumbles, swiping his notebook from the dining table before sitting on the sofa, as far away from Stark as possible. Shifting, he takes his phone from his pocket and opens the notes he’d taken earlier.

“So, I cross referenced some websites and current job listings,” Peter scrolls through his research, adjusting his glasses as they slip down his nose. “Assuming you have no savings, we’re looking at an average of sixty-thousand per annum based on my salary alone. The average rent in --”

“-- Uh, why are we assuming I have no savings?”

"Because... we’re being realistic?”

Tony springs to his feet and paces across the living room.

“Well,” he says, gesturing to Peter, “if we’re being realistic, does having no savings also that mean I have no debt -- or are you paying off two student loans on your salary?”

“I don’t --”

“Do we have car loans? Health insurance?”

“Wait, slow your roll, Stark. I haven’t yet --”

“-- Of course you haven’t. I mean really, Parker, do you ever think ahead? You should try it, we do have a baby on the way, you know.” Tony clicks his fingers and points at Peter. “Oh, names! I want to call it Molly.”

“As in the drug?” 

“No, as in Ringwald. Anyhoo, seeing as only one of us has the intellectual capacity to construct a budget,” Tony gestures to himself, “that would be me, consider maybe that I spent my savings paying off my student loans and bought a car for me and Miss Molly, leaving you with just your own stagnant debt. Happy?”

“Thrilled,” he says through clenched teeth, feeling utterly steamrolled. “But we’re not calling the baby Molly.”

“Yes, we are. Think of all the great nicknames. Hey wait,” Tony pauses in his pacing, “are your parents going to be home soon?”

It was in that moment Peters world narrows down to one, botched cosmic joke.

Turning his gaze heavenwards, Peter prays silently for mercy. What did he do to deserve this. This is all his bad karma come at once. This is the bad place.

“Ah, no,” he replies, eyes widening. “No, my parents are not going to be home soon.”

“Cool. Lucky you.”

Oblivious to Peter’s existential turmoil, Tony resumes his patrol through the living room, picking up a frame on the mantle. It houses an old photo of Ben, May and a young, bespectacled Peter. 

It is one of the more embarrassing immortalisations of his younger self, eleven-years old and grinning widely, bearing his silver braces to the camera as he holds up a science fair trophy, curls wild and untamed.

Oh god. That was exactly what Peter needed on this unholy day - Tony Stark in his living room, witnessing Peter in his prepubescent glory. 

Quick, create a diversion.

“So, as I was saying,” he says loudly, “rent is reasonably affordable with a sixty-thousand budget in --”

“Who’s the babe?” Tony points to a younger Aunt May in the photo.

Peter gets to his feet and removes the frame from Tony’s grasp. He glowers as he places it back on the mantle. 

“No one you would have a chance with. Can you stay focused? Like, are you physically capable of it?”

“Okay, calm down,” Tony holds his hands up in surrender. “You’ve got a lot of anger for someone so vertically challenged, you know that, shortstack?” 

“Focus, dumbass.”

“I’m focused! Let’s see, we’ve established that I am excellent at managing my money. You have a shitty job and a shitty salary, and apparently my imaginary future self has terrible taste in men. So. Have I got that right? Where are we living?”

“Queens. LIC has some one bed, one baths that could be affordable.”

“Uh, rewind. Going to have to eighty-six that - I am not living in Queens.”

Peter stares at him.

Tony rubs his hands over his face and sighs. “Fine, whatever. But I want a Pontiac Firebird in this imaginary life if I have to deal with you.”

“For someone so keen on getting away you’re doing your best to prolong this experience. It’s literally painful.”

“Well, I just like to see you get all riled up, Princess,” Tony grins, leaning back against the mantle and folding his arms over his chest. “You have this vein that bulges on your forehead when you’re mad. Makes you look like a pitbull.”

Peter swallows the particularly acidic retort sitting on his tongue and tries not to let Tony’s words sting. Be the bigger man, Ben used to say. As difficult as it is to channel even a modicum of the mans’ eternal patience, Peter takes a deep breath and reminds himself to stay focused. The less he gets sidetracked by Tony’s fuckery, the sooner it’s over.

He mentions the next part with unease. 

“...Miss Ahn said that we need references and should do field research. Speak to realtors. Ask people who have a similar lifestyle and budget.”

The look that comes over the other boys face is one of unequivocal revulsion. Peter can relate. The thought of having to spend more time with this guy makes his stomach turn.

“Well, Parker, any bright ideas who we can ask?”

The hinges of the front door squeaks before Peter can respond.

Moments after, Aunt May walks into the living room, placing her bag down on the dining table. She looks between the two boys curiously.

“Hey, Pete,” she comes to his side to squeezes his shoulder. “Who do we have here?”

Tony rushes over with his hand outstretched, an eager grin on his face. 

“Tony Stark, ma’am. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh, ah, okay, well,” May laughs as he enthusiastically shakes her hand. Her eyes are soft as Tony smiles brightly at her. “Nice to meet you too, Tony. I’m May, Peter’s aunt. Are you... friends with Peter?”

Peter snorts. 

“Definitely not. We just have an assignment --”

“-- Great friends, actually,” Tony talks over him, taking a seat beside Peter on the sofa. To Peter’s utter disgust, the other boy puts an arm around his shoulders, squeezing his bicep encouragingly. “Aren’t we, Pete? Hmm? Best buds. We go way back.”

Peter freezes, feeling the line of heat from Tony’s against his side, the weight of his arm on his body. 

Eyes widening, he feels his skin crawl. 

“That’s sweet,” May smiles, putting her hair up in a loose, messy bun. “Well, I don’t know about you boys, but I’m starving. I’m ordering pizza, Friday special. You should stay for dinner, Tony.”

Tony places his free hand on his chest.

“I would be honoured.”

May looks at Tony strangely before retreating to the kitchen to retrieve the menus.

As soon as she’s out of sight Tony takes his arm off Peter and quickly shifts away from him like he’s been burned. 

“Dude,” Peter whispers, bewildered. “What the fuck?”

“Oh my god,” Tony whispers, shuddering as his face scrunches up in disgust. “I’m going to have to pour scalding hot water on all the places your skin just touched me. Ugh, I feel like I just touched toe fungus.”

Peter slaps his arm.

“What is wrong with you?”

Tony backhands Peter’s arm in retaliation and then shudders all over again.

“Your aunt is crazy hot, okay, I couldn’t help myself. It was an instinctual reaction. Is she taken? C’mon. Vindicate me.” 

“I’ll eviscerate you --”

“-- I mean, clearly she married into the family, she doesn’t share your unfortunate phenotype, but I didn’t see a ring on her finger. So? Yes or no?”

“You’re unbelievable,” Peter hisses as his aunt comes back in. “She’s not available to you. Not now, not ever.”

“But she is available?”

“Don’t even, Stark. You’re like, sixteen. Don’t you have any shame?”

Tony smiles, as she nears. “Not a shred.”

“So,” May waves a menu at them. “You boys happy with pepperoni?”

Closing his eyes, Peter wishes for death.

As fate would have it, he gets pepperoni instead.

-----

If you had ever told Peter that he would be sitting down for dinner with his Aunt and a dirt-streaked Tony Stark, he would have laughed.

And if Peter were outside himself he would probably find the sharing of pizza and soda over their plastic, chequered table-cloth comical -- in that uncanny, Dogs Playing Poker kind of way. But in reality there was nothing funny about the discomfort of having Tony in his personal space or the heavy, suffocating tension that has removed the air from the room. 

The entire time Tony has been hamming it up, cracking jokes with his aunt, complimenting her on the decor, asking what she does for work. Peter doesn’t know if he’s being sweet to May for the purpose of buttering her up, or, given the wealth of his family in contrast to the Parkers, if he’s being cruelly facetious. 

Nonetheless, Peter has felt on edge. It’s disconcerting, is what it is. Every single movement Tony makes, every time he opens his mouth -- frequently to sweet-talk his aunt -- has Peter’s anxiety standing at attention, hyperaware of everything the other boy does.

He’s beginning to feel like a meerkat whose den has been invaded by a lion.

Through the course of a single meal Peter’s attention moves from the sky to the floor. There is no grace or higher power that is coming to save him from this profound, unusual torture. 

So he focuses his hopes to the south, seeing through their tiny, cramped, dinner table, past bargaining. He’s willing to trade his soul to end it all. Surely some wayward being from hell would come to his rescue. 

May has Peter’s chin between her fingers. She turns it this way and that, inspecting his injuries.

“What happened this time, bubby?” She frowns, brow furrowing. “You look like you got beat up.”

Peter, very aware of Tony’s amused gaze on them, gently pulls away from her grasp. He smiles placatingly and picks at his pizza slice. God he’s never going to live this down.

“Training accident. It’s okay, I feel fine. ‘Tis but a scratch,” he brings himself to joke.

“You sure?”

“Yep.”

She leans in to kiss his cheek, carefully avoiding the fresh scabs and injured flesh. “God, you bruise like a peach. Be careful, baby, you’re our money maker,” she laughs. “What about you Tony, do you play football?”

Tony, who is mid way through chewing on a mouthful of pizza, momentarily chokes, beating his chest with his fist to swallow down the obstruction.

“Uh, no,” Tony gulps, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Nope. No recreational sports for me. Can’t.” He gestures to his chest and sighs heavily. “Asthma.”

Peter sips his coke and rolls his eyes, knowing full well there’s a half-empty pack of Marlboro Light’s in the pocket of Tony’s jeans. Asthma. What a schmuck.

“That’s a shame. Do you boys have classes together?”

Unfortunately, Peter thinks.

The other boy seems to have the same thought, as he glares at Peter from over the table. When he picks up his can of coke, he gives Peter the finger outside of May’s eye-line.

“That’s why Tony’s here,” Peter twists his napkin in his grip. “We have an econ assignment together on microeconomics. Teach says Tony’s destined to be on welfare.”

Tony leans in, chin rested on his hand. He addresses May but his stare, dark and odious, rests on Peter.

“Not accurate. Stay-at-home parent, actually. One might say that is the most important job of all. Wouldn’t you agree, May?”

She raises her Coke.

“Hear, hear.”

Tony grins roguishly, the same grin he gave the girls at the lockers earlier. “Petey here was just saying that we should ask you about your experience running a household on a single salary. We’d love to have you as a reference.”

“Was I saying that?” Peter narrows his eyes. “I can’t remember.”

Tony kicks him under the table. The hit lands right in his knee cap.

Wincing, Peter kicks back, satisfied when the other boy bites his lip to hold back a pained groan.

“Yeah, well, not surprising,” Tony says airily, waving his hand. “Hit your head today, didn’t you? Maybe you should get all that damage looked into.”

The napkin rips in Peter’s grasp.

“Maybe you should go f--”

“I’d be more than happy to help with your assignment, boys,” May cuts in.

Whatever snide reply he has in his mouth instantly wilts when he looks over to his Aunt. She looks...pleased. Delighted, almost. Her eyes under the dull, yellow kitchen light seem to get warmer, and her smile is small but softens around the edges.

Instantly, Peter feels like the worst person in the world. Of course May would be the best person to ask. She does so much for him, the least he can do is set his pride aside for one moment to make her feel good about how hard she works for their life.

He reaches over to squeeze her hand, smiling as gratitude swells unexpectedly in his chest.

“Thanks, May. That would be great.”

Across the table, a smug Tony looks like the cat who got the cream. 

Without warning, Peter’s chest goes hot with contempt, his fingernails dig into his palm. He’s not sure he’s ever met anyone he couldn’t like, until now.

I hate you, Peter mouths while May busies herself with rounding up the pizza boxes.

Kiss my ass, Tony mouths back. 

In an instant his expression flips from contemptuous to angelic when he stands and offers to help May clean up.

Peter stands too, sparing a disdainful glance to the floor. Turns out not even the devil was willing to give him a hand.

Natasha was right. It’s going to end in murder.

---

Peter walks Tony to the door after dinner to say goodbye to his ‘friend’. Following him into the hall, Peter closes the door behind them.

“What do you want, Parker?” Tony asks wearily, retrieving a cigarette from his pocket. “I’m trying to make a getaway here.”

Peter crosses his arms over his chest. “Don’t do that with my aunt. I’m not joking, asshole. It’s not cool.”

“Relax, princess,” Tony rolls his eyes, fishing for his lighter in his backpack. “I’m not actually interested. Just trying to get under your skin. Worked, see? You’re easy like that. Hey, why do you live with your aunt anyways?”

“None of your business,” he frowns as Tony holds one hand up in surrender and lights his cigarette with the other. “Dude, you can’t smoke in here.”

“Can’t, shouldn’t, gonna. By the way, you’ve got sauce on your chin, it’s very distracting.”

Peter wipes at it without thinking. When he pulls it away there is indeed a smear of red sauce on his hand.

Tony walks backwards down the hall and exhales a cloud of smoke, waving in a sardonic imitation of a farewell.

“See you Monday, bubby.”

Peter doesn’t bother with a response, too tired from the week, exhausted by this whole darn day, and it’s not like the other boy cares what he has to say anyway. He takes a moment to swallow his anger before he heads back inside, sighing. 

Well, at least he has an entire weekend free of Stark to look forward to.

May looks at him curiously when he reemerges, but says nothing. He considers for a moment about heading to his bedroom and playing a video game to disassociate - but then, suddenly, remembers her smile earlier, and how alone she looks now. A surge of affection hits him right beneath his breastbone.

He checks his watch and then catches her eye.  Tilting his head towards the living room, he says, “Hey. You wanna eat some ice cream and watch some Colbert before bed?”

She smiles just like she did earlier and kisses his cheek. “Sounds nice, Pete.”

Maybe the whole day wasn’t lost.

As May heads to the sofa and switches the TV on, Peter catches sight of the Magic 8-Ball from the corner of his eye. He walks over and gives it a shake.

Outlook good.

*

*

----

tagging: @bylerboyfriends @ravens-starker-stuff, @starker-rays, @ironspiderstarker, @notfor-temporaryuse, @tabbycat1220, @sugarfreecult, @rebel13lion39, @muse-of-gods