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erodasfishtacos · 4 years ago

Text

#HendallReunited

prompt: request was to write broad but to write something angsty

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: language, sexual content, angst

Harry always had issues with saying ‘no’ to people. He never quite grew out of his manners even when he should have.

He said ‘yes’ to way too many things- signing autographs for rude fans and paparazzi, and agreed to way too many things Jeff suggested.

Saying yes to everything didn’t make his life any easier is the thing. Especially when it came to his wife. She was usually left with the aftermath of him being too nice.

The media painted Y/N in a negative light occasionally and so did the fans because she would stand up for Harry and not let him say ‘yes’ to every single request.

She would tell disrespectful fans he’s not signing autographs because of the way they were screaming and interrupting his work.

Harry wished he could do it himself - admired that his wife didn’t give a fuck what people thought about her. He cared entirely too much what the world would think.

The couple didn’t fight about much - no, not really. Normal couple stuff for the most part. But this was the exception, this is where Y/N found most of their turmoil.

Every few months it would rear it’s ugly head and they’d find themselves in the same position over and over again.

This time - it was really fucking bad.

The couple had been staying in their Los Angeles home for the last few months whilst the singer finalized his album and began promotion.

It was boring meeting among boring lunch outings to get all their ducks in a row. Jeff - his manager the main orchestrator.

He was a great manager and a good friend, but it was also business too which Harry didn’t always comprehend.

At the end of the day, Harry was making Jeff millions upon millions of dollars. But Harry didn’t think that way.

Harry was in a stuffy conference room at the The Late Late Show to work on the script and ideas for the show. Promo had been nonstop.

He was a bit tired as it was nearly just hitting eight in the morning and he had been up late with you - having some late night loving in the hot tub.

“As for guest - Kendall Jenner,” James Corden’s producer states. All the men agree but Harry is taken aback.

“Why...why would we have my ex-girlfriend as one of my guests?” Harry interrupts, confusion knitting his brows.

Kendall and him didn’t end on a bad note - not at all. They hooked up a few times after their ‘break-up’ but once he’d met Y/N she was understanding when he cut it off.

Y/N wasn’t necessarily jealous of the model, but didn’t love when they’d run into each other at events. She was still overtly flirty with Harry without much shame.

Harry also didn’t have an desire to see her or host her as a guest on the show. She was nice but he wasn’t interested in being friends with her. They didn’t have much in common and he was head over heels for his wife.

“The media will eat it up, dude. Harry Styles and Kendall Jenner reunited on a show after four years?” Jeff smiles, the others nodding in amicable agreement.

This is one of this times where Harry needs to say “no,” that it’s disrespectful to his significant other to use an old flame for promo for his album.

He already knows ‘hendall’ will be trending within minutes and he can’t imagine how that would make his parter feel.

“I just...this doesn’t seem like a good idea?” Harry begins hesitantly, making it sound more like a question than a statement.

“Why not?” Eric, one of the writers asks.

“Y’know, I’m married. I don’t think m’missus would appreciate if I did somethin’ like that just for promotion,” he states, scratching at his jaw uncomfortably.

“Look Styles, we’re not asking you to fuck the girl. It just a interview, c’mon,” The executive producer gruffs - wanting those guaranteed views.

Harry swallows - looking at his manager and then at everyone else at the table looking at him for an affirmative answer.

“Uh-sure,” Harry fumbles, feeling anxiety rise into his throat. Fuck, he’s such a god damn pushover.

He’s trying to find his voice to go back on his agreement but the meeting wrapping up and people are leaving with final handshakes.

Harry doesn’t know how to tell Y/N what is going on. He’d been keeping in stored in the back of his mind, not ready to have a blowout.

He never found the perfect time to bring it up and now it was too late. It was the morning of the show and he was due to be at the rehearsals this afternoon.

Harry had finally decided he was going to tell her this morning over coffee but forgot that she had a girl’s day planned with a few friends.

She was already out to breakfast with them when he woke up. His phone had one text from you.

Hi baby. I’m out with the girls. See you at the show tonight. I’ll meet you there around six! Love you!

He was fucked royally and he had no one to blame but himself. Maybe it’d be okay, maybe she’d roll her eyes and tell him he’s an idiot.

Realistically he knew that was just a sweet dream at this point.

—

Harry was fidgety and kept mucking up his lines during rehearsal as it got closer to the showtime and his missus arriving.

Kendall had arrived for hair and makeup without seeing her ex-boyfriend yet. He dreaded seeing the model.

Kendall and Y/N had met a few times at different events. It was always cordial. Kendall was always casual - their relationship was never more than a couple fun dates and sex.

They were kind to each other when they met but he couldn’t deny how much harder his partner kissed him on the mouth afterwards.

Before he know it, his wife is hugging him from behind as he talks to a producer about which cameras to look at.

Y/N noticed the way he tensed up at first and thought about how unusual that was for him. Normally, he’d lean back into her with his full weight causing them both to stumble and laugh.

He slowly, cautiously turns around and his face relaxes a little bit but not completely. “Hi baby,” he hums, leaning in for a kiss.

“You look so handsome,” she replies, admiring his brown pinstriped suit and her pearl necklace that he’d snagged awhile back. She thought it looked better on him anyways.

“You look even better, s’fuckin’ pretty, love,” he gushes, coming back in for another kiss - a little too sensual for the setting.

She was donned in a cropped white shirt, showing of the smooth expanse of her tummy. An oversized blazer of Harry’s, ripped jeans, and heels.

Harry thought fleetingly he couldn’t wait to fuck her after the show. Then remembered that mostly wouldn’t happen.

Reggie, the musical lead, slides up to you two. He smiles wide at you, saying, “Can’t believe you agreed to the guest this evening.”

Her eyebrows furrow in confusion, Harry’s raise nearly to his forehead, but when she opens her mouth to ask him to explain they’re interrupted.

“Harry!” The leggy model trots over to the little group. Dressed in an interesting one-piece suit that has sewn in heels. She looked beautiful as ever, of course she was a model.

Both of them turn towards the oblivious girl, “Kendall,” Harry replies with a twinge of anxiety - eyes repeatedly looking at his significant other’s profile as multiple emotions flash.

“Hiya, you’re Y/N right?” Kendall smiles kindly, offering her manicured hand.

She accepts, “Yeah, uh-good to see you again.”

Harry knew she had connected the dots quickly in her head. The hurt, confusion, had hit her eyes before narrowing into full-blown rage at her partner.

“I promise I’ll go easy on him,” Kendall jokes before pinching at Harry’s cheek teasingly. The model was a natural flirt with everyone she got along with.

“Oh, sure,” she replies lamely, attempting to not let her feelings burst out in that moment with her husband . She knew it wasn’t Kendall’s fault.

“I’m going to go grab a bite to eat. I’m probably gonna puke when we do ‘spill or fill’. See you guys soon,” the model waves before trailing off with her assistant.

“Did you kn- of course you knew she was your guest,” Y/N seethes, turning to fully face the guilt-stricken-singer.

He rubs the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact, “I did.”

“How long have you known for?” She demands to know, keeping her voice at an angry whisper to not draw attention.

Harry wasn’t going to lie to his love, “About two weeks.”

Y/N replies with a laugh, “let me guess, you let Jeffrey talk you into this bullshit, again.”

His silence is all she needs to know it’s true.

“For Christ’s sake, of course,” She huffs bitterly, “what’s even worse is you didn’t fucking tell me. What the fuck?”

Harry bites his lip, not able to rasp out anything but a pathetic, “m’sorry, love.”

He wasn’t usually good at taking responsibility during a fight. He was stubborn at best but he couldn’t deny his way out of this.

“You will be, you-“

They were cut off by the staff, the audience was trailing in and Harry needed to get mic’d up now.

“This conversation isn’t over,” she points her finger at his chest before storming off to the side of the stage where she’d watch from.

Fucking shit.

Harry was a performer. It’s easy for him to push things to the back of his mind so he can entertain a enamored audience.

But tonight, he was struggling. Eyes flicking over to the teleprompter more than usual, his demeanor not as vivid and carefree.

Not when his wife was glaring daggers at him from stage right. Her hand constantly at her mouth, biting at her nails - a nervous tick of hers.

“Next up, the one, the only, the beautiful model and one of my good friends, Kendall Jenner!” Harry introduces when she walks out and waves at the crowd.

They hug and when they pull apart they step over to where they were playing the game. Either answer the question or eat a nasty food picked out by the other.

They weren’t allowed to see each other’s questions before the game started- both going on blind which put Harry more on edge.

“Okay, Kendall. Rank the members of One Direction on most to least attractive or you will be eating...” Harry spins the table, “Cow tongue.”

She flinched at the disgusting plate, smirking up at Harry before considering her course of action, “I think I can answer this one.”

He wasn’t looking forward to her answer. Neither was Y/N by the way she nearly shaking her foot off her leg.

“Okay, I got this. You - the most attractive, then uh- Zayn....Louis...Niall...Liam,” she laughs, “but all of you are hot!”

Harry fake laughs and acts like he’s impressed by her answer as the crowd roars and cheers.

When Kendall picks up her notecard - she laughs in surprise at the question before looking at him with bright eyes.

“Okay, um, bull penis!” She giggles before starting the question, “I’m dying to know this answer. So...your first album HS1 was released four years ago, correct?”

He nods, apprehensive.

“Which songs were about me? Especially was only angel?” She laughs at Harry’s pale expression before without another thought he shovels the rancid food into his mouth.

Harry looks off to the side to see that his missus is no longer sitting there. Just Jeff - who gives him a thumbs up.

The first thing he did when the show ended and the lights dimmed was bolt off to Jeff - ignoring Kendall who was about to say something to him.

“Where’d Y/N go?”

He thought she might have went out to get a breathe of fresh air but for the next hour and a half he hasn’t seen her once.

“She said she wasn’t feeling very good. She told me to tell you she’d meet you at home,” Jeff shrugs unbothered.

“Damnit!” Harry curses loudly, ripping out of the microphone and the little pack in his back waistband.

“Harry,” Jeff scolds at his unprofessionalism that was abnormal for him.

“No! Don’t fucking ever ask me to do shit like this again. You fucking knew what questions were on those notecards and you said it wasn’t anything about our previous relationship.”

“Harry-“

“Don’t fucking talk to me. You’re a real shit manager sometimes, you know that? Do not contact me tonight or tomorrow for that matter, you douchebag,” Harry barks before storming off towards the dressing rooms.

All the employees were standing around in shock, staring at the popstar as he ignored everyone around him.

Harry was famously known for being a kind, amicable guy. So it took everyone by surprise to hear him speak like that. Even Jeff was shaken up a little.

—

The house was pitch-black as Harry pulled up. The house’s first floor was lined with large, bay windows and not a single light was on.

He could find one room illuminated which was your bedroom. A dim side lamp must have been flicked on. He imagined her purposely turning off all the lights on the trek up the staircase.

Harry didn’t want to admit how much he was trembling with awful nerves and anticipation as he slowly turns the knob of the shared bedroom.

Y/N wasn’t laying in bed as he expected but found the bathroom door shut tightly. He noticed a little yellow bag with tissue paper off to the side by a dresser.

He knocks on the oak door, not daring to enter without permission.

“What do you want?” Y/N answers, tone flat and emotionless.

“Can I come in, baby? Please...” He wasn’t ashamed to beg for forgiveness at this point. Hearing the emptiness in her tone scared him shitless.

“I really could care less,” She replies coldly from her spot in the scalding water decorated with bubbles.

Harry had never felt more unsure in his life as he enters the bathroom. Y/N had gotten proper pissed at him or vice versa before - right before a concert, an award ceremony but she’d never left without him.

Her head was laying against the foam headrest and her body was covered by the soap water. She looked tired and her eyes were puffy from crying.

Harry kneels next to the tub, “look at me, please pet.”

Y/N takes a moment before turning her head and opening her eyes. They were distant, disappointed in the man in front of her.

“I should have told you about Kendall. I should have put up more of a fight to get someone else on instead,” Harry admits, his hands desperately wanting to reach out for her.

She shakes her head with a heart-wrenching sniffle, “it’s not just tonight, Harry. We’ve had this conversation continuously for three and a half fucking years. You try to please everyone, despite them giving no fucks about you.”

“Are you that much of a pushover? You let your ex-girlfriend flirt with you in front of millions. Do you know how embarrassing and unfair that it to me?” She wipes at her eyes to stop the tears spilling over.

Harry hadn’t thought of it like that - to be honest. But he agrees, it wasn’t fair and downright cruel to do that to her.

What? All because he couldn’t say ‘no’ because he didn’t want people to be mad at him? It was pathetic and ridiculous.

“I-I won’t let it happen again, lovie. I mean it, I truly do,” Harry whimpers reaching over to cup her cheek and wants to cry when she pushes him away.

“You’re a broken record. You’ve said that a million times before but don’t change,” Y/N points out, eyes boring furiously into his wife’s.

“I’m goi-“

She cuts him off with a sharp edge in her tone, “Just leave me alone, get out.”

The man’s face crumbles and for a second, she wants to just end the fight and makeup but then nothing would change.

“Baby-“

“Get out!” She finally bellows, tears streaming down her face steadily.

He obliges, head hung in defeat as he closes the door behind him. He stands there’s blankly for a second before going to the walk-in closet.

He’s pulling out a fresh pair of cotton underwear and a large sleepshirt for his partner, laying them neatly on the bed.

Harry doesn’t know what to do with himself while he waits so he pulls out his phone to mindlessly scroll.

He throws it against the wall when he sees #hendallreunited is trending number one on Twitter at the moment.

The singer strips down to his briefs and sits with his back against the tufted headboard, staring blankly at the wall.

His eyes catch a neon pink pair of his swimshorts tossed carelessly on the decorative vase in the corner of the room from the night before .

“Fuck, baby - no need to rush,” Harry groans into Y/N ‘s mouth as she pushes him until he’s sat on the edge of their California king.

She reaches impatiently for the tie on his neon pink swimshorts and yanks them off his slim, peach-fuzz thighs before throwing them onto the vase without a care that it was worth over twenty-thousand pounds.

After edging her in the hot tub with his fingers and mouth, she wasn’t waiting any longer before clambering onto his lap, pulling her swim bottoms to the side, and sinking onto him.

He felt guilty when his cock twitched at the thought of it. But when reality set back in, the arousal with the memory evaporated.

It isn’t much longer until the door is pulled open and Y/N’s padding into the room with a towel secured around her.

She looks at the clothes Harry set out for her and pointedly walks past them to pick out her own nightwear.

That really shouldn’t make his eyes tear up as he watches her slide on a similar pair of panties and an oversized shirt. Spotting a purpling bruise on her upper in thigh from his mouth.

Y/N silently walks past the bed and to the bedroom door, looking back before bleakly stating, “I’m going to sleep in the guest room.”

He frowns, wrinkles appearing on his forehead, “You can sleep in here, love. I’ll take the guest room.”

Harry doesn’t get a reply as she just shakes her head and closes the door loudly behind her.

It’s just - he’s never seen her this upset. She was usually fantastic at communicating her feelings and hashing things out.

She wasn’t one for the silent treatment or ignoring the topic. It had his chest rising faster than usual with anxiety. The serious of it overwhelming him.

He states at the wall for a very long time without wiping the fat tears brimming over his trembling lips.

He couldn’t sleep - it was half past three and he hadn’t even laid down or clicked off the lamp.

Harry accepted sleep wasn’t coming so he begins to tidy the already clean room. He picks up the shorts and tossing them in the hamper.

He refolds some joggers he’d carelessly shoved in a drawer and when he went to move the little yellow bag - curiosity got the best of him.

There was no card and he wasn’t sure who it was for or if it had been a gift already give to Y/N that she had returned home with.

Harry really shouldn’t - but he does. Gently tugging out the paper and reaching in to feel fabric.

Pulling it out, it takes him a minute to identify what it is - two baby onesie. Who was having a baby?

He lays them in front of him, eyes widening in surprise as he reads what is printed across the black cotton.

The first one was the colors and font of his upcoming tour merch with the photo he used on his tour announcement with the heeled boot and white pants.

Love on Tour - Due Date: September 2025

With Special Guest Appearance from Baby Styles

The second one was simple and read across the chest:

I’m having your baby (and it is your business) with embroidered kiwis all of over it.

He frantically reached back into the bag to pull out a bundle of pregnancy tests tied with a silk bow.

They weren’t necessarily trying for a baby but they’re weren’t not trying either. Harry wanted a baby as soon as his missus was willing to give him one.

“No, no, don’t one,” she’d whined into his mouth when he’d reached over to grab a condom off the nightstand.

“Oh sweet thing, you want me bare? Fill you up?” He croons happily, coming back to grip at his thick base and tease at her entrance.

“Ye-yeah, H. Please,” (Y/N) whimpers, bucking her hips in the hope he’d slip inside her.

Harry hums, “Might give you a baby though, y’want me to knock you up?”

“Want it, wan-“

He cuts her off with a hard, blissful kiss as he thrusts all the way inside before pulling out to do it again.

“Gonna give it to you, whatever you want, lovie,” he promises.

The two had never used protection afterwards. It had start about seven months ago and from his knowledge she’d still been getting her periods regularly.

Occasionally, he would palm at her flat tummy and pout, “Haven’t put a baby in you yet, ‘ave I?”

He was so ecstatic but disappointed in himself for ruining everything and pleasing everyone other than who he should be.

Harry needed to fix this. He didn’t want Y/N to lose the excitement of having their baby over a dumb choice of his.

The man’s out of the room and not knocking before entering their guest room. His now pregnant love is laying on-top of the covers.

One hand subconsciously on her belly - which she removes and places next to her when her wife walks in.

The television was on but the volume was low and Y/N wasn’t watching it in the first place anyways.

Harry sits on the edge of the bed, “I opened the yellow bag.”

She looks at him with wide eyes, a little taken aback. she was going to surprise him tonight and forgot to store it away for another time after the fight.

Harry has happy tears dribbling down his cheeks, “you’re having my baby?”

Y/N nods, running a slight hand through his curls. She still had a nasty knot of anger and uncertainty in the pit of her stomach.

It pains her, wanting to share this moment of excitement with Harry but she just couldn’t. The uncertainty of whether Harry would put everybody’s needs before his own baby.

“Come back to bed, want t’talk and celebrate. M’so bloody excited,” Harry murmurs, a large smile decorating his face as he smooths a palm over the expanse of her tummy.

His wife shakes her head and places a hand over his, feeling the cold metal of all of them. “I want to be left alone.”

The twinkle in Harry’s eye diminishes to devastation as he realizes that he’s fucked up so badly that she doesn’t even want to celebrate.

“Pet, can...we just forget about it tonight and be happy ‘bout the baby?” Harry asks selfishly, knowing it was unlikely she’d agree.

She didn’t, a firm expression on her face, “no, I have a lot to think about.”

“Like wha’?” He asks anxiously, unknowing of quite the reason she was so furious.

“Like how you say yes to everything and everyone. We talk and talk about how you need to say ‘no’ and do what’s best for you - for us. You agree to and never follow through”

She takes a shaky breath and continues, “it’s affected our relationship before when you’ve had to cancel our vacation away from all this for a charity concert you’d agree to perform at last minute, dinner reservations because you told your friend we’d be at their art showing they wanted you at.”

Harry knew she was right. He did those things. He wanted everyone to be happy with him - to a fault.

“Tonight was just icing on the cake, you allowed your manager to talk you into hosting your ex on that show. Out of all the people in the world - her. With flirty questions and jabs from her. You let that happen. You care about making everyone happy but in return you don’t care how it affects me. That’s pretty shitty.”

“I’m...I’m really fucking scared you’ll do that even when we have the baby. I need you to put them first and right now...I’m not sure if you’re going to. You can’t put the person you want to spend the rest of your life with first now, how do I know you’ll do it with the baby?”

Harry chokes out a sob as he presses his forehead against the bed, his broad shoulders shaking. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried this hard - years ago maybe. He felt like his wife didn’t have any faith in him and he was to blame.

He looks up at her with swollen eyes - at a loss for what to do or say. He loved her so much and was over the moon that they were going to have a baby.

“How do I fix this, darling? You’re right, I really fucked up. M’sorry,” Harry cries, grabbing at her hands and she allows it.

“Just saying you’re sorry won’t fix it,” Y/N replies flatly, letting Harry squeeze and kiss at the backs of her hands.

“Then what do I bloody do to fix this?” Harry raises his voice in frustration, staring in bewilderment at his wife.

Y/N narrows her eyes at him, “Do not raise your voice at me, Harry. Actions speak louder than words.”

Harry swallows harshly, pressing one finally kiss to her hand. “Okay.”

“Okay?” She repeats.

“I love you, I’ll fix this,” he promises with conviction. He knew what he needed to do and do it tomorrow. So he and his wife could enjoy her new pregnancy.

“I need space tonight, I just...please”Y/N says quietly, rubbing at his shoulder.

It wasn’t the first time they’ve slept in separate rooms because they weren’t getting along but they normally found their way back to each other before sunrise.

Harry nods, lip still tremble with the residual anxiety of the conversation. She allows him to press a soft kiss to her mouth before leaving the room.

—-

Cafe Habana was busy - but no one was paying much attention to Harry and Jeff. It was the morning after and Harry had demanded a meeting over breakfast with his manager.

“Y/N pregnant,” Harry states bluntly after their drinks arrive.

“Oh? Congratulations, dude. That’s exciting!” Jeff leans over to pat him on the shoulder, a big smile.

“The baby is due in September. My next tour starts in next July. The baby will be about nine months. I want to be at home with them for the first year.”

Jeff doesn’t look pleased, “what are you getting at Harry?”

“Reschedule the July and August tour dates. Tack them on to the end of the tour,” Harry lays out flat.

He hadn’t talk to his wife about this but he knew this was how he could prove that he could say ‘no’ and not be a pushover.

“No Harry. Look I get you’re excited about the baby - but that will be such a fucking hassle,” Jeff frowns, sipping his mimosa.

“I’m not asking, Jeff. I’m telling you that’s what needs to happen,” Harry replies firmly, tone strong and unwavering.

Jeff is definitely taken aback by his client’s conviction.

“While we’re on the topic, do not ever put me in a situation like you did yesterday. It affected my wife and I. And I will choose her over this career any day.”

The manager nods in surprise, “Harry, I’m sorry.”

“I’m not asking for an apology but if you ever pull something like then I’ll be looking for a new management team. Are we clear?”

Jeff once again nods, unsure of where this is coming from but at the thought of losing his biggest client would be disastrous so he’d do whatever to accommodate him.

“Consider it done,” he tells Harry before clearing his throat in a slight panic.

—

Y/N woke up to an empty house. She was restless, she asked Harry to prove to her that he could be what she needed. However, it was a bit unfair because she didn’t know how he could do it.

It’s just…she had a baby to think about. They both needed to be put first and if it took a gnarly fight for Harry to realize it...so be it.

“Baby? Love, where are you?” She hears Harry echo through the whole house. She was sat in the kitchen, on a stool by the island, idly sorting through mail.

“In here!”

Harry jogs in, panting like he sprinted from the garage up to the kitchen. He comes to stand in front of the love of his life.

“I might have not completely fixed everything but...I tried,” Harry tells her, cradling her face in his large palms. “ I just got back from lunch with Jeff. I told him about the baby.”

He takes a deep breath before continuing, “I rescheduled tour dates so I can be with you guys at home in London for the first year. Then...maybe you guys can join me after?”

“Harry…” she’s at a loss for words.

“And I told Jeff that if he ever puts me in a situation like that again, I’m firing him.”

Y/N stares at him, in awe and admiration of the man she chose to marry and keep forever. His face was so sincere and vulnerable.

Harry didn’t know whether it would be enough. If it wasn’t he’d keep trying but all he could do was hope. He waited with bated breath as she processed his words.

“Baby, you-for me?” She murmurs as she stands up and crowds into his space. He instantly wraps her up into a tight hug, missing her touch.

“Of course, pet. I’d do anything for you, I mean it. I’d quit this whole career if you wanted tha’,” he tells her truthfully - lips brushing her forehead.

“I love you, so so much,” Y/N murmurs, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“We’re havin’ a baby,'' Harry sighs dreamily into her mouth, tongue sliding against hers. A large hand came to palm at her belly.

“Yeah, m‘having your baby,” She giggles as he begins to trail the kisses down her jaw and neck - pressing her into the marble countertop.

“Should we name it Kiwi?” Harry rasps as he slides the tank top strap off her shoulder so his lips can meet the cap of her warm shoulder.

“We are not going to be that celebrity couple who names their baby something weird,” Y/N groans as he grounds his hips into hers with intent.

THE END

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needleandhammer · 4 years ago

Text

From Simmer to Score

Pairing: Soft!Curtis Everett x Reader

Summary: Curtis is good with his hands. And other stuff.

Warnings: 18+ only, explicit, smut, oral sex, penetration, fingering, dub con breeding, unprotected sex, breeding kink sort of, size kink, petite!reader, Curtis' fingers

Word count: 4k

A/N: This doesn't really fit the prompt i chose from @stargazingfangirl18 's 5k Soft Dark Challenge: "You hire a local handyman to help you with a few home projects." But the prompt still inspired this. I wanted to take the prompt somewhere more explicitly dark but once again my contribution to this challenge turned marshmallow soft. This is an au, non-apocalypse au, normal life au, idk. Just self-indulgent. Also, it was a struggle finding a gif of clean Curtis. Because he's clean in this and not living on a train, i swear.

“Try again. Very good. Let’s have you run through the exercises and then we’ll take a look at the new homework."

At your smile, the little girl nods and quickly turns to concentrate on coordinating her footwork on the pedals of your old Altenberg while reading the notes in front of her.

You back away, heading to the kitchen for some iced tea. You nearly forget your other guest who sits at the table.

This is the third time he’s accompanied Wendy for her lessons. For a man of his size, Curtis makes no sound except the faint swish of pages turning in his book. Like before, he arrived with Wendy, nodded a greeting at you, waited for your invitation to the kitchen, and then spent the entire hour silently reading.

You pull the fridge door open and pour tea into three glasses. You quietly slide one towards him. Curtis’ eyes flicker up to you, brilliantly blue, and he gives you a low murmur.

“Thanks.”

You’re about to return to Wendy when you hear your name in Curtis’ smooth baritone.

He nods to the notepad left on the table. “I, uh, noticed your reminder to call for maintenance. Something wrong?”

“Oh.” You tidy up the table, sheepish at being caught procrastinating house chores. “Just needed a second look at the water heater. The repair company came by and we tested things out when they were done, but the next day I had no hot water.”

You grimace, thinking of taking another cold shower.

“If you’re okay with it, I can grab my tool bag from my car and take a look,” he says.

You’re not prepared for the offer. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

He shakes his head, no hesitance. “I don’t mind at all. As long as you don’t.”

“I mean. I-I would really appreciate the help.”

Your time with Wendy ends after you review practice goals with her until her next lesson.

Curtis joins you two. “Hot water is running again.”

Your jaw drops and you skip to the kitchen. Hot water pours out of your faucet. You return, unable to resist grinning widely at him.

“Thank you, Curtis. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Curtis taught my dad everything about fixing houses!” Wendy chirped. He offers her a crooked smile.

“Do you have everything?” you ask your young pupil.

While Wendy thanks you and you help her pack, Curtis watches on with a faint curve to his lips.

“Edgar’s changing over to late shifts for the next couple of months. I’ll probably be driving Wendy to lessons again.”

You nod. “Sounds good. See you both then.”

After they leave, you enjoy a glorious steamy shower and then you settle onto your couch with a plate of leftover grilled veggies and fish.

Reviewing your schedule, you consider taking on one or two more students. It was years ago that you gave private lessons to help pay for college. Nearly a decade of moving between a few jobs, you are now in a quiet suburb working with a team of digital designers. The job allows you to work from home half the week, a flexibility you take great appreciation in. The professional stability encouraged you to return to music and to helping others develop their musical interests.

Wendy is your only student at the moment as you want to ease into taking on this additional responsibility. You smile, recalling your initial meeting with Wendy and her father, Edgar. Her father’s bubbly energy is such a stark contrast to Curtis. Edgar opened up quickly, sharing that he and Wendy’s mother were no longer together, that he would support whatever Wendy wanted to do. There was a perpetually youthful vigor to the room when Edgar was present.

Wendy calls Curtis, Uncle, and his adoration for her is clear. He barely said two words when he was here the first time. It doesn’t bother you. You get the impression Curtis purposely tries to not draw attention to himself, and you can empathize with that preference for tranquility.

_ _ _ _

It’s a windy day, heavy with rain clouds, the next time Wendy and Curtis are over.

“I saw your screen door was down. Planning on replacing it?” Curtis asks when you wrap up with Wendy.

“Nah. I was just going to look up what I would need and try fixing it myself.”

“It’s kind of heavy.”

His tone doesn’t imply any skepticism aimed at you and you’re not offended. You’re used to people calling you ‘small,’ though you’re not small so much as you’re short. You like to think you take up ample space. You also admit strength is not something you have in abundance. Your whole life you relied on family and friends for a lot of literal heavy lifting. But Curtis already helped you out once.

“I could fix it up.”

“I won’t ask you to do that.”

“It’s no bother, really. I’m happy to help out.”

He promises to be quick about it. While he works, Wendy happily practices on your piano.

“I have Oreos,” you announce.

She pauses to grab a cookie. “Thank you so much for letting me practice longer.”

“Of course, dear.”

She chats a bit about her upcoming birthday plans, as children are wont to do.

Curtis pops his head in. “All set. Do you want to take a look?”

You follow him out back. Swinging the screen door on its hinges, you nodded appraisingly.

“I suppose it passes inspection.” You look up with a cheeky smile, pleased to see Curtis’ lips twitching. “Thank you. Really, Curtis. I do wish you’d let me pay you.”

He shakes his head. “It’s nothing. Besides, you’re great with Wendy. I’m grateful for that.”

You can tell he loves Wendy just as much as if he was her father. “In that case, I shall give Wendy her next lesson for free.”

He blinks at you, trailing behind as you make your way inside and calling out to Wendy.

Curtis has resigned himself to a quiet, bare life. He doesn't think he wants anything much. He has Edgar’s loyalty, a result of the brotherhood he formed in his impoverished teen years. They survived together, looked out for each other. Once Wendy came along like a little star burning in a smoggy midnight, Curtis counted himself lucky to witness the little girl growing up. A chance to help nourish one seed.

The first time he arrived with Wendy at your home, Curtis couldn’t help listening in on the entire lesson, making no progress in his book. Your clear voice, your generous encouragement. You, light on your feet moving so swiftly. You, barely reaching his shoulders yet mighty in spirit, curvy and sensuous. Curtis had an urge to lift you in his palms to be stored safely in his pocket.

_ _ _ _

And so things follow. Wendy diligently learning and Curtis primarily accompanying her, taking his place at your kitchen table. You come to enjoy his steady, grounding presence just a couple steps away from you and Wendy.

Now and then, he’ll notice some upkeep you’re doing – a leaky faucet, a box of new light bulbs on your counter – and volunteer his assistance. You are reluctant to put him to work, sure that he spends enough of his days working and doing chores in his own home and besides these are tasks you can handle even if you find them tedious. Curtis is always gentle in his offers, always obtains your permission first. As time goes by and you grow less shy about accepting his help and he grows more comfortable in your space, you realize working with his hands is second nature to Curtis.

It doesn't take long for Curtis to admit to himself he wants to be near you.

Curtis doesn’t meddle. He doesn’t mingle. He doesn’t have any interest in widening his social circle. He is aware you thrived on your own for a long time, just like him; and like he has Edgar and Wendy, you have a small close-knit group of friends. Lending a hand to you doesn’t count because you are like him.

Maybe this is why he lets his guard down under your roof. There is something kindred in your calm nature that his soul responds to. Under your roof, no silences need to be filled; no pretenses forced upon him. Your invitation to rest is unspoken – he hears it and almost weeps. The more time he spends with you, like two wavelengths in tune, the stronger his urge to insert himself. To fix, or in some way leave his mark on your home. Curtis doesn’t have any interest in widening his social circle. Lending a hand to you didn't count. Until he cannot help it. He doesn’t reach out for you, doesn’t try to prove you’ll curve perfectly within his arms; but he’ll ensure your softness can curl up in a sturdy home and delight in simple pleasures.

One evening, when Edgar works later than usual, you ask if Wendy and Curtis would join you for dinner.

“Nothing fancy. I have some noodle soup and salad. Curtis, can you call Edgar to meet us here?”

Wendy sets the table. Curtis assists with the food.

He’s quick to cup your hand in his when it's nicked with a knife. You can’t help leaning into him as he runs your finger under water, wraps it in clean paper towel. He finishes with the salad, making you sit at the table.

Edgar joins you all, tired but quickly gaining energy with food and a few sips of wine. You are full and warmed by their company. While Edgar cheers on Wendy while she practices from her book, you feel Curtis’ fingers curl over your hand. His thumb brushes over your cut. You share a smile with him.

_ _ _ _

You settle into your little Toyota only to find it won’t start. It stumps you because you never had issues with this car before. You have no experience with car maintenance and don’t know the first thing to check for an engine that won’t wake.

Calling Curtis to see if you can reschedule, he insists that he can swing by to pick you up.

He had called you, his voice almost shy. He wanted to surprise Wendy for her birthday with a piano and asked for your help.

You direct Curtis to the string instruments shop in the city’s downtown area. The two of you are greeted by a sales staff upon entry. When asked, Curtis looks to you, wordless, so you do your best to describe to the salesperson what you're looking for.

There are several options of acoustic and digital instruments. You give little demonstrations on a few pianos that you consider reasonably priced.

“Curtis, check this one out.” Your hold on his sleeve is loose and propels him towards one of the upright Baldwin pianos.

“I think any of these would suit Wendy. The sounds are clear, and they don’t take up too much space. The salesperson said this one is second-hand and it’s in really good shape.” You press a few chords, then look up at Curtis with a smile.

He looks at you, gaze gentle. “I’m not worried about price. I’ll take whatever you recommend.”

That was his general response when you asked his opinion during your time in the shop: he was up for anything you recommended. Other than that, he trailed behind you so that the salesperson assumed you were the primary purchaser. Much like in your house, Curtis seemed to try hard to not draw attention. Oddly, you didn’t think anyone in the same room with him could help noticing him. Even with the dark apparel he favored, Curtis’ reserved nature can't hide all the intensity and strength just thrumming beneath the surface of his tall imposing build.

You convince him to sit beside you on the bench. He’s never played before, but humors you and tries random combinations of thirds with you. You watch his hands – clean, wide, with thick fingers – hover and slide along the keys.

He nudges you.

“Sorry. I was just impressed your sausage fingers are quite nimble.”

A half-hearted glare. “Thank you. For coming with me.”

“If I say you’re welcome, will you take a look at my car when we get back?”

He stays for dinner.

It starts raining and you have to rush out to gather hanging linens. He helps and you both run back inside. You're giddy at his eagerness to assist, resulting in damp clothing on you both.

“Oh, let’s dump it here. I’ll fold it tomorrow.” You are happy to leave the laundry in a pile on an armchair, in too good of a mood to care.

You catch him with his attention on you, a look so soft you have to look away, walk blindly a few steps. His touch is on your arm, turning you around just as you reach the piano.

He dips his head low to press chapped lips to yours, capturing your lips more, closing in to envelope you in his heat.

Curtis’ hands grip your hips with a quick jostle against the piano, prompting a slur of bright notes ringing from the keyboard that you are pressed against. And then he’s hitching you further up and firmly in his arms. His tongue licks against yours. You slant your open mouth, inviting him to taste, to devour you from the inside out. Your legs wrap around his waist like you belong there, tethered to this point in time. There’s no past or future, only Curtis, only feeling safe and real in his arms now now now.

You barely register Curtis moving, tipping you onto the couch cushions to hover over you so close. You can’t remember burning for someone like this. You can’t remember much of anything, focused on Curtis, solid and unyielding between your thighs, muscles buzzing with raw strength.

You want so badly to know more of him. Your hands wander shamelessly under his shirt, sliding up his wide back, grazing under to squeeze appreciatively at his pecs only to be called south by a narrowing of hair that leads you on until you bump his belt buckle.

You’re distracted by the tease of hot kisses he drops along your neck. There’s something sweet, vulnerable in how you allow him access to the delicate skin there. It makes Curtis bury his nose against the crook of your jaw, a long moment for him to whisper something like a prayer, before his tongue swirls and he nibbles your ear lobe. Your high pitched gasp hastens his desire. Your shirt is gone. Your bra untangled from your arms. Your breasts, oh, Curtis takes a mouthful of one fleshy breast, sucking greedily when you moan, breathless and aching now.

You claw at his shirt until it too disappears. You wriggle to help Curtis pull your pants and underwear off. Your legs want to yank him back to you, but he braces himself to allow just a bit more space between you both than before.

“Let me.” It’s almost a growl, and you want to say yes, but you want to kiss him more. You’re clinging by his neck, drinking from his soft lips, until you both part to draw breath.

His hand caresses your cheek, sliding over to slip two fingers into your slack mouth. Your tongue swipes at them, lips close to suck them in, eager to touch and taste any part of him. Jaw tight, Curtis pulls his fingers away and down. Down. His hand spans large over your curves and you hold your breath, grit your teeth. One finger saturated with saliva, sinks into your cunt. You swear you can feel more arousal dripping from you to soak his hand and he adds another finger, drawing short whimpers from you as his fingers withdraw and plunge in. God, you won’t ever tease him about his fingers again because they’re perfect. Agonizing in their quest to undo you.

His voice is husky groans, wanting so bad to feel your oh so tight cunt around his cock. Soon.

He tortures you, adds a third finger. You’re riding them, whimpering as he pumps them in you and parts the digits to stretch you. His weight slides away and you can only grasp at his hair, you’re barely glimpsing his head between your legs before you arch high when his thick wet tongue swirls and licks your folds, dialing up the white hot blooming inside you. His fingers curl just enough inside to press that patch against your pelvis that strings you tight as a bow. Pressing insistently, scratching with finger pads, until you burst and all you can do is chase more of that pulsing pleasure, humping against his face. Your hips quiver while Curtis laps at your slit.

His sucks grow gentle, thumb teasing your bud, helping you come down from the intense high.

You sigh his name.

“I’m here.”

“I want you.”

His arms wind around you, holding you tight while he kisses you. You can’t remember feeling anything better than being cradled like this as Curtis languidly kisses you.

He’s not rushed to move from you, so you cling to him and he loves you for it. Yes, he’s hard, but he wants to savor this. Already high on the sensation of your soft flesh underneath him, your thick thighs tight at his waist, your quiet hums of pleasure the evidence of his thorough work.

He ran from his past, from early years strife with despair, washing away those memories like dust and grime. He thought his life of isolation was one that moved him forward; but he has been stuck all this time.

Seeing you care for Wendy, Curtis realized he wanted that. He wanted what his friend had. He wanted you, and the precious something conceived between two souls that sing for one another. Soon. He’ll make your sweet little body his to protect, to warm through the nights.

_ _ _ _

“Thanks so much for having us for dinner,” Edgar says. He was been watching Wendy run around your humble backyard, chasing butterflies and searching for little frogs. He turns to you with a toothy grin. “And for your help with the gift. Wendy’s going to flip. I’m lucky to have you and Curtis both around.”

Your smile is just as affectionate. “Happy to have you here. Although,” your smile turns sly, “I’m a little disappointed that your special lady friend didn’t join us.”

“Curtis,” Edgar mutters under his breath. Curtis is washing dishes at the sink and pays no mind to any half-hearted curses directed at him.

Your brow arches, urging Edgar to talk as he can't help an embarassed grin.

“Well, she was traveling for work, unfortunately. But I know Wendy doesn’t mind her.”

The girl has whispered to you that Edgar’s girlfriend is beautiful and she wished she would become her new mom; this you keep to yourself, not wishing to embarrass or pressure your friend further.

“I’m happy to hear that.”

Edgar’s eyes slide sideways, quiet for a moment before he jumps out of his seat and heads to the door leading to the backyard. “I’ll just…uh…” He exits, trailing off without finishing his sentence.

You sigh and take another bite of your cake, indulging in the moist chocolate flavor. Glancing up, you find Curtis watching you. His attention is singular, a warm simmer in those bright blue eyes, causing you to freeze except for your tongue that finishes sweeping over your upper lip. His gaze narrows, grew weighty, tracking your tongue as it retreats into your mouth. He pushes away from the counter, steps close until he is able to drop to his knee beside your chair. One strong yank has your seat turning so you face him.

The door creaks open again.

“Well, the sun’s getting low so I think we’ll head home and wind down.” Edgar announces with his daughter close at his side. He has a boyish grin on his face, pulling Wendy towards the front of your house. "Wendy, say good bye.”

“Isn’t Curtis leaving too?”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll leave when he’s ready.”

“Have a good night, you two,” you say, walking with them to the front. Though Edgar is still cheerfully thanking you for the meal and insisting you stay inside and not see them off.

“You go on and just have a good time, both of you.” He sends a wink your way. You shake your head at him. “Curtis! You be a gentleman now.”

Quick as he can, he has Wendy secured in the car and they are on their way.

“Huh.” You lock the front door before turning to find Curtis. You can tell he wants to roll his eyes at Edgar’s antics. Instead, he closes in on you.

“Are you worried about me not being a gentleman?” he murmurs. His fingers hook under yours loosely.

You smirk. “I’m worried about you being too much of a gentleman.”

That smolder returns to his gaze. For a second, your body shivers, overwhelmed and you side step him, if only for a moment’s relief from the heat of his eyes.

You reach out. He takes your hand.

Once you’re down a layer, he grows even hotter seeing the mesh and lace number you have on. A tantalizing tease with the hard peaks of your nipples veiled in barely-there maroon. Just daring him to unwrap you. So he does.

His mouth leaves a wet trail seeking sensitive spots on your neck, you breasts, your thighs. Even as he moves, he still covers nearly all of your body, his heat and weight drowning you in want.

Your shudder has him grazing his beard up the inside of your thigh so that you arch and plea for his touch. God, all your uninhibited responses spur the blazing hunger in him. Curtis peels the mesh underwear down, impatient for a taste of you. His mouth waters, catching wafts of arousal and then he’s sucking and lapping your wet pussy. His rumbling groan is like a physical nudge that bows your back, and you remain rigid in the air at the sensation of his thick tongue pushing into you. Wide shoulders part your legs, shifting until your thighs rest on vast muscles.

You rock against him, keen at the hard sucks. Two fingers dip into, fucking you and rubbing with a dizzying rhythm that brings you over the edge.

With little effort, he holds up your hips and you feel a pillow slide under you to angle you higher. Then his muscled arms hook under your knees and he finally lines up and rocks forward. The tip of his cock parts your folds. Your breath hitches. His cock slides in, forcing your walls to stretch, to mold tightly to his girth.

“Curtis” – your hand was going point to the little bedside table with condoms.

Instead, you’re gripping a blanket. Gasping as he withdraws and your pussy tries to hold him in.

You mumble against his lips, incoherent. “The…inside..”

And then he feeds you his length again. And again, that delicious, addicting friction.

"Yes, inside," he agrees softly. "Like this."

With every pump, the spark catches and blazes higher. Curtis rises onto his knees, thrusts harder, watching your eyes flutter open and shut. He’s panting with the pretty picture of a needy you. He grips your thighs. As if his life depends on how tight he clutches you. Concentrating hard, his eyes drop low. Fuck. He can see your pussy clench, your puffy outer lips suckling his cock. Curtis swears your little body is refusing to give him up, and you’re wet but your cunt squeezes him so tight he has to drive harder into you to avoid slipping out.

You’re not even aware of your breathy moans, so turned on by his groans, the rough thrusts he gives you. There’s no grinding. Curtis can tell he’s rubbed against your g-spot and he keeps his snapping hips angled just right, one callused thumb circling your clit too lightly. And then your breaths stutter, your legs seize, your back arches. Curtis grits his teeth, keeping the exact same pace, draws out the storm of your pleasure. It’s so consuming, you lose your voice.

Just as you are able to breathe again, able to sense the physical realm around you, Curtis speeds up, bucking hard with low grunts, powering into you.

A high gasp – you feel him flood you. He drops to press his chest to you, still pumping his release into your clenching walls; and it’s too much, his cock merciless within your sensitive channel. He can’t help it, even as your legs start writhing with his unrelenting stimulation, even as he hears your hitched whimpers.

He finally stills. His lips find yours, tongue stroking deep.

Long moments later, his name is gentle, falling from your lips. “We didn’t use protection.”

Curtis nuzzles you, rubs his nose along the planes of your cheeks. Returns to suck your bottom lip. “It’s okay,” he whispers.

There’s a soft frown upon your brow that he kisses, and then scatters more kisses on your face.

“But, what if?”

“I want you. I want everything with you.”

You’re barely able to react as he nips hard at your collarbone and then rolls his hips. He’s half-hard inside you. You’re quickly losing yourself in Curtis, overwhelmed by the combination of his hungry mouth on your skin, unyielding clasp on your thigh. His thrusts persist, pins you in place, lights you up and scorches you. You’re right where he wants you, whining for more more more.

Now with each beat of his heart, Curtis has his mind’s eye on the prize. He’ll have you over and over. And you’ll grow a piece of him inside you. You are the way forward. You are his.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Hurrah, this one felt like it took forever. I blame Curtis. He didn't give himself up to me easily. Let me love you, ya broody boi! Thank you for reading!

#curtis everett #curtis everett x reader #smut #fanfic #siris5ksoftdarkchallenge

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seriouslysnape · 4 years ago

Note

Hi, love! Could I request something with Snape and a female reader? They dating but lately, Snape is busy with work and the reader doesn't want to disturb him or tell him she needs attention because she's quite shy and doesn't want to be a burden. But when she finally gathered the courage to tell him, he's quite surprised she missed his affection so much. Smut or just fluff whatever you feel like writing will be nice! Don't feel pressure to write it if you don't like that idea. Thank you and have a great day! (PS: I miss Alan Rickman so much T^T such an amazing actor! Ps2: Because of you I started to be a Lupin girl like whaaat he so sweet, I love how you are writing him!) 🖤💚

This is SO sweet. Like SO SWEET. And also, I was the same way! I didn’t start REALLY liking Lupin until I started reading Lupin stuff!

Time for You

Severus Snape x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Smut, Oral sex.

Word Count: 1,891

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

Communication is always a crucial step in maintaining a healthy, successful relationship. You knew that making your needs, wants, concerns, etc. verbally known was very important.

You were bored. Plain and simple, you were completely stricken with absolutely nothing to do while Severus remained holed away in his office. You would think that a school instructor would take the summers off, but Severus had a plan to change his usual class curriculum, so he had been working around the clock to create a brand new Potions class.

He had been staying busy for the first few weeks of summer, working several hours a day in his home office. Severus was always very in the zone when he worked. He tuned mostly everything out, only taking a break when he couldn’t stay awake or needed to eat or use the restroom. It was a monotonous cycle that had made your home life boring, and had taken a toll on your summer vacation.

He didn’t realize that he had been rather distant, and that he hadn’t shown you much attention at all. It didn’t help that you were too timid to actually speak up and say anything to him. You had always had a hard time expressing your wants and needs to Severus. You never wanted to come off too clingy or too pushy. You hated to ever interrupt him while he worked, so for the most part, you had stayed quiet. You didn’t want to get on his nerves or upset him.

Although, you could probably count the times he’s actually been upset with you on one hand.

You were growing more and more needy for him with each passing day. You missed his touch, his voice, and his hands on you. You just wanted him to pay attention to you, just for a little while.

You paced outside of his office, trying to encourage yourself to go talk to him. He was your boyfriend after all, and effective communication was important. Severus always expressed to you how he wanted you to tell him if you needed something. He wanted you to be happy and content, but if there was something that was making you unhappy, you had to be the one to tell him.

You took a deep breath, building up the courage to go talk to him. If nothing else, maybe you could steal a quick make out session.

You slowly pushed the door open to reveal Severus scribbling away on some parchment at his desk. He had stacks of lesson plans for the upcoming school year and a list of new materials that students would need. He had been going hard at this for a while. You just wished he’d take a break. You peeked your head in.

“Severus?” You called out to him.

His head didn’t turn to you. His body language gave no indication that he had heard you at all. You fully entered the room, closing the door gently behind you. You approached him from behind, gingerly resting your hands on his shoulders. His entire frame relaxed at the feel of such a soothing touch. He sighed lightly.

“Hello, darling.” He greeted, pausing his writing for a moment.

You rubbed his shoulders, drawing soft groans from him.

“How’s it going in here?” You asked.

“Quite well actually. I’m happy with the progress I’ve made.” He replied.

You pressed a kiss to the top of his head, his black hair was soft on your lips. Your hands moved from his shoulders so you could run your fingers through his charcoal colored locks. You massaged at his scalp as he continued to work, talking to him sweetly.

“It’s a beautiful day outside. It’s warm and the sky is clear.” You pointed out to him.

His eyes shifted from his desk to the window. He hadn’t even taken a moment to look at the perfect summer weather. It had been an unusually pretty summer, and you hated that Severus was spending it cooped up in his dark office. The two of you should be having a picnic under your favorite oak tree, or even feeding ducks by the lake. He was missing out on such a flawless summer. That only prompted you further to get him away from his loads of work and actually enjoy his time off.

“Oh, it sure is,” He announced; “You should get out of the house for a bit. Take a walk through the park, yes?” He suggested.

You took a breath.

“I want you to come with me, love.” You requested, pulling his hair carefully behind his ears.

A sigh resonated from his chest. He’d love nothing more than to break away from his desk that he had shackled himself to and soak up the outside freshness with you, but he had convinced himself that he simply had too much to do.

“I need to work. I’ll never be ready by September if I fail to keep working.” He said, still writing with his favorite quill that you had given him as a birthday gift.

He didn’t seem to notice that you were hinting at something. Over the years, he had learned how to gauge your behaviors and your moods to notice when you wanted something, but he still encouraged you to tell him yourself. Now though, he was so occupied that he didn’t notice at all. You felt a twinge of annoyance that he wasn’t taking you more seriously, which is what caused you to blurt out rather sternly.

“Severus, please.” You begged.

Your breath caught in your throat the moment the words left your mouth and Severus’ quill stopped scratching. You had surely gotten his attention, because you were never one to snarl at him like that. He set his quill down completely, turning in his chair to look back at you. You were stunned still, surprised at yourself for having such an involuntary reaction.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.” You apologized, giving in to the urge to leave him to keep working.

You went to walk away, feeling as though you had totally crossed a line. This was always the sort of thing you tried to avoid; getting upset and possibly causing an argument. You weren’t the best when it came to confrontation, so you tried your best to maneuver around it. Before you could make any real progress to leave the room, a hand caught your wrist.

“Wait. Don’t go,” He pleaded, standing from his desk; “What’s the matter, [Y/N]?”

He knew now that you were trying to tell him something, but he wanted to see if he could get you to tell him without him having to figure it out himself. He saw the way your eyes shifted to your feet. He didn’t want you to shut down on him when he knew you wanted something.

“Please, tell me.” He added, bringing your head back so you’d look at him.

You bit your lip hesitantly. You didn’t want to seem like you were nagging him or overly pushy. But that didn’t make the fact that you were craving for his affection any less true.

“I miss you.” You finally confessed.

Severus’ expression softened even more than it was already. He could hear the desperation and longing in your voice. You were feeling neglected, and he felt guilty for not making you feel appreciated. He did appreciate you in all aspects. He adored you and he loved you. It wasn’t fair that you were feeling this way.

He was rather astonished that you had missed him enough to speak up in such a way. That’s how he knew that you were really missing him.

“Oh, my dear. Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” He questioned, caressing your smooth cheek,

You gave a simple shrug.

“I didn’t want to bother you.” You explained.

“You never bother me. I always want you to feel comfortable talking to me.” He invigorated.

You nodded into his hand, an internal cheer of victory playing in your head when he lowered his head to kiss you. His lips caught yours in a sensual way, making up for all the lost kisses from the last several weeks. You were stealing kisses from him left and right, making his heart flutter with desire. Before you knew it, you were greedily making out and he had swept you away through the house to your bedroom.

You fell onto your back onto the mattress as he continued to kiss you deeply and roughly. The noises flowing from your chest were nothing less than eager and craving. You reached for his belt, the clinking noise of it releasing was enough to get you totally excited. He pushed your hand away, a ravishing chuckle rumbling from his chest as he briefly stopped kissing you.

“This is all about you, darling.” He growled.

His lips detached from your skin, his body shimmying downwards, his face just inches away from your heated sex. He draped your legs over his shoulders as his tongue wasted no time licking a heavy stripe and your hearty whimper filled the room. He sucked and kissed as one of your hands was steady on his head to prohibit him from going too far, while the other was pressed against the headboard behind your. It felt like electricity was crackling all through your body as he mercilessly pleasured your.

“Oh, fuck...you’ve got quite the mouth, Professor.” You tried to laugh, but it came out as another moan.

Obviously this wasn't the first time you had ever been in this situation with him. But it still surprised you every time.

His chuckle vibrated against you, his voice muffled slightly;

“You better believe it.”

He knew your body backwards and forwards, which is why he put his arm over your waist to keep you from squirming too much. He smirked as he felt your muscles contract against his hold. It was a damn hot sight to see. His face buried between your legs, his tongue and lips working wonders on the woman he adored so much. Normally, he’d hold off on letting you cum. He’d slow his movements to tantalize you and make you beg. But you deserved what you wanted after these weeks.

“Severus, please...” You said feeling your legs begin to shake as his movements didn’t slow.

“I’ve got you, baby.” He spoke.

Your head fell back onto the pillow as a flash of white covered your vision. Your legs tightened on his shoulders as you crashed over your high. He continued to suck your and work you through it. He licked and swallowed your cum and lapped up your release. His name fell from your lips once more as you felt yourself settling back to normal. He grinned once your breathing attempted to slow, he returned to your side. You supposed that you owed him now, but that’d come later. He kissed you less harshly than before, you could taste yourself on his tongue.

“I love you.” You breathed out, sucking on his neck.

“I love you too.” He returned.

He hummed as you left a few hickeys on his neck. His lips finding yours soon after. He was making it a goal to stay as close to you as possible for the rest of the summer.

Potions class could definitely wait.

#severus snape #severus snape x reader #severus #severus snape x y/n #severus snape x you #professor snape #professor snape x you #professor snape x reader #alan rickman #Harry Potter #harry potter snape #snape smut #severus snape smut #severus snape x female reader

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alderaani · 3 years ago

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still i find you there

summary: after Rako Hardeen, there are several things that need fixing.

written for @codywanweek and the day 1 prompt fix-it. I fully intended to have more days completed for this, but given that it’s *checks notes* day 5, it’s probably not going to happen. this is very angsty and perhaps a bit melodramatic, but the heart wants what it wants. also catch me forgetting obi-wan was wearing his vambraces when he ‘died’ and having to stretch to make it work for me. warnings for grief, percieved death and all that good stuff.

He’s alive.

It seems impossible. It feels entirely predictable. And yet...Cody can’t make himself believe it. He saw Obi-Wan die, the grainy security-holo footage of slick Coruscant rooftops showing little more than a bolt of red and a lone figure reeling, falling. No sound, no clear faces, and yet...He knew that red hair. He knew that posture, how it could startle like that if timed very, very well.

It had been the only thing that made it real.

It had been a terrible idea to look at the footage, just like Rex (and Fox, and Wolffe, and Boil) had told him, but he couldn’t help himself. He’d needed something to help him break out of the stupor, the long silences, the staring at the door like Obi-Wan was going to walk right through it. The war didn’t stop just because someone had died, and the GAR hadn’t cared about the cataclysmic shockwave it had sent through Cody’s life.

They’d sent the 212th packing to Mimban within a day of the assassination, and Cody had nearly gotten his head blown off after leaving his left flank wide open, expecting the snap-hiss of a lightsaber to cover him. Instead Wooley had been his salvation, yanking him back at the last second and roaring that he needed to get it together. It had been like walking in a dream.

Watching the holo had worked. It had convinced some deep, desperate part of himself that Obi-Wan really wasn’t coming back. That somehow he was going to have to carry on alone, or worse, with another Jedi, whose differences would grate at him like a knife paring into bone.

And in the end, it had all been a lie.

Cody takes a deep breath and leans his forehead against one of the blaster racks in the armoury, the durasteel sharp and cool on his skin. His knees shake and he grips the shelf edges until his fingers hurt, just standing there, just breathing.

His heart feels big and swollen in his chest, gluttoned with relief and anger, paired with a sharp, aching grief that now, more than ever, has nowhere to go. There’s no reason to harbour it; he should know better.

He just can’t help it.

He’d stood through the shuttle landing, through the torturous debrief, through strange, hairless Obi-Wan meeting his eyes and explaining earnestly that ‘if it hadn’t been classified of course he’d have said something…’ without so much as a twitch, but a great yawning chasm in his belly had opened and only kept getting wider the longer they kept making small talk about provisions, and reopening Obi-Wan’s quarters and a million other things that had happened since he’d - gone away. In the end he’d excused himself, planning to retrieve the personal effects he’d personally cleared out of Obi-Wan’s quarters because he’d needed to feel close to him, after, and there hadn’t been any other practical reason to go in there.

Except now he’s standing here, the relevant box at his feet, and he just can’t move.

Eventually the trembling in his legs slows, and he lifts his head from the shelf, turning instead to slide down it, using it for balance until he hits the floor. His knee thunks against the crate as he collapses, the scant things inside clinking against each other.

That had been one of the worst things; Obi-Wan always filled a room. His presence was a gentle, quiet, pervasive thing. Cody had held his small collection of two plants, a meditation mat, a few trinkets from planets visited and a lightsaber maintenance kit and felt nothing.

He swipes ruthlessly at his face with one hand, thumbing under his eyes to scrub away the moisture.

He needs to get moving. They’ll be looking for him soon.

Instead, his knee has dislodged the thin fabric covering the crate, and his eyes catch on the vambrace stacked on top, the straps frayed and snapped. Cody had helped paint this one and its pair, had shown Obi-Wan how to get the colours to take properly to the unwieldy plastoid.

He’d been the one to break it, too. Obi-Wan had just come out of the field medstation, bruised to shit but still smiling, and Cody had crowded him against a powered down holostation in the empty command tent and yanked at his clothes, just needing to feel his pulse under his skin, to feel the warmth of him safe and alive. It had been too much for the worn out armour to bear.

Two cycles later Obi-Wan had been on his way to Coruscant again, and there had been no time to fix them. It’s stupid, but Cody had taken one look at them on the little desk, in the space that had once been Obi-Wan’s room, and all he’d been able to think was that he hadn’t been properly protected. Cody had broken his armour. Cody had left him vulnerable.

Obi-Wan’d taken his spare set, of course, but he’s always complained that they chafe, and if there’s one thing Cody knows, it’s that if your armour isn’t right you aren’t fighting at your best.

He reaches for the broken piece now, thumbing the frayed synthleather and the chipped paint, yellow and red and faint scuffed up grey.

He knows now that it wouldn’t have made a difference to what happened, but he still heaves himself up to his feet after a moment and goes to the supply closet, pulls out a new strap, and sits back down again, committing to unpicking the stitching of the old before he can attach it.

He should’ve done this sooner.

He should’ve been more careful.

He should’ve been there.

He should’ve -

He could have -

He’s crying.

He’s crying, and he doesn’t realise it until the salt is heavy on his cheeks, until his neckline is wet, until his vision blurs so hard he can’t see. Cody makes a low, animal sound and curls over the vambrace, his fingers stilling against the threads.

His throat aches, his face is swollen, his body hot. He feels sick, and disoriented, overwhelmed in a way he can’t name.

“Cody?”

He flinches like he’s wounded, turning his face away from the door, like it will hide the evidence of his weakness. He knows he’s failed when Obi-Wan’s breath sucks in, so loud in the quiet.

“Cody?” His voice comes again, much closer this time. “Will you...will you look at me?”

Through the haze, Cody catches something that does make him turn. Obi-Wan sounds...hesitant, so uncharacteristically tentative that it cuts through the rest.

He wipes quickly at his face, smearing the mess, and gets his eyes just clear enough to find Obi-Wan’s face, so foreign and smooth but so dear for all that. His eyes are still the same, glacier-heart blue, and worried, right now, focused on his face.

“Oh,” Obi-Wan whispers at whatever he finds there, then reaches out, stutters halfway through, and drops his hand. His wrist is bare, and his robe sleeves flop backwards.

“I was trying to fix it,” Cody croaks, shifting to unveil the half-mended vambrace. “Before I brought it back. I broke it, and then you left without it and then you -”

It’s Obi-Wan’s turn to flinch back this time, while Cody greedily drinks him in, taking in the changes to his face, the way the lack of a beard makes his jaw look sharper, his features look younger. The stubbly fuzz of his hair is odd, true enough, but it’s still him.

“I - I never thought,” Obi-Wan says haltingly, and now Cody frowns, because it’s so unlike him to lose his words. Obi-Wan’s eyes flicker away, then back, like he’s steeling himself. Almost like he’s afraid.

“I never imagined you’d feel responsible - Cody - I’m so sorry -”

He reaches out, his fingers loosely catching Cody’s wrist this time. Cody feels it, the warmth of his hand sharp and electric. Tears spring to his eyes all over again; it’s the first time they’ve touched since he walked Obi-Wan to the hangar and he kissed him goodbye behind a LAAT/i. He’s replayed it so many times since, thinking he’d never get another, but the memory does the reality no justice, failing to preserve the way heat floods under his skin.

Obi-Wan moves to take his hand back, and Cody traps it there, anchoring his fingers and dipping his head, just breathing through it.

“If I could have told you,” Obi-Wan continues. “I would have, I swear it, I -”

“I know,” Cody says instantly, because he does, he’d never doubt it. “I know you couldn’t.”

Their fingers curl more securely together, calluses and knuckles finding a home against their pair.

“I didn’t know if you’d be angry,” Obi-Wan says. Cody shakes his head before he even thinks about it.

“It was your duty. I just -,” he squeezes his eyes shut again, voice breaking. The deception had made him angry. He can admit that, but it was never directed between them. The war stops for no-one, after all. “I can’t believe you’re still here.”

“I promise, I always intend to stay,” Obi-Wan murmurs.

Cody’s smiling when he kisses him, so full his cheeks ache with it. It tastes of salt and bitter-sweet and just a hint of desperation, their hands clasped with the vambrace cradled between them.

Then Obi-Wan draws him in, tucking his head under his chin. Cody presses his wet skin to the hollow of neck, listens to his heartbeat, and weeps.

#codywanweek2021 #rako hardeen arc #codywan #obi wan kenobi #commander cody #alderwrites

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captainkurosolaire · 3 years ago

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~ Mass Update ~

Mainly going into future plans and intents alongside ideas below cut.

Ton's of things I've in store this will prove difficult to vent it all out. But here we go... First off rehashing and appropriately learning to tag and organize things better on my blog. Each category will have their own corresponding content, I seek to bring or share. [Tales of Goldbrand] -- I intend this to carry a Compendium of all my writes soon that'll have everything neatly in-order including a glossary, so it'll have highlights of stories that even matter or the best stuff. I've written here for a very, long time, there's been many shifts. I want to make it more accessible. While coloring what matters for people who want to learn Captain or his Crew with less chapters. While also giving choice to find it all easily. This is essentially a step-above master-lists. I'll be doing that after the Saga I have going on, right now is done. [Captain] -- Will provide you strictly with Captain screenshots, gifs, photo-sets. This is still his blog despite the Crew thing's will sort of make this a scuffed Multi-Muse blog. I've few more things to edit and tag fix to get all his stuff though. [The Wild Crew] -- Afterwards this story is done Immortal Age Saga, It's something that I mainly wrote as a passion project within three days to get my warm-up process fixed. It's to allow me to get a feel for all his Crewmates and casts, in combat, in-general, to feel their presences. While also giving a bit of their backstories. At any point, I can go back and polish or tweak things in. They're NPC's but... not entirely. All will have their own 'Dreams' and their own 'Disapproval's' they have their own missions even. These things will factor eventually, they might set seeds, to betray or disagree with something, but that's all angst and more stories to be created, but overall, they'll probably always be Crew, eventually. -- I plan on making character-profile sheets of them and putting them in this Tab, it'll have their screenshots, their likes/dislikes. Some RP partners or people can also be shipped with them, but they'll all be monogamous and originally start off probably Pan. This allows them to figure out what they like on their own stories. I've always been someone who likes organic-flow. Although this one story contain all 16 characters or more, the rest will probably be shortened to a Squad of 4 and dispersed when on adventuring missions. Until I do a War Arc, that's my main goal to build too. [Roster] -- Will contain this Crew in just screen-sets dedicated to them, I'll probably randomly produce those. I've PC players among this Crew too. I may not be done either adding more, but this Crew is mainly built around Quality. Most pirate crew's mainly, have hundreds, thousands. Even Fleets. This Crew has personalities, monsters, people who are living life's that exist with piracy. He's an particular leader that had PC players the same way, he's had split-personality serial killers aboard, tribal chieftains, succubus, all sorts of various people once on a Crew. It's often an outcast style, pirates default are chaotic in nature, so this really isn't any different, it's a Fantasy version of it. There's humanization characters aboard too though, so this cast is really decked, everything and person is vital, they matter because they remind or covet something that others can draw upon. If ever played (Three Houses or Mass Effect / Dragon Age Origins) A lot of things like that are relatable too this structure and format. Which, Is something I want to be able to give when RPing. I want a genuine feel of this new world someone else's muse will be the main-character too. Depending on what's interacting everything they'll be scale appropriately to follow the genre they're in and environment even. [Aesthetics] -- Already explainable what you'll find here. [Asks] -- Same thing. [Prompts] -- Trivial things I was tagged too, I plan on compiling later. [Writing] -- Another alternatively to randomly go-down and it works right now. [Logs] -- Will have more individualistic master-lists and posts there, my poems from Sheik Sphere the Bard, etc.

Things of that nature, I'll probably add still. It's where a lot of my creative writing is summed. [Gems of Hydaelyn] -- My main #tag for other characters and artists, creationist. Lot of amazing people easily to find their zones or follow them optionally if you like. Ton's I intend to support and bolster, be a lot less unspoken. I'm never the type who's been strictly inclusive. But I'll do that when I've time to even explore the dash, I'm always still planning ahead with things and projects. [CKS] My original character-sheet it's outdated on something's but not too terrible. I'll give him polishing someday, I swear? [21+F-List] -- Just purely degenerate stuff of Captain. I'm a pirate blog. I will represent that with openness and furthermore. I'm never projecting you some false-image. I started off a smut-writer by stripping that, I no-longer represent the same aura and identity. But those are strictly his stuff and kinks, I'm effective in executing them but they're not all relatable to me OOC. This blog will always be 18+ containing crude or dark material sometimes, romantic things, this Captain is blunt, will literally put his cock on the table in conversations. Swearing and being censored would be too uncommon and displace most of him, but there's more about him then all this. [Other] -- I pay homage to a lot of characters, I originally am a Concept Designer. Which mean's I make characters and ideas like my addiction. Bad characters / villains or other little things I like to share in designs, I'll put there. Some villains might get little photo-sets, even if they died. Just cause I like their design, or maybe I'll give them an AU, where they won. When I've wrapped up things. [Collabs + Ships] -- Is a new project idea. This isn't going to be something limited too romantic only ships. It'll contain, platonic, romantic, friendships, rivals, frenemies, family, PC Crew, all ships. I am desperately working on improving my gif, screenshot, posing game so I can supply 'Screen Stories' this is not only a way to RP that's accessible with even people who are upon time-crunches from work, It gives visual-representation. To impactful stories shared with others and establish bonds. That are all-valid and impactful matter. Lot of people take a lot of their characters attributes into them and are them dialed up, I work with that and bit more, differently. I'm disconnected from my characters and they'll get hurt and injured and killed by me, that's my duty as their Author to give them conflicts and struggles. I'm their major antagonist, but that doesn't mean at-all, it's always SET that way. The characters I like to make have their own life, they live in this setting and are abide by it, they're often nothing, nobodies, and by the interacting with others, they slowly gradually building, more... Through emotional impacts, they alter, these are REAL people by all their beliefs. Each person they come in-contact with are legitimate and treated like that too. They've always impacted or given them insights to grow, or represent more. Otherwise it'd be criminally disrespectful if I allowed any emotional I felt OOC be the grudge to something IC. Captain in-particular is set on defying me. I cannot have that. ...But I can't stop him. He's met and encountered so many people and lived so many scenarios based on the actions of others, he's giving a chance right now to actually do things a lot further than impossible. The more people he meets and encounters, experiences, the more I lose. These stories are emotionally interactive where everything is a factor and adds to the dice, where the other people are the one who get to roll the dice for him, not me. That's something I want to color in. People range in emotions, they have their down's, ups, their own wholesome-grounding people, spending time with your favorite people, there's nothing more cherishing than that, being in your own comfort-zone or 'safe-space' these are all treasures that we live under, today. Contrary if what people assume of me, I'm not another 'blogger' that's came

before, who's wanting to force a harem, then constantly is bewildered when that falls to pieces cause of selfishness or a lack of communication, or the skeletons they have in their closets and beliefs they hid behind and swindled fooled everyone. I'm not looking to be popular or anything really, I just create stories and want to share in those, and I want to also boost others included, upward with me, especially those who make me. There's no ego in anything I do, this is purely love. I've never cared about being replicated or duplicated, I've had stalkers, I've gone through more then anyone would imagine, I've been used OOC and abused, just for my writing and cold-harshly told, i'd never amount to anything other then that or vice-versa. --------------------------------------------------------------------- Passion. That's all I got and am anymore. --------------------------------------------------------------------- Passion is the hardest thing to keep. It's something that can be stolen, quite effortlessly. Few words of discouragement, a bad negative representation, a lack of confidence, or small amount of time, there's many thing's that can put that flame out. Once you lose it. The difficulty to reattain is hundred-times harder than climbing any mountain for real. I've watched the greatest creators crumble from under the pressure, from beaten down by others. I watched many of them do it to themselves because they put a grand vision of needing validation of another and once lost, felt uncompelling to press onward. But passion also can be given BACK and drawn. It can be shown and encourage others, with a soft-triggering, that pushes them. That motivates, that constantly sticks to it. There are many that fuel me. If I ever quit, I let them down, I spit in the faces of people who're better than me in every-way. Or people who've came and given me their precious Time. That have given their character's or dedication to the abundant stories and community-driven things I've done. There's ONLY things you can do, create, give and provide. It cannot ever come to life without YOU. This is a fact. ...I swear, If you let your creativity soar, you'll be amazed by the heights you get. Constantly polish and learn and hone the best you, challenge yourself day after painstaking day, to draw better improvement on something, no matter how trivial or unfamiliar you are. You'll find a confidence only you can give yourself. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Future Plans --------------------------------------------------------------------- For me, I've got so much more stories to give and also explore, I might be taking up soon some other artists and more skilled people from community and hire them for some of my future writes, to up my game or cause something thing's can't be done in-game cause no background carries it. I also got a lot of-set up things and more angst stuff I want to practice, plus I'm adamantly on that grind to produce screen-sets with the intent's to some sort of improving daily. Additionally more people I'll be reaching out too soon for these collab's ideas and things. I look forward to shaking your hands, giving some hugs, show you my respect and admiration, then creating some enchanting stories and giving plots light. Feel free to reach out to me, I get scattered-brain but I'm working on getting better about it. Eventually will get to you though, my goals, if uninterested just say so when I poke, no bites, unless you kinky. Anyways, cheers hearties.

#ooc #update #future plans stuffz #ToG #Work on thinking of daily practice now

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river-bottom-nightmare · 4 years ago

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Hey I love your...everything about dick Grayson. I have a terrible memory but I remember someone saying they think dick Grayson has ADHD and I think it was you? If it was can you talk about it a little more? Like, give some examples of traits? I love that headcanon but as someone not that knowledgeable of this stuff I wanted to get someone else's pov on the topic

agh thank you!! and yea, that was me, in this post. that was just me rambling a bit and me jotting stuff down, but i did say if you wanted more i’d be happy to give more. and so, in headcanon format, here is more.

One of Dick Grayson’s defining traits is that he could not sit still. Everybody had noticed it, everybody had commented on it, and everyone pretended to find it annoying while also knowing that his constant fidgeting, bouncing, leaping, talking, and laughing was a comfort. The buzz of energy surrounding him was a constant, and prompted many many people to offhandedly remark to Bruce, “He’s probably got ADHD.” Green Arrow, when Robin was talking Flash’s ear off when he first met the Justice League. A socialite in a dress with a borderline-obscene neckline when Dick came up to him for the eighth time that night, drawing his attention to something new. Even Harley Quinn, as he jumped around her in circles after they’d tied her up to a pole in a warehouse while Bruce copied the data, although she said it with a fond little grin and a bit more, well, educated style.

And if he was being honest? Bruce agreed with all of them. Just, in a different way.

Dick’s hyperfixiations were a sight to behold. He’d find something interesting to label as his New favourite thing ever, Bruce!!, absorb everything there was to know about the topic, then move on to something new in a month. Which had always been the problem. Bruce couldn’t begin to count the nights he had to coerce Dick into coming downstairs, leaving his rare igneous rock collection or his college-level textbook about nerve paralysis or his new batch of poisonous flowers, and eating something, or going to bed. There was a reason Dick was underweight for most of his life, and still was as an adult.

It was in his “all or nothing” attitude, the way he threw his entire self into the job, or whatever needed to be done. But if he decided something wasn’t worth it, or that he was done, he dropped it entirely, with no lost love. His impulse control was bad, but that was something Bruce could help him with, train him to keep a level head or make the right choice. Though, making choices was another thing to tackle altogether. Choice paralysis was the best way to describe it. If Dick didn’t absolutely make up his mind about something, then he was split, caught between two different choices, and he couldn’t say no to either.

Jason may have rage coursing through his blood, but his anger was solid, dependable, reliable. Dick’s mood swings, however, were monsters that Bruce had been trying to understand since Dick was a child, his kindness and understanding changing to harsh words and accusatory looks so fast it gave Bruce whiplash. Jason seemed to be one of the few who could wade his way through them, never trying to change him or stop him, just trying to understand him.

Tim’s internal clock may be blown and shot to hell, but it was out of willpower, determination. He had work to do, and he would power through his tiredness until it was done. (And then he’d grab an oversized superboy t-shirt and crash for a couple days on end.) Dick, on the other hand, could not sleep. Lying in a bed made him restless, but sitting in the kitchen hunched over a mug of chamomile tea made gave him a headache. Dick had once told him, in the hours where it was too early to be morning but too late to be night, that he just wanted his brain to stop for once, to just shut off. Bruce didn’t have an answer. Tim, apparently, had an answer, because he would sit up with Dick in that kitchen, turning the lights down low, and talking with him about this cool new spot he found for his photography, or some changes he’s thinking of making to his suit. Tim’s quiet rambling seemed to ease the headache, at least.

Cass and Dick may not have many things in common, at first glance. They never bonded the way they did to other members of the family, the way Cass and Steph learned to laugh together or the way Dick and Jason finally reached an understanding, and were able to just spend time together. Bruce actually thought Cass would get along with Damian, given their shared assassin history. But Damian just looked at him strange, and said “I’m not the one who was raised as a human weapon.” And that...that was true. Cass may have been isolated and alone, and Dick might have been raised with love and affection, but Bruce couldn’t deny that the two of them had been raised, as Damian put it, human weapons. And despite Dick’s ease and grace and innate flexibility, Bruce knew that Dick itched at his skin, sometimes felt uncomfortable and not in control in his own body. But then he saw Dick with Cass one day, stretching and going over some basic yoga poses, the silence between them thick with something heavy and grateful. Bruce memorized the content and peaceful look on his children’s faces, then left as quietly as he’d entered.

Bruce was no stranger to Stephanie’s self esteem issues, overhearing her in front of the mirror many a time, clothed in the Robin costume and telling herself, in between gritted teeth, “I deserve to be here. I’m good enough. I’ve got this.” As for Dick, his self esteem issues were a tad different. His constant need to make people like him, his jokes and quips that were aimed to make people think he was funny, think he was worth it, his absolute terror of rejection, the way he broke off relationships and had trouble maintaining the ones he did have under the philosophy of leaving before they rejected him for real. A whisper in the back of Bruce’s mind whispered Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, though neither of them were fond of labels. But it wasn’t hard to miss the easy stream of compliments flowing back and forth between Dick and Steph, usually good natured teasing, but no less sincere. It helped them more than they realized.

People may say Damian was violent, rude, and prone to outbursts. And this was true, for the most part. Bruce knew Damian was still getting a handle on his emotions, but he also knew the kid actually meditated in his free time, and most of his actions were well planned and thought out. Dick, on the other hand, had outbursts frequently. He’d just gotten much better at controlling them, or maybe just blowing up at Bruce and hiding them from the rest of the family. And his emotions were a hurricane, a whirlwind of raw power. Regulating him had long since gone out the window. Luckily, Damian seemed think the opposite (or maybe Bruce had given up too early). Dick never actually seemed to enjoy meditating with Damian, but controlling their tempers was something the two of them were working on together, one backing the other up or slow them down, and vice versa.

Every time someone came up to him, telling him Dick was just so cheerful and hyper and constantly in motion, Bruce was brought back to the first week in the manor, Alfred raising his eyebrow at Bruce after Dick’s latest antics had landed him in his room, refusing to open the door for anyone. Bruce knew Alfred was running through a mental checklist in his head, same as him. Alfred had told him, “This is going to be quite a bit of trouble, Master Bruce.” Bruce had shown his weary agreement. Then Alfred had nodded resolutely, and said “I suppose we shall just love him right, then.”

Bruce knew without a doubt that Alfred had succeeded in that particular promise. But Bruce was still asking himself whether or not he had.

ADHD is,,,,,,,hard to write. tag list: @comicsandhoney @dangerduckjpeg @yesboopityboop @birdy-bat-writes @astroherogirl @anothertimdrakestan @thebatsandbirdsofgotham @subtleappreciation

#dick grayson #nightwing #dc #batfam #scribbles from the swamp #dick grayson headcanon #nightwing headcanon #dc headcanon #batfam headcanon

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nightowlfandom · 4 years ago

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Min Yoongi- Humiliation Looks Good On You

Hey there! SO ANON ASKS

Hi I want to make a request with the prompts 10, 109, 110 with Yoongi please. I have a story in mind. Yoongi is a pretentious nerd, the best in college but also has some kind of hate relationship with y/n he really makes sure to make her feel humiliated cuz he gets turned on by doing it. but then he tries to make a move on her. Thank you.

So y’all just wanna be bullied by Yoongi, now? Ight bet! Damn Masochists! I like it tho-I’m assuming you want a happy ending to this, so that’s what I’ll be doing.

10- I think I’ll keep you as a pet! You’re fun to mess with.

109- Are you crying because of me? Hm…I didn’t realize I have that effect on you.

110- That’s daddy to you, sweetheart.

CHECKOUT MY MASTERLIST HERE!

Leggo!

Also hi yes, I used the name is kpop stars for your friends names,

Also humiliation, daddy stuff...IF ANYONE TREATS YOUY LIKE THIS YOU BETTER BREAK THEIR FUCKING FACE I SWEAR TO-

...

“Hey guys!” You greeted your friends as your rushed into the classroom.

“Hey babe!” Momo waved you over. “We saved you a seat! Irene was just telling us about her date last night!”

“Thanks.” You acknowledged Lisa and Hyuna who were also sitting. “What’s up?”

“Hyuna decided to be a mom and ruin my date!” Irene scoffed. “She scared him off!”

“You’ll thank me.” Hyuna waved her off, not bothered in the slightest.

“Sure.” Irene shook her head. Everyone laughed while you mustered up a sideways smile. “Y/N? Everything okay?”

“Oh..Y-yeah!” you shrugged. “I’m alright.”

“Bullshit.” Lisa scoffed. “I saw her hiding from Min and his cronies.”

“Min Yoongi?” Momo asked. “He’s still bothering you?”

“No! You guys it isn’t like that!”

Oh yes it was. The college golden boy who was both an academic genius and promising young performer. He thought because he was intelligent that everyone was beneath him. His plan A and plan B would more than likely workout.

“Y/N, do you need us to-”

“No!” You cut Hyuna off. “Don’t get involved or you’ll make it worse. Can’t we talk about the party tonight?”

“Ah, the biggest turn-up of the year!” Irene danced in her seat. “I have the entire house for the weekend.”

You, Hyuna, Lisa, Irene, and Momo were someone of the popular (but also super kind) girls. Every Semester you all hosted a party. You guys were notorious for throwing the best parties and this semester was no different.

“This is gonna go down in history!” Lisa smirked at the thought. “But if that tool starts something-”

Lisa didn’t like Yoongi....Lisa despised him with a passion. Mostly because he bullied you so much.

“Namjoon said that he’d behave.” Hyuna sighed. “Don’t know how much that means to you babe.” she put a hand on your shoulder.

“Speak of the devil.” Momo sighed, staring at the door.

Everyone knew than Yoongi tormented you. There was an endless array of mixed reactions.

“Hey Y/N.”

Don’t answer, don’t answer, don’t answer.

“Yo, leave her alone.” Hyuna warned.

“You gonna let your friends fight your battles?”

That alone made you whip your head around. “I don’t let anyone fight my battles!” you snapped, drawing the attention.

Before anything could go down, the teacher came inside.

“Hello class! Can anyone tell me what we were focused on last class?”

“We were getting into cliches and niches in romance novels.” You answered aloud. “We were talking about the Bully to Lover Archetype.”

“Very good Y/N.” the teacher praised you. “Now can someone tell me why we- and I would like to hear from the women on this...Why do you as women hate such a stigma.”

Your hand instantly shot in the air. “Yes Y/N?”

“Because it promotes the stigma that if a boy or man bullies you, it’s because he likes you. Which is extremely toxic to those with love self esteem because it makes them feel like they have to be ridiculed to be loved.” you said. “In my opinion any man who feels the need to degrade a woman is festering garbage.”

“Hm, interesting! Yes Mr.Min did you have something you wanted to add?”

“Yes, what my dear acquaintance Y/N fails to realize is most women actually like being teased-”

“Teased, not tormented you imbecile.” you snapped your head in Yoongi’s direction.

“Unless she’s a masochist.” he winked at you knowingly. ‘We don’t know why the male characters bully the females.”

“Because they have nothing better to do!” you replied as calmly as you could.

“...Well, women love the bad boys.”

“Women. Love. Respect.” you seethed.

“OOh a spicy debate!” the teacher noticed the tension. “In a way, you two are very similar to the characters we will be discussing!”

“Huh?” you turned back towards the teacher.

“Yes! The male bullied the female out of jealousy and spite and the female who is very outspoken, doesn’t allow herself to be insulted.”

“Out of spite, maybe. Jealousy, never.” Yoongi laughed.

What a smug bastard.

...(Later in another class)

“Good going Y/N” Yoongi walked up to your table where you were sitting with your friends. “Now the teacher thinks we have something going on.”

“None of that is my problem...mkay?” you raised an eyebrow. “Any other stupid comments and or questions you have for me?”

“Sure.” Yoongi scoffed. “Is it true that you had to work at one of those sleazy bars to pay off your student debts?”

“So what if she did?” Lisa seethed.

“Hm, maybe if she was smarter she could have gotten a scholarship. Unless the superintendent is one of her sugar daddies.” He laughed. “It’s amazing what some people will do for money So is it cash or connection?.”

That comment made everyone fall silent.

“You don’t know me Yoongi.”

“Oh but I do. That’s why you’re my pet...Do you want me to keep you as a pet, Y/N?”

“No.” your voice wavered.

“Are you crying because of me? Hm…I didn’t realize I have that effect on you. “

Yes, you had to work in a shitty bar as a waitress on some days and a bartender on other days. It wasn’t because you liked the attention. It was because those dirt-bags tipped you just for winking in their direction and you needed to pay off your debts.

But to insinuate that you had a sugar daddy....not that you judged anyone who did...the way he meant it...most likely meant something completely different.

“THAT’S IT!” Hyuna lunged from her seat and attempted to jump at Yoongi, age be damned. “IRENE LET ME FUCKING AT HIM.”

You didn’t notice the tears streaming down your face. In the midst of every boy in the classroom attempting to calm Hyuna down, you rose to your feet and exited the classroom. As soon as you were far enough, you bolted down the halls.

You kicked open the doors to the school and ran home. You would face the consequences later.

...(Meanwhile, back at school)

“Hey! I was just joking!” Yoongi burst out laughing.

“Not to us, it isn’t!” Momo barked, her bubbly and cheerful spirit was gone. “Y/N is struggling to make ends meet as it is and she doesn’t need you COMMENTING ON IT!”

“Not to mention, she’s one of the smartest girls in school!” Lisa sneered. “I bet she’d score circles around you if you actually looked at her test scores.”

“Its bad enough she won’t let us help her out, but now she sure as hell won’t let us help her now, no thanks to you!” Irene sighed.

“Oh Come on! You guys act like Y/N is some Miss Perfect!” Yoongi crossed his arms. “Is she really all that great?”

“If she wasn’t, why would you waste your time trying to bully her?” Hyuna finally calmed down. “You’re lucky that you’re friends with my boyfriend or else I swear you wouldn’t set foot at any of our parties.”

“Maybe the teacher was right. You’re just so jealous that Y/N wouldn’t give you the time of day that you turned to making fun of her to stroke your disgusting guy ego.” Momo crossed your arms. “I’m gonna go after her, she probably went home.”

“I’ll come with.” Lisa rose to her feet.

“I’ll get you guys the homework.” Irene nodded the two friends off. “And make sure Hyuna doesn’t kill someone.”

Momo and Lisa ran out of the school while Yoongi was standing there dumbstruck. For the first time, he was speechless.

...

“You guys, I really don’t wanna be here.” you sighed as the loud music deafened you and everyone within a five foot radius. “I don’t really wanna party...”

“You’re one of the hosts!” Irene sighed. “Enjoy your night! Come on! I heard Seokjin was just waiting to dance with you!”

Seokjin, the beautiful teaching assistant that any girl would kill to get their hands on. University life...Speaking of which, he must of sensed you were thinking of him because he sauntered over looking handsome as ever. He stared at you, a warm and friendly smile gracing his angelic face.

“Hey Y/N.” he smiled. “You look great.”

“Oh...Thank you Jin!” you smiled.

“I’ll leave you two to it.” Irene nudged you before sauntering off, belting the song at the top of her lungs. “WHOSE READY TO PARTY!”

You were left with Jin who was smiling knowingly at you. “Hey...I heard about today.”

“I don’t have a sugar daddy and I am NOT a sleaze!” you cut him off sharply. ��If that’s what you’re here for, then-”

“Hey Y/N!” he put his hands up in defense. “I was just gonna say what he said about you wasn’t cool at all. Everyone is giving him hell for it.”

“Oh...thanks I guess. Sorry.” you looked down sheepishly.

“Hey...You wanna dance?” Jin motioned over to the dancefloor. He noticed your hesitance. “Come on...it’ll be fun. If anyone gives you trouble, just focus on me.”

You nodded, allowing a smile to cross your face again. You grabbed his hand and ran over to the dancefloor.

From a distance, Yoongi was watching. He was drinking a beer. He glared potholes at Seokjin who had his arms protectively wrapped around your waist. You looked genuinely happy. It made him mad. Since when and why were you and him so chummy?

He decided to do something about it, so he put his drink down and marched over.

“Yo! Jin! Hyuna said she needed your help with something school related.” he made up some lame excuse. Knowing Jin, he’d probably believed it anyways.

“Oh...Okay. Be right back Y\N!” he smiled at you which you returned. Your smiled was quickly replaced with a frown when Yoongi and you were left alone. He perked up an eyebrow and held out his hand.

You would have slapped it away, but Promiscuous By Nelly Furtado suddenly began playing.

“Come on....” he winked. You begrudgingly took his only only to be yanked towards him. Unlike Seokjin, when he wrapped his arms around you it feel uneasy.

“ I think I’ll keep you as a pet! You’re fun to mess with. “ he whispered in your ear. His body felt hard and cold, yet you moved so effortlessly with him.

“I’m nobody’s pet.” you snapped.

“You’re mine.” he leaned forward and whispered in your ear. “Otherwise you would have killed me by now.”

“Still debating.” you laughed dryly. “You’ll always be a pain in my ass...”

You broke away from his embrace to dance on your own. Working at a bar, the other girls taught you how to dance. The only positive to come out of working at a shithole like that, plus the tips you got just for smiling at someone. Yoongi took note of this. What happened to the timid little victim he loved to poke fun at.

You almost looked like you could hold your own.

“GO Y/N!” Momo yelled while dancing with her own date.

As you turned back around, getting closer to Yoongi again, your eyes met. Things fell silent between you two as you took a step back. You had to get out of there before you did something you would regret.

You wound up running into a random room in the mansion, struggling for air. Absolutely not! No way! You were not falling for Yoongi.

“Jin is so kind and sweet and Yoongi is the reason I don’t wanna go to school. Hell no.” you seethed.

“Is that how you feel?”

Yoongi stood at the door, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Yes! I hate you!” you could feel everything welling up inside you as you met his gaze again. “I hate you so much that I wish you would-”

“Wish I would what? Drop dead? Drop out of school, leave you alone?” he cut you off with a harsh tone. “Tell me how you really feel!”

“Make your move or shut the fuck up!” you gave your answer.

You knew good and well Yoongi had a reason for doing this, you just figured you would give it your best guess. This caused Yoongi to raise an eyebrow. You almost regretted opening your mouth when Yoongi stormed over and grabbed you by the waist. He crashed his mouth over yours, claiming you in a kiss.

You felt him tangle your hair in his fist, keeping you in place. You tangled your hands in his hair.

Imagine, the schools bully and the girl he’s tormented since he met her, in such a compromising position.

You were two focused on Yoongi pinning you to the bed to worry about it though.

“You are such a-”

“ Ah ah ah~...That’s daddy to you, sweetheart.”

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coltsbitch · 4 years ago

Text

in the stacks ~ colt grice x reader

colt grice x reader; 1.8k words; nsfw summary: if colt is going to hold you at the library with him, you’re at least going to have your fun

masterlist

Porco: cum get your bitch

You roll your eyes at the text, but you’ve already grabbed your keys and are on your way out the door. Porco means well and a text from him, even one so vulgar, actually means he’s concerned.

You find the group of them standing around a table in the furthest part of the library. Everyone else seems to be already packed up, probably waiting for you before they knew it’d be safe to leave.

It looks like Colt immediately used the freed-up space to spread out the rest of his materials, papers and books covering every inch of the table.

“Finally.” Porco exclaims when he sees you, “I’m trying to get laid tonight but can’t leave him here like this.”

“Pokko.” Pieck chides and pinches his cheek, but doesn’t object, “We don’t leave him because we care about him.”

Reiner scoffs behind her, “Well, I’m definitely leaving now. Not interested in hearing anything about Galliard’s sex life.” He hoists his bag on his shoulder, “You sure you got him?”

You smile, placing a hand on Colt’s shoulder, “We’ll be fine.”

Reiner nods before walking out with the other two, Porco loudly complaining about having to actually listen to Reiner and Bertholdt’s sex from when they shared a room freshman year.

“Hey baby.” You squeeze his shoulder, and his head shoots up immediately, eyes wide and confused.

“When did you get here?” He looks to the table, “When did the others leave?”

You smile and place a kiss on his forehead, before sitting down in the seat across from him, “You’re working too hard again.”

Colt gives you a sheepish smile, “Zeke’s letting me teach the next unit, and I just want to make sure I don’t fuck it up.” He glances down to his papers and back up to you with an apologetic look, “I really can’t leave until I’m done with this lesson plan.”

You hold up the book you brought, “I came prepared.”

Colt flashes you a grateful smile before diving back into his work.

Rolling your eyes fondly you flip open the book.

…

After about forty-five minutes you remember why the book has been sitting on your nightstand collecting dust for the last month.

Sighing you slide in your bookmark and place the book on the table, trying not to get in the way of Colt’s work.

Pulling out your phone you slouch in the chair and kick your feet out, ready to spend some time mindlessly scrolling social media. But your foot accidentally knocks into Colt’s but he barely notices.

Pursing your lips, you nudge his foot again and he keeps taking notes from one of his textbooks.

You smirk pulling your foot out of your shoe and place it on top of his. You look back at your phone, letting your hair fall strategically in front of your face so you can watch him.

He doesn’t let up on his work at first, even as you toe at his exposed ankle. When you begin to run your foot up his calf as far as his pants will let you, his eyes flick up to you.

But you’re faster and quickly look back to the app open on your phone.

You can tell he’s gone back to his work when the sounds of pencil scratching begin again. You let it go on for a minute before you remove your foot at place it in his lap.

This time he doesn’t look up, just uses his free hand to grab onto it, beginning to knead the arch like a stress ball. It isn’t uncommon for your feet to be in his lap, and you think he enjoys the mindless distraction.

It distracts you for a moment, the feel of his fingers working into the muscle. You allow it for a moment before quickly angling your foot and running your toes right along his cloth covered cock.

Colt clearly wasn’t expecting it, given he jumps in his seat, pencil creating a scratch mark across his page.

“Babe.” He growls, clutching your foot still, glaring at you. You know he’s meticulous about his notes, and a stray pencil mark will drive him insane. He starts trying to erase the mark.

He uses both hands to hold the page and erase, which frees your foot to fully rub against the growing bulge. A blush erupts on Colt’s cheeks as he involuntary cants his hips into your foot.

“I have to finish this.” He mutters, not even looking up from the erased mark he’s still digging into.

You remove your foot and lean forward, “I’m sorry baby.” His eyes jump to yours a little confused. He might have been a little annoyed by your antics, but it doesn’t mean he wanted you to stop, “Let me make it up to you?”

Colt gives you a confused look, “It’s already erased.” He looks down at his paper, clearly thinking you were referring to his work.

His distraction gives you the opportunity to slide under the table. Kneeling in front of his bent legs you place both hands on his thighs, nails digging through his pants.

Colt lets out a gasp and you grip his thighs in place as he tries to scoot away from you, “What do you think you’re doing?” He whispers harshly.

“I’m making it up to you.” Rubbing your hands up and down, “Just relax.”

“But, I, we’re in the library!” You ignore him and reach for his belt, starting at the buckle, but you’re stopped when Colt grips your hands, “Someone could see us!”

“We’re in a deserted corner and it’s after midnight.” You try to resume your goal, but Colt tightens his hold, causing you to roughly pull away, “Colt.” You say sternly.

He uses the opportunity to push his chair back slightly so he can look at you fully underneath the table.

“I’m going to suck your cock.” His entire face flushes at your bluntness, “Now are you going to be a good boy and let me? Or are we going to have to do this the hard way?”

“Yes.” He mutters.

“Yes what?” You prompt.

Colt swallows thickly, “Yes I’m going to be a good boy.”

You reward him with a smile that you know will calm his nerves, “Good. Now push in your chair and keep working. Because when I’m done here, we’re going home. Understood?”

Colt nods and scoots his chair forward, blocking his face from your view. You wait a moment until you hear his writing resume.

Returning to your plan, you unbuckle his belt, unzipping the pants. You struggle to push his pants down, Colt clearly not helping at all.

Which he’ll pay for later.

His cock is already straining against his briefs and you nuzzle your face against it, pressing wet kisses through the fabric. You smile to yourself hearing Colt’s breath hitch.

Pulling the brief down too, his cock springs and you wrap a hand around the base, squeezing tightly like one of the many cock rings you keep in a box under the bed.

Placing a sweet kiss on its head, you let your tongue peak out and run along the slit. Even the small act is proving to be too much for Colt as his leg starts bouncing.

You let it slide since you know he’s probably losing his mind being this much out in the open. You continue running your tongue around the head, swirling the tip in your mouth.

Colt lets out a groan that he quickly tries to cover as a cough. You internally roll your eyes, as if there’s anyone close enough to be curious about his loan groan.

Deciding to take pity on him, you take his cock deeper in your mouth. A grunt escapes above you. You imagine the expressions Colt could be making. Probably clenching his pencil in his fist, jaw dropped as he stares at his work trying to hide his face from anyone who might look in this direction.

You’re starting to build a shallow rhythm, tongue drawing circles around his shaft. This angle won’t allow the depth you’d like to get, so you’ll have to make up for it.

You rub one hand on his thigh, while the other begins a slow twist and turn in tandem with your mouth.

You feel Colt’s fingers cart through your hair, wrap around the strands as he tries to get you to ease up. But instead, you redouble your efforts, hollowing your cheeks and moving you mouth faster than your hand can keep up with.

A choked gasp and his leg stops bouncing, becoming rigid as his cock swells slightly in your mouth. You know what’s about to come, so taking a deep breath through your nose, you push your head as far as you can, cock brushing the back of your throat.

The table above doesn’t allow for much movement unless you want to knock your head, but you hum quietly, knowing the vibrations will send Colt over the edge. And your assumptions are correct as his cock sputters, the salty taste filling your mouth.

You really wish you could see his face now. His breathless gasps are your favorite, and the way his chest rises and falls in tandem with his pants like he just ran a marathon usually are stored deep in your memories.

You decide that if you can’t get your view, you’ll be having a little extra fun.

You grab the edges of the chair, holding yourself on his cock as it continues to empty itself. You know Colt can’t handle too much more, as his leg involuntary kicks out.

“Ahh, please.” He whines, hands coming up to your cheeks, trying to gently pull you off, “Too much.” He whimpers quietly.

But you ignore him, pulling the chair forward, letting the cum filled in your mouth leak out the sides.

It’s obviously becoming too much as digs his fingers into your scalp, but it does nothing to deter you. And Colt has to resort to pushing against the table to get away from you, chair hitting the stack of books behind him.

He’s quite the sight now that you have the full view. His face flushed a deep red as he tries to quickly stuff his oversensitive cock back in his pants, “That was mean.”

“What?” You ask, a pout on your lips. Your innocent act is ruined by the cum that is drooling from your mouth. With a finger you swipe the rest of it before sucking it between your lips.

Colt rubs a hand over his face and letting out an exasperated sigh.

Crawling out from under the table, you smirk at the way Colt watches you with trepidation. Even flinching when you use his knees as leverage to stand up.

“You finish your homework?” Colt just nods, “Good boy. You’ll get a reward when we get home.”

#colt grice x reader #colt grice #aot #snk #aot x reader #snk x reader

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storyofmychoices · 4 years ago

Photo

First Impressions

[Bryce Lahela x Olivia Hadley Masterlist]

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x Olivia Hadley (OC) Other Characters (mentioned): Jackie Varma, Unnamed MC Book: Open Heart (Book 1, Chapter 1) Word Count: <1,400

Prompts: polaroid @choicesaprilchallenge2021; for anon who asked “First impression of each other? Was it love at first sight?” For Bryce x Olivia [Short answer: yes!]

Synopsis: Bryce and Olivia meet for the first time in the Edenbrook locker room on the first day of their intern year. Neither of them expected to feel what they felt about someone they didn’t even know yet.

Her smiling face stared back up at her from her new hospital ID badge. “Doctor Olivia Hadley”, she traced the first word with her finger, still in disbelief. It didn’t feel real. She was a doctor. All of her hard work and dedication had finally gotten her where she wanted to be: helping people. She had dreamed of being a doctor her entire life. Edenbrook was a big step up from diagnosing and treating her bears and dolls as a child.

She was a doctor. She had made it! A little squeal slipped from her lips; her hand quickly clapped over her mouth, hoping no one had heard it.

Her embarrassing slip seemed to go unnoticed. Two doctors in their underwear bickered while talking to another doctor who had just arrived; her scrubs were already soiled from triaging a patient on the way in.

Olivia's gaze settled on the male doctor who stood almost proudly in his boxers, no modesty or shame. His confidence was overwhelming. Her heart fluttered as her she took him in.

His laughter was infectious. It melted through her nerves and worries. Something about it was calming. Behind the boisterous cock-sure tone, there was a genuine joy in its melody. His brown eyes glowed with a beautiful fire. It was a rare sight to see.

The muscular doctor argued cheekily with a gorgeous female doctor. A pang of disappointment filled her as she listened to their spirited teasing Olivia wondered if they were a couple already or if they were on their way to it. She wasn't sure why she cared. She wasn’t there to engage in a fling; she was there because her life’s purpose had always been to help and to heal. She reminded herself that she didn’t even know his name, so how could she already feel for someone she hadn’t met. She thought herself better than falling for a party boy. Sure, he looked like his stomach and chest had been carved from caramel-colored marble and every inch of it was real and not photoshopped. She knew that meant nothing; although, her whole body warmed at the thought.

Olivia took a deep, focused breath, turning back to her locker. He was so out of her league; there wasn’t even any use fantasizing about it (even though she could already tell it would be a fantastic fantasy).

She took a polaroid photo of herself as a child wearing a lab coat, dressed as a doctor for Halloween, and tacked it up to remind her how far she had come. If that little girl could see her now; a soft smile grew on her face at the memory and all those memories she had made on her journey to get here.

The playful bantering of the three doctors seemed to die down. She could hear the two female doctors' conversations fading as they left the locker room. She tossed her hair behind her shoulders and readjusted her lab coat. Taking one last look in her little mirror, she shut her locker quietly, hoping to slip out unnoticed.

“Hi.” His cool voice greeted her, as the still shirtless doctor leaned casually against the lockers. He gave her his most charming grin. If this were a cheesy romantic comedy, his teeth would have been sure to sparkle.

Olivia shook her head, trying to remember what words were as his gaze drew her deeper. “Uh, hi.”

“I'm Bryce.” He smirked, stepping closer and offering her his hand.

She swallowed hard, reluctantly accepting his gesture. “Liv. Olivia. I’m a pediatric intern. Pleased to meet you.”

He turned her hand in his own, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. Her skin was soft and inviting. He didn’t want to let go. His voice was smooth and sultry, “the pleasure is all mine.”

She pulled her hand back, trying to hold in her slight scoff. She had heard him use that same line on one of the other doctors just a few minutes earlier. She cleared her throat. Weakly, she asked, “do you mind putting a shirt on?”

He raised his brow questioningly but threw his surgical scrubs on. “Better?”

“Immensely,” she rolled her eyes, unamused.

“I aim to please,” he winked, moving closer once more. His gaze settled on hers as if he had something more to say, but no words came.

The fire in his eyes drew her in like a moth to a flame. She had thought seeing him clothed would break the illusion and free her from his pull; but, she was caught in his gaze like she assumed so many others had probably been, completely enraptured by his beauty. For a moment, she forgot why she was there and the promise she had made to herself and her parents: no first-day flings. A blissful warmth washed over her as his smile widened. She wondered what he was thinking and if he felt the same odd stillness and warmth that she did standing there with him. It was peaceful, a quiet hope-filled moment with a whispered promise of something she couldn’t quite understand. Her eyes closed as her smile grew too wide, breaking the spell.

Drawing in a deep breath, Olivia took a step back. "I should—" Her fingers pointed over her shoulder to leave, but her feet stood still.

As if coming out of a trance himself, he shook his head letting the locker room shift back into focus. He noticed for the first time that all of the other interns had since left. "Me too."

"We don't want to be late," Olivia lied; everything in her wanted nothing more than to stay in his warm glow.

"Right." He agreed, turning back to his own locker and shoving his stuff in swiftly. He had planned to be the first surgical intern at the meeting to make a good first impression, but here he was still there with her. He wasn't sure how much time had passed or how he so easily let it slip away from him. "See you later, Liv?"

"I hope so," Olivia admitted softly, attempting to temper her smile. She was certain she looked like a bushing schoolgirl with a new crush.

"Until then."

Something about the quiet doctor pulled him into her. He first noticed her when her little squeal drew his focus momentarily. She was so happy to be there; it was endearing. He had seen her sneak a peek of his features earlier when he and Jackie were talking to the hopeful diagnostic intern. Her blushing cheeks were adorable. He had to know her name and why he couldn’t stop thinking about her, even when there were two stunning female doctors shirtless in front of him.

As she moved to organize her locker, he snuck behind it. His heart beat a little faster as she tossed her hair back behind her shoulders, readjusting her lab coat. He waited patiently for her to notice him; but she didn’t. Not until she shut the locker.

He cringed at himself at his cheesy hello and the awkward start to their conversation. She didn't seem to care for his state of undress. He was taken aback when she had asked him to put a shirt on, but he complied not wanting to let her go yet.

He drifted closer to her without thinking. He hadn't intended to stay like this, trapped in her gaze; however, there was something about the tenderness of her eyes that kept him there. It was comforting, like the warm breeze off the cool ocean on a hot summer day. Home wasn't a concept he had much faith in lately, but if he had to label it with one word, that's what this moment felt like, what she felt like—home. He laughed at himself for even thinking such a thought.

She was just a beautiful woman with kind eyes. What made her so different? He tried to ignore the feeling, but it only grew the longer they stayed there. He didn't want the moment to end, but he knew it had to. He was grateful when she pulled away first, reminding them both they had somewhere they needed to be.

Bryce watched her walk away, hoping for a reason he didn't yet understand, that he would see the pediatric intern again, and sooner rather than later. There was something about her that he needed more of.

Perma tags: @lilyoffandoms ; @raleighcarrera ; @mfackenthal ; @the-soot-sprite ; @virtuallytakenby ; @zeniamiii ; @whimsicallywayward15; ; @xjustin-ethansgirliex ; @caseyvalentineramsey; @trappedinfanfiction; @anotherbeingsworld ; @tyrils-star ; @arnikki-2406 ; @princess-geek ; @katrinegrey ; @lucy-268 ; @schnitzelbutterfingers ; @gardeningourmet

Bryce // Open Heart Tags: @thearianam ; @burnsoslow ; @mvalentine ; @rookie-ramsey ; @missmiimiie;; @jamespotterthefirst ; @adrianadmirer ; @bitchloveskcbaseball ; @nyastarlight ; @doriansapprentice ; @brycesgirl; @bratzlahela; @ofpixelsandscribbles; @superharriet ; @loveellamae

#bryce lahela #bryce lahela x mc #open heart #fan fiction #bryce x mc #olivia hadley #bryce x olivia

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harrywritingsbyme · 4 years ago

Note

PLEASE WRITE SOMETHING WITH THE PROMPT “if the world was ending you’d come over right?” Could be smut or fluff

Break Up’s and Make Up’s

A/N: I decided on some fluff with a light sprinkle of angst. If you want to cry a little, I highly suggest listening to the song while reading this. Enjoy 🙃

Things didn’t work out between you and Harry. It wasn’t because the love ran out between you two, it was actually the complete opposite. Neither of you were able to explain the amount of love you two had for each other and you couldn’t even fathom the idea of loving someone as much as you two loved each other. You both thought that everything was great.

But after being together for about a year and a half, things started to go south for you two. The ultimate reason for you and Harry to drift and continue on into breaking apart was life. As much as you two were solid fixtures in each others lives, it didn’t stop them from going in different directions. Both yours and Harry’s careers were going full speed ahead and they were taking you both to the places you wanted to go. The problem made it’s appearance when it came to scheduling and actually making time for each other. It became such an issue that the times where you and Harry were supposed to be spending the much needed quality time together, you two were fighting instead. And the common denominator m to all of these fights was not being able to spend quality time together. It didn’t help that even when you two were together, you still missed each other. You two changed and grew apart so much that you couldn’t even recognize one another. You and Harry both wanted to get back to the amazing place you two were once in, but nothing seemed to be working.

Eventually you two became so fed up with the entire situation, that you two mutually decided to go your separate ways. The last thing you and Harry ever wanted was to develop feelings of hate towards each other. So even though it was beyond difficult to do, you and Harry broke up. The both of you thought that it was this decision was the correct, adult way things and that it was for the best.

But once the smoke cleared and you two really took the time to process what happened, you both realized that a big mistake had been made.

You and Harry thought that by splitting up, you were eliminating the possibility of losing each other. You two even thought that you were going to still remain close and be friends despite the break up. But that wasn’t the case at all. Neither of you could even follow through with calling one another. Every time Harry went to call or text you, his heart began to pound out of his chest, and he could feel the sweat forming in his palms. Right then and there, Harry’s mind would take him to places he didn’t want to go. He’d start wondering if you’d moved on and were happier without him, even though it was still a month or two after the breakup. He would wonder if you still loved him as much as he still did, even though you two weren’t together anymore. Then he’d drift off into blaming himself for not trying hard enough to try and work things out between you two. And he’d ultimately end up in tears, sometimes even crying himself to sleep.

You both tried to navigate through it all and figure out your feelings about everything that transpired, and eventually you and Harry did. After 7 months of not being together, you two reached a point of being simply okay with it. You two were still hurting though. But despite this fact, you and Harry managed to put all the pain you both were still experiencing into a box inside of yourselves. This box was filled with the memories and feelings that you guys did your best to keep locked away. You both pushed it to the farthest corners of your minds and you did your best to move forward. The idea of pushing those feelings to the side worked, but it wasn’t going to last forever.

This ignoring and pushing aside the feelings was thrown to the wind when you and Harry just so happened to cross paths. When you two were together, the pizza shop around the corner from your home became a staple for you and Harry. That was you guys’ go to place, and still to this day it was Harry’s. That’s one of the main reasons why you weren’t completely shocked to see Harry sitting at one of the tables when you walked in. The all black joggers and hoodie, with the white vans, and the hair clip resting on the top his head were all indicators that it was Harry too.

In that moment, you didn’t know what to do. You didn’t know if you were supposed to strike up a conversation or sit on the other side of the small restaurant and not say a word. You didn’t want to be childish and try to ignore him and his presence, but you knew yourself well enough to know that once you looked at him, you’d be a goner. You weren’t going to be able to hold back all of the feelings you’d been keeping inside for the last 7 months. While you didn’t want to do this, you also weren’t sold on the idea of striking up a conversation either. It was like picking at a scab that hadn’t fully healed. If you were to keep picking at it, which in your case was trying to converse with Harry, eventually the wound is going to bleed. By the end of it all, your emotions were going to be pouring out of you and nothing was going to be able to stop them. You’d be going into the situation completely blind, and the last thing you wanted was to rehash any old feelings you had towards and about Harry that would essentially take you back to the drawing board. Causing you to have to start all over again in trying to be at least okay with it all.

While you were caught up in your thoughts about what to say or do in that moment, Harry had already walked over and sat down right in front of you. Every time he came in there, he was hoping that he’d run into you. Even if you didn’t want him anymore, he still wanted to talk to you and apologize. He wanted to see you and try to form some type or relationship with you, even if he had to settle on being friends. Anything he could get with you would be a blessing. So when he saw you walk into the shop, he thought that it was now or never.

“Y/n” Harry softly says your name form across the table, reaching out to touch your hand. When you feel and hear him in front of you, your head immediately shoots up in his direction.

“Harry” you reply, trying to tone down and control the bewildered look that was on your face. “How have you been?” You ask him him, trying to make some type of a “normal” conversation.

“Um, I’ve been fine I guess.” This was Harry’s default answer to that question. He didn’t want to say that he was feeling the greatest he’d ever felt because it’d be a boldface lie. And even if he tried, he couldn’t lie to you. “How about you, how have you been?”

“Fine, just living I guess.” You reply to him simply, mirroring his response to you. Even though you and Harry absolutely hated dry conversations and small talk, the both of you were thankful for this one. The awkwardness would have been through the roof if you two tried to make the conversation interesting. “So how has-“ before you could finish your question, your orders are being called. The both of you quickly, almost too quickly, jump up from the table and rush over to pick up your food.

The two of you go without saying another word until you both were outside of the restaurant. For you and Harry, walking out of the restaurant would have been like walking away from each other. After saying the most awkward goodbyes in the world, and seeing Harry walk away from you, something just comes over you.

“Hey Harry?” You call out to him. You didn’t know if he was taking himself and the pizza in his hands to his new girlfriend or what, but you decided to just go for it. When he turns around your heart was pounding out of your chest, but that didn’t stop you. “I don’t know if you have any plans, but I was wondering if you wanted to come to my place. Just to catch up and stuff.” You ask him. “I completely understand if you don’t want to though!” You quickly add on.

“I was just gonna go home, but your idea sounds a lot better.” He says lightly.

“Well my address is still the same, so I’ll meet you there?” You say hopefully.

“I’ll meet you there.” He confirms, sending you a quick smile before getting into his car.

In the short five minuet drive to your home, your mind managed to go off in what felt like a million directions. You were just supposed to be going to pick up something quick for dinner after work. But now, your ex boyfriend was on his way to your place “to catch up”. As you two were going inside, it all felt a little bit like deja vu. Everything seemed familiar, from the way you two trailed down the hallway to your apparent with warm pizza boxes in your hands, to Harry kicking his shoes off at the door and dropping his keys in the dish the way he used to. Seeing this reminded you of how things used to be and you genuinely missed that.

It was the same for Harry. He missed doing this with you. All he wanted was for things to go back to the way they were and just be with you. He had so many feelings about entering your apartment for the first time in nearly 8 months. When he walked inside, everything looked exactly the same, all the way down to the blanket that was draped over the back of your couch. Being there felt like home to him and he genuinely missed that. The first 10 minuets of you and Harry being back in your apartment together were spent tying to muster up the courage to bring up the very uncomfortable elephant in the room. Neither of you knew exactly what to say. How do you ease into a conversation about a breakup that neither of you really wanted? How were you both supposed to talk about this without completely breaking down.

So that’s where you and Harry were. Sitting on the couch together, with untouched pizza and wine on the table. The both of you trying to figure out how to initiate the catching up you two were supposed to be doing. At this point, Harry didn’t know how much more he could take. He couldn’t just sit there uncomfortably with you and and not become emotional and bring it up.

“I miss you.” He says quietly.

“I miss you too.” You sigh. You could feel the lump forming in your throat and the tears welling up in your eyes.

“What happened to us?” He continues, his tone carrying a mixture of heartache and disappointment. Harry was feeling the abundance of emotions that he’d been holding onto for months now beginning to spill out of him.

“They say good things don’t last forever.” You say downheartedly. When you finally muster up the courage to look at him, you wished you didn’t. You could see the pain in his eyes. You’d never seen seen him so heartbroken and defeated before.

“But we were supposed to.” Harry whispers back to you. That simple string of words opened the large floodgates of emotions that the both of you were trying to hold back all of these months.

“I know!” You stress, bringing your hands up to your face. “And I’m sorry.” You finish, giving up on trying to stay strong and just completely breaking down.

Seeing this was like someone took the knife that was already inHarry’s heart, and just turned it, making the pain even worse. He couldn’t stand to watch you, the woman that he loved more than anything, blame herself for the downfall of their relationship. If anything, Harry blamed himself for not trying harder to keep you guys together. As if it was an instinct, Harry moves over to your end of the couch and pulls you into him. When he does this, the tears come down harder

“Look at me.” He coos to you, pulling you away from him to get a better look at you. When he sees your bloodshot eyes and tearstained face, he lost it. “It’s not your fault baby.” When Harry says this, his voice cracks. He couldn’t hold back anymore. “I’m sorry for not trying hard enough to keep us together.” Harry whispers to you, cupping the sides of your head to look you in your eyes. “It’s nowhere near being your fault, and I don’t ever want you to think that. Okay?” He stresses as the tears fall down his face. All you do, or could do was nod in response. Even though he said this, you still carried so much guilt for not trying as hard as you should have.

Harry then pulls you back into him, holding you as tight as possible. He was holding you as if you were going to slip out of his grasp and leave him again. He didn’t want to be away from you the way he was for the past 7 months.

“I love you so much.” You mumble shakily into his neck.

“I love you much more than you know.” Harry says earnestly.

Even though you both were sobbing, being back in each others arms was the best feeling the world. Some days you thought that this moment would ever happen. You felt like you’d lost Harry forever. You thought that you’d lost the best thing that ever happened to you. And Harry thought that he’d lost the best thing that ever happened to him. Sure you and Harry were going places and doing amazing things in your lives, but not having your soulmate by your side was the absolute worst feeling in the world. Finally having this moment to reconnect and come back together and fix things was something neither you or Harry would ever take for granted.

The two of you just sit there, tightly wrapped around each other. You stay like this for a little while longer before finally pulling away from each other.

“We’re gonna be alright. Okay?” He says tugging your hands into his. When you give him a nod yes, Harry is quick to stop you. “I need you to say it. Tell me we’re going to be alright.” Harry begs.

“We’re going to be alright.” You repeat giving him a confident smile. “Not to break up the mood, but can we heat this up and eat now because I had a long day and the crying didn’t help. I’m starving.”

“As you wish.” Harry says with a chuckle, removing his hands from yours to take care of the now cold food on the table.

For the rest of the night the two of you sit together on the couch, while going to town on the pizzas and downing the bottle of wine. You and Harry were not only catching each other up on the last 7, almost 8 months of your lives, but also reminiscing on the great times you two had together and talking about your future and the goals you two had for your relationship. Eventually you and Harry were completely out of it. As you and Harry were drifting off to sleep, you asked him one final question.

“I have a hypothetical for you.” You begin.

“I hate those things. If I give you an answer you don’t like, you can’t blame me for that. I just stuffed my face with pizza and I’m a little wine drunk.” Harry grumbles to you.

“Okay, just hear me out.” You reassure him. “So it’s the end of the world okay?” You begin the scenario.

“Mhm” Harry hums back, his interest now peaked towards what you’re saying.

“Alright. So, if the world was ending and I called, would you come over?” You ask.

“I’d drop everything to be there with you. And just so you know, it wouldn’t take the end of the world for me to come back to you.” Harry says softly to you. “What about you?” Harry questions.

“I’d do the same. You’re the first I’d go to in then, now, and every time in between.” You reply, turning your head up towards him. “I’m glad we’re back.” You whisper to him.

“I’m glad were back too babe.” Harry whispers back down to you. Before you knew it, Harry’s lips were pressed against yours. It was a feeling that both you and Harry terribly missed.

You and Harry knew that you guys had a long way to go when it came to getting back to a better place in your relationship. But despite this bump in the road, the both of you felt confident that you guys would not only be alright, but you and Harry were going to make it to forever.

Masterlist

#Harry Styles #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #harry x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles writing #my harry writing #concepts of h #harrywritingsbyme

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clumsyclifford · 3 years ago

Note

lashton prompt: luke falling asleep on skype and ashton taking the opportunity to draw him, bonus if someone else finds the sketches before ashton shows them to luke

meghna this prompt is from almost a full calendar year ago. i am proud to report that after all this time i did in fact manage to set it in spideyverse because that’s how determined i am. more info in ao3 notes but it takes place in the summer before their senior year of high school, so after the events of everything else in spideyverse so far

read here on ao3

Ashton will have to thank Maya later for the tip about the Fine Arts Room. He jimmies the door handle and, as promised, the door swings opens to reveal a darkened room full of half-finished projects. They must really take the decency of humanity on faith here. Anyone could come in at any time and sabotage any of this work.

Ashton has less nefarious plans.

He sits at his usual spot but doesn’t turn any lights on; the big windows shine just enough moonlight into the room that Ashton can see the silhouettes of the furniture, and his laptop will be on in a moment anyway. Careful of the scattered pages over his workspace, he opens his computer and loads up Skype.

Just in time for an incoming call.

Ashton fumbles with his headphones and plugs them in with one hand while he accepts the call with the other. The screen fills with Luke’s brightly-lit, highly pixelated face. Chin in his hands, elbows propped on his desk, hair a ruffled mess (from the mask, Ashton knows) — the sight of him fills Ashton with warmth.

“Hey,” Luke says, smiling his usual cheeky smile. They’ve been texting sporadically, but seeing Luke’s face — hearing his voice — gives Ashton a fluttery feeling behind his sternum. Calum would call that anatomically impossible, but he’d do it with a smirk. “I can barely see you.”

“I’m sitting in the dark,” Ashton explains. His voice is a hushed whisper even though he knows it’s absurd to be paranoid. They’re supposed to be confined to their bunks by now, and the staff and counselors will all be asleep. The only reason he and Luke are calling now, past midnight, is because now is the only time they’re both available. “I’m in the Fine Arts Room.”

“Ooh, can I see?”

“I don’t want to turn on the lights,” Ashton says. “There are windows and stuff.”

“Are you not supposed to be there?” Luke raises an eyebrow and grins. “Ooh, is Ashton Irwin sneaking around?”

“Well, if we weren’t calling at the middle of the night, I wouldn’t have to.”

“Don’t they lock the buildings?” Luke suddenly looks concerned.

Ashton shrugs. “Maya told me that if I jiggle the handle, the door will open. She was right.”

“Go Maya,” Luke says. “I like Maya. Who’s Maya?”

“My new friend,” says Ashton. “She mostly paints. We’ve got a challenge going on about whether she’s better at drawing or I’m better at painting, since neither of us really use those mediums. Hannah — one of the other campers — is going to find something for us to both paint slash draw and then there’ll be an unofficial panel of judges. It’s pretty stupid.”

“You’re smiling a lot,” Luke says, and Ashton realizes he is. “Doesn’t sound stupid to me. You think you’re gonna win?”

“No,” Ashton says honestly. “I’m pretty awful at painting.”

“I’m sure you’re better than you think. How hard can it be?”

“That’s very rich coming from you, Mr. I-Can’t-Draw-A-House.”

“Hey, fuck off! I can draw a house, thank you very much.” Luke looks down at his desk and his focus shifts, and Ashton watches in bemused patience. As he waits, he draws a blank piece of paper towards him and grabs the nearest pencil lying around. His hands move almost unconsciously, drawing lines and curves and sketching the outline of something Ashton hasn’t quite decided on yet. Luke finally lifts his head up. “Here, see?” He holds up a piece of paper to the camera, where he’s drawn a box with an isosceles triangle on top for the roof, complete with a little chimney sticking out. “House,” Luke proudly declares. “Boom. Get fucked, Irwin.”

“I stand corrected,” Ashton chuckles. He hums. “They’ll probably just find us equally talented because painting is different from drawing and blah blah blah artsy hipster bullshit.”

“Stop dismissing the artsy hipster bullshit,” Luke says stubbornly. “I’ll have you know my boyfriend deals exclusively in artsy hipster bullshit.”

“You think my drawings are artsy hipster bullshit?”

“No, babe, I think you are artsy hipster bullshit.” Luke grins widely and then gets cut off by a yawn. Ashton bites back a very cheesy comment about how Luke should web himself up for being criminally cute.

“You know what, I’m gonna let you have that one,” he says instead. “Since I am at an artsy hipster bullshit summer camp.”

“I miss you.” Luke pouts. It’s a funny look on him. Ashton tries to imagine Spiderman pouting and completely fails. Sometimes it’s hard for him to reconcile Luke and Spiderman being the same person. That this adorable six-foot-and-change beanstalk who yawns on Skype is the same person who can do a double-backflip and land on his feet on the rooftop of any building. Ashton’s boyfriend stops crimes. What the fuck.

“I miss you too,” he says. “You seem tired.”

“I’m not tired.” Instant karma is a bitch. Luke immediately yawns again, this time much wider. “Okay, I’m a little tired,” he admits, smacking his lips like a child. “Summer break is deceptively boring. I…I run out of things to do all day, so I just kinda…keep patrolling. I might be wearing myself out.”

“Jesus, Luke, take it easy on yourself. Queens goes the entire school day without Spiderman’s protection during the school year. You can handle a break.”

“Yeah, but I might as well patrol,” Luke counters. “I have the time, and it’s not like I’m doing anything else.”

“I thought you and Michael were working on new specs for the suit.”

“It’s mostly Michael. Also, I think he’s kind of annoyed about the whole 24/7 patrol. He can’t work on the suit if I’m wearing it.”

“That is true.”

“But he’s been spending a lot of his time with Calum, anyway,” Luke says coolly. “So I figure he’s probably got other priorities.”

“Well, if you keep blowing him off to obsessively patrol the city, I can’t possibly imagine why he’s making other plans.”

Luke stares through the camera. His shoulders slump. “Maybe. I hadn’t thought of that.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Ashton chirps.

Luke sighs deeply. “You’re not here, Ash.”

Ashton purses his lips and frowns. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know, but I’m just saying. I miss you. I wish you were here.”

“Yeah,” Ashton says. He misses Luke too, more than is probably healthy. That’s what he gets, he supposes, for only having a handful of close relationships; Luke and Calum are his whole life, and not being able to hug either one of them for even a week has been pretty challenging. “But look, it’s only another week, and then I am all yours, I swear.”

“Don’t enable me,” Luke says, affronted. “You’re supposed to say things like… ‘You don’t own me’ and ‘I’m my own person’ and stuff like that.”

Ashton blinks, confused. “Uh…well, yeah, but we both already know that. I’m just saying I miss you too. But if it’s any consolation, Maya has ruthlessly mocked me for all the drawings I do of you. Like mercilessly. It’s actually kind of embarrassing.”

“That is super embarrassing,” Luke says, with a small, bashful smile. “You’re so fucking lame, Ashton.”

“Wow,” Ashton says. “You even sound like her.”

Luke giggles, which turns seamlessly into a yawn. “Hey, I came first. Maya sounds like me.”

“Luke, babe, just go to sleep,” Ashton says. “We can talk another night. Maybe one where you’re more well-rested.”

“I’m super rested,” Luke says in a monotone. “King of restedness, me.”

“Wow, I’m suddenly convinced.” Luke makes a half-hearted face at him and Ashton makes one back. The sketch under Ashton’s pencil has revealed itself to be Luke, yet again. Shocker. It really is embarrassing that Ashton defaults to drawing his boyfriend. If they ever break up, Ashton will be fucked.

“Are you drawing?” Trust Luke to notice. Although the fact that it’s taken him this long to notice means he must be slower on the uptake than usual.

“Yeah,” Ashton says, because when is he not.

“Drawing what?”

“Guess,” Ashton says dryly.

Luke gives a sleepy smile. “At least you’re predictable.”

“Luke, I’m begging you to get some sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow or this weekend or something, okay?”

Luke yawns yet again. “Okay,” he agrees, right hand propping up his head. His eyes flutter shut and then open again. “Okay, fine.”

“And please let Michael look at your suit,” Ashton adds. “You know he’s only going to make it better.”

“I know, I know, I just…” Luke’s eyes fall shut again. It seems more out of tiredness than distress. “If I give it to him, then I can’t use it.”

Ashton’s pretty sure if Luke’s hero complex gets any bigger he’s going to have to start renting out rooms. “It’ll be two days, tops,” he says. “Take two days off.”

“I wanna wait ‘til you’re back,” Luke mumbles. “Spend ‘em with you.”

“You spend most of your time with me,” Ashton says gently. “Spend them with Michael. Hell, spend them with Cal.”

“But I want…” Luke yawns. He lists sideways a little. “I want you.”

Ashton chews his lip. “I’ll be back before you know it,” he says. “You won’t be able to get rid of me.”

Luke hums absently. “‘Kay, g’night,” he slurs, but makes no gesture to hang up the call. He probably expects Ashton to end it. If Luke is as asleep as he looks right now, Ashton kind of has to.

The graphite on the sketch paper is smudging a little. Ashton glances down at the half-assed likeness of his boyfriend and has an idea.

Quietly, he grabs another blank page, moves his laptop back a little, and starts to draw.

They’re up bright and early the next day, and after breakfast Ashton follows a decidedly more lively Maya into the Fine Arts Room, where she takes her place diagonally from him at their table. They’re both mid-project; Ashton stacks and sets aside his scratch papers and pulls forth the drawing he’s currently working on.

“So? You talked to Luke?”

Ashton blinks and looks up at Maya. “Yeah,” he says. “Thanks for the tip, I meant to say.”

“Hey, don’t thank me, thank Cupid,” Maya says airily. “I’m on the side of love, baby.”

Ashton snorts and rolls his eyes. “Let Cupid know I say thanks.”

Maya hums. “Cupid says you’re welcome.”

They’re quiet while Maya gets herself set up — she has to put all her acrylics back every evening only to set them back out every morning, another reason Ashton prefers pencils over paints — and Ashton picks up his pencil and starts to draw.

“Is this yours?” Maya asks, peering at Ashton’s discarded stack of sketches.

“Yeah,” Ashton says without looking. “Just sketches and stuff.”

“Wait, this is so cute.” She’s leaning over the drawing on the top. Ashton glances up.

It’s Luke from last night, soundly asleep over Skype.

Ashton had ended the call after about ten minutes of silence, enough time to get the rough outlines of all the important shapes. The video quality wouldn’t have lent itself to a good sketch anyway if Ashton had been chasing authenticity, but fortunately he knows Luke’s face well enough — both from drawing it and gazing at it in real life — to pretend the call had had a crystal-clear picture. None of it is colored in, but it’s as obviously Luke as all of Ashton’s other drawings. Somehow, though, this one feels more personal.

“Did you draw this last night?”

“Uh,” Ashton says, reaching for the drawing. He shuffles it between several other papers so an innocuous collection of doodles is now at the top of the stack, and Maya clicks her tongue in disapproval.

“Hey, I was looking at that. It was cute.”

“Yeah, it’s— it’s just nothing.”

“It’s not nothing, it’s adorable,” Maya says. She fixes him with puppy-dog eyes. “Pleeeease can I see it? I won’t show anyone. I’m studying so I can kick your ass in our competition.”

Ashton sighs. “It’s just Luke. You’ve seen millions of drawings of him.”

“But those were obviously from memory,” Maya points out, taking his non-answer as an affirmative and sifting through the stack. Ashton doesn’t bother trying to stop her. It’s not like he has anything to hide — or at least not anything Maya could figure out by looking at the drawing.

And in her defense, Luke does look cute as fuck in the drawing, because he’d looked cute as fuck in real life.

“For all you know, this one is also from memory.”

“You drew the screen, Ash, it’s clearly from last night.”

“Well,” Ashton says diplomatically. Then he abandons diplomacy, because Maya has located the drawing and is grinning and aww-ing. “Well do you blame me? He fell asleep on our call. It was adorable.”

Maya giggles. “You guys are so fucking cute,” she says. “Y’know, most people would be insulted if their boyfriend fell asleep on a video call with them.”

“He’s been really busy lately,” Ashton says. “And it was the end of the call anyway.”

“One day, I will have someone to draw me when I fall asleep on our Skype calls,” Maya says wistfully. “I’m putting the vibes out into the universe so it’ll happen soon.”

“Maybe you’ll be the one drawing them,” Ashton points out.

Maya finally sets down the Luke drawing. She dips her brush in red paint, clearly intending to put it into her work, but at Ashton’s words instead brandishes it threateningly at him. “I won’t be drawing anyone, buddy.”

Ashton laughs. “But you’d date someone who drew instead of painted?”

“At this point?” Maya sighs theatrically. “I’d date just about anyone who did anything.”

Ashton laughs again. They work quietly for a few minutes. Ashton starts shading.

“Why do you only ever draw Luke?” Maya asks. “You said you’ve been together for less than a year. Who were you drawing before then?”

Ashton shrugs. “Uh, anyone, really,” he says. “People. There are a lot of pretty interesting people at my school, and besides, I’m from the city.”

Maya snorts derisively. “You’re from Queens.”

“Queens is in the city.”

Another derisive snort. “Queens is in the city the same way using ink stamps is painting.”

“That’s not even a little bit the same thing, at all.”

“You’re not a city boy.”

“I am literally a city boy!” Maya waves him off, but Ashton ignores her. She’s from Massachusetts. She has no leg to stand on. “My point is that there are lot of interesting people near where I live, too.”

“You didn’t ever, I don’t know, draw your friends? Calum, didn’t you say he’s your best friend from home?”

“Ah, yeah,” Ashton says. “Calum. Didn’t like when I drew him.”

“What, seriously? Why not?”

“I don’t know,” Ashton says, and it’s true. “He just asked me to stop drawing him one day so I did.” He hesitates. “...Mostly. Sometimes I still do. But if you knew Calum you’d understand why. He’s extremely good-looking.”

“Of course he is,” Maya says. “Any chance he’s single and/or interested in women from several states away?”

“No to both questions,” Ashton says sympathetically. “But good try.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Maya says good-naturedly, and they lapse into silence again.

It’s broken by Maya, again. “Do you show Luke the drawings you do of him?”

That’s a complicated question. No, Ashton doesn’t actively show his drawings to Luke, but Luke usually sees them anyway. Some of them are more private; Ashton keeps the one of Luke in the Spiderman suit sans mask folded up in the bottom of his socks drawer where he’s pretty certain no one ever looks. There doesn’t seem to be a point to showing it to Luke now, so long after he’d actually done it. But for the most part he’s not hiding his art from Luke; Luke sees what he sees, notwithstanding Ashton’s intention.

“Sometimes,” Ashton says.

Maya nods at the drawing of Luke asleep on Skype. “You gonna show him that one?”

“Uh, probably not.”

“What, why? It’s so cute.”

“I don’t know, maybe because it makes me seem like a ridiculous lovesick borderline creepy idiot?”

“Guys love that,” Maya assures him. “Or so I’m told. C’mon, why hold out on him when he already knows you’re basically obsessed with drawing him?” She taps the drawing. “And when he looks this adorable?”

Ashton breathes a laugh. “You have a point.”

“I always do,” Maya says, and she flips her hair dramatically.

Maybe Michael would let Ashton draw him. That would be a nice change from always drawing Luke and never drawing Calum. Maybe Ashton could just do it and then ask Michael what he thinks. It would be nice to have new muses. Ashton has spent a lot of time on Luke; maybe it’s about time he branched out again.

“Hey,” Ashton says, struck with inspiration as he watches Maya make brushstrokes across her paper. “Can I draw you?”

“Hell yeah, go for it,” Maya says. “I’m not sitting still for you, though.”

“I’ll live,” Ashton says dryly. Maya grins and laughs. A fresh page before Ashton and a new pencil in his hand, he studies Maya’s profile carefully and then brings his pencil to the page.

“Did you break into the Fine Arts Room again?”

“I don’t think it’s breaking in if it’s technically unlocked,” Ashton points out.

Luke squints but evidently fails to argue with this logic. “How’s artsy hipster bullshit camp?”

“Really good,” Ashton says, cracking his knuckles. His parents have told him repeatedly that doing so will give him arthritis, but Ashton suspects that’s more of a scare tactic than a fact. At this point he doubts even rehab could get him to stop. It’s the only thing Ashton can think to do with his hands when he’s not drawing. “By the way, remember the other day when you fell asleep on our call?”

I fell asleep at the end of our call,” Luke corrects him. “We were done talking.”

“Okay, weirdo,” Ashton says, shaking his head. “Well, anyway, Maya convinced me that I should show you this because maybe you’d think it was cute, or something.” He holds up the drawing of Luke.

Luke leans closer to the camera. Anyone else might have trouble discerning what’s on the page given how dim it is around Ashton, but not Luke. Luke has super-senses. His visual acuity is, like, a thousand. (Rough estimate.)

So when Luke’s face splits into a grin, Ashton knows he’s seen exactly what’s there. “Oh my fucking God, you sap,” he says. “I thought you just hung up straightaway.”

“Nope,” Ashton says. “I’m just saving moments. One day I’ll have enough for a flip book.”

Luke’s expression goes all mushy and heart-eyed. “You’re unbelievable,” he says, fond and endeared. “I can’t believe you’re not bored of my dumb face yet.”

“Are you kidding? Have you seen your dumb face?” Ashton laughs. “It’s impossible to be bored of it.”

“Ashton,” Luke says, his eyes crinkling so much that the blue all but disappears. “I love you.”

And everything makes sense.

“I love you too,” Ashton says, struck by the realization that he does. The drawings, the midnight Skype calls, the death-defying trips around the city with only his faith in Luke to keep them afloat, the fluttery feeling — all of the colors lock into place, and Ashton can see the rainbow clear as day in front of him. He’s never been in love; of course he couldn’t tell. But there’s nothing else it could be.

“Oh, good,” Luke says timidly. “I was a little worried you wouldn’t say it back.”

Ashton glances from the drawing in his hand to the look on Luke’s face on the screen, and he cracks a crooked smile. “Then you, superhero, have not been paying attention.”

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