#now he's a ghost and has WONDERFUL friends who LOVE him until he starts fading away to nothing

[rememberingnoah]

What does your url mean? Who is Noah?

he was a sk8er boi, his bff said see u l8ter boi...

he had a pretty face but soon that'll be erased to save his friend gansey

[autumn-foxfire]

Remember when I wrote how I love the tragedy of Shinichi and Ran's romantic relationship? Now it's Kaito and Aoko's turn🙂

Kaito who flinches at every insult Aoko slings at Kaitou's KID way, but they're always hidden behind his mastered pokerface.

It hurts more than he likes to acknowledge to hear every insult, every curse, against Kaitou KID and his existence but not because she's saying them to him, about him, but because Kaitou KID is, and always will be, his father's legacy. It's the reason his father died, was murdered, for, trying to protect the world from a shadow they don't yet know exists but will gleefully hurt the world when it gets what it wants.

A petty thief. As if that's all his father was.

At one point he was resolved to tell her the truth, about Kaitou KID, about his father, when the hunt was over and the world was safe but after every failed heist, after watching Aoko's insults get harsher and the anger in her eyes grow, he finds the courage he had once possessed faded from his tongue.

Aoko is just so angry and Kaitou KID is her outlet. The anger started when she saw her her father overworking himself with the chance of redemption, skipped meals and sleep, leading to a cold and empty house the day the thief strikes.

Then it's not just meals being skipped. It's Aoko saying hi in the morning to get no reply, it's her putting effort into making her father food she know he needs only to find him already gone without a goodbye. It's coming home to see the food she had placed for her father to see, to take for dinner instead, still sitting on the counter, untouched. She ends up eating his portion for dinner in his stead, alone in the kitchen with nothing but the hum of appliances to keep her company.

Aoko is like a ghost in her father's presense when the thief makes an appearance. Sometimes she wonders if she really is, cursed to watch her father spiral into obsession and helpless to do anything to stop it.

At first she smiled through it and reasoned that it's only when the thief appears but for their family KID doesn't disappear when the heist ends.

She has to watch her father put himself back together after every humilating defeat. It's having to hear-watch-see her father and the men who follow his lead be ridiculed for not catching him. Her father, who works himself until he starves, until he passes out, mocked for his efforts and Aoko is supposed to find a joke in that?

It hurts the most to see her best friend, the one she thinks she loves, take part in the "fun".

For Kaito though, after every failed heist (though no one but him knows they were), after all the danger he put himself through, seeing the darkest sides of humanity as he walks along the edge between good and evil, he needed to laugh and find joy in what he does.

And he does because being Kaitou KID was like finding a piece of himself he never knew was missing.

he thief was originally just a suit, a shadow following in his father's footsteps to put his soul at rest, but the more he slipped into the act of the sinner in white, the more performances he put on for the public, the suit of a man he had always seen as greater than him had turned into his second skin, a place he belonged.

He didn't want to hurt Aoko. He didn't want to hurt officer Nakamori either, the man was a surrogate father to him when his own was cruely taken from him.

But he wouldn't stop. He couldn't stop. To stop being himself.

The idea of telling Aoko some day, of the laughing it off and her accepting all of him, he's come to accept was just a pipe dream. Maybe once she would have accepted him, worried for him and supported him, but a world where that happened was a world he was putting her in danger and he could never let that happen.

But as much as KID was another side of him, it was also the cause of the pain in Aoko's eyes. Now Kaito didn't just hide the truth from her to protect her from the shadows, but from the futher pain the truth would do to her.

He was protecting her from himself.

He had to choose and choose he had. He dons the white cape once again and greets his audience with a shark grin and regret hidden behind a monocle.

Tomorrow Aoko will scream and rant to the heavens about KID, her anger a mask for the pain and loneliness she feels. Tomorrow Kaito will bear the insults and just laugh them off like they were just a joke, like he didn't feel like he was being stabbed with knives of hurt and guilt.

Neither will acknowledge the growing rift between them.

Acknowledging it will make it real.

[gottaluvharry]

a/n: thank you for the love on my last post!!! i appreciate all of you more than you know:) thank you thank you thank you. once again sorry if this has a weird layout or something, i’m typing this on my phone as i don’t have a laptop. xxx

summary: y/n and tomothee had been texting until he suddenly ghosted, so when she sees timmy in a club she teases him by dancing with another man

tw’s: nothing much except for sexual dancing and alcohol

————————————————————————

It had been days since the last conversation I had with Timothee and I was aching to talk to him again. He was so flirty and I really liked him, but his alleged lack of interest got me kind of down.

I listened to The Weeknd and did my makeup, singing and dancing around my room while I got ready- if there was anything that could cheer me up it was a night out with my girls. I gazed at my reflection in the full length mirror- a tall and bronzed figure wearing a little black dress just long enough to keep you wanting more with fluffed up hair and dark sexy makeup stared back. I was ready.

My girls picked me up and we pregamed in the car. We entered the exclusive club already feeling the buzz of our previous shots, excited for what the night might hold. The night was still young after all.

As I danced and drank with my friends, I almost forgot about Timothee- at least until I saw the familiar head of curls across the room. We had worked together on the set of ‘Hot Summer’s Night’, but that felt like eons ago and we were only kids then. Still, after all those years I would never mistake those familiar green eyes and deep messy hair for anyone besides Timothee Chalamet. We locked eyes as I was spinning my friend around my extended arm, and my stomach did backflips at the sight of him. I wondered if he felt the same way. I decided that my only remedy to his sudden appearance was more shots. 5 more shots to be exact.

My judgement was now tainted by the liquid courage, and I danced freely forgetting about Timothee altogether. As i danced up against my friend I caught Timothee eyes. He was sitting at the bar facing towards the dance floor leaning back against the bar counter. His legs spread in the typical ‘man with a big ego’ style, but he made it look so good. He gave me a slight smirk as I flipped my hair to one side and kept his gaze. I noticed that he wasn’t paying any attention to his friend beside him who seemed to be trying to talk to him, but I was pulled out of my thoughts as someone tapped my shoulder. I turned around and a tall man with blonde hair and handsome eyes looked down on me.

“May I have your next dance?” he asked as the previous song faded.

I smirked at the idea of Timothee watching me with another man, wondering and secretly hoping he would get jealous. I knew it was an awful thing to do, but my 8 shots begged to differ.

“You may,” I responded mimicking him.

I took his outstretched hand and spun around so my back was pressed flush to his chest.

*i imagined ‘the color violet’ starting to play in the back:)*

I caught Timothee’s eyes and smirked as I leaned back against the blonde guy and closed my eyes feeling the base shake my body. His hands quickly funding my hips and guiding me while mine reached up behind his head to the base of his neck. The orange-ish yellow-ish lights shone down on me as him and I moved together to the beat of the music. I felt like I was moving weightless through the air, completely unaware to everything around me besides Timothee’s gaze. His eye color was a bright shade of green, but the emotion on his face made them seem like the darkest shade of green. Almost as if emerald was fusing with obsidian. He shifted in his seat, now leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. Instead of looking bored and uninterested, he now seemed to be hot and bothered- perfect.

As the song continued I never took my eyes off of him. Something about me dancing against a stranger while keeping eye contact with Timothee the entire time in a high profile club was so exciting. I could feel the sweat staring to stick to my chest, and I knew Timothee could see it shine in the light because of the way he adjusted himself. Even from so far away I could see the darkness in his expression and the lump in his throat. As the song slowly game to an end, the guy turned me to face him, kissed my cheek, whispered a goodbye, and disappeared into the sea of bodies. When I flipped back around to look for Timothee, he was nowhere to be seen. I was almost upset, until I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stick up. A familiarly intimidating presence lingered directly behind me, and I knew exactly who it was.

……. part 2???

————————————————————————I’m not sure if this is even good enough for anyone to want a part 2, but if so let me know! I hope you enjoyed it:) I’m sorry it’s not the greatest, I don’t really know what I’m doing this is all for fun lol. Much love<3333

-e

[glittter-gel]

my mental health is declining so have some kyōtani angst ✌️😚✨

when kyōtani was younger he always had the biggest smile on his face. he was always super excited to go on the bus, to see his friends, to go out for recess, for gym to start, to get home to see his parents and sister, the kid was excited about it all. he didnt mind that his mom and dad fought a lot, he didnt mind that his sister would always yell at him, and he didnt mind that he always had to be a little bit quieter than everyone else in the house when he came home from school. he just knew that he loved his family no matter what. what he did mind though was the candy, his moms candy. it didnt look very tasty, and dad always said that it didnt help mommy, so he wondered why she always ate it. he cant remember the last time that she wasnt eating the candy. she always had some of it on her, whether in her purse, or on the table, it was always there. when it really started to bother him was in middle school. another thing about kyōtani as a kid is that he always wanted to help. but this time it didnt feel like he could. his mom had changed, so much so that he didnt know how to fix it anymore. she wasnt the fun mom that would make him pancakes on the weekends when she was awake, she wasnt the mom who turned up the tv volume because he couldn't reach the buttons yet, and she wast the same mom who would sit down with kyōtani and help him with his homework, no not anymore. she was the mom who would always sprinkle this gross white powder on the food she made that gave kyōtani stomachaches throughout the day, she was the mom who would scream if he turned the tv volume up higher than 5, she was now the mom who threw stuff at him whenever he asked for help on anything. he didnt like the change, not at all. his anger from the change bubbled up and came out at school. he got into fights, yelled back at teachers, and threw away any schoolwork he couldn't get quite right. then, one day he finally realized he couldn't help anymore. he came home from school and saw her there. just laying on the floor, cold as ice, stiff as rock. dad was still at work and his sister was at her boyfriends so nobody could hear him but he screamed. he screamed until it hurt his throat even to breathe. he didnt know what to do with himself. he quit the volleyball team, the only thing he looked forward to. he ghosted his friends and teammates. he didnt eat until he was starving. he didnt know what the point was anymore. he didnt care what the point was anyways. he just wanted to sit until he rotted away like his mom. he just wanted to see her again, be with her, be held by her. no matter how much pain she caused him she was still his mom, and he loved her for that. he would do anything to get her back. now as he got older that smile has faded, and turned to a scowl. he isnt excited about anything anymore, he doesn't look forward to school, and he definitely doesn't look forward to going home at the end of the day. he isnt the happy kid he once thought he was, now hes just numb.

[orecana]

Valentine day: a day where horror begins

Chapter 2: the tree thirst for blood

Sunghwa and jeongmin enters the building and begins walking around. However, no sooner than a minute has passed, a giant whistle is heard. They look behind them and pales.

A janitor was there and is now running at them at full speed while they're trying their best to outrun him. Jeongmin eventually finds a good room to hide in.

Opening the door, he goes in and pulls sunghwa in. Jeongmin puts his point finger to his lips signaling sunghwa to shut up.

They hear the footsteps of the janitor slowly dissapating as they let out breaths of relief.

They sits there as they discuss what to do.

Sunghwa: why was that janitor chasing us?

Jeongmin: i don't know. He's usually very nice in the morning tho. I heard from Yuri that if the janitor catches you wandering around at night, the janitor will be very angry and chase you down.

Sunghwa: I actually saw him whack a student with that bat of his.

Jeongmin: *shocked* seriously?

Sunghwa:let's get going, i think he's gone.

They slowly got out of the room and continue onwards.

Sunghwa finds a lock on a door that resembles a kind of seal.

He takes out the token that he had and puts it in. The token slowly takes effect and unlocks the door with the token on the door to their left.

They go up to the next floor as they talk a bit. Along the way jeongmin finds a bloody love letter.

He stares at it as he starts to hyperventilate.

Memories flooding into him.

* a bloody girl ..... Holding out.... A bouquet of flowers.... He.... Me.... Smiles ......we hugged and.......*

Jeongmin? JEONGMIN!

Jeongmin snaps out of his trance and looks at sunghwa. He only looks away to hide his embarrassed face.

Sunghwa only smirks as he gesture for him to go through the door on the 2nd floor with him.

Sunghwa knows for a long time that whenever his friend regain some part of his memories, he will hyperventilate.

*I wonder what did he remember this time?*

He thinks as he enters the floor with jeongmin collecting the paper on a box.

Hmm it seems to contain a password.

Jeongmin, being a wiz at puzzles already cracked the passcode and told me to wait here and not get caught by the janitor.

As jeongmin goes down though the janitor comes immediately. Sunghwa immediately runs for it eventually finding a bathroom to hide in.

He decided to hide In the farthest stall and wait there until the janitor.goes away.

Once sunghwa know that he was gone, he was about to exit when he hears something splashing against the floor and the sound of the door opening.

You are not here.....

The sound of a female echoes thought the bathroom walls. It was teasing and scary.

*splash splash splash*

You are not here either...

Sunghwa holds his breath as he hears it approaching closer and closer.

*splash splash splash*

Ahahahahahahahaha I found you now!

A head drops down in front of his cabinet with an outstretched neck. Her eyes were wide and a big grin plastered on her face. Her skin was sickly purple with veins popping out. She laughs hysterically before disapearing.

Sunghwa got out of there as fast as he could, fear evident on his face as he runs and runs.

Jeongmin who just arrived on the second floor with a key he got from solving a puzzle, was met with a running sunghwa who looked scared shitless.

Jeongmin: let me guess. Got haunted?

Sunghwa: well duh! What else in this creepy ass school!

Jeongmin giggles as they walk towards the door to the auditorium and he unlocks it with the key he got. He opens it and they stepped inside.

They were about to turn the corner when they see the ghost. It was hanging with its eyes fully black with red pupils. His school uniform was bloody and torn as the rope snaps and he falls onto the floor.

He tries to crawl towards them but soon fades away.

Sunghwa quickly enters the door and runs forward. Jeongmin however, notices a white chrysanthemum on the window. He subconsciously as starts to hyperventilate again.

*me....happy* *mom....*

*sunghwa.....* *I...was...happy....*

Meanwhile sunghwa notices Yuri entering the door and chases after her only to be met with the girl he was looking all this time.

Seol Yuna:oh! Hello. We've met before right?

Sunghwa: yes.... Oh by the way, you left your diary on the bench so I'm returning it for you.

Yuna: ah! Thank you! I was looking all over for it.

Suddenly the building shakes as a vine grabs Yuna and pulls her into the classroom before locking with its branches.

With no other choice he decided to look for a way to free Yuna.

He looks down to see that she has left the master key behind.

*perfect*

He goes around the school unlocking each door in order to find something to save Yuna.

He was about to go into another room when he see jeongmin standing in front of a room.

He turns to look at sunghwa and glares at him.

Jeongmin: don't just stand there. Unlock this door!

Sunghwa immediately unlocks it and they were met with a gym room. Sunghwa had gotten a bug spray from one of the rooms but it's no use.

Jeongmin however notices a safe and looks at his surroundings. He smirks as he begins decoding the safe.

4 2 5 9

Ding!

The safe opens and a bottle of chemical was inside.

Jeongmin looks at sunghwa. They both nod.

Sunghwa hurriedly pour the chemical over all the strange plants around the school while jeongmin waits to take down the tree.

When sunghwa heard it screams, he knew he was successful. He comes back up to that place only to find jeongmin unconscious in front of it.

Rage filled sunghwa veins as he marches in to confront the tree.

It was huge, dark and has a terrifying face.

Its vines were everywhere and its roots are connected to somewhere.

Sunghwa tries to douse the chemical on it, but it was fast and able to react on time.

Sunghwa was able to find an opening and throws the chemical into its mouth. Not wanting to take chances, he throws a match at it, burning it alive as it roars in agony.

Relieved that it is over, sunghwa carries jeongmin bridal style as he goes over from classroom to classroom to see which room is appropriate.

He soon finds a classroom which has a token in it and breathes a sigh of relief as he puts jeongmin onto a chair and lets him sleep.

Sunghwa smiles as he brushes jeongmin's hair. They had been best friends since forever after all, today they were able to survive this ordeal ...together.

Jeongmin's parents have long past away. He remembers how devastated he was when he learnt about it. He also remember about what jeongmin's mother has said about him.

"a beautiful flower that must not be tainted, but i fear that one day he will be tainted. Far worse than people can imagine."

He looks at jeongmin as he sleeps pewcefully.

Sunghwa also feel sleepy as he closes his eyes while interlocking his hands with his best friend.

"I will always protect you jeongmin, just like how you protected me back then."

[rhymingtree]

The King makes his entrance...

Ooh a Bucky POV flashback... this is gonna hurt

Oh no, it's worse. It's a nightmare.

Aww, he kept her backpack...

A moment of silence for Bucky's declining mental and emotional health, courtesy of Darke

SAMUEL. WILSON. DIDN'T WE ALREADY TELL YOU. SOMETIMES NATASHA IS WRONG.

Only sometimes. But this is one of those times.

She wasn’t their friend, she was a manipulator that had been lying to them from the start.

No, that's a lie nonononono

Goddamnit

Poor Steve had to deal with two Russians and his girlfriend taking his archer buddy hostage and then said hostage buddy had to deal with his best friend's (ex???) girlfriend who was pulling theatrics on every single one of them... no wonder he's tired.

 “Why do my World War Two veterans constantly look like shit?”

I feel like based on that limited information you can kinda tell what the answer is but ok Tony keep trying to be funny

OH MY GOD PETER

.... I completely forgot he was here.... um

He's in so much trouble HAHAHAH

You winced lightly, holding your side as the C-17 soared over the Atlantic.

I'm on my Wakanda Forever kick so I'm imagining a very bemused Namor just looking up from under the surface thinking, "How many times is that loud ass hunk of metal going to fly over us?"

That was over the Pacific.

Same difference.

Hyde!Ghost did not pass high school geography it seems.

Is she seriously thinking about jumping into the ocean? What's she gonna do swim for miles until she can snag Ollie's ankle and drag him into the depths with her?

What do you mean she involuntarily turned back toward the exit?

Hahaha that's scary I don't like it

Hyde!Ghost is ballsy and brutal... I mean she always has been but seeing her like this is almost always daunting to me

BOONE. THANK YOU.

“When’s the last time you slept?”

“I don’t remember.”

me this past week

“Maybe. If not, we’ll just camp out until they take pity on us.”

... They will not simply take pity on you, and neither will the elephants and rhinos and other wildlife outside their border.

Boone has sunset bias.

T'CHALLAAAAA

I missed him. I've been missing him more since WF and now I get to see more of him.

The faint remnants of the heart-shaped herbs disintegrated with every step his gardeners took, trying to save anything that was left of the plant.

He sighed, shaking his head as he looked over the room once more.

Thanks to N’Jadaka, it was likely T’Challa would be the last holder of the Black Panther mantle.

Darke, I think you just illustrated the moments that spelled out his fate...

Nakia and her T'Challa 😭😭

Oh my god they think they're N'Jadaka's... like Erik Killmonger would hire a dozen ragtags and one military plane to finish off a wary Wakanda only days (from what I gather) after a deadly battle.

Oh hi Ev, our favorite Token White guy.

The other Token Whites are coming, don't you worry

EEEEEY CAVANAUGH

SHURI GETS TO SEE THEM ALL AGAIN

AND SHE FINALLY GETS TO MEET GHOST FACE TO FACE OH MY GOD THIS IS EXCITING

I love Boone being annoying right now, she's so cute

“If King T’Challa doesn’t recognize this face, then there’s a problem,” Boone mused, trailing her fingers over the scars that tracked down her face.

she's right though, how the hell do you forget a face like that...

“I’m not leaving my plane,” Jesse said before pointing at Ari, “And he can’t walk.”

“We are on plane full of super soldiers.” The Russian shrugged again, “I’m sure someone can carry him.”

Ari sent a glare her way, “No.”

YELENA

I'M DYING

and what do you mean full? There's only two of em

“Tell me someone else is seeing this,” you whispered, watching as the mirage began to fade.

“Oh, I see it,” Boone hummed, nudging you gently, “And I’m really glad you can see it too. I cannot be trippin’ balls right now.”

Don't be too glad. She hasn't slept in eons and she's arguing with voices in her head. As far as I'm concerned, she's not entirely reliable right now.

YAY Boone gets to hang out with Shuri and they can build her cool awesoma lab and they'll be best frieeends and oh my god the hell that those two can raise

“One of the first things you ever told me was—”

“Ghost,” he said quickly, “Nobody wages war with ghosts.”

OH I LOVE THIS

“Ghost is a woman?” a familiar voice shouted from behind the Dora Milaje. You winced back, cocking your head to the side before a smile spread across your face and Princess Shuri appeared beside her brother. She looked you over excitedly, “I do not believe in the gods but...Praise be to Bast! Brother—”

I LOVE IT I LOVE IT I LOVE IT

I miss happy Shuri...

I'm tempted to just skip over ollie's parts because I only want good vibes and he is the embodiment of bad vibes

Why is Ollie laughing at the thought of scaring random people at the street...

beyond deranged, this one

I feel like Ollie is constantly on the verge of just grabbing Novak and throwing him out of a very tall building... like these two cannot work with one another at all. They both clash and just prove disappointments to one another

“The question is: Is this new soldier stable? And can we bend him to our will, instead of hers?”

Stop asking questions. Those questions are scary.

The real most important question is: Why in heck are these two not giving up yet... I kinda feel bad for them, they're all exhausted

well... except for Novak... He seems well rested

Yay Alpha Two and their Wakandan Adventure: A Thrilling Odyssey

FINALLY my blorbos get a moment of relaxation. They deserve this.

“Wow!” Boone sighed from across the jet, leaning further against the window to get a better look.

“Boone,” you snapped, “Don’t touch anything.”

“Sorry.”

Boone being an excited toddler is always the best

“You could have come for help sooner.”

You shrugged, “Something we both need to work on, I guess.”

“Indeed.”

They're bonding. Two of my favorites are BONDING. I am literally vibrating with glee right now

RAMONDA 😭😭

HHAHAA the Gringos have come to bring their brother home

Boone and Ev:

Queen Ramonda, Daughter of Lumumba steals the show once again

“Mama,” Shuri said quietly, stepping toward the woman, “This is Ghost.”

“Ghost?” The Queen Mother blinked, “As in the masked madman that saved my Shuri?”

I love that she said that in English so Ghost knows exactly how she feels about her.

But then Duke akes the credit (rightfully so) probably with the goofiest grin, looking nothing like the madman Ramonda expected him, or any of them for that matter, to be

HOW DID T'CHALLA READ HER THAT EASILY

She and T'Challa are tied souls in that they are mirrors of one another in many aspects

it's great using the mirror metaphor in a more positive way now

For the most part, Hyde!Ghost was quiet in Wakanda. probably also in awe of the view

You helped him see the vengeance inside of him. And he used that to better himself.

So, what in the fuck were you doing?

Having fun, duh. That’s a stupid question.

Never mind, she jumped in quick

You sighed, shaking your head as you looked up at him, “Can you help me see it?”

it's like I can hear the hopelessness in her voice

Maybe I've forgotten some details in the past few months, or maybe Ghost is such a good unreliable narrator that even i'm fooled... but everything is kinda... falling apart from both ends isn't it?

Steve trailed off, following Clint’s gaze as it landed on a pair of redheads across the room.

Natasha and Walsh.

No fucking way.

NO THAT CAN'T BE HAPPENING

If he gets to Natasha then they're all fucking done for.

She’d hardly been able to sleep that night, the chance to finally meet Ghost and Libra and Agent Cavanaugh, after T’Challa had talked so much about them, was far too exciting.

If I were them, I'd be more excited about meeting the fucking Princess of Wakanda, probably the smartest woman on the fricking planet

They were primitive, that much she was sure about.

If it's HYDRA made, it's a lot more than primitive. it's barbaric.

AWWW YIS WE'RE GETTING CHARACTER IMPRESSIONS FROM SHURI'S PERSPECTIVE YEAAAH

The way Duke is still grinning like a child in a toy store...

AWW SHE NOTICED THE RINGS

The man’s eyes were a striking blue that darted everywhere, all at once. They took in everything, just like Ghost’s.

Not an entirely good sign... but ok

Poor Boone... how come they all coincidentally look her way when she's admiring something

Killmonger was just like them after all.

He was trained to destabilize governments, taught to kill without remorse.

They were just like him.

Oof... that's a hard pill to swallow

also, now I'm curious... what would M'Baku think of this whole situation? I feel like he's the only person in Wakanda who could wipe Duke's grin off his face.

“You fought him?”

“I tried.”

“Well, you’re not dead, so I’d say you came out on top,”

I see the bar is on the floor again...

Is Shuri starstruck?

The revelation that Ghost is a woman would definitely give her points in Shuri's book. I mean, Shuri grew up surrounded by awesome badass women, but it's still different I suppose, when it comes to women who don't come from the same place she did.

Also Darke we've talked about how Shuri and Ghost's relationship would be strained after T'Challa's passing, so I can't help think about that too, seeing the two of them get to know each other more like this

AND. BOONE.

How many other women has Shuri met who can keep up with her prowess when it comes to tech? I'm sure Shuri has received a lot of praise and credit for how she turned Wakanda into the technological superpower it is now. But considering Wakanda has been closed off from the world, she hasn't received that recognition from people who haven't directly benefited from it yet, or knew how advanced Wakanda already was before she came along.

Shuri must be beaming right now. This is recognition she most likely hasn't received before. It's coming from two women she admired, two women who were completely different from the women she knew, looking at her works as more than simply advancements for Wakanda. Like these are art.

OLIVER

TAKE YOUR EYES OFF PETER

Perhaps… Lagos 2.0. That would get her out of the way, at least, for a while.

the fucking audacity.

DON'T YOU DARE

HE'S TALKING TO PETER

PETER RUN

RUN WHILE YOU STILL CAN

“Show me what you can do, and I’ll teach you everything she doesn’t know.”

IT'S A TRAP PALADIN HE IS TRYING TO TURN YOU TO THE DARK SIDE

I haven't seen Star Wars in years so I might not be referencing it right BUT STILL

NO WAY

THAT'S WHERE THEY'RE HAVING THEY'RE COOL THERAPY TALK

Captain to Captain talk in a dingy old warehouse... and then King to Leader talk NEAR MOUNT BASHENGA!?

Hyde!Ghost is ruining the moment, let Ghostie enjoy her view.

 “I wish you could have been here to help my cousin. But, I fear he was too far gone.”

Right... because she has more in common with history's villains than their heroes...

Now my question is: Would she be able to help Shuri, if she had been there, with Namor?

Oh my goodness, she's opening up to someone who is practically a stranger to her?

Either she is truly far gone , or T'Challa just has that way with people.

“I have many questions, Captain,” he said, “Many start with ‘Why are you here?’ but, perhaps, I should start with ‘How did you get here?’.”

“With a plane.”

Girl, you are so lucky you're talking to T'Challa. His patience knows no bounds.

DID WE JUST GET

A DANNY FLASHBACK?

A PLEASANT DANNY FLASHBACK

OF THEIR FIRST NIGHT TOGETHER NO LESS

DARKE YOU ARE SPOILING ME. DON'T DO THAT. IT'LL GET TO MY HEAD. (and other places)

— Danny laughed again, his breath whispering across your neck as he buried his face there, “I'm not afraid to throw your pretty ass out in the snow.” —

— “You think I'm pretty?” —

— “I think you're beautiful.” —

crying screaming throwing up dying

“Listen,” T’Challa said, pressing a finger to his lips with a sure nod, “In my culture, death is not the end. And, if you listen closely, you can hear them guiding you.”

“I love your crazy ass. You can do this. We can do this together. I love you, mi amor.”

gimme a second

how dare you how fuckin dare you

how dare you give her that sliver of peace and then

and then you follow it up with Bucky losing his mind, losing his trust in everyone including Ghost

NO

NO NO NO NO NO

NOT HIM

WHY IS HE HERE

WHAT THE FUCK IS HE DOING HERE

NO

DARKE

GET OUR BOY AWAY FROM HIM

Bucky rocked to his feet too, closing the distance between them with a snarl as he grabbed onto Walsh’s collar, “If you hurt her again, I will not hesitate to snap your goddamn neck.”

DO IT. DO IT NOW.

IT'S RIGHT THERE. JUST DO IT.

SNAP HIM LIKE A TWIG

AAAAAAAGH DARKE

I think this one's my favorite chapter... And it's mostly T'Challa and Shuri's doing.

But it could also be the most infuriating one (other than when Ollie revealed himself to be Ghost Wraith). He's getting his claws into every single one and it is terrifying.

I wish I had actually read Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde so I could connect those two with Ghost and her own dark side, y'know, so I can nerd out. But my god the way you write her inner thoughts and Ghost's thoughts, the push and pull on her sanity... oh it's perfect.

That little teaser for Origins too, hehehe I'm getting too excited.

Man I love this so much Darke. And you told me earlier that you had trouble writing Wakandans. I think you did a wonderful job on all of their dialogue, especially T'Challa. You captured his calming aura, his elegance, and his reflection of Ghost so so well.

My favorite part is Ramonda calling Ghost a madman and Duke taking the credit for that madness. We love an exciteable bean.

CHAPTER 85: WAR DOGS 

To all my live reactors,

Please, please, please, hide your reactions under a Read More cut. I don’t want any spoilers floating around. 

&

To all my Anonymous Avengers, 

If you want to react in my asks, feel free. However, I won’t be answering any of them until at least Wednesday if they contain spoilers. 

Thank you,

Darke

┍━━━━━━━━ ★ ━━━━━━━━┑

And, for a moment, a weight was lifted off your shoulders.

For a moment, the air was still.

For a moment, you felt the peace he’d told you about.

The stillness, the clarity, the calm.

The King broke the silence after a moment, “We have a saying here: Rain beats the panther’s skin but it does not wash out the spots.”

You glanced up at him, with a deadpan, “No matter how hard I try, I can’t escape who I am?”

“Something like that.”

“That is not helpful, your Highness.”

T’Challa chuckled, looking you over carefully before reaching over to wipe a stray tear that ran down your cheek, “You have to accept yourself. That is what I mean.”

┕━━━━━━━━ ★ ━━━━━━━━┙

» CHAPTER 85: WAR DOGS 

✪ Bᴀᴛᴛʟᴇ Sᴄᴀʀʀᴇᴅ : Aғᴛᴇʀᴍᴀᴛʜ

♜♠ Tʜᴇ Sᴏʟᴅɪᴇʀ & Tʜᴇ Sᴘʏ

⧗ Tʜᴇ Rᴇᴅ Rᴏᴏᴍ

»Jᴏɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋᴇ sɪᴅᴇ Tᴀɢʟɪsᴛ

@thexbookxnerdx // @autumn-em // @fadingbakeryfarmoperator // @rhymingtree // @itsmeatballworld // @kippykasey // @turtleedovee // @kamalymaly // @onewithnomightypowers // @y-napotat // @riahmcq // @thequeenofthefallen // @jesuswasnotawhiteman // @fnnshelbys // @knowyourworth-sellyoursoul // @banbananas // @beans-and-toast // @violetvictoriabarnes // @oikawasblueearbud // @itsarussian // @mrsbarnesinmyimagination // @oopsiedoopsie23 // @luhuhzy // @heyimjustlaura12 // @moonlightreader649 // @petalren // @sighmurderbot // @soldat-petala // @useless-creature-213 // @xiyouchan // @kaiblog50 // @bookfeen // @nx-crisis // @aftermatharchives

***if you have a strike through your handle, it wouldn’t let me tag you 😞

[btswritingcafe]

BTSWRITINGCAFE PRESENTS: Welcome to Horrorwood Masterlist

All things spooky are brewing in our cafe! We are honored to share a list of amazing fics written by some amazing people! Please give them all the love for their works below!

K E Y

fluff [❀] | angst [♛] | smut [❦]

transitive property bestfriend | jhs ❀

— @toikiii

A questionable halloween party gone wrong lands you with your best friend and his best friend. As a result, you three start a new tradition to spend your halloweens doing something new (and equally as dumb) each year. But one year, one of them can’t make it. you’re stuck dealing with halloween with your best friend’s best friend (who is your best friend by default).

the feeling’s slow to fade | myg ❀ ♛ ❦

— @taleasnewastime

There’s something out there. In the woods. On the streets. In your home. You know it’s there have just never seen it. It starts with one seemingly small death, a bird but builds into bigger and bigger animals. Everyone brushes it off, only you feel the ghost of something following you, only you keep seeing the animals it horrifically kills, only you think something bigger is going on here. But when you start to try and work out what’s happening, it seems the guy who has hated you since school is also taking an interest. The two of you embark on a journey to try and find out why animals are mysteriously dying in your town, discovering things about each other along the way.

to make amends | kth ♛ ❦

— @lokidow-strange-army

He is burdened with the past. You’re simply a reminder. But all you want to do is to make amends.

hungry (for your love) | knj ❀ ♛

— @sunshinerainbowsbts

After a century of slumber, you wake ravenous for your next meal. The first human you stumble across, Namjoon, is a fine choice. You just weren't expecting him to be so cute.

the heart of a demon | ksj ❀ ♛

— @meirkive

“Your roommate just wanted to revive her plants, so how come you have a forked-tongue demon in your kitchen, now?”

the crooked siren | jhs ��� ❦

— @jeonspub

Everything was serene until I met you, you woken up things inside me that nobody did, you made me go insane even though I didn't know you. Is this what they call a crooked siren?

everything that frightens us | myg ft. jjk ❀ ♛ ❦

— @ffion451

Min Yoongi is a man of seemingly infinite patience but one Halloween at one very extravagant masquerade ball, sorely tests him and he wonders if all secrets are best kept or if he really should admit to all the things that frighten him.

Thank you to all the lovely individuals who participated!

[venusiangguk]

may we see the fight tae oc scene pls pls please!!! u can delete later🤔🤔🤔🤔😳😳😳😳 i’m really curious. i mean ofc u don’t have to. still 😧🙃

idealizations concerning real life relations: deleted scene

>>pairing: jungkook x reader / icrlr!couple

>>genre: fwb, angst, rated PG

>>word count: 2.5k

>>warnings: alcohol, implied smut

>>notes: this is a deleted scene from icrlr, that i omitted simply because of the length of the final fic!! feel free to skip or ignore, it doesn't change anything, but since u guys are curious about it, i'll post it as a lil ty for helping me hit that milestone <3 it takes place after the tattoo party scene, and before the lecture scene.

this does NOT provide an alternative ending.

>>summary: taehyung tries to make you see things for what they really are, but it's hard to see through the rose colored glasses.

Winter break has been long awaited and it is finally, finally here. The snow has coated the ground thick, making the town look like a winter wonderland. The air is sharp and cold but not to a miserable extent. Just chilly enough to bundle up, to hold a hand a little tighter and soak up their warmth.

Your favorite season is fall, but the later months are a close second. You love seeing the way everyone’s faces get red when snow flurries come down to kiss their nose and cheeks. Love the way pom poms bounce atop little hats as children play and have snowball fights. Winter is surprisingly one of the warmest, sweetest times of the year. Like the hot coco Jeongguk has been swapping your regular macchiato with lately.

There’s a greatly anticipated party tonight- a mashup of Taehyung’s birthday and New Year’s Eve. Anticipated for the simple fact that said birthday boy has steadily been ignoring you for weeks, and tonight was a night where he couldn’t evade your attempts of reconciliation. He hasn’t returned a single call or even sent a text back. You can’t even be mad at him really, you know it’s justified. You know you fucked up. The coffee date you had with Yoongi last week let you know what you did.

Over an iced coffee, you learned that you had unintentionally skipped out on your best friend's Winter Showcase. The important one that he mentioned multiple times. The one you promised to attend no matter what.

It wasn’t on purpose; you wanted to go, to support him. But you just got caught up. In life, in school, in Jeongguk. It happens.

When Yoongi asked you why you had missed it, when he told you how hurt Taehyung was by your absence, your heart dropped, sank deep within your chest as your mouth fell open before closing, a small pursed frown on your lips. You didn’t have a good excuse. You went to get tattoos with Jeongguk and then to a party where you fucked him, and then home after that? You were too tired to make it? You just simply forgot? Those excuses weren’t good enough for you and you knew they wouldn’t be good enough for Taehyung.

Whereas Yoongi was okay with distance, long periods in between hanging out and talking, Taehyung wasn’t. He was the kind of friend that needed support, reassurance that you cared. He liked quality time and hangs outs that were planned ahead so he could look forward to them. He was looking forward to you being at his showcase.

The party is packed, even more so than usual. Students, drop-outs, alumni, and randoms alike, all congregate to bring in the new year, to celebrate the end of finals, and a certain art majors birthday. Bodies are on bodies, music is loud and deafening. Cups, bottles, and small baggies litter the floor and the smell of weed is nauseating.

Jeongguk’s hand in yours is sweet, though. Enough to ebb the distaste in your mouth as you watch the stereotypical disaster that is a college party.

“I’m going to go find the drinks, okay?” you lie, squeezing Jeongguk’s hand lightly.

He squeezes back, kisses the side of your head as he says, “Bring me one back too?”

You nod, and slip out of his view. Scanning the crowd until you see a familiar face.

Jimin is laughing, red cup in his hand, eyes curled and happy. He’s sitting on the arm of a couch, legs swinging as he laughs with a group of people. He takes a drink from his cup and let’s his eyes roam the room like he’s looking for someone.

The way his face changes when he sees you approaching is like a punch in the gut. It goes from happy, and carefree to stony- only a small, irritated, close-lipped smile on his face. Eyes harsh and cold, no longer holding the mirth they were just seconds ago. He says nothing when you step in front of him, he just looks you over like he’s bored and waiting for you to get on with it so he can be done with it.

You shift on your feet under his scrutiny. “Where’s Tae?” you ask.

Jimin narrows his eyes at you and tilts his head. “Now you want to know where he is? Haven’t been concerned with his whereabouts for months. Definitely weren’t worried about it last week.”

You wince but carry on swiftly. “Listen, I know I fucked up. I’m here to apologize.” You look at him expectantly, but he holds his ground. When he doesn’t falter, you resort to begging, “Please, Jimin. He’s my best friend… I miss him.”

You must look pitiful, because Jimin’s indifferent facade fades, and he clicks his tongue like he’s annoyed at himself for giving into you. “He’s getting us drinks in the kitchen.”

A smile takes over your face as you rush out a ‘thank you’, quickly turning on your heel to head in the opposite direction, before Jimin calls after you.

“Yeah?” you ask, looking over your shoulder at him.

“If he’s your best friend, maybe treat him like it, yeah?”

You continue to the kitchen without replying, and you can’t help the little simmer of annoyance that bubbles in your chest. Taehyung has been your best friend for years. And even though Jimin had a point, who was he to tell you anything about yours and Taehyung’s friendship?

Before the thought can fester, however, you see the boy you came looking for, two bottles of vodka in his hand like he’s trying to decide which to use. You see the little party hat atop his shaggy hair before anything else and your heart aches a little. You really did miss him. He lets out a small annoyed sound, and knowing him, he’s probably trying to figure out which has the highest alcohol percentage. You come up next to him, and say his name gently. He jumps, but when he realizes it’s you, the ghost of a smile curls on his lips like he’s happy to see you.

Until it’s replaced with resentment just as quickly. His sharp eyes squint at you before turning back to the bottles in his hands, scowl still in place.

“So you decided you could pencil me in between getting your heart toyed with and your back blown out?” He gives you a side glance and sees how your jaw drops in surprise. He carries on, unbothered. “Or did this just work out because it coincides with New Year’s and because he was invited? Only because he’s Jimin’s friend might I add.”

“Tae-” you try, doing your best to keep the hurt whine out of your tone.

“Save it, __. I don’t want to hear the excuses you have. Just-” he looks at you again, and you think that maybe he softens when he sees your crestfallen features. He sighs like he’s tired. “Just leave me alone. Just for a bit, okay? I’ll get over it eventually,” he finishes, finally deciding on the vodka he wants.

You know his request isn't unreasonable. But it’s already been so long that the distance in your friendship has been eating away at it, that you’re scared ‘eventually’ might take too long and by the time he comes around, there won’t be much of a friendship left. That the damage done, will be irreparable.

“Tae… It’s already been months, can’t we-”

Like night and day, the softness that you were able to pull out of him is immediately replaced with that resentment and anger you were met with when you first stepped into the kitchen.

“Yeah,” he seethes, strong brows furrowed. “And whose fault is that?”

His words are sharp and the sting from them makes you take a step back. That is, until you feel anger of your own creep up your throat like venom. “You’re one to talk, Taehyung. You could have reached out to me, too. You’re no better than me when you’re in a relationship.”

He groans, gives an exasperated laugh before shrugging. “You know what? Maybe I am just as bad as you, but at least I’m actually in a relationship,” he spits, “You’re just fucking someone that doesn’t give a fuck about you.”

You know he’s hurt because of the distance. That he doesn’t intend to be so mean. But that doesn’t make it hurt any less, and it doesn’t stop the angry tears from pooling in your eyes.

And although you’re angry, almost shaking with rage at the feeling of being cornered and blamed, your heart aches at hearing his words.

Jimin, who started seeing Taehyung after you started seeing Jeongguk, had already made your friend official. Had given him the title, the commitment, the relationship that you had been patiently and understandingly waiting for with Jeongguk. The bitterness that bleeds into your heart makes you feel gross and ugly.

You know what they say; that labels are superficial and don’t mean that much. But when you don’t have them? It makes you wonder. If a label really isn’t that important, like everyone says, why is Jeongguk so reluctant to give one to you?

“Jimin’s your boyfriend?” you whisper.

Taehyung gives you a short nod. “Month and half ago. You would’ve known if you got your head out of Jeongguk’s ass.”

Almost like he was summoned, the topic of debate waltz into the room, coming up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. He nuzzles into your neck.

It’s instinctual now, the way your body responds to him. The way you melt into his chest like second-nature, how your hands settle over his like they are keeping them in place. How immediately in his presence you feel calmer; the panicky, hurt feeling you were experiencing moments ago vanishing as if it were just a fleeting thought and not something that’s always in the back of your head.

Not in a possessive, ‘I need him to be mine’ kind of way, though.

More like, ‘Why won’t he be mine?’

“Hi,” he murmurs into your neck.

“Hi, baby,” you respond softly, out of habit. The room shirks around you whenever he’s near. Makes you feel like you’re in your own bubble with him.

Jeongguk’s about to reply, ask where the drinks are, but then he hears an annoyed scoff sound in front of you both. Jeongguk bristles as he looks up and sees Taehyung taking a big swig from his cup.

“Uh- am I interrupting? Should I go?” he asks hesitantly, looking between you and your friend.

“No-” you say at the same time that Taehyung says, “Yes.”

You cringe, and turn in Jeongguk’s arms, hands resting on his chest. “Just give me a couple more minutes okay? I’ll bring the drinks.”

Jeongguk searches your eyes, before looking at Taehyung one last time before giving you a stern nod and a quick kiss.

You turn back to Taehyung, ready to apologize for Jeongguk’s interruption, when he talks over you.

“You’re pathetic,” he starts, and you roll your eyes with an irritated sigh before he continues, “but I know you love him. And that you can’t help it,” he shrugs. “But as your friend, I have to tell you that it’s not going to end well. You probably don’t even need me to tell you that. You probably already know and are choosing to ignore it for the sake of the delusions you’ve made up in your ‘pretty little head’.”

You pout at him quoting you, and your brows furrow. “He cares about me. And he’s Jimin’s best friend. He’s a good person, you don’t even know him,” you argue defensively. Though you know your arguments make little sense and are flimsy at best.

Taehyung frowns. Pauses like he’s thinking.

“I didn’t say he was a bad person, and maybe he does care about you in his own messed up way. But he doesn’t care about you in the way that you want him to.” His lips are still down turned when he speaks again.

“And the difference between him with you and him with Jimin is astronomical; it shouldn’t even be a comparison, but I will humor you,” he rubs a hand up and down his face like he’s tired. “The dynamic is completely different, for obvious reasons. For one, Jimin is a safe relationship. You are not. Jimin isn’t in love with him, Jimin isn’t sucking his dick, and Jimin doesn’t want things from Jeongguk that Jeongguk cannot give, or does not want to give,” he says with a raised brow as he takes a sip of his drink.

It seems that the anger has died down some between you both, a semi-civil conversation finally being had. You wrinkle your brows in confusion at him. “What are you talking about?”

He rolls his eyes. “Cmon __. Why do you think he hasn’t made you his girlfriend? Why do you think he literally has not been in a serious relationship since high school? Why do you think he never agrees to anything more than 2 months out?” He waits for you to answer but you just purse your lips stubbornly. “He’s scared. Dare I say terrified of commitment, and that’s exactly what you want from him right?”

You stay headstrong and quiet for a moment longer, ignoring his question in favor of asking one of your own when you finally do speak up. “If I’m so scary, why hasn’t he left?”

Taehyung shrugs. “Fuck if I know? Maybe he does care about you like you say he does. I don’t think so, but hey,” He raises his hands in mock surrender, like he is throwing in the figurative towel. “Maybe you’re right and maybe I‘m wrong. Or maybe there’s some fucked up codependency fermenting between you both when you copulate. I genuinely have no clue, and frankly, I don’t care to find out. Don’t text me until you come to your senses. And don’t get mad when I tell you ‘I told you so’.”

And with that, he turns and leaves you to make your own drinks. You hope the smile you give Jeongguk when you find him is believable.

That night when you go back to his place, you voice your concerns to him in between sweet, heated kisses that taste like hot cider. You tell him hesitantly how Taehyung voiced his concerns about Jeongguk not caring about you and Jeongguk got a little irritated, a little miffed as he unlatched his lips from your neck. He asked what Taehyung knew, how he even came to that conclusion when he’s not around you both.

He assured you with gentle touches and tender words that of course he cares about you. He reminded you that he always makes time for you, he always answers your calls and your texts, he takes you out every now and then, too. He asks you what you think and when you contemplate your answer, going over what he said, you can’t really argue with him. Even if an uneasy, dismal feeling settles in the pit of your tummy.

~~~

hellooo!! again, this is just a scene and part of the plot that i chose not to use because i felt like the fic was already so long. i wish that i had ended up including it tho, so i hope you enjoyed even though its nothing special <3 feel free to do the things if you liked it: like, comment, reblog, send an ask~~ love u, ty again for helping me reach that milestone <3

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Secrets // D.M.

Request: CONGRATS BOO!!! Could I get a Secret relationship with Fluff 4 for Draco Malfoy pretty please at Hogwarts??? Also I was wondering if it could be with a Hufflepuff reader? (I love Hufflepuff x Slytherin pairings) THANKS AGAIN FOR DOING THIS BOO AND CONGRATS 💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛 - @herstory-study

Fluff 4: “Is that my shirt?”

A/N: The first of my blurb celebrations!! Thank you, lovely!! I hope you enjoy!! It could be argued that I got carried away but there’s a large chance I could end up writing full fics for each request 😂 Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!Fem!Reader

Warnings: secret relationships, some kissing, some feelings, a whole lotta fluff, a cheesy ending and an abuse of commas and semi-colons

Word count: 2.7k

There were some aspects to History of Magic that could be classed as interesting; the witch-hunts of Salem, for example or even the brief study dedicated to the founders of the very school you sit in. However, there was nothing remotely interesting about hearing the tale of the Goblin wars for the sixth year in a row.

You tap the feather of your quill to your cheek; jotting down a sentence every now and then to make it look as if you are paying the strictest attention to whatever Professor Binns happens to be mumbling about in that particular moment. You fade in and out of daydreams; letting your mind wander back to two nights ago when Draco had snuck you back into the Hufflepuff common room – stopping every few so often to draw you into another laughter-filled kiss.

You startle when a piece of parchment falls onto your desk. Folded like a paper crane, you only knew who this could be from. A sly glance over the blonde-haired teenager who’s attention is most definitely on the pacing of Binn’s ghost confirms your suspicions.

You delicately unfold the piece of parchment; smiling to yourself as begin to read Draco’s elegant scrawl: “Meet me at the Room of Requirement? 7:30pm?”

Anticipation curls in your gut like a ball.

A brief glance is all it takes for you to confirm. A brief glance in your direction from Draco; a subtle nod from you and your plans for the evening have been wiped clear and replaced entirely with Draco.

The bell rings. You stand, gathering your things together and placing them in your bag. A slight brush to your side is the only contact with the Slytherin you’ve found yourself head over heels for. A slight brush to your side and it feels like every inch of you is on fire; a reaction that only Draco has the power to elicit from you.  

The day passes by slowly now that you have something to look forward to. A day where short moments are stolen behind tapestries or on less traversed corridors. Five minutes each time between lessons where you can quickly whisper a hello before dragging him into a kiss by his green striped tie.

Keeping your relationship a secret was a mutual decision; the fallout on both sides being something neither of you could be bothered to deal with right now. Instead, you were happier hiding in empty classrooms where you could have your fill of the Slytherin Prince, and he could whisper sweet nothings in your ear without the risk of anyone overhearing.

There were times when it was stressful; when the week had been too long and there had been no time to see one another. It was only then that you questioned the secrecy of your relationship.

But when you came together after a long period apart; everything returned back to normal and a smile found its way back to both your faces.

Your excitement for the evening makes it almost impossible to eat; picking at the food on your plate as you think about finally seeing Draco tonight. From your position at the Hufflepuff table, you have an excellent view of him, and he knows it. All evening, Draco sends you subtle winks and smiles from his seat at the Slytherin table.

You clench your fist; your fingernails biting into the sensitive skin of your palm as you resist the urge to throw yourself across both tables to him. You resist the urge to simply kiss him in front of his housemates.

You resist it all; every single feeling and urge because you know that in a matter of hours, he would be yours for the entire night.

Instead, you send a flirty smile back to the blonde-haired teenager before returning your attention back to your meal.

-----

The Room of Requirement is located on left hand corridor of the Seventh Floor. You knew from how he rushed out of the Great Hall that Draco would beat you to it.

With a large grin on your face, you walk past the section of wall opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy three times. The entire time, thinking of Draco and how you’d like to see him.

On your third walk past, the large, ornate door appears. You don’t hesitate to pull it open and duck inside.

It’s never a different layout; always the same one that Draco imagines. A large, almost cavernous room with a grand fireplace that’s already lit and warming up the room. In front of the fire sits a couch big enough for an entire Quidditch squad but you know from experience that it’s perfect for the two of you to lie down on comfortably. A great bookshelf covers one of the walls; filled to the brim with ancient looking tomes and books, all there ready to read. You’ve taken advantage of such an offer in the past; reading to Draco after a particularly bad day.

Finally, pushed up against the furthest wall is a four poster bed covered in a thick, downy quilt and topped with blankets – both green and yellow to represent both houses. It was the cheesiest section of the room, and you had brought it up to Draco before – teasing him, but he simply shrugged and distracted you from further conversation.

You throw your outer robes on the bed, leaving you in your blouse, tie and skirt.

Draco remains seated on the large couch; his gaze focused on the flickering flames of the growing fire. Your arms snake their way around his shoulders; your hands trailing down his chest as you lean against the back of the couch. Pressing a small kiss just under his earlobe, you whisper, “I missed you today.”

Draco leans his head back, kissing the side of your jaw, “I missed you too.”

Letting go of him, you take a seat on the couch. In times like this, you never stray too far from the blonde-haired teenager, worried about how long it’ll be until you have a night like this again. An arm opens for you; you automatically press yourself into his side, inhaling the familiar scent of cashmere musk and roses. It was heavenly.

“How was your day?” He asks, voice quiet.

“It was boring until a note landed on my desk. Then it started to look up.”

Draco smirks, “How odd. Mine was taking the exact same route until someone responded to my note.”

You shift out of his hold; resting your head on your elbow that’s perched on the back of the couch. Your other hand pushes his hair back; pulling it out his eyes. He’s grown it longer over this year and stopped using so much product; it’s nice, more natural and a lot easier for you to run your hands through.

You open your mouth; trying to think of something to say but nothing comes to mind.

It doesn’t matter anyway.

Draco captures your lips in his. One of his hands settling on the back of your head whilst the other pulls you across his lap to straddle him. You smile into the kiss as your hands brace themselves on the back of the couch.

Breaking the kiss, you ask, “What was that for?”

He shrugs, “Nothing. I just missed you.”

“You’re missing me an awful lot.”

He kisses the underside of your jaw, “Can you blame me?”

You hum, “I don’t think I can. I’m missing you more too.”

“Then let’s not miss each other anymore,” Draco murmurs against your skin. Lifting his head just enough, he draws you in for another kiss effectively ending all conversation for the night.

-----------

You wake up tangled in the sheets of the four poster bed; Draco’s arm heavy across your waist.

As your eyes get used to the brightness of the room, they focus in on the clock on the beside table. Your eyes grow wide as you take in the time.

You’d slept through the lesson of the day already.

You launch yourself out of bed, shrugging off your pyjamas and rustling around to find your uniform.

“Draco!” You shout, pushing your arms through a shirt, “We need to get up, we’ve missed the first hour.”

Draco rolls over, groaning. Fastening your skirt, you kneel on the bed, “Love, we have to get up before the bell.”

He blinks his eyes open, grinning sleepily at you. Your resolve almost breaks then and there; happy to say to hell with it and get back into bed with him.

“I’m free second lesson,” Draco mutters.

You roll your eyes, kissing his lips briefly, “I’ll see you later?”

He nods, stretching his arms above his head, “I’ll see you later.”

Grabbing your outer robes and your bag, you rush from the Room of Requirement, fastening your tie as you bound down the stairs to Transfiguration.

“Where have you been?” is how you’re greeted by Miriam, your close friend and dorm mate.

You shrug, biting your lip knowing that there was no way you could lie yourself out of this.

Miriam narrows her eyes at you, “You never came back to the room after dinner and then you didn’t show up at breakfast. I was seriously worried. Where did you go?”

You look either side of you; checking that there’s no-one listening to your conversation, “Can you keep a secret?”

Miriam rolls her eyes, “Of course I can.”

“I was with Draco Malfoy,” You rush out in a single breath.

Miriam’s eyes widen and she pulls you to one side, “You were with Draco Malfoy? All night?”

You nod your head. Miriam puffs out a breath, “Well I didn’t expect that. How long have you been seeing each other? Tell me everything please!”

You laugh, “It’s almost ten months now, and I’ll tell you more at lunch, I promise.”

Miriam bites her bottom lip; glancing between you and the now open door to Transfiguration, deliberating whether it would be worth skiving the entire day to hear about your exploits with the Slytherin Prince.

She sighs heavily, deciding not to risk McGonagall’s wrath, “I want to hear everything at lunch – do not leave anything out, promise.”

Laughing once more, you cross your finger over your heart, “I promise.”

-----

Until lunch, Miriam sends you excited glances and knowing smiles. In between second and third period, she comments on the fact that she didn’t even think that you were seeing someone – not to insult you, but she just assumed that you holed yourself up in the library where you studied as late as you could.

Miriam practically bounces up to you when the bell rings announcing lunch. She keeps her questions to herself until you both take a seat at the Hufflepuff table, filling plates up with whatever took your fancy.

“So how did it start?”

You take a sip of pumpkin juice before beginning, “Over last summer, my family got invited to one of the many balls thrown by his parents. I don’t usually go to those things, but my parents asked me to join them this one time; I think they were worried because I’d spent too much time in the garden studying the plants. So I went with them and Draco’s father asked him to ask me to dance and it all stemmed from there.

“He sent me a letter the day after thanking me for an entertaining evening and wondered whether I would want to meet up again. I agreed and then from there it evolved into this.”

Miriam’s smile drops into a frown when she asks her next question, “Why keep it a secret? Was it his decision?”

You shake your head fiercely, “It was both ours. We were both equally as worried about the fallout from our families and our houses.”

“But surely if Lucius Malfoy asked Draco to dance with you, he wouldn’t mind?”

You tilt your head, thinking, “Perhaps not. He wouldn’t mind the blood status, but he might mind my being a Hufflepuff,” You shrug, “Anyway we haven’t gone public yet.”

“Ten months is a long time to keep this a secret.”

“It’s not like it hasn’t been hard and that there haven’t been times where I wanted to shout it to the entire wizarding world, but for now, it’s a secret.”

Miriam nods; the frown still expressed on her face. She reaches out her hand to yours, taking it tightly, “You’ve told me now though so that’s a shoulder to lean on should it get too much again.”

You beam at your friend, “Thank Merlin for you, Miriam.”

Miriam goes to reply but she’s distracted by someone approaching the Hufflepuff table. She lets go of your hand and nods her head to something behind you.

Turning in your seat, you find Draco patiently waiting. You smile at him, “Draco, how can I help?”

“I was hoping I could talk to you for a minute… about our last History of Magic lesson? You see, I didn’t take any notes and I was wondering if you had some.”

You smirk, “Why don’t we go outside? That way I’m not cluttering up the table for the others that are still eating.”

Draco grins, nodding at you understandingly, “Wonderful idea. Lead the way.”

Hoisting your bag on your shoulder, you send a wink in Miriam’s direction. She returns one with a laugh before beginning to eat once again.

Draco follows you from the Great Hall and to a less busy corridor. You lean against the wall with a smirk, “Now did you really want my notes, or did you already miss me?”

“More the latter than the former,” Draco admits with a small smile. He frowns though as he takes in your uniform, his eyes running up and down, “Is that my shirt?”

You look down at your clothing, only now realising that the shirt you had put on in a hurry this morning was indeed Draco’s. The arms being too long that you had to roll them twice before you could even start writing something.

You giggle, “I think it is.”

“I only wondered when I had to walk back to my common room shirtless.”

“No!” You shout, delighted at the thought of Draco running shirtless through the corridors.

Draco laughs, nodding, “I had my outer robes of course, but there was very little underneath.”

You clap your hands in sheer delight, “I’d give you back your shirt, but I’ve become awfully fond of it, you see.”

“Oh you have?”

Nodding, you say, “I have. It smells a lot like you which is great for when I miss you.”

Draco groans, throwing his head back, “If we weren’t in public, I’d be kissing you senseless right now. I didn’t realise how good you would look in my shirt.”

“Why don’t you?” You challenge.

Draco’s mouth drops open, “What?”

“Kiss me senseless.”

“Are you sure? We’ve kept this secret for so long,” Draco comments, a finger pointing between your two bodies.

You shuffle closer to him, “I’m sure. Ten months is long enough to keep you a secret, I’m happy to tell everyone now.”

Draco wraps you in his arms, not hesitating to kiss you. You gave yourself entirely to the kiss; pushing yourself off the wall and wrapping your arms around his neck. Your heart skips a beat when one of Draco’s hands starts to draw aimless patterns on the small of your back, sending heat rushing through your body. You sigh against his mouth before pulling away; repressing the urge to continue as the need for oxygen has become too great.

He presses one last gentle peck to your lips before grinning widely, “Are you really sure you want to go public?”

“Super sure. So sure in fact I’d make out with you again to prove my point.”

Draco raises an eyebrow, “Tempting but I say we go back to lunch. I think your friend had more questions.”

You grin at the thought of Miriam’s reaction to see you walking with Draco, “It sounds too good to pass up,” You hold your hand out to Draco, “Lead the way.”

It was all worth it when Miriam’s reaction to seeing you sit back down at the Hufflepuff table with Draco in tow was to spit out her pumpkin juice.

**************

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen​ @obsessedwithrandomthings​ @harrypotter289​ @dreamer821​ @kalimagik​ @heloisedaphnebrightmore​ @nebulablakemurphy​ @the-hufflefluffwriter​ @figlia--della--luna​ @bforbroadway​ @idont-knowrn​ @summer-writes​ @big-galaxy-chaos​ @black-lake-confessions​ @annasofiaearlobe​ @imboredandneedalife​ @levylovegood​ @mytreec​ @haphazardhufflepuff​ @teheharrypotter​ @chaoticgirl04​ @accio-rogers​ @msmimimerton​ @izzytheninja​ @slytherinprincess03​ @iamobscuring​

Draco Malfoy taglist: @the--queen-of-hell​ @obx-beach​ @obxmxybxnk​ @sycathorn-slush​ @dracomalfoyswifey​

[vendettaparker]

Tom Holland x actress reader

Where are there in the same movie together and the cast goes out and Tom and reader really likes eachother maybe smut and after it’s really awkward between them fluff with a sprinkle of angst

Not In Love [T.H]

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: sexual themes, cursing, slight angst, probably some typos

a/n: hi hi! i’m so sorry but i don’t write smut, so i hope it’s ok that i just implied it! i will probably start writing smut in the future but for right now i find it a bit awkward for myself to write. also, sorry that this took so long to get out, i planned for this to only be like 800-1k words, and obvioulsy, it just kept going. hope this works well for you!

                             ✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

     (Y/N) (L/N) does not fuck around with co-stars. Ever since you started acting at the young age of eight, you were always told by your mom, manager, and others in the industry to avoid casual, co-star related hook ups. As your career progressed, even through puberty, you remained faithful to your vow. No mingling with co-workers in a non professional manner. Sure, some of your previous co-stars and you remained good friends, even after filming. But the main internal lesson always stayed the same: don’t fuck your co-stars. 

     In your long and glorious career, the only hindrance to your resolve was Tom fucking Holland. His stupid British charm and playful wiles always had your knees buckling and the butterflies in your stomach going haywire. And when he called you darling? In that stupid, yet honey-like accent? You were done for. 

     Tom had the absolute pleasure of working with you in The Devil All The Time. He watched all of your movies and practically grew up watching you on Disney Channel. To say he was simply starstruck would’ve been an understatement, he was enamoured. Practically in love. And when he got to know how kind and sweet you were in real life—not just on screen— he just had to turn on his British charm, just to watch you squirm. 

     Every little comment he made caused your skin to tingle. Your stance on co-star relationships had never been so harshly challenged. He would constantly call you whatever cute pet name he could think of at the time, and unluckily for you, they always seemed to just roll right off his tongue. He even went out of his way to grab you a coffee if he went out to get one, or he’d ask his brother to make sure to bring back your signature order: caramel macchiato with almond milk, two pumps of vanilla, and extra caramel drizzle. How he knew that was your go to order was a mystery to you. 

     It’s not like you didn’t retaliate with your own antics though. Sometimes during his scenes you send him a wink and a smile, just to watch him lose focus. Or maybe you’d tease him about the way he says croissant, but then also say it in the over pronounced way he does, just to bug him. On days when the sexual tension between you two was especially palpable, you’d kiss his cheeks after his scenes and say “good job, babe” or something else to rile him up. So no, you weren’t innocent in this matter at all. 

                   ✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

     This build up of tension was bound to boil over at some point. But why the fuck did it have to be during the fucking full cast and director dinner?

     You all arrived at the fancy restaurant, all 40+ of you. You sat next to Eliza and secretly hoped that Sebastian, Harry, or even Robert would take the seat next to you, anyone but Tom. He had been especially touchy that day, and you knew if he continued his ministrations, especially under the cover of a table, your resolve would surely fade away. 

     Unfortunately for you, Tom practically bolted to the seat next to you. You scooted a bit closer to Eliza, who nudged your shoulder playfully. 

     “You should just give in.” She stated, smirking the whole time. “Look at him, poor thing just wants some love and attention.” she giggled, nodding her head to where Tom was whispering with Harry on the other side of him. 

     “Stop it, you’re insufferable.” You rolled your eyes, but still smiled at the joking banter. 

     “(Y/N), hon, he’s one of the hottest celebrities in Hollywood right now, and he wants you.” Eliza pinched your makeup covered cheek, “you’re telling me you don’t wanna just jump in his pants? Do you not find him hot or something?” 

     You smacked her hand away, “No, I do find him attractive, I just d—”

     “Find who attractive, love?” Tom interrupted, smirking at the comment he heard. No, he didn’t know for sure you were talking about him, but one can hope. 

     “Nobody,” you dismissed, “I was just telling Eliza here that I think her dog is cute, right Eliza?” 

     “Sure.” She mumbled, rolling her eyes dramatically, then winking directly at Tom, just out of your view. 

     “Ah, I see.” He chuckled, “Yes, you find her dog attractive then?” 

     “No!” You defended, red faced from being backed into a hole, “I didn’t even use that word; you’re just hearing things.” 

     “Don’t worry, love. I find you absolutely, without a doubt, drop dead gorgeous.” Tom winked, before returning back to his conversation with Harry. 

     Eliza pinched your side, causing you to yelp. “See, I told you!” she whisper-yelled, a knowing smirk dawning her face. 

     “You didn’t tell me shit.” 

     “Ugh, whatever, you’re hopeless.” She sighed, just as the waiter was coming around to take your orders. 

     The majority of the evening went by just as simply and smoothly as possible, it was when dessert arrived that Tom stirred up trouble once again. His damned British charm made him the perfect devil in disguise.  

     “Darling, you have some cake right—” he licked his thumb before drawing it over your bottom lip, slowly, “here.” 

     He smirked at your surprised gaze and wiped the chocolate cake from your rose-painted lip. Never breaking his gaze, he drew his thumb back to his mouth and sucked on the digit, gently humming at the sweet taste of chocolate and strawberry lip gloss that flooded onto his tongue. This bitch. 

     You cleared your throat and ceased your—more than obvious— gawking. He wasn’t going to win this time. You sat quietly, smirking as he watched your every move, simply waiting for retaliation. And it came soon enough, when you knocked your water off the table into his lap, on accident, of course. 

     He jolted up the second the cold water hit his slacks, cursing, yet still keeping that charming smirk on his lips. You immediately started the steady stream of apologies, a faux look of remorse etched on your face. The rest of the cast simply looked on, none the wiser. 

     “Oh Tom! Gosh, I am so sorry.” You stood up as well, taking the napkin from your lap and dabbing his torso where the water splashed up. “I’m just so clumsy, forgive me.” You looked up at him with false serenity in your eyes, but a devilish grin. 

     “No worries, love.” He mused, “I’m just going to go dry off in the washroom. Could use some help though; it’s the least you could do.” The rest of the cast went back to their desserts and conversation, so they failed to notice the hidden glint in Tom’s eyes or the lustful insinuation behind his request. 

     “Sure.” You smiled up at him, determined not to lose this game of cat and mouse. You followed him to the large family restroom in a dimly lit corridor. He opened the door and gestured for you to go in first. What a gentleman, hm?

     He closed the door behind him and locked it before undoing the buttons on his dress shirt and removing it. His toned torso also damp with freezing droplets of ice water. 

     You sucked in a shaky breath, taking in his less than professional, disheveled look. “You gonna come help me, princess?” He reached for paper towels and grabbed a handful, dabbing the wet spot on his lap, right over his crotch. 

     “I—um, sorry,” you snapped out of it. Following his movements, doing the same but to his wet torso. 

     “You’re okay, love.” He looked at you, the close proximity of your bodies creating the most delicious heat in the bathroom. Tom leaned in slightly, just until your noses were brushing against one another. “Though, I’ll admit, the fact that you're not giving me an apology kiss right now, makes this a little less than okay.”

     You didn’t even process your actions completely, the second those words left his mouth yours lips were on his. You held his face in your hands, rough passion seeping through your entire body, and he was just the same. He kissed you fervently, holding your waist with one arm and the back of your head with his opposite hand, tangling his fingers into your hair. The tension and desire that had been building up for almost as long as you’ve known him finally boiling over. 

     Tom gingerly inched his hand up the side of your leg, under your dress. 

     “Wait, wait,” you pulled away, breathlessly, “we need to get back, they’re probably wondering where we are.” 

     Tom was about to concede when a knock rang through the room. 

     “Hey guys,” It was Eliza, “Seb paid for all of us, so we’re gonna head out. Take your time! Oh, and use protection!” You could practically hear the smirk on her face.  

     Tom stopped your little scowl by returning his attention to kissing you, “How lucky are we?” he mused, repositioning his hands, starting to fumble with the zipper of your dress. 

                   ✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

     The next Monday at work was hell. You spent the whole weekend internalizing your little rendezvous in the bathroom. Tom texted you nearly fourteen times over the two day break period where you didn’t see each other, and you ignored every single one of them. The first ones were simple ‘hey’s’, ‘hi’s’, and ‘good morning’s’, but they soon progressed to show Tom’s concern over you not responding. The last message being, 

Tom: I hope you know, I don’t regret it, but I’m sorry if you do.

     You didn’t mean to ghost him, but your feelings were so confusing. You liked him and the things he did to you. But you had a code. And maybe the ‘don’t date your co-worker’ was a bit old school and shitty, but you’d been able to stick to it for this long and your work has never been better. Then again, all your previous boyfriends have been assholes; constantly upset over how busy your schedule was. Maybe a fellow actor would be more understanding? 

     The second you arrived to set Harry was on your ass. 

     “(Y/N), hey!” He called to you from the snack table where he was talking with Tom. You gave him a small smile and wave, but proceeded to your makeup chair. He motioned for you to join them, but you waved your hand in dismissal and gave him an apologetic look. Whether or not you regretted your night with Tom, you were absolutely not ready to confront it just yet. However, you didn’t miss the disappointed look on Tom’s face or the way Harry gave his brother a reassuring shoulder squeeze. 

     Harry even came up to you asking how your weekend was and if you were busy or not, no doubt trying to gauge your mood for Tom. You were friends with Harry so you didn’t mind talking to him, but when it was becoming apparent that you weren't giving much away as far as how you were feeling, Harry resorted to more ‘less than subtle’ questions. 

     “So… are you seeing anyone, currently?” He asked, playing with his fingers, the question struck you as extremely off-putting, especially since Harry said it with little to no confidence, like he really didn’t want to be asking that. 

     “Why? Are you trying to ask me out?” You teased. Watching him squirm was almost as fun as when it was Tom. 

     “No! No, I mean— I’m not opposed, you’re very pretty—no wait, I don’t mean it like that, I just—uh, I think you look nice, but not too nice—I’m gonna go.” Harry painfully stuttered out. Cursing under his breath as he walked away, back to where Tom was standing, watching on. These idiots were the most obvious divs in the whole world. 

     After you finished with your stylist, you were ready to start running lines for your scene. You have the majority of your scenes with Tom, so as per usual, you were acting opposite him. As the director was explaining how he wanted the scene to go, Tom kept glancing over at you, raising his eyebrows a bit, obviously wanting to clear the air. 

     The scene went by fine, but it was clear to many of the people around you that you were not on the top of your game today. It even got to the point where the director needed to ask if you needed a break. You said you didn’t and persisted. The scene was finally done to perfection, but it took almost double the amount of time it usually would for you. 

     Tom noticed you struggling the most and couldn’t help but feel guilty. He was quick to give you words of encouragement between takes, but you only responded with a quick ‘thanks’ and moved on. 

     When lunch time came around, the caterers were all set up and prepared on a different part of the lot. You quickly made your way over, running into Eliza on the way. 

     “Oh, hey (Y/N)!” she beamed at you. “Did you finish your scene?”

     “Yeah, are you going to set right now?” 

     “Mhm, I’m shooting the scene at the church with Robert.” 

     “Well, good luck.” You smiled at her, about to move along when she grabbed your wrist. 

     “Wait, did something happen between you and Tom? He’s at the lunch table moping, even Seb is trying to cheer him up.” 

     “Um well no, I mean, maybe? I don’t know, I guess I’ve been avoiding him a bit.” You shrug, now not really wanting to go to lunch, but you know you have to. If you don’t show up then it’d be all too clear to Tom that you were definitely avoiding him. 

     “Oh, well, maybe just talk to him?” Eliza comfortably put a hand on your shoulder before walking away to set. 

     You continued to the lunch set up, seeing club sandwiches, soups, and cupcakes set up. You grabbed what you wanted and went to sit by Tom and everyone else. Yeah, you may have been avoiding him, but you didn’t want to make it that painstakingly obvious. 

     As soon as you sat down, Tom put his arm around you like he always did when you had lunch together. Only this time you stiffened up, not because you hated it, but because the action felt so different after what you both had done, it felt like it meant more. Tom noticed, of course, and removed his arm, frowning. 

     “Can I talk to you, (Y/N/N)?” he whispered to you, the rest of the table in their own little world, too caught up in their interactions to notice yours. 

     “Um, sure,” you mumbled in response, “but maybe when I have free time later? I’m just really hungry right now.” you gave him a small smile, trying to keep up the amicability. 

     He nodded and continued his conversation with Seb, who looked completely uninterested, but still continued responding since he could tell Tom was feeling shitty about something. 

     Later that evening, the entire cast had a one hour break since the next scene they wanted to shoot needed to be done at night and it wasn’t dark yet. That’s when Tom took you to his trailer to talk. 

     “Look, (Y/N), I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but I can’t help but feel like you’re avoiding me.” He stated, once the door was shut and you were already seated on his couch. 

     “I’m not.” 

     “But you are. I can tell. You didn’t talk to me at all today, even when I made a joke that I knew you’d have the perfect come back to.” He sat next to you, but kept more of a distance than usual.

      “I don’t have to talk to you, Tom. You can’t rely on me to keep you entertained.” You rolled your eyes, annoyed that you’d been caught. 

      “That’s not what I’m saying, (Y/N), and you know it.” Tom pointed a finger at you, equally annoyed now. 

     “Fine, so what if I was avoiding you? You’re a grown man, you can handle rejection can’t you?” You spat. The argument was quickly becoming more heated. If there was one thing you hated the most in the world, it was being called out, especially if you knew you were in the wrong. 

     “What the fuck is your problem today?” Tom asked, exasperated at how defensive you got so quickly. 

     “Tom, I’m sorry, but I don’t do this,” you motioned between the two of you, “I don’t do the cliche Hollywood, sleeps around, one night stand scenario, so back off.” 

     “So you regret it.” Tom looked down, trying to keep his emotions at bay. He really did like you, but maybe it was naive of him to assume that sleeping together would open the door to something more. 

     “No, I just—it shouldn’t have happened. I liked it, but I’m not that type of girl. I’m a relationship type of person. I never wanted to be another girl for you to mark down on your list of possible hook ups.” You sighed. Tom wasn’t necessarily notorious for random hookups, but he was a famous actor who just so happened to also be single. It was hard to not go there with your thoughts, so in your mind, you had him pegged. 

     “I’m a relationship person too, though. I wanted all of this. All of you.” Tom inched closer, gingerly taking your hands in his. “I may have gone about it wrong, I should’ve asked you out first or something.” 

     “Tom, stop.” 

     “No, (Y/N), because you’ve got it all wrong. I didn’t flirt with you or spend time with you just to get in your pants.” Tom pulled you closer. “I surrounded myself with you because I wanted you. And I think you want me too.”

     You looked in his eyes, searching for any sign of insincerity, small as it might be, but Tom was being the most sincere he could possibly be. Tom cautiously leaned closer, just wanting one more kiss, even if it was the last. However, you were the one that took the final plunge and pulled him in, kissing him. You both moved together so fluidly, like you were made for each other. 

     When you did pull apart, Tom was the one to break the silence, “So does that mean you like me or…” 

     “I kissed you, didn’t I?” 

[userholland]

all for her [2]

pairing: dad!bartender!tom x female!reader

warnings: excessive drinking, cursing, mentions of blood, violence, etc.

summary: a single-dad bartender, a supportive best friend and their continuous, unrequited love noticed by his optimistic daughter. is it possible to break a heart they never knew they had?

word count: 10.8k!

the soundtrack:  dancing with your ghost - sasha sloan, chinese satellite - phoebe bridgers, never the 1 - rosie, waiting room - phoebe bridgers, guilty conscience - 070 shake

a/n: im so happy with the response from part 1 & excited that part 2 is now here!!! i think i’ll try to end with the next part but..... who knows. again, thank y’all for the feedback & hope you enjoy!

— masterlist ☆彡

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

The night Summer was left on Tom’s doorstep was one he would never forget.

He moved into his apartment a month before and it was becoming more than the four, blank walls. It was in a quiet neighborhood, facing out to a street view of family-owned businesses and a bus stop. People passed the street often during the day, a good opportunity for people-watching from his small terrace. But when he closed the windows and locked the door, the feeling of being alone quickly settled in for the first time in his life. 

The thought of being independent was reliving now that he had a part-time job. He'd be able to live off his earnings with no guilt and bring whoever he wanted without disturbing his roommates. Even though he had his own place of solitude and privacy, Tom still managed to visit you at campus now that he was closer compared to the hours of driving before. He considered it as a pro to moving, but he really just needed any reason to just have you close.

Most times you’d come over, saying you had homework and studying to do, but with Tom, you never got anything done in one sitting. You made dinners together or ordered something in the middle of the night, watch movies interrupted by your playful comments or you would take a nap between your classes while he did his work.

The two of you were inseparable now throughout college, not stuck with the limited possibilities of what your small hometown gave to you. Everything was going smoothly and Tom was looking forward to what his future looked like, maybe even see you ending up together, but things took a turn when he opened the door and saw Summer, small and swaddled, in the baby carrier at his feet.

It was a Sunday, having your ideal night-in watching your favorite movie, and ordering food for dinner. Your head rested on Tom’s lap, your eyes trying to focus on the TV but they fluttered. Tom had his arm around the back of the couch with his right foot on the coffee table. Sometimes he’d glance down at you, making sure you didn’t fall asleep because you had more studying to do, but he gently shook you every few minutes when he thought he heard your light snores.

“Hmm, I’m awake.” You grumbled.

“Judging from your snoring, I don’t think you are.” He smiled, moving your hair out of your face.

Your face scrunched together, “I don’t snore.”

“You don’t? Not like this?” He jeered, making an obnoxious noise as he leaned his head back.

You pressed your face against his cheek, tilting his head to the side and lightly gripping at his hair. Laughs and giggles echoed the apartment as you fought like kids, Tom’s hand holding your wrist to push it away from his face until the doorbell rang.

“Finally! I’m starving.” You said, thinking the Chinese food was here.

You jumped up from the couch, walking into the kitchen to get plates. Tom chuckled as he headed toward the door, “Are you excited? I couldn’t tell.” He said sarcastically, grabbing the tip money off the kitchen counter.

The baby was asleep, her chubby cheeks were a rosy pink as well as her lips. She looked peaceful bundled in a soft, yellow blanket, but fear instilled within Tom. He wasn’t sure what to do, his mind starting to race and his heart beating faster. He took a few steps into the hall and looked both ways. It was ominous how no one was around, yet there was someone at the door a few seconds ago.

“Hello?” He shouted, his hands against each side of the doorframe.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “What’s going on?” You nervously chuckled.

The moment your eyes met the baby at Tom’s feet, your mouth slightly gapped with a trailed gasp.

“This has to be a joke…” Tom trailed.

You kneeled, reaching for the note tucked in by her leg. It was on a torn piece of notebook paper with Tom’s name scribbled on the front in pencil.

“I can’t take care of her. Please understand. Maggie.” You read off, biting your bottom lip.

He continued to stare at Summer, her hair barely grown and her skin so pink. He assumed she had been born a few weeks ago, maybe months. All he could process was that there was a baby on his doorstep and he had no idea what to do.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

It took a few minutes to get Maggie calm, but they went in the hall to talk so Summer didn’t wake up. It was none of your business, but you still stood close to the door with your back against the wall as their muffled conversation faded in and out.

“How did you even find me?” Tom asked.

“None of your business.” She snapped, “I don’t know why this is  such a big deal.” Maggie chimed, crossing her arms.

Tom scoffed, “Because you’ve never made any effort to see her and suddenly, you want to come and pick her up and take her like she’s a puppy in an ad you found this morning.”

She smiled in spite, “Don’t talk to me like that-”

“How else am I supposed to act? You just told me she’s not mine!”

“Because she’s not! I had to dump her on someone!”

Every word that came out of Maggie’s mouth felt like a repeating stab in the heart. He couldn’t believe anything she said, convinced he hated her at that moment, but he somehow held his head high because he knew he’d fight for Summer no matter what Maggie could tell him.

“You’re not taking her. End of discussion.” Tom uttered, tears welling up in his eyes.

Maggie reached into the back pocket of her denim jeans, pulling out a folded piece of paper, and forcefully handed it to Tom. He stared at it for a few seconds, his hand lightly shaking as he slowly opened it by the ends.

“You still think I’m lying?” She scoffed as they both glared at the paper.

It was Summer’s birth certificate, dated on this day six years ago which made time seem so fast. His dry, tired eyes searched the paper until they locked to the father’s name box, a name he didn’t know and certainly wasn’t his.

“Either I call the police now or you give her… right here, right now,” Maggie growled with no hesitation.

Tom clenched his jaw, “You can’t-”

“I sure as hell can… and we both know you’re not dumb so, just give her to me.” She demanded as if Tom could process all of this while his world was crashing around him.

Tom licked his lips, sealing them to hide the pain that ached in his heart and spread throughout every nerve of his body. A single tear fell down his cheek, but he quickly wiped it with the back of his hand. Tom wanted to composed himself to stay strong, but he didn’t know he could crumble so easily from a small number of words.

“Can we do this tomorrow? I just wanna spend one more day with her.” He asked politely, the whites of his eyes now a light pink.

She stood there, not saying anything and her arms were still crossed.

“Please… Maggie.” Tom pleaded, feeling a bit pathetic.

Tom thought back to that conversation, replaying it in his head so much that he didn’t sleep all night. His constant shifting throughout the night didn’t let either of you get much sleep, but it’s not like you were either, laying there and wondering how much you could do. 

You were surprised he didn’t cry, shout or lash out in some random outburst of pure anger. It’s what you would’ve done, but you knew that Tom was trying to convince himself it wasn’t real. The denial would eat him alive, only because he believed Maggie was telling the truth and would take Summer no matter how hard he thought of a way to not let her.

“Tom?... Tom!” Your voice seemed miles away.

Tom glanced up to meet your eyes, letting out an embarrassed chuckle as his ears tinted pink. The sounds within the diner became audible to him, not remembering how he got lost in a daze. 

“In your own little world again?” You grinned, knowing that he was always one for thinking too much.

“Yeah, sorry, I’m fine.” Tom rubbed his hands down his face and straightened his back against the booth.

You sealed your lips, “You can talk to me about-”

“I’m fine, Y/N.” He retorted, nodding his head at you.

“Okay…” You trailed.

When his whole world was turned around the night before, you choose to not take his short attitude personally. All you could do was be there for him and you wanted to try your best. Seeing his hand rested on the table, you placed yours on top and reassured him, “It’s gonna be okay.”

He didn’t look at you, but you laid your head on against his shoulder. You caressed your thumb over his skin before grasping his hand and giving it a light squeeze. You brushed your cheek against his black hoodie, smelling the fresh lavender and nuzzling against his arm to remind him that you weren’t planning on leaving or letting him go.

Summer ran down the empty aisle, jumping into the booth and she laughed to herself, “I got this!”

You leaned up from Tom so he could see what she had in her small hand. Her casted arm rested on the table, signatures written all over it from her birthday party.

“It’s for you.” Summer smiled, putting the object in Tom’s hand.

He glanced at it, seeing a small plastic container with a yellow top sealing it. Inside was a cheap ring with the metallic paint partially chipped off and there was a blunt blue jewel in the middle.

“You sure you want to give it to me? It’s so pretty.” Tom managed to smile back at her, observing the ring.

“Yeah, Daddy. I promise.” She grinned, her tongue between her teeth as she flashed another smile that he thought resembled his.

Tom didn't want to believe that someone so full of spite and bitterness could be her mother, but he didn't have the heart to tell her. No matter how much he could hate Maggie for what she’s doing, Tom couldn’t ruin their possible relationship because she was her mother.

After the three of you finished your late breakfast of pancakes, eggs, and bacon, you got up to use the restroom, but also gave time for Tom to say his last goodbyes to Summer alone. You rubbed Tom’s shoulder before you slipped out of the booth, keeping your eyes on him until you turned the corner.

Tom grinned at her, but he still wasn’t sure how to tell Summer about Maggie other than she was spending the night with her for a while, thinking she would take to it but instead a confused look painted on her round face.

“I thought Y/N was my mommy.” She admitted even though he had denied her multiple times that you were.

He couldn’t hide his smile, “I’ve told you she’s not. She’s my friend. My best friend.”

“Daddy, I don’t want to go. I wanna stay with you and Y/N.” Summer persisted, placing her blue crayon down. She always got a wrinkle between her eyebrows when they furrowed.

“It’ll be a few days,” Tom assured, but he didn’t know.

“But, I don’t wanna.” She whined, bouncing a bit in her seat.

As much as he wanted to, Tom couldn’t say no. He knew this was going to happen before he could know anything else was going behind his back with Maggie. Summer pouted her lips as her mood changed, leaning back with her hair pushed up against the booth.

Tom shifted over, “Come here.” He asked her, patting where you were sitting earlier.

Summer wiggled out of her side of the booth, touching her feet to the ground before quickly lifting herself into the seat and curling up next to Tom. He wrapped his arm around her and kissed the top of her hair, feeling an instant warmth even though she was so tiny. It was as if he blinked and was surprised to see her growing so fast. His sweet daughter went from a toddler with bright blue paint on her hands and knees and blossoming into a young girl with ideas that could reach the moon and back.

“It’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna have so much fun. I promise.” He sniffled, his voice cracking a bit.

“Pinky promise?” She asked, lifting her casted arm to him.

His lip quivered, but Tom quickly smiled, “Promise… and we always keep our promises, right?”

She nodded, wrapping her tiny pinky around his then squeezing it tight, “Always, daddy.”

Tom remembered when she was only able to wrap her whole hand around that same finger, wondering where the time went. He wanted to go back to when she barely had hair on her head or when he had to follow her around the room when she started to crawl, as she grabbed at stray cords or tried to get under the couch. 

“You have all your stuff?” Tom asked her.

“Mhmm, got my colors and favorite books.” Summer nodded, grabbing a piece of bacon off Tom’s place, “Do you think she’ll read them in the voices? Like you and Y/N do?”

Tom sealed his lips, “Maybe if you ask her nicely.” He cracked a smile, moving Summer’s hair out of her face.

As you walked up to the booth, Tom lifted his head and mouthed to you that he was okay. In the bathroom, you had to compose yourself before Maggie showed up. No excuse could make this situation better and all you could do was be patient and be there for Tom. While that was easier to think of, you knew as soon as you made contact with her bright green eyes, all you wanted to do was yell and protest that she doesn’t deserve to feel good about this.

“What did I miss? Anything interesting?” You joked, trying to keep the mood light.

“Daddy said I’m gonna have a lot of fun this weekend.” Summer mentioned, smiling at you with her crooked smile.

You gulped, your throat feeling dry, “Yeah, lots of fun.” You forced a grin.

The low music over the speakers filled the silence, not knowing what to say about this, especially in front of Summer. Tom kept his arm wrapped around his shoulder, but he stared out of the window with his hand on his chin, slightly covering his mouth. He didn’t want to cry, he was trying, but the more Tom thought about how there was a chance he couldn’t get Summer back, the more he dug deep to find a way to stop it.

“Hi, Tom.”

He quickly turned his head, seeing Maggie standing in front of the booth. She wore a sleek leather jacket with a maroon shirt underneath and it intimidated Summer. She furrowed her faint eyebrows, but Tom pulled back his arm around her.

“Hey, Maggie.” He didn’t look in her eyes.

She didn’t pay you any mind, choosing to ignore that you were sitting right there, but it’s not like you wanted her to give you any attention.

Summer scooted out of the booth along with Tom, both of them standing across from Maggie. There’s no doubting it was an awkward situation, but nevertheless, Tom continued to stay mature about it. He grabbed Summer’s backpack off the ground, helping her put both her arms through the straps.

“Okay, kid. I’ll see you in a few days.” Tom chuckled with his hands on Summer’s shoulders.

“Promise?” She asked, her big eyes so glossy.

He immediately clenched his jaw, knowing lying to her would hurt like a stab to his heart, but maybe it was for the better right now. There were many ways he could reply that didn’t sound like the lie it was yet he couldn’t come up with anything except, “Promise.” because he knew he would try to keep it as much as he could from where he stood.

Summer wrapped her arms around his legs as tight as she could, “I love you, daddy.” She mumbled.

“I love you too. Always.” He said before kissing the top of her head.

She looked over her shoulder at you sitting in the booth, not forgetting to say goodbye to you too. Summer walked up and got on her knees in the booth, feeling them sink into the cushion. Her small arms wrapped around you and you giggled, giving her a tight squeeze back.

“Bye, Y/N.”

“Bye, Summer.” You grinned, giving her a last glance.

She shimmed once more and stood in front of Maggie, still standing there with her arms crossed and one of her eyebrows arched.

“Let’s get going,” Maggie said, her happy tone sounding forced.

Without caring to hold Summer’s hand, Maggie began to walk away, but Summer stood still. Her little heart was racing, not sure what to do even though she was told to go with this strange woman who was supposedly her mom.

Tom glanced at Summer, his lips going to the side as he watched tears well up in her eyes. She sniffled, looking down at her feet and her body felt frozen. It was a new feeling to her, not knowing why she was suddenly so scared. It reminded Tom of her first day of kindergarten. She hid behind his leg while they stood in the hallway and all the kids slowly filled the room. He tried to nudge her to meet a new friend, maybe talk about her hobbies, but she was gripping on his jeans from how scared she was.

Just like he did on her first day of school, Tom kneeled on one knee in front of her. He angled his head to look into her eyes, trying to see her full face. He tilted her chin up and wiped her tears with his thumb, catching them as they ran down more.

“Hey, you remember when we saw the penguins at the zoo?” He grinned.

She nodded, her lip pouted.

“And you remember what the zookeeper said? That penguins always find each other, no matter where they are or how far they are... they’ll always find their way back to the colony… and just like penguins, we always find our way home too.” Tom explained, fixing the end of her jacket.

“Really, daddy?”

“Of course. You’re gonna have to keep your head up for a few days though.” He gulped, a small smirk on his lips.

Summer leaned in, wrapping her arms around Tom’s neck again and he coiled her arm around her, squeezing her arm tight. He left a quick kiss on her temple and Tom slowly stood up, trying to pull himself away so it didn’t become harder to leave her.

Maggie stood a few feet away, a bit of disappointment in her eyes. She thought this was going to be the easy part of this process, but it proved harder now that she could visibly see the bond Summer and Tom had created. You watched her lips pin together, not knowing what to do but stand there until they were done talking.

“I love you.” Summer said to Tom again.

“Love you more, kid.” He chuckled, his voice breaking from holding back his tears, “Remember to keep your cast dry. Okay?”

She slipped away from his arms and Tom’s heartfelt heavier the more he said his goodbyes. Summer held her head high and walked up to Maggie, lifting her hand up for her to hold. Maggie hesitantly reached for it, but she glanced at Tom for some kind of permission to. Tom sealed his lips and you slid out of the booth, standing behind him as you watched the two of them walk outside the diner.

“She’ll be back soon.” You whispered, rubbing his tense shoulder.

“Yeah…” He trailed, forcing a grin for you. Tom knew he didn’t have to fake his emotions for you, but right now, he didn’t want to admit he was torn apart inside.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

The days didn’t pass by as quickly as Tom hoped. He didn’t realize how fast work was when he had Summer to come home to. It was hard for him to get out of bed, make meals for himself or concentrate on anything he was doing. Luckily, you were there for him or, at least, tried to be. You weren’t sure what would happen to your friendship after your sudden kiss, but you felt like it was inappropriate to bring up with what happened after it. Even though the status of your possible relationship was unknown and your feelings were still strong, you were there for Tom no matter what.

In the morning, you stirred in the sheets and felt the soft fabric of the pillow against your cheek. As you reached your arm over on Tom’s side of the bed, your hand brushed over the cotton linens which made you slowly open your eyes. The duvet was folded over and his pillow was propped up, showing you he had been up for a while before he got up. You let out a long yawn, stretching your arms and legs and feeling the cold air against your skin.

You walked around the bed, grabbing the blanket at the end of it and wrapping it over your shoulders before leaving the bedroom. When you got to the end of the hallway, you saw Tom sitting on the couch with a box in his lap and a few pictures scattered on the cushion. Your lips went to the side as you approached him, trying to be quiet but the sound of the floor creaking made Tom look over his shoulder.

“Morning.” You grinned, standing behind the couch.

You ran your hands over his hair, playing with it before you looked at the pictures. They were of Summer since she was a baby, most of them were birthday pictures or other special events, like when she lost her first tooth or the first time she stood up. Tom cherished the memories, hoping they would make him happy, but all they did was remind him how he felt like a failure.

“Good morning. How’d you sleep?” Tom asked, his voice groggy and deep.

“Fine, and you?” You replied as you trailed your hand from his hair, walking over to the kitchen.

“Good.” He lied, running his thumb against his left eye before grabbing another picture.

It was Summer’s first Halloween and he dressed her up in the homemade lion costume you worked so hard on. He half-smiled thinking about when you drew in a nose with black paint and she scrunched her face, the bristles of the brush tickling before Summer sneezed. Before you could warn her, she wiped her nose with her hand and you and Tom couldn’t help but laugh. With Halloween just around the corner, his smile fell wondering if they would have another one together.

“Here you go. Dark and two sugars.” You softly said, handing him a cup of coffee, just the way he liked it.

“Thank you.” He weakly smiled, taking a short sip.

“How are you feeling?” You asked.

Tom placed his cup of coffee on the table and collected the pictures so you could sit beside him.

“Better. I got a little more sleep.” He muttered and set the box of pictures on the floor.

You pulled off the fuzzy blanket on the arm of the couch before you sat down, laying it over your and Tom’s lap. Your crisscrossed your legs, holding your mug in your lap while Tom put his free arm around your shoulders. When you turned your head to Tom, he didn’t have the same natural glow to him. 

He was struggling to find some kind of closure, but the lack of communication with Maggie made it hard for him to not overthink. There were no calls and rarely a text. Tom was going crazy, replaying the last moments with Summer in his head.

“Maybe you can skip work today.” You suggested, rubbing the top of his leg.

Tom nodded, “I can’t. I need the tips. Hopefully, I can get Halloween night. I’ll be able to cover child support for the month.” He rubbed the back of his neck, closing his eyes as he tilted his head toward the ceiling.

Your lips went to the side, “Did Maggie say when you’d see Summer?”

He sighed, “No. I haven’t heard anything either.”

“That can’t be legal.”

“Summer’s not mine, Y/N. I don’t get to see her when I want.” Tom retorted as if he was defending her.

“You know that’s not true. It doesn’t matter if she’s your blood, you gave her the best life. Who knows? Maggie probably just forged it. People do it all the time. Why would she just come back when you slept together one time?” You acknowledged, not trusting her for a second.

“I don’t want to get into it.” He replied, taking another sip of coffee.

“Then when are you? Because I know you love that kid more than anything else in the world.” You protested, still facing him.

Tom finally looked your way, meeting your eyes, but he didn’t want to say anything. You didn’t expect a response because you knew that he did love her and he was going to find a way to get her back, no matter how long it took. You tilted your head at him, cracking a smile and tilting his chin up. The warmth that came from your comfort helped him see the brighter side in this, motivating him to see that this wouldn’t last forever.

“You know you’re the best, right?” Tom grinned.

You reached your hand up, intertwining yours with his that was hanging off your shoulder, “I try.” You joked, both of you sharing a light laugh.

You ran your fingers through Tom’s hair, trying to fix it, but he was growing it long as he did in high school. Tom let out a low chuckle, feeling your hand trail to cup his cheek and you rubbed your thumb over his cheek and the faint freckles painted across his soft skin.

While the past few days had been confusing, Tom knew that he wanted to be with you, but he didn’t want to stir you in his drama. As much as you had been there for the past six years, he realized that Summer was his responsibility, and to bring you into a triangle with him and Maggie didn’t seem fair. It’s not because he wanted to push you away for his selfish reasons, but because he wanted to protect you from whatever was going to happen from this point. You were still best friends and would always be, but it didn’t feel like enough after finally kissing each other and not wanting to let go.

As you pulled your hand back, you glanced down and see some of the pictures in the box. You quickly lean down, placing it on your lap and you picked through the various photos before there was one that brought back memories.

“I can’t believe you have this.” You chuckled, holding the photo close to your face.

Tom turned his head toward it, not knowing he had his eyes glued to you, and he instantly smiled.

“Ah, when I was your knight in shining armor.” He beamed at the picture of you with your broken arm and he stood next to you wearing his favorite baseball jersey.

“You mean when you carried my books for me and helped me put on my backpack, oh yeah, I remember.” You grinned, reminiscing to when the world wasn’t so complicated.

Tom smiled, “Don’t act like you didn’t love it.” He rubbed your shoulder, both of you chuckling at the memory. You handed him the picture, but he slowly was reminded of Summer and her recent accident.

“Shit..” He trailed, “I hope she’s kept her cast dry. I should call.” Tom said, unwrapping his arm from your shoulders and you watched him frantically looking for his phone around the apartment.

“Tom!”

“Huh?” He asked, lifting some papers on his counter.

You lifted his phone, his screen cracked, in your hand and grinned, “Looking for something?”

A relieved smile painted on his face as he walked over, taking the phone and he kissed a light kiss against the top of your head, “What would I do without you?”

It was nice to see him turning back to his old self, but you knew that his happiness was at the risk of being at Maggie’s beck and call. Even though you weren’t Summer’s mom, you wanted to have a say where she ends up too. 

You half-smiled, watching him walk down the hall to his bedroom. You turned toward the box of pictures, rummaging through enough to get an idea of how to organize them.

Tom slowly paced across his room as the phone rang, sweat on his palms that he brushed on the back of his jeans. He leaned his head toward the ceiling and tried not to overthink what he could say if he went straight to voicemail.

“Hello?” Maggie retorted, running her fingers through the crown of her hair.

“Hey. I just wanted to make sure things were okay.” Tom trailed as he sat on the edge of his bed.

“Fine, it’s fine.” She lied, searching through her laundry basket.

Tom furrowed his eyebrows, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, things are fine! I’m just trying to find this stupid sweater.” She grunted, pushing through all the folded clothes.

“What sweater?”

“Some yellow sweater with a heart on that she won’t stop complaining about.”

Summer was sitting on the couch, insisting she wanted to watch her favorite cartoons after breakfast. Maggie didn’t want to deal with the complaining and poking so it was relieving to keep her distracted instead of having to keep Summer entertained while she tried to work from home.

“Oh, I forgot to put it in there. Shit.” Tom cursed, quickly getting up.

He walked to Summer’s room, knowing the exact drawer he remembered placing it in and not surprised that it was there. Tom lifted the sweater, the sleeves unfolding, and seeing how worn it was from the ripped tag. He brought it up to his face, inhaling the lingering smell of watermelon and kiwi from her shampoo.

“Yeah, I got it. It’s here.” He told her, the phone between his ear and shoulder.

“Okay, I’ll come over and get it.” Maggie huffed.

“No, no! I can go over there. I have to go to work later so I can come by.” Tom offered, glaring at the small sweater in his hand.

“Depends, are you going to bring… Y/N?” She crossed her arms as she leaned against the washing machine, “Because I don’t think she’s been a good influence.”

Tom’s eyebrows arched, “Excuse me?”

“Summer says “Y/N lets me do this or Y/N and I do this” and I don’t think it’s good considering she’s not her mom. She shouldn’t have such big control over her.” Maggie said loud enough for Summer to hear from the couch.

“You weren’t there for her and she was so, I’m sorry if she acts like her mom more than you.” Tom chimed.

Maggie clenched her jaw, “Just drop it off. Okay?”

“Sure. I’ll be over around three.”

She hung up abruptly and Tom was left upset from not being able to talk to Summer. He hated how he didn’t have any sense of control, to think that this could be the way things are until she goes off to college. Out of anger, Tom threw his phone across the room that made a loud thud against the wall. His blood boiled and tears filled his eyes, bringing the sweater back to his face and trying to let the lingering scent keep him calm.

You stood in the hall across from the door and it was close enough to hear the whole conversation. Every word made your heart drop, not knowing what you could do for him. You hated eavesdropping, but it was getting harder to get the truth from Tom as the days went by. He was falling apart and it was getting too painful to slowly watch.

“Tom?” You softly asked, knocking on the door.

He left the sweater on the bed, wiping his eyes with the end of his t-shirt before grabbing his phone off the floor. To his relief, the already cracked screen didn’t have any new damage. Tom wiped the screen against his pants before opening the door to meet your gaze.

“Sorry about that. I just got frustrated.” He avoided looking in your eyes.

“It’s okay.” You tell him, not needing any assurance. All you did was wrap your arms around him and tell him that it would all be okay, even if you didn’t really know if it would be.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

The half-hour drive to Maggie’s apartment felt like hours to Tom, his head filled with what he was going to say to her or how he was going to handle whatever she told him. He bit on his nails on his left hand while the other gripped the top of the steering wheel tight. Right when he thought of the things he could say, his anxiety made him forget all of the rational thoughts.

As he parked in a parallel spot, Tom got out of the car with the sweater in one hand with a duffle in the other. He carefully crossed the street and entered the complex, walking up the stairs to the fourth level. When he entered through the exit door, he saw the floors were polished and the lighting was bright since there were no windows. It all came off as luxurious and bare, nothing but one or two paintings on the wall.

He knocked a few times under the plastic golden numbers, his eyes searching around until he heard the locks click. The door flew open and Maggie popped her head out, her makeup a few shades darker than last time.

“Hey,” Tom mumbled.

“Hey… you brought it?” She asked quickly, opening the door more.

Tom couldn’t help looking past her, seeing if Summer was in there.

“Yeah. Here.” Tom huffed, handing her the sweater, “And I brought some other stuff she might want.” He gave her the duffle too, weighing down in her hand when he passed it.

“Jesus, what’s in this? She’s not going off to college.”

“A few books, shirts, socks, a few Mad Libs.” He said what was off the top of his head, shoving his hands in his front pockets.

“Well thanks, it should keep her busy.” Maggie quickly grinned, but before she could shut the door, Tom took a step forward.

“Can I see her? Just for a few minutes before I go to work.” Tom asked, even though he didn’t feel the need to.

She sighed, “I really have to go, Tom.”

Before Tom could say another word, Summer shouted from behind Maggie, “Daddy!”

Summer pushed past Maggie, holding out her arms and Tom immediately wrapped his around her. He spun her around with her feet off the ground. He could cry as he held her tighter, kissing the top of her hair and she giggled, “I missed you!”

He put her back on her feet, “I missed you too, kid. How’s the cast?” Tom smiled.

She lifted it up, “Good, I got more names on it.”

“Oh, yeah? Aren’t you miss popular.” Tom chuckled, watching her rotate the cast.

“Are we going home?” Summer quickly asked.

Tom sealed his lips, “Ah, not… yet.”

Summer’s face shifted, “But, I wanna go home.”

“Not yet, baby.” Tom knew it wasn’t in his control right now.

“But, I wanna go home now…” She protested, a dimple between her furrowed eyebrows.

It was the first time he heard true sorrow in her light voice. A kid always had their emotional fits, but Tom taught her that it was okay to talk to her and didn’t have to hold anything back. There was never a moment of questioning her temper tantrums or how she behaved, but he couldn’t wrap his head around this whole incident. He didn’t know how to answer her questions and help her and it was killing him to feel like he was doing nothing yet also trying to do everything he could.

“Summer, I promise you’ll be home soon, okay?” He promised, running his hand over her soft hair.

“Okay.” She pouted.

Quickly turning away, Summer fled back into the apartment and didn’t give Tom another look. He chewed the inside of his cheek and Maggie put her hand on your hip, not knowing what else to say.

“Well, thanks.” She huffed.

“When can I see her again?” Tom asked, embarrassed from how desperate he came off.

She nodded, “I don’t know...”

Tom clenched his jaw, “I raised her, I don’t understand how you can come back and just take her away like you suddenly want to be a great mother. Do you want something else from me other than child support? Huh? What is it, Maggie?” He asked, frustrated and tired of biting his tongue.

Maggie looked over her shoulder at Summer, meeting her blatant glare, so Maggie stepped into the hall to have some privacy. Tom took a few steps away from her, putting his back against the wall while she stood on her side.

“I don’t want to argue with you, Tom. I really don’t-”

“Then why are you doing this?” He cut her off.

She nodded, “I’m uncomfortable with it all.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re not Summer’s dad!” Maggie stated, “Okay? Do you know how confusing that is gonna be to her? That the guy who has raised her for six years isn’t even her dad!”

Tom was in disbelief, his throat dry and thinking as if he got the wind out of him.

“I want to take a DNA test.”

Maggie couldn’t help but chuckle, “You’re not her dad.”

“I don’t care, I’m taking a test. If I’m the father, she gets to stay with me.”

“Well, she’s not so, good luck with that plan.” She boldly told Tom, watching him walk away from the conversation.

Adrenaline fueled him, leaving the building with the last dignity he felt like he had. The doubt rapidly sunk in from Maggie’s words and for the first time, Tom started to believe that she was right. He may have wasted six years of his life, not knowing how he could have fallen for it all.

After slamming the car door, Tom huffed and wiped his hands down his face. He was annoyed at the stress he held back, thinking he had his emotions under control when everything was falling apart. A million voices spoke throughout his conscience all at once and tried to guide him, too overwhelming to maintain his cool he had kept for so long. Tom clenched his fist and quickly jabbed the steering wheel, pain coursing from his blistered knuckles.

The night shift was a wreck and Tom couldn’t gain his confidence back. He messed up drink orders that infuriated his tipsy customers, dropped a glass from how shaky his hands were, and overall couldn’t clear his mind from his argument earlier with Maggie. Nevertheless, Tom pushed through the sloppy job he did but had to flee to the back to get some air from the inebriated crowd.

With a bottle of beer in one hand, he slipped away when one of his co-workers came in. Tom exited to the back alley, the cold breeze hitting his face and the wind slapping his back when the door closed behind him. As he brought the bottle to his lips, Tom took breaths through his nose as he downed the bitter ale. His eyes burned from the icy carbonation, pulling it away after drinking most of it. He tossed the glass bottle into the dumpster across from him, running his hands through his hair as he paced around the dead end.

“Shit!” He growled, his voice echoing.

A few tears trailed down his cheek and he quickly wiped them with the back of his hand. Tom got himself together, but before he went back inside to end his shift, his phone vibrated in his front pocket. He was relieved to see your name headlining a picture of the two of you.

“Hey, babe.” Tom sniffled.

You were taken back by the pet name, “Babe?”

He smiled, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that. I’m tired.” He pinched his nose bridge.

“No, no, I wasn’t sure if we were using “babe” or any other grossly cute nicknames.” You jeered, your sweet giggle comforting him.

“It’s just been a weird day.” He pressed his back against the brick wall.

“Things didn’t go well with Maggie?” You sighed, laying down on the couch.

Tom nodded, “Not exactly. But, I’m trying to figure it out.”

Your lips went to the side, not surprised Tom said it because he always liked to tackle everything by himself. There was no need to meddle, but you knew he would come around when he wanted to.

“Hey, I know it’s hard now, but… You’re gonna get her back.” You started, hoping it sounded comforting.

Tom remembered when you said he’d never lose her. He already doubted himself, but he didn’t want to have a lack of uncertainty with you, a person he trusted more than anyone.

“Tom?” You asked, only hearing the noises of passing cars in the background.

“Yeah, babe, I’m here.” Tom shook his head, running his hand down his face.

His voice cracked from the brokenness, causing your heart to flutter. You wanted to fix this all, and you would if you could, but it was equally as frustrating for you to keep your calm. You knew that if you exploded with rage and anger, Tom would follow the same path of destruction and it’s the last thing you both needed to do.

“Okay… are you coming back soon?”

“Yeah, I’m almost off my shift. I’ll text you when I’m on my way.”

“Drive safe, please.” You tilted your head, pulling your legs to your chest.

“Always.” He smiled before hanging up.

Tom went back inside to finish his shift, hoping to get a few tips from his charm. He snuck a few shots of Crown and gin in between his orders, looking around to make sure none of his co-workers saw. It was out of his character to drink on the job knowing it could get him fired on the spot, but Tom didn’t care. He wanted the pain inside to numb away with warm liquor until he was sick.

Making the poor decision of driving home, Tom took his time to get back. He rubbed his eyes a few times from the haze fogging his vision, but he slowly pulled into his usual parking spot. At first, he forgot to put on the parking gear, the car rolling forward before he stepped on the brake. A drunk chuckle left his lips as he parked, pulling the keys out and he leaned on the car to maintain his balance.

You fell asleep on the couch waiting for him only to flinch from the door slamming. As you put your weight on your arms, Tom walked in with a sway to his walk.

“Hey, I was starting to worry.” You groaned, stretching as you stood up from the couch.

“Sorry, I was… trying to get home and there was… it was fine.” He slurred, a faint smile on his face.

You furrowed your eyebrows, walking up to him and instantly smelling the alcohol on his breath.

“You drove home drunk?”

“I’m here in one piece, aren’t I?” He breezed past you, kicking his shoes off by the kitchen island then heading to the bedroom.

“You could have gotten killed.” You hissed.

You crossed your arms as you followed him, standing in the door frame. Tom struggled to unbutton his shirt, not able to grip them with his hazy vision. 

“I’m here, okay? I’m fine and I just need to sleep.” Tom groaned, the alcohol fueling his irritation.

You didn’t want to pick a fight, not this late and not with everything else going on, so you digressed and decided to leave it till the morning.

As he lazily pulled apart his button-up, he threw it to the side and left him in his basic white tee. You walked around to the shared bathroom and cupped some lukewarm water in your hands to splash on your face. You could hear Tom unbuckle his pants and he threw them to the floor, missing the hamper by a long shot.

You walked to your side of the bed, glancing at him laying down with his bloodshot eyes still open.

“Tom, you can’t do this.”

“I know. I know, but this… I fucking can’t think about anything else.” He admitted.

You sat up on the bed with your head against your pillow, pulling the duvet over your legs. You ran your hand over his messy, brown curls, weaving your fingers through it and pushing it back. His eyes met yours as you continued to play with his hair.

“From how long we’ve been friends, I know you have always put the weight of the world on your shoulders.” You spoke calmly, your tone soft and sweet like honey, “But, you can’t keep doing this to yourself...”

He gulped, not knowing how to let go of this anger he internalized.

“Then what am I supposed to do?” His voice was broken.

“You need to take your time, baby.” You whispered, running your hand through his hair again.

Tom gently held your hand that was resting on your stomach, brought it to his face, and kissed the top of it a few times. You grinned, watching him bring your intertwined hands to his chest. He kept his eye contact with you, his free hand tucking your hair behind your ear.

“I don’t know how I’d stay sane without you.” He revealed, his eyes glossy.

You half-smiled, “You’d function, just not as properly.” You jeered, trying to make him laugh.

“Oh, always with the jokes.” Tom chuckled, tickling up your side and you began to kick around, letting out infectious belly laughs.

“I can’t help it! You’re fun to mess with.” You beamed.

You shifted down to be face to face with him, lying next to him and forgetting about the world for a few minutes. Tom was never big on affection with who we dated, struggling to open himself up with people he felt were temporary. Little did you know that he was wrapped around your finger since the day you fell off the jungle gym.

“I just want you to be happy.” You sighed.

He nodded, “I am happy. I promise.”

You brushed your nose against his, your head angled from the side. Tom’s light buzz lingered, wrapping his arms around your shoulders to pull you closer to him under the warm, cotton sheets. Your head rested on his chest, listening to his heartbeat and running your hand down his abdomen. As you brought his hand toward you, but you furrowed your eyebrows at the light red and purple bruising across his knuckles.

“What’s this from?” You asked, grazing your finger over his skin.

Tom raised his eyebrows, “Uh, I don’t know.” He lied.

You pouted, “You should ice it tomorrow. It looks kind of bad.”

“Yeah…” Tom trailed, biting the inside of his cheek.

You pressed light kisses against the bruises, “Gotta be more careful, babe.”

His brown eyes brightened, a small smile on his lips before he scattered some kisses against your temple, your cheek pressing against his shoulder.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

When you two went to the clinic to get the DNA test, Tom couldn’t sit still the whole time. From the waiting room until he sat on top of the doctor’s table, he pulled at his fingers or tapped his leg which made you place your hands on him to get him to stop. You gave him words of encouragement, trying to support him through the lengthy process, especially when he saw the needle thread into his dark blue veins.

“I thought it was just gonna be a cheek swab.” He chuckled, discomfort in his chuckle.

“Some places do that, but a blood test is more accurate.” The nurse tried to calm him, her tone soft.

“How accurate?” He hissed at the sudden pinch.

Her lips went to the side, “Above ninety percent.”

His head was turned to the cabinets, fixating on the bold font of one of the flyers. You sat in the black, plastic chair next to the counter, your legs crossed and peering up at Tom. His face scrunched together for a split second, visibly seeing that he still hated needles after all these years.

“What?” He asked.

You nodded, “Nothing. You’re just making a cute face.” You jeered, placing your hand on your cheek with your elbow on the arm of the chair.

“Just reminds me of high school blood drives… Nurse Jenna always poking my vein a thousand times.” He huffed.

“It’s because you squirmed so much, like you are now.” You teased.

He rolled his eyes with a faint smile, looking down at his feet before the nurse pulled the needle away and covered it with a ball of cotton. Tom held it there for a few seconds until she slowly wrapped the light blue bandage the perfect tightness around his arm.

“You should get the results back in four to five days. We’ll let you know right away, Mr. Holland.”

“Thank you so much.” Tom grinned at her.

After the nurse walked out with the blood sample and her file, you stood up, slinging your purse strap on your shoulder. Tom stepped down from the table, pulling down his flannel sleeve to cover the bandage.

“You were so brave. Are you upset she didn’t give you a lollipop?” You joked.

“Don’t worry too much, but I think I’ll live.” He jeered back, leaning in to kiss your forehead.

You wrapped your arm around his back, giving him a light hug before you two left to check out then headed back to his apartment. On the ride home, Tom was fairly quiet with the low music from the speakers filling the car. There wasn’t anything you needed to say, but being there for each other was enough comfort. With the windows rolled down halfway, the fresh air weaved through your hair and your fingers were loosely wrapped around the top of the steering wheel.

Tom looked out the window, watching the scenes you passed by, but his head was in a different place. His elbow rested against the armrest of the door, unconsciously biting his nail and shaking his leg. You cautiously put your hand on top of his, the one settled on his leg, intertwining your fingers together without looking at him.

It was still hard getting used to the quietness, not only from you but within Tom’s life.

Tom missed Summer being at the apartment, looking forward to putting up the crayon drawings she worked on at breakfast or insisting they go to the park on weekends. But, since she hadn’t been around, it gave more time for you and Tom to be alone, at least back to how you were six years ago. For the most part, it was nice to dance in the middle of the living room, spinning each other around and sharing takeout at the coffee table while watching a tooth-rotting, romance movie. Just making it more obvious that Summer changed his life, even in the smallest things she did.

The growth of your relationship was important, but most of it was centered around Summer. It didn’t mean you couldn’t both carry a conversation without her, just that most of the things you did together were for her. Endless trips to the park, going to the zoo, taking her to girl scouts, or even running around the house playing hide and seek if it was a rainy day. Her giggles filled the apartment, endless amounts of laughter from the three of you and the memories you created. It was the one thing that motivated Tom to fight for her, just to make more and more memories and have her back in his arms for good. 

As the grueling days passed, it was closer to Halloween night and Tom was trying to get as many shifts as he could. Not only was it one of their busiest times, but he also got generous tips. Because the holiday was during a school day, Tom’s apartment held an event for some kids to come by and trick-or-treat early.

It would be Tom’s first holiday without Summer there, but the results would come any time now. It’s all that consumed his mind, on top of him working on her Halloween costume without her. She insisted she wanted to be Wonder Woman and you and Tom never used store-bought costumes, not even when she was a baby and you made a pumpkin costume out of orange felts and stitching.

“Hey! You’re gonna be late for work.” You said, running your hands through Tom’s curls when you passed by him sitting at the table.

Tom snapped out of his trance, shaking his head and rubbing his tired eyes with the palms of his hands. Today marked the day Tom should have gotten his DNA test back, checking his phone and email since he woke up before dawn.

“Are you staying late? I know Halloween week is probably like the jackpot for you guys.” You grinned, grabbing a mixed bag of candy from on top of the fridge and a bowl from the cabinet.

“Yeah, if you thought the tips from single moms paid up, wait until you get an open tab from a fratboy.” Tom chuckled as he got up, stretching his back and he brushed down his wrinkled, navy button-down.

“Well, I’m sure they’re just flirting with you too. You’re so damn charming with those brown eyes and smile.” You winked at him, shifting the big bowl of sweets with both your hands.

He walked behind you, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, “Hmm, well there’s enough of me to go around.” Tom jeered.

Tom checked his phone once again, scrolling through his email and call history, seeing him looking down at it from the corner of your eye.

“Hey, babe, you need to get going.” You reminded him, placing the bowl of candy on the small table next to the door. You walked over to him, wrapping your arms around him from behind and planting a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you, dear.” Tom faintly smiled, nudging his head against yours before you untangled from him.

He shoved his phone in his back pocket, grabbing his denim jacket off the back of the kitchen chair. Tom told you he’d call you on his way home and to have fun, but felt some relief from not being around the kids. He’d barely spoken to Maggie since their argument last week, only getting updates on Summer and her behavior. Tom never knew someone could find the one nerve that could be pinched in any instance, making him incredibly annoyed with whatever he was doing.

The bar was getting packed as Tom walked past the crowd in the front, everyone mingling at the high-rise tables in their various costumes. There was a discount if you wore a costume, usually helping business with more drinks for lower prices, but that meant the night would feel longer with an endless amount of orders piling on top of each other with little patience from a drunken mob.

Rolling his sleeves up to his elbows, Tom made sure their inventory was stocked as he breezed by his co-workers. He wasn’t close enough to them to tell anyone want he was dealing with, but he figured it was better not to talk about it so it never came up during a shift.

Multicolored lights flashed and beamed through the moving mass of people, but enough of the warm light above the bar helped guide Tom when he was scrambling to attend to whoever he could. It took his mind off his stress, too worried about not getting drinks right when it was easy to with how hectic it was. Drink after drink, he collected a bill and shoved it in the shared tip jar behind them, hoping they made enough so everyone could walk with sore feet, but be satisfied with their hard work.

As the night grew longer, it became rowdier and it meant that it was harder to get people out so new ones could come in. While Tom talked to one of his regulars down at one side, an argument between two strangers began to ensue toward the middle. Tom looked over his shoulder while leaning on the bar, glaring at the two boys whose voices howled over the music.

“I think you should get the fuck out of my face!” One yelled, he had dirty blonde hair and a scratch by his lip.

“Chill out, what the fuck!” The other retorted and his piercing blue eyes were bright enough for Tom to see from where he stood.

“Hey, give me one second.” Tom told the man he was talking to, quickly pacing over toward the angry exchange, “Hey, knock it off.” He said with an assertive, deep tone.

They ignored Tom, continuing to argue before one threw a punch deep into the other’s face. It knocked the man on the floor, making Tom jump over the bar to try to break up the fight. While he defended himself from the guy who punched first, the other drunken man pulled Tom down by the shoulders. In his inebriated fury, he jabbed Tom in the stomach, hurting his rib which made Tom hold on his hands there.

“Hey man, get off me!” Tom gritted his teeth, grabbing the guy’s wrist to push him back down to the floor.

Even though Tom was strong enough to do so, the other nameless man tried to help Tom, but Tom was soon met with a punch to the eye, near the nose bridge. The guy was twice as large as him, able to put his weight on Tom as he threw constant punches to his face and jaw. Tom’s eyes teared up, mixing with the blood from his nose before the guy was pulled off him.

Tom quickly got on his feet, holding on to the bar, but he was met with more arguing between the two strangers he never should have intervened between, to begin with. He rubbed the back of his head, hoping he didn’t have a concussion with the throbbing under his skin. Before Tom could recover from what happened, the guy approached him again, stumbling until Tom threw a punch back.

He didn’t know what came over him, but the stress of everything instantly came out with his rush of adrenaline. More people from the crowd tried to step in, even one of Tom’s co-workers, but it ended with two police officers settling both of them. Tom tasted the blood on his lips, spitting it on the dirty floor as his heads were pulled behind his back.

“Calm down!” The officer pleaded with Tom, taking him outside of the bar.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

The sounds of office phones ringing and the news playing lowly were all you could concentrate on. The police station was the last place you thought of being at a time like this, your heart racing since you picked up the phone and told what had happened with Tom. You bounced your leg, the other crossed on top of it and moving your ankle to find anything to make time go faster.

“Y/N L/N.”

You whipped your head, pushing off the chair to get up and speed walk to the front.

“Y-Yes, that’s me.” You said, putting your hands on top of the desk.

“He’s being released now.” The officer spoke with a monotone voice.

You nodded, stepping away from the desk before a short buzz echoed the hall. Tom slowly walked up, his hands behind his back before the officer escorting him released the handcuffs.

“Keep your head up, kid.” The tall officer told him before walking back to the cells.

Tom rubbed his reddened wrists, his face and body in pain from the beating he went through. When you saw his face, you almost couldn’t believe it was him. Red and purple bruises faded on his light skin near his right eye and trailing his sharp jaw. His nose bridge looked displaced and dry blood under his nose, the rest on the collar of his dark shirt. You almost couldn’t stare because of the bright redness surrounding his right eye from popping a vessel. 

“Babe…” You choked, gently holding his face.

“I’m okay. I promise.” Tom gulped, his hands settling on your hips, “Let’s just go home.” He croaked.

“Not before we go to the emergency room. Your eye looks awful.” You say, gently moving his head to take a better look at it.

He nodded, “I just wanna go home, please.”

“No, we can’t, you’re hurt--”

“Y/N, I wanna go home.” He snapped.

You clenched your jaw at his stubbornness, “Fine.”

Once you were back to the apartment, the first thing Tom wanted to do was take a shower. He sat on top of the toilet seat, unbuttoning his button-down, but winced at the soreness in his arms when trying to take his not-so-white, t-shirt off. As he continued to try to get his arms higher, Tom couldn’t push himself to do it. He leaned over in frustration, a grunt passing his lips before you walked into the door frame.

“Let me help you.” You softly said, taking a few steps toward him.

Tom didn’t have the energy to fight back so, he leaned back to sitting up straight and lifted his arms as high as he couldn’t which wasn’t much. You grabbed the ends of his t-shirt, peeling it off him and tossing it in the hamper behind you.

You kneeled in front of him, “You got it?”

“Yeah, thanks, baby.” He grunted, holding in his pain.

You nodded, placing your hands on his face and caressing your thumb over his cut cheek. A tear trailed from your waterline, hurt to see him in the state he was. He leaned down and pressed his lips against yours, giving a light kiss. You ran your hand through the nape of his curls before getting back up and putting your hand on the doorknob.

“Just yell if you need me.”

He just nodded in response, wincing as he stood up and you closed the door.

You let out a deep sigh as you walked back to the kitchen, cleaning up the pots and pans you had forgotten to wash from yesterday. It was something to do while Tom was showering, not wanting to think that this wouldn’t have happened if Maggie didn’t come back into his life.

Tom’s phone buzzed on the counter, making you glance at it. The cracked screen lit up but there were a few bloody fingerprints covered on the glass. You picked it up and wet a rag, wiping off any of the dirt and blood from it but you saw an email that was sent to him a few hours ago. You didn’t want to put your nose into his business, but it could have been from the clinic.

Your thumb hesitantly pressed his code in, opening his email account, but you saw it was just a letter from a subscription. Your lips went to the side, feeling bad for snooping until your read an email that he had opened earlier. The timestamp was during his shift, not knowing if he saw it before or after, but your heart fell when you read the document.

“Based on the DNA analysis, the alleged father is excluded as the biological father. This result is consistent with the statement that the alleged father (Thomas Holland) is not the biological father of the child.”

tags/taglist: @felicityparkers @dhtomholland @duskholland @strawberrytom @itstaskeen @tomhollandsgirlfriend @bi-writes @infinite-imagination​ @honeyspidey​ @hollandcrush​ @sunsetholland​ @pparkersbitch​ @namoreno​ @calltothewild​ @spideyspeaches​ @veryholland​ @osterfieldshollandgirl​ @slutforsebstan​ @bi-lmg​ @sunshinepeterparkr​ @annathesillyfriend​ @madmadmilk​ @antigoneidk​ @hollandcreep​ @wierdflowerpower​  

[aenaxes]

congrats on 200 my dear!!! i’m so happy i found your writing and look forward to being better friends!!! anywho, the celebration must commence! 🍾 🎉💕 ily!!

for requests, i gotta go w my main man, my first clone love, the darling hardcase (i swear he doesn’t get enough love) 💕 we’re both touch starved adhd fools who love a little too much sometimes and i just wanna smother him w my 🐱 in all the affection he deserves. if you’re up for it, maybe some soft smut for your local bottom? 🥺 i’ve been wanting to get a tattoo that matches his facial markings and wonder how he’d react to seeing it during a gentle moment between the two of you. my pronouns are she/they & i’m 5’6, and i have dark green hair + blue eyes.

you and me & me and you

[hardcase x afab!reader] there is little permanence, and all of them are fleeting, in a war that tips its scales with each new dawn. so while hardcase is away, you decide you’ll carve out your own constant between you and him, and him and you.

warnings: tattoos, unprotected vaginal sex, mushy gooey feelings pt.2

w/c: 2.8k

a/n: my love for hardcase grows day by day, and every day i wake up and cry a little bit because he isn’t real. but it's ok bc ily jj and you're very much real 💕

Seldom do you find Hardcase stunned into complete silence.

Stillness shared between you and Hardcase, rare as those moments may be, is never truly silent. Tackling each other onto the couch, stealing late-night speeder joyrides, sharing the kind of banter that doubles you over so hard your ribs sting for hours afterwards—the energy, the light, linger in the spaces left behind.

But this time, Hardcase simply stares, jaw slack and eyes wide as your fingers curl over the lifted hem of your shirt. No wisecrack quip, no teasing wink, not even so much as a low whistle as you tug your shirt over your head and drop it behind you, straddling his lap over the edge of the bed.

Eyes full of stars, he gawks.

“You—those’re my—hm, okay, wow, uh, hah—” Hardcase’s voice pitches high as his lips open and close around half-formed words.

You watch the whole spectacle as he gasps like a landed fish, grasping for wisps of coherence. And you can’t help the giggle that rises from your throat when he forgoes words entirely and trails off into a breathless half-whimper half-laugh.

“Can I—” he says at last, and his voice cracks hoarse through his sputtering attempt to regain what little composure he had. “Can I touch it?”

At your nod, Hardcase reaches forwards just enough that his fingertips barely brush over your chest. You don’t dare look down to where his calloused fingers meet the skin above your ribs, too afraid that if you take your eyes from Hardcase’s face for even a single heartbeat that you might miss a precious moment of the awestruck wonder in his expression. You find yourself as transfixed as he as you watch him trace the trio of royal blue ink arcing down your sternum and tapering off into twin circles that cradle the curve of your chest.

It’s what this whole evening has been leading up to—your grand reveal kickstarted by his signature lung-crushing hug on the hangar bay. You had braced for it harder than usual when he’d swept you into his arms and lifted you off the dusty platform steel, readying for the particularly bruising ache that comes with the week-old ink needled over the base of your ribs.

To be fair, it wasn’t possible to greet Hardcase without creating some sort of commotion. Even if it was just shy of a week on planetside escort duty, once the gunship was within a metre of the dusty landing bay durasteel, landing protocols be damned, Hardcase would hit the ground running, tossing his helmet behind him and swooping you into his arms. The sheer, unadulterated joy of reunion always found home in how he squeezed you around your middle and spun you about; it was always worth the solid smack over the back of his head (stern, from Rex and, gleefully, from Jesse) for throwing his bucket aside.

But when you had met him with more of a pained grunt than your usual tittering exclamation, Hardcase had dropped you so quickly you’d almost fallen backwards if not for his reflexes to steady you. When he’d stumbled over wide-eyed apologies (and braced past Jesse’s open-palmed whap over his head), you had only laughed and told him to wait until after you had run inventory with Rex.

His fingers finally pause their slow trace over the tattoo on your chest. He feels, sees himself, an emblem on your skin. And when he looks up, he sees you.

“Tats are sore for a bit, ‘Case,” you smile. His eyes are so wide you’re certain if you look just a little more, you’d see yourself in him. You and he, he and you, the same, the same, one. “‘s why I flinched a little.”

Hardcase’s lips open and part around soundless words a few more times, still floating in some limbo between processing disbelief and boundless excitement before he unevenly clears his throat and finally speaks.

“You—you got me inked on you?” Hardcase whispers. Each word has the corners of his lips curling higher as if he had to speak into realization what stood before him; as if his fingertips pressing tender divots into your skin were proof only of the flesh: a universal truth that only needed words to find home in his heart.

You nod, grinning.

“Wanted to have a part of you with me for while you’re away.”

And for a moment, Hardcase’s fingers are the only motion in a still room, stroking soft, repetitive motions over the blue ink of your—his—tattoo.

You silently brace for something loud and present, excited rambling, another crushing hug, affection swept wide and open before you. Instead, Hardcase lets free a single breathless huff and tugs you close.

“You know those are forever, right?” he laughs, his voice rising again.

“That’s why I got it,” you respond, and his laughter only grows brighter.

Hardcase buries his nose into your chest with a groan, and that precious crest of joy bursts over your tongue when you throw your head back and laugh. Gilded and honeyed light finds home in your chest.

“Mesh’la, I need you so bad right now,” Hardcase groans as he brings his arms snug around your waist. And his laughter joins yours this time, voices swelling together when Hardcase rests his brow against your skin and pulls you in close. You make quick work of the rest of your clothes, throwing them somewhere off to the bedside before you sit back down over the firm lines of his thighs.

“I mean, yeah, I sure hope so—was the whole point ‘Case,” you tease, and Hardcase groans, carrying something of breathless disbelief and affection and desire curled into a single whimpering sound.

And as soon as you’re squeezing over his shoulders, suddenly, you feel your gravity tilt, and you yelp as your back connects with the bedspread.

Hardcase cages you under him, one arm propped by your head as the other slips from beneath the small of your back and trails its way back to the centre of your chest, hovering just at the edges of your tattoo. He lingers, treading those shallow waters for a moment more. But where you expect the familiar drag of his blunt nails over the bold lines of blue ink, he dips low. Instead, you gasp when his fingers are replaced by his lips, warm, inviting, home as he presses a single, lingering kiss over the sigil branded into your skin.

“‘Case!” you giggle and kick out your legs at the sudden flick of his tongue over your chest. You feel him laugh into your skin, his breath wisping over where his lips just brush over the edges of the tattoo.

He ghosts one more touch, drawn long and yet chaste in how he nuzzles the tip of his nose into your chest. And the bubbling laughter of before wanes, complete, when he lifts his chin and meets you with the hushed whispers of a smile on his parted lips.

Because it’s him, finding home over the base of your ribs.

It’s him, reflected back into his wide eyes.

It’s you.

He doesn’t surge up to meet you. He doesn’t kiss you with that unabashed brilliance that crushes your lips together so hard your teeth clack. The breath catches in your throat as you watch him move in silence. There is no overexuberant joy when Hardcase shifts higher up on the bed to meet your eyes and slowly runs his thumb over your lower lip. Even then, his touch is so achingly still, deliberation held close and savored slow.

He blinks once, dark eyes full of the soft light only privy to early mornings and late nights when you curl close and bask in each other, bared and whole. You grant his request without hesitation.

Starting low, your fingers smooth over the faded lines of blue tattooed over Hardcase’s chin, the same sigils you keep as your own. Well worn and faded until the line between ink and skin disappeared entirely, the tattoos beneath your fingertips are nothing and everything like yours. You trace higher, following the crest of his lip, the high line of his cheekbone, the dip just beneath his eye where his tattoo begins anew.

He closes his eyes and lets your touch trail over his lashes until your fingers slope over his temple and still over the base of his head. And when he dips his head low, you meet him in the middle, catching his upper lip between yours as he slips one hand between you and thumbs over your tattoo. That touch anchors you as much as you think it must do the same for him, pulling you close and keeping you there while you lick over his lips and breathe him in deep.

Through the warmth heavy in your gut, you feel him slide his other hand down your side, over the contour of your hip, and lift your leg up against him. You hook your leg over the small of his back and tug awkwardly, sending him stumbling forwards, crushing his hand between your chests as he dips down and narrowly catches himself.

No amount of awkward maneuvering breaks the rosy air between you, even as you both tear away from each other to stifle the kind of laughter that lingers.

“This okay?” he murmurs over the waning sigh of a low chuckle, voice warm on your skin and drunk with your taste. He nudges his hips forward, sending a shiver shocking up your spine when you feel his cock brush up against the swell of your cunt.

“Always, Hardcase,” you whisper.

As soon as the words leave your lips, you barely have enough time to suck in another breath before you’re stuttering on your own tongue. The tension slumps out of your shoulders as Hardcase digs his fingertips into your thigh and presses forwards, stretching you out around him in the way only he knows how, setting fire to your nerves and coming home all at once.

No matter how many times you kneel before ritual—habit coming to you as natural and comforting as breath itself—you still find yourself slack-jawed and starry-eyed as Hardcase pushes into you.

That it’s the first time in his four month tour that he’s able to pull you apart and hold you together only makes it better.

It takes all of one long, shuddering exhale for him to push into you in full. The breath you share breaks that stillness, a gasping inhale as his hips connect with the soft curve of your thighs and has the blunt head of his cock nudging so deep in you that you swear you feel the pulse at the base of your ribs, right where your tattoo swells with your whimpering.

Hardcase drops forward with a groan, blindly twining his fingers with yours and leaning down to press his forehead close against yours.

You don’t have to open your eyes to see him as you squeeze his hand. The bridge of his nose flush against yours, you bask, exchanging the warmth of breath over the little space between your lips. With his brow pressed into yours, he surrounds you, warmth, warmth, warmth, a setting sun and the grass it kisses still glowing in its wake. He rolls his hips forwards and swallows your wailing moan with his tongue.

Hardcase starts slow, setting a pace that has you feeling every long drag inside you as he draws back then crushes back up against the soft spot inside you that curls your toes. It’s a far cry from the excitement of a welcome back or rendezvous reunion, swapping giddy haste to savor instead, to melt over his tongue as Hardcase slips his free arm under your hips and tugs you impossibly close.

Through the blissed-out tears beaded over your lashes, you can just make out his expression, tense with cresting pleasure, as he leans back and admires you, stretched out before him. And when your legs jerk this time, there is no achingly deep pressure of his cock heavy inside you—only his lips over the centre of your chest as he bows low and kisses your tattoo again, again, laying and sealing claim above the rapid flutter of your heart.

You squeeze his hand, and he lifts his chin to meet your hazy eyes with his own, full with intent, desire, the kind of loyalty transcendent above anything he could ever swear to his generals, to his cause. He squeezes back.

You drop your head back onto the bed when he picks up his pace again, moving his free hand out from under you to stroke his thumb over your clit and smearing the mess of your arousal and his precome over where you stretch around him. Chest heaving, you can only sob and grip tight around his neck as he leans back over you and nuzzles his nose into your collar.

It’s getting harder and harder to tell your breaths apart from his after one stuttering thrust gives way to another. The steady tenderness of before bows under the fizzling heat in your stomach, giving in to rawer need as Hardcase’s movements over your clit fumble erratic. He snaps his hips against yours and drives up hard against your pleasure, mumbling unknowable words under his breath. Desperate for more, you shift back to meet what thrusts you can.

When he leans forwards again, his brow unsteadily knocks against your nose before he can nuzzle over your forehead and press close. You might have laughed, taken the moment to catch your breath over the clumsiness of affections swelling high. But you’re too busy chasing your own pleasure, too enamored with the wet friction of his throbbing cock sliding into your cunt.

Hardcase comes first, thundering rigid through him as he buries his nose at the juncture of your neck and bites down over his own teeth, his jaw flexing against your skin. His tension spreads through you, holds you by your breath and seizes the mounting want in your stomach tight with each heavy spurt of come he grinds into you.

You nose up against his temple—a silent plea for touch even deeper than you already feel it—and he indulges you. Hazy in the aftershocks of his orgasm, Hardcase lifts his head from your collar and crushes his lips against yours. He breathes in your heaving exhales as he kisses you, all open-mouthed warmth coaxing your pleasure.

“So lucky,” Hardcase mumbles, his puffing exhales over your lips matching every thrust into your dripping cunt. “Maker, I’m so fuckin’ lucky.”

Before you can strain some half-hearted tease in response, you’re too delirious on your rousing high. All you can manage is a soundless cry that shocks straight to the white-hot heat welled low in your stomach. Hardcase rolls his calloused thumb over your clit one last time and pulls your orgasm heady and low beneath him.

Pleasure bursts over your tongue, thrumming through you hard enough you swear you black out. Nothing but paralyzing and indulgent sensation shocks through you. There is only Hardcase’s presence to anchor you to the moment in the most intimate signs of life: shared breath, fingers laced tight with yours, lips mouthing words that need neither name nor sound to find warmth at the bottom of your chest.

And when the moment subsides and the ringing in your ears fades, you open your eyes to him, glowing with exhaustion but beaming down on you all the same.

“Maker’s really lookin’ out for me,” Hardcase says at last, brushing his fingertips over the sweat beaded at your temple.

“Yeah?”

You tug him closer against your chest (as well as you can with the tremble in your arms). He follows your lead as you feel him softening inside you, and he settles his nose close over your tattoo, just beneath your beating heart.

“I mean, whatever it is, it got me you.”

“You got me you, ‘Case,” you say. Though the air between you is far from the kind of existential solemnity that demands silence, your attempt to laugh comes only as a soft whisper, hushed as your lips brush over the crown of his head.

Because whatever was up there, pulling those galactic tides and willing life into the universe, even if it had tied those fine red strings strong and true between you and the man curled around you, it didn’t matter. At the end of the day, it was you and him, brought together in a headfirst collision in the cold steel halls of a Jedi cruiser and bound tight over shy planetside advances and cheesy dates.

“Then I got you, and you got me?” Hardcase chuckles, lifting his head and meeting your fond gaze.

“Just us,” you laugh.

Hardcase makes a soft noise of affirmation, his arms pulling snug around your middle. He nuzzles close skin over skin, and when he kisses over your tattoo, the sting of ink and needles fades into a distant memory unknown—all worth the trembling touches he presses over the place you’ve carved out for him alone.

Maybe the Maker helped along the way, but it’s always been you and him, him and you.

[kissme-hs]

Rules ♡ h.s.

Hey my loves! How’re you all? Here’s a little something based off the following request I’ve had for too long. Would you like a part 2? Let me know what you think! Please re-blog and like if you enjoyed <3 {photo and gif not mine}

Anonymous asked: could u do a Dom!harry smut where he’s really rough and strict in bed? Plzz I love ur writing ❤️

Pairing: Harry Styles x Fem! Reader

Word count: 3.2K

Warning: 18+ Smut, Degradation, Unprotected sex, slight mention of BDSM, oral sex fem recieves and gives, use of filthy language etc. {PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE NOT COMFORTABLE WITH DOM-SUB fics}

                ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

Softy, a complete whole soft person Harry was viewed as by the entire world. A guy who loves wearing nail polish and dresses and is nothing but a complete sweetheart. A man, in fact, a man child. In the eyes of million he was a sweet, laid back English lad who wouldn’t dare to hurt a fly.

However, some knew he owned a pair of Gucci handcuffs, the shiny metal made thousands of girls and guys wonder if he actually uses them and the answer is they don’t know. He has never been a man to speak openly about his personal life and just like the rest he let the audience to allow their minds to wander in the oblivion of their thoughts of what he prefers in bed. Or how he is in bed.

All they could do is assume. They assumed he’s rough, maybe soft, or maybe enjoys role play?

No one knows really. Except you.

The only person who has seen his deepest and darkest fantasies. The only person who has ever signed the paper of agreement between you two, you agreeing on being his sub­­, i.e. submissive. Giving him the permission to have his way with you, be it rough, soft or a role play. Whatever it may be, you said yes. The terms and conditions did scare you. The words printed on the piece of paper came off too strong that lied on your lap the night you’re eyes were scanning it, mind finally synching with your wants, deciding it was time you sign the agreement.

*This is a confidential agreement. Submissive is not allow to talk about it to anyone else but the Dom.*

Submissive agrees to obey whatever Dom orders them to do, sexually.

Safe word to be used by submissive is “peach”, if the boundaries are being pushed, the word to be used is “red”.

Honestly, it would scare anybody who reads the further details listed in the contract and what activities Dom would like themselves and the sub to immerge into such as extreme sex toys, being tied up by ropes, fisting and other terms that you didn’t even know the meaning of. But Harry wasn’t doing it just for himself, but for you.

When the day your ex left without a note you found yourself crying in his arms, sobbing and clutching his t-shirt like a broken kid and it hurt him. So he suggested, he was well aware how you wouldn’t be able to go out with anyone after what has happened so why not help you take your mind off him? Nodding to his words, not knowing what was coming you went home and the next morning you saw an envelope on your porch.

And there lied the papers. Submissive-Dom agreement.

“What is this Harry?” You breathed out in fear as your eyes scanned the words and brain figured out what it meant.

“You know it’s not a bad thing, it’ll help you clear your mind”

“Bu-“

“Trust me, plus we don’t have to do what you don’t want to.”

“I don’t know Harry”

“Do you trust me?”

“I do”

“good”

“Do you trust me?” You said biting your lip as you scrunched the bottom of the paper.

“I do”

“Why the agreement then?”

“Its for your own good” and with that the line went dead leaving you in complete confusion. Even though your mind had untangled thoughts and questions clashing together, not thinking twice your fingers grabbed the pen and in a messy rush glided over the rough paper sealing the secret.

And so it began. He invited you over to his place in LA. The house where you’ve been many times but that was when you were friends, you still are but things changed. Quite a lot. His hand held yours as he guided you to the hallway where you never went or even were aware that existed.

Walking a couple more steps you both were standing in front of the huge door. Comparatively bigger than the other he had in his house.

“Stay here” he said as he lets go of your hand and takes a step forward to unlock the door for which he had the key in his necklace. Yes his necklace, a master of disguise.

The second you heard the twisting of the key opening the big door he stepped aside for you to enter the room. Your heart racing with anticipation as you waited for the lights to reveal what he’s had hidden in this room, away from the eyes of the world, away from you.

His fingers flicked the switch and the you saw it. The big red room with a huge bed in the middle, it was surrounded by leashes, leather whips, ropes and the ceiling was nothing but a huge mirror that reflected every move of yours.

Walking down the shiny black floor your hand brushed again the walls that seems so cushiony as you turned your head to look at harry who was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed with a smirk adorning his face.

“Sound proof.” He said as you nodded and continued looking around. Your fingers touched the cold leather whips and slides across the teak wooden drawer. Turning your head one more time to get his approval which he gladly gave, your hand held the handle to pull out the drawer.

There lied several silk blind folds. So rich and expensive. Moving to the next drawer, lied about 50 hand ties, and hand cuffs. Metal, clothed, you name it he has it. And then the last drawer hitched your breath, vibrators, butt plugs, dildos and every other toy you saw in porn.

“I-I never knew you were into this” you whispered as you let your fingers ghost over the silk ties that lied in a perfect fold in the drawer.

“Now you do” you heard his message getting closer to you until his front was pressed against your back. You feel his crotch right up against your ass as he gently, yet with a slight force pushed your front againt the drawer so that you were slightly bent. His hand making it’s from your stomach dragging up all the way up until it found the base of your neck.

The cold metal of his rings felt hot against your skin as he pushed your head back and leaned in closer to your ear. His breath fanning over the love making you shiver.

“Now what’re the rules?”

“I-I call you sir” you breathed out the words as his Kept his hand on your neck giving it a light squeeze telling you to go on, go on with the rules listed in the contract.

“I cannot touch you or myself. I-I respond with words. I-“

“You what?”

“I address myself as your whore”

“That’s correct. You are my filthy little whore. Aren’t you?” He said. His voice deeper than you’ve ever before. And his hand that once held your neck now moved to your side turning you around in a one swift motion. His lips wasting no time to latch onto yours, kissing hungrily as if he’s been dying to kiss you.

And god he has been. Ever since he held your hand walking down the corridor he’s been thinking about having you his way, just like he wants. Kiss those lips and have a taste of thag body is all that has been on his mind since you signed those papers he sent.

Lost in the kiss, deep in your thoughts you were enjoying the feeling of his lips on yours and the rules fading away from your mind. It’s hard to control and stay in the boundaries he’s created when his tongue is inside your mouth dancing along yours, so you let your fingers get lost in those curls as your bite his lower lip.

But to your surprise his reflexes were quick enough to have your hand removed from his hair and twist it and hold it behind your back in a one swift motion.

“One kiss and you’re already breaking the rules. You’re lucky I’m not going to punish you, this is your first and last time.” He groaned before he grabbed you and threw over his shoulder. His hand hving your ass a tight slap before he throws you over the big bed that was situated in the middle on the big room.

Your eyes flickering open to see your own reflection in the mirror that was on the ceiling. Your lips swollen, shirt collected right below your breat revealing your bare skin of the stomach and chest rising with every deep breath you took.

“Now listen to me, you’re gonna look at yourself in the mirror and tell me every single rule listed in the contract. One wrong rule and you lose the chance to cum. Understood?” Harry said as he unbuttoned your jeans pulling it down your legs and stopping right before taking them out when he didn’t hear you reply.

“I asked you something” he raised his eyebrow as one of he held your ankles towards behind your knees over so he could see the cheeks of your ass before giving you another spank.

“Y-yes sir,”

“Yes sir what?”

“Yes sir, understood”

Mumbling a low ‘good girl’ he took off your pants and then sat on you with legs either side your waist to take your top off, his mouth watered when he saw your nipple coming out of your back bra which probably happened when he threw you on the bed.

“Jesus. So full” he muttered before holding your hand over your head and lower his mouth on your nipple, his other hand pushing the cups down so that he could take the whole bud in his mouth and suckle on it making your arch your back. His mouth felt so warm on your cold bud as his tongue flicked the pebble hard nipple around and his bite it slightly before letting it go with a slight pop.

Grabbing a silk tie from the side drawer he tied it around your wrist that he had held in his hand and unhooked the bra—rolling it along the lilc tee that you wore until it reached your eyes and acted as a blindfold.

“Start the rules. Remember, one wrong rule and you lose the chance to cum”

“Yes sir”

“Start” he ordered. And you opened your mouth to let the words out but your breath sucked in when you felt him throwing your legs on his shoulder and his lips coming in contact with your inner thigh.

“I-I don’t sleep with someone else.”

“Cannot”

“Sorry sir, I cannot sleep with someone else”

His lips licked over your drenched knickers that covered your throbbing clit waiting for be touched his tongue. You clenched your thighs together only to be pushed apart by his hands as his nose rubbed over your clothed centre, sniffing, taking the smell of your aroma.

“I cum only when you say” you bite your lip feeling the cotton materiel of your underwear being pushed aside, sensing the cold air of the room mixed with Harry’s warm breath fanning over your sex making your shiver and you shrieked when his four fingers slapped your cunt making the wet filthy sound which only made you drop more.

“Only when I order, looks like you didn’t read it properly you little slut. Lost a chance to feel my tongue on this little pussy of yours”

“I’m sorry sir, please”

“Please what?”

“Please forgive me and eat me out”

“And what are you?”

“I’m your filthy little slut, your whore. Please eat me out sir please” you whimpered as you pleaded harry dying to feel that muscular tongue on your pussy to finally see how it feels like to have his mouth on you which you’ve always dreamt of. Even though you were in a relationship, there always has been a sexual tension between you two which is the reason why you agreed on doing this at the first place.

“That’s right, you’re a whore. A little dirty whore.” And with that you felt his tongue lick a long stride of your lips pushing them open. That one lick was enough to make you squirm, what a shame you couldn’t see his face tucked between your legs as his chain dangles from his neck and gives your a perfect view of his chest from the black shirt he wore, unbuttoned enough for you to see his butterfly tattoo to the slightest.

“Who told you to stop, say the rules doll”

“I see you at least twice a week when you’re in town”

His mouth was now on your clit, sucking it like a leech. His lips left the bundle of nerve with a pop as his hand came in to rub it harshly, before his index finger collected your juices that dripped down your hole and you heard him licked it clean and without any word you feel your opening being stretched to the fullest when he inserted two fingers.

His mouth finding its way back to your clit, licking and sucking your pussy without any mercy. Your hips bucked up in his mouth which he roughly pinned down.

“If I see you doing that once more I swear to god you’ll forget how to walk you slut” he said through gritted teeth as if you interrupted his meal. He shook his head keeping his lips on your clit to give those toe curling vibrations with his fingers twisting inside you.

He felt your soft walls clenching as he let go of your swollen clit to take his fingers out and slide his tongue inside you feeling the warmth against his tongue.

He spread your legs open as he pushed his tongue in and out, tongue-fucking you savouring every drop you released.

“I only wear red and black lingerie when I see you”

His fingers came back in position as his mouth placed itself back on your clit not leaving the swollen bug alone. Your back now covered in sweat and your nipple perched up, mouth dry and pussy waiting to release.

“Wrong. You only wear red around me.”

And with that he flipped you over so that you were lying on your stomach and your ass was up in the air. Withing another second you felt a tight spank against your ass cheek making you hiss in pain.

“That’s what you get for being a dumb whore”

“Sorry sir”

Followed by another spank he pushed you back to him so that he could press his bulge to your arse.

“Grind. Grind like the little road slut you are” he gripped your ass so firmly that you could feel his metal rings digging in your skin as he held them strong in front of his crotch.

As you tried to held yourself up on your elbow he pressed your head down on the bed so that your cheek was squished against the soft cushion.

“Grind i said”

Obliging to his command your moved your ass up his all rock hard cock that you felt tight against your butt cheeks making you moan. Moving your ass in rounds and different directions you felt him buck further into your hips wanting for a release as his hands came in to grip your hair that fell down your shoulder.

Wrapping the long locks around his hand in a fist his he pushed your head back to that your tee which was covering your eyes now came down hanging around your neck which was strained because of his grip on your hair.

“I’m gonna fuck the shut outta you, gonna destroy that little cunt of yours and make you scream until you the only name you remember is mine and forget that asshole who made you cry” and that’s how your first night ended as a submissive after being raw dogged to the fullest with the rough hand prints laying on your ass cheeks.

 But that was just the beginning, so when one day you found yourself on your knees in the bathroom of a posh restaurant that Harry insisted to take you to you weren’t surprised.

You mouth dripping saliva as he held your face in one hand keeping it upwards so he will have a full view of your mouth which was sucking on his thick sick. Lips wrapped around his shaft you gagged when he bucked his hips further in your mouth hitting the back of your throat making it impossible for you to take him any deeper.

“Jesus fucking christ you little cunt” he moaned grabbing your mouth so he could move your head to his liking. Following his movements, you bobbed your head hold the base of his cock, twisting your hand around his with the faint wrist while you suckled with hollow cheeks.

It all started when he saw you arrive at the restaurant. Wearing a tight black dress that hugged your curves and gave all men a delicious view of your plunging breasts making the jaws drop.

“Meet me in the bathroom, right now”

“But wh-“

“Do as told”

And when you did you felt him grab you by your hair and push you against the counter so that your stomach was against the cold marble top while your ass was facing him which he wasted no second uncovering, lifting the almost sheer clothing and pushing it over your waist to reveal your unclothed bottom.

“fucking whore”

Your body flinched with pleasure disguised In pain as he raised his hand and slapped it across your cheeks looking at you straight through the mirror. His hand gripping your hair.

“Look at me” he ordered and you flickered your eyes open to see his dilated pupil and heavy breathing chest. His ring cladded slender fingers didn’t stop spanking shaking your whole body up until he pulled you back and pushed you down on your knees and stepped in front of you with his dick out and slapped it across your face.

“Open” he said holding his hard dick from the base and you did as told. Soon you felt it heavy on the tongue as he patted it on your tongue before pulling away, grabbing your cheeks and pulling your face upwards to him. His fingers wasted no time squishing your cheeks so that your mouth was open slightly giving him the perfect angel so spit in your mouth making you gasp.

“Swallow” and once again you do as told before grabbing his dick and kitten licking his tip, teasing him. But he wasn’t having it so grabbing the back of your head he pushed your head forward until his shaft was hitting the back of you had making your gag, your eyes picking up instant tears and he would’ve stopped right away if they were tears of pain, but they weren’t.

“this is what you get for breaking the rule of not wearing revealing clothes until I ask you to. Get treated like a slut, a fucking filthy whore in the public sucking my dick” he groaned as you played with his ball bobbing your hand.

His grip on your hair tightened before you felt his hot cum gushing down your throat which your swallowed without his order and let go of his cock with a ‘pop’.

Pulling your face up to him he swiped his thumb over your bottom lip collecting the escaping cum and pushing it in your mouth which you happily took sucking on his thumb.

“Be a good girl, and follow the rules”

[lcksndkys]

Pairing: hobi x reader

Rating: NSFW

Genre: dancer!hobi x bff reader

Word count: ~4.1k

Warnings: explicit sexual content, unprotected sex on a kitchen counter (bffs who trust each other, but still should wrap it before you tap it!!), brief masterbation, nipple play (cus duh, it’s me)

A/N: When I wrote Permission, I thought I’d leave it semi open ended, but there were a few people who wanted some closure ( @btsarmy9593​ @junghelioseok ) and I was happy to continue this story!! S/o to my people @jinpanman and @wwilloww for the song recs and the figurative pom poms!! If you liked it, feel free to talk to me about it!!

01, 02

The next few days had passed without word- carrier pigeon, smoke signal, or otherwise- from Hoseok. 

If you’re being honest with yourself, you’d admit that it appears neither of you are willing to revisit the events that had transpired in the small studio any time soon. You still can’t believe Hoseok kissed you as part of his audition routine. A year spent romanticizing what it would be like, and he ruined it so recklessly. 

You had heard from Seokjin, a mutual friend, that Hoseok nailed his audition and was offered a job at The Pied Piper. Bitterly, you wonder who he locked lips with during his routine, and immediately banish the thought from your mind. 

According to your sources (read: Jin), Hoseok has been rehearsing choreography with the rest of the cast over the last few weeks. Part of you knows that he’s busy, and the other part wonders if he’s just using his busy schedule as a means to avoid you. 

Either way, it doesn’t stop you from missing him. Conversations have been short with Hoseok replying with one worded responses and no attempts to keep conversation flowing.

Logically, you know that you could confront him. Half of you is dying to, but the petty side of you refuses to cave first. 

You’ve spent the past few weeks burying yourself in work and chores. You almost forget the feeling of his body grinding against you, his hand wrapped around your neck, his lips on yours. 

Your skin prickles at the memory. 

I wasn’t talking about you. 

What was that supposed to mean? Who was he talking about? 

Hope is a dangerous thing, and you refuse to believe what Hoseok was possibly implying. Because if his affections were surface level, it would crush you. 

You dive back into your work, taking on as many projects as possible to keep from dwelling on thoughts of Hoseok. 

At work the following morning, your phone vibrates with a notification breaking you from your muddled thoughts. 

You feel around your desk for your phone tapping the screen to see that Jin has texted you.

[11:21am] WWH: it’s friyay. 

[11:22am] WWH: We’re goin to The Pied Piper tonight!! Pick you up at 9 ;)

Groaning, you discreetly check your periphery noting that your colleagues appear to be too absorbed in their work to watch you try to decline a very insistent friend.

[11:24am] You: No, Jin… I don’t really feel well :(

Several minutes pass with no further pleading from Jin, but then your phone buzzes again.

[11:34am] Yoongi: If you don’t come to Hoseok’s opening night, he’ll be crushed.

[11:39am] Yoongi: Come with us. Please

You sigh. It’s not often that Yoongi begs, but you know he’s right. Although things between you and Hoseok have been tense lately, you know you can’t miss the opportunity to support your best friend. 

[11:41am] You: Fine.

[11:42am] Yoongi: Atta girl

The Pied Piper isn’t what you thought it would be. It’s less of a strip club and more of a small concert venue with tables and booths of various sizes surrounding a raised stage. You let Jin lead you towards your seats with Yoongi following close behind.

To your dismay, the small table you arrive at is frighteningly close to the front row where you’re sure Hoseok could see you. 

Taking your seat flanked by your two friends, you cross your legs in the attempt to tamp down the nervous bouncing of your foot.

To your right, Yoongi places a calming hand on your knee to stop your fidgeting. 

“It’s just Hoseok,” he reminds you. His knowing eyes stare deep into yours. 

You take a deep breath and let Yoongi’s words soothe you.

On your left, Jin is trying to talk over you to Yoongi about checking out the strippers on the other side of The Pied Piper after the show.

Just after 9:30pm, the lights begin to dim, setting your nerves alight.

Soft music starts as a dozen or so men saunter through the crowd to take the stage. 

You feel the swoosh of air behind you as one of the dancers passes by the back of your seat. Coming around to the front of your table, you’re mesmerized by the fluid way his body moves. Blond hair slicked back, he dances in front of your table for the remainder of the song and sends you a flirty wink. 

Mesmerized by him, you watch as he spreads his legs in a deep squat, arms crossed over his chest as he thrusts his hips to the beat. At the end of the song, he blows you a kiss with his full lips, turning to focus his attention to a different table of patrons.

You feel a pointy elbow nudge against your side and you turn sharply to your left to see Jin’s smug smile as he waggles his eyebrows suggestively at you. 

Rolling your eyes, you focus back on the show.

The men have gathered around on stage as the intro song fades. Once in formation, another song starts up. More upbeat, the men break out into the next part of the choreography, each following the routine to complement his own style. 

Some have started unbuttoning their shirts to show more skin.

Your eyes dart around, stalling on a particularly handsome dancer as he rakes back his long, dark hair with a heavily tattooed hand while swaying his hips to the music. Slowly unbuttoning his black shirt and swaying his hips and thick thighs, he flashes his doe eyes and muscles to the crowd, looking equal parts boyish and lethal. 

Your gaze follows his powerful body as he moves across stage, undressing his upper body to reveal the smooth, inked planes of his torso. He throws his shirt somewhere behind the audience (probably for staff to pick up) and you watch him until he passes by a familiar figure. 

Dressed in a white button down with sleeves rolled up his forearms, Hoseok catches your eyes with his dancing. Your breath stutters in your chest, skin heating in memory of his hips grinding against yours. 

Trying to focus on a different dancer, you settle on watching Blondie while he drops to his hands and knees humping the floor slowly and sensually to the beat of the song. You remember this move when Hoseok performed his audition piece for you, and you can’t help but recall the way desire had pooled deep and hot in your belly. Watching this beautiful man dance tonight, while pleasing, does not move your heart. 

As the night progresses, the dancers move seamlessly through the choreography jumping from one routine to the next. Most of the dancers are now topless, in nothing but fitted jeans with underwear bands peeking up over their beltlines.

You try to keep your eyes off Hoseok. 

Try.

Until the group breaks formation to disperse into the audience for a more close up look at their, ahem, dancing skills. Hoots and hollers fill the air as the men spread out and start giving lap dances to their audience. 

At your left, Jin cackles loudly at the sight of Tattoos straddling a middle aged woman against her chair. His prominent front teeth are on display as he smiles at her, leaning down to whisper in her ear over the booming music. Seconds later, you see her nod her consent enthusiastically while he presses her hands against his rippling pectorals. 

Hoseok has been watching you watch Tattoos with a frown. 

Distracted, you don’t see him rapidly approach your table until he stands before you. Of course Jin bought tickets in Hoseok’s section. 

You tense up and think about running, but Yoongi’s calming hand briefly returns to your knee, encouraging you to stay. It’s just Hoseok, you remind yourself. 

In front of your table, Hoseok locks eyes with you, slowly starting to undress his upper body. Leaving his shirt open, he pushes his sleeves further up his elbows revealing his sinewy forearms.  

Although the room is dark, you can feel the flush of blood creep up your neck and face at Hobi’s intense stare. You swallow down a whimper as he grips the back of your chair and spreads his thighs wide over yours, hovering several inches over you. There’s no contact between his body and yours, yet you can feel his warmth.

“May I give you a dance?” he asks huskily into your ear.

You shiver at the contact as your body betrays you. Feeling your nod of consent, Hoseok grins and slowly drops his weight onto your lap. 

Bare witness to my evolution

Violent moans, untamed contusions

We’re not really here it’s all Illusions

Vaguely you hear and feel Jin howling in delight at the sight unfolding next to him.

Holding you close, Hoseok pulls your hands off your lap to wrap around his waist while he grinds his hips against you. He tucks his face into your neck, dragging his perfectly sloped nose against the sensitive skin there. At this distance, you can’t see his face and pray that he can’t feel the bounding of your pulse.

You grab me there your fingers sink

We breathe, we tense, no time to think

I take you 'til you’re on the brink

Then we dive off the edge in sync

Sliding up and down your body, Hoseok encourages your hands to wander across his hips and lower back.

You bite your lip and allow your fingers to ghost their way under his open shirt, up along the ridges of his ribs and down to his ass, feeling the way the muscle contracts as he moves against you. 

Make love, fuck

Lick me up

Petals, pluck

Drive me, clutch

You feel the rumbling in his chest as your wandering hands explore his body. 

Hoseok eagerly rolls his hips against yours to the beat of the song. Goosebumps litter your neck as he pants into your ear.  

What’s your pleasure, what’s my name?

Blend and merge until we’re same

Nothing much of us remains

As the song winds down, Hoseok pulls back from you to stare into your eyes. He gently removes your hand from his waistline and presses your palm into his chest- left of center- over his thrumming heart. 

Your breath catches in your throat at the look he gives you. Hand still trapped against his chest, all you can focus on is the pounding underneath your fingertips and the burning in his hooded eyes.

In this moment, there’s no strip club, no Jin or Yoongi, no audience or dancers. Everything fades away and it’s just you and Hoseok.

Until the song changes yet again and Hoseok dismounts from you without a second glance, swiftly moving on to the bachelorette party next to you. 

You can still feel the heat of his body as you watch Hoseok dance around them, hips thrusting wildly as he artfully maneuvers his body to the bass. He smiles at the blushing bride-to-be and her entourage.

Hoseok picks up her hand as if to inspect her engagement ring before pressing a kiss to her knuckles with a wink. He’s clearly flirting with her, but with the noise of the club, there’s no way to tell what he’s saying. 

Teeth clenched tight, you remind yourself you have no right to be jealous. 

Your gut wrenches at the sight of him wrapped around another woman as his body undulates against her. He backs off slightly only to pick up her legs, spreading them to wind around his waist to better grind against her. Peals of laughter ring out higher than the music. An unpleasant weight settles deep in your stomach as you watch Hoseok basically dry hump her.

There’s a brief lull in the song, barely long enough for Yoongi to hear the pained gasp that leaves your lips when he moves on to one of her friends.

The comforting hand on your arm prompts you to drag your watering eyes off Hoseok. You meet Yoongi’s furrowed brow. 

“Wait. Do you- ” he looks from you to Hoseok, and back again. His eyes widen as he rapidly deduces the reason for your sudden mood.

You quickly glance at Jin who is still busy watching Hoseok entertain the table of bachelorettes. 

Biting your lip to hold in your sniffling, you nod once up and down in quiet confirmation.

“Holy shit,” he whispers. 

Instead of relief, it feels like your chest caves to the pressure of admitting your feelings. It was easy to lie to yourself, but you don’t think you keep up the act now that Yoongi knows. 

Suddenly the club becomes unbearably stuffy. 

You lean over to Jin, raising your voice over the music. “I’m gonna go get some air,” you shout and quickly make a beeline for the exit.

With your back turned, you don’t see the pair of longing eyes follow your figure as you leave.

Outside, the air is crisp as it nips at your exposed skin. You take a few deep breaths letting the sharp air soothe the ache in your heart. Deciding you can’t stay and watch the rest of the show, you sent a text to Jin and Yoongi to let them know you’ve called an Uber to go home. 

Freshly showered and lying in bed, you browse through your work emails to keep your mind busy. You’re determined to fall asleep without the memory of Hoseok grinding against random women tonight. 

As the minutes tick by, your eyes grow heavy with sleep and you roll over to put your phone on your bedside table. 

Thump, thump. Thump. A firm fist pounds on your door insistently, ridding you of any drowsiness as adrenaline floods your system.

Tapping your phone, you see it’s much too late for any decent social visits. There are no missed notifications; nothing to suggest you may have a visitor tonight.

At your hesitance, the rapping continues more adamantly. 

You cautiously approach the front door and peer through the peephole.

Hoseok. 

Relief washes over you, followed closely by frustration. Weeks of near-silence and he shows up unannounced at your door at 2am??

Throwing open your door, you’re ready to send him away.

The words die on your tongue at the sight before you. Eyes downcast, hair messy. 

“I know it’s late, but can I stay?” he asks quietly. 

Your heart lurches in your chest as you swing the door wider and step aside to allow him entry. From the smell of his lightly floral shampoo you can tell he must’ve showered after the show. 

Your eyebrows raise in alarm when you note a slight wobble in his gait as he makes his way to your kitchen. He's clearly been drinking.

He pulls a glass from the cabinet and pours himself a cup of water. Taking a small sip, he nervously passes the glass back and forth between his hands. 

“I- uh- I went out with Yoongi-hyung and Jin-hyung after the show,” he explains. 

Arms folded over your chest, you nod in understanding. 

“I’m sorry,” he croaks. “I’ve been an ass.”

There’s a tense moment as you both regard each other.

“Yeah it fucking sucks to have your best friend ignore your existence for weeks at a time” you retort.

He flinches at your harsh tone. “I just… I didn’t know how to be around you after… that.”

“After what? Your audition? Hobi, I don’t care that you want to dance in a strip show!” you lie easily through your teeth.

“It’s not the dancing,” he pauses to take a deep breath, steeling himself. “I meant… the kiss”

His adam’s apple bobs as he breaches the topic. “It wasn’t part of my audition routine. I kissed you because I wanted to. I want more” he whispers.

Eyes rounded in surprise, your mind is both loud and silent at the same time, short circuiting at his confession.

“And you kissed me back, but like, it didn’t seem like you were that into it and I just- I let you think it was part of the routine” he babbles on. 

“But- “

“I like you- really like you” he says earnestly. Fingers wrap tightly around his water, cutting to the chase.

“I had no idea,” you insist.

“I literally told you how I feel back when I practiced my audition piece for you” 

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t clear.” you bite back. 

“My kissing you wasn’t clear enough?” he shoots back with a quirked brow. 

You sputter. “I really thought it was part of your audition!” you exclaim.

“Forgive me for being old-fashioned, but I don’t often kiss women I’m not interested in,” he says, setting down his glass to take a few steps closer to you. 

Your head spins. “So, you’re still interested?” 

“How many times do I have to tell you I’m into you before you get it?” 

“Maybe one more time” you grin up at him suggestively.

Hands hovering over your waist, he smiles as he leans in, nose gently grazing yours as he breathes you in.

You tilt up chasing his lips when he suddenly pulls back.

“I need to know this isn’t just some fling for you. If we’re going to do this, it needs to be the real deal.” His eyes search yours and he must see what he’s looking for as he grins, dimples on full display.

Hand sliding up his chest and cupping his jaw, you hold him close. 

“I’ve liked you for months” you confess quickly. “It’s real, trust me” you say, pulling him back into you. You slot your lips against his, eager for another taste. Suckling gently on his lower lip, you feel his chest rumble with a growl as he presses into you with ardour.

Hoseok’s hands find their way around you, feverishly mapping out your body as he allows you to mold your mouths together. 

He immediately tilts his head, deepening the kiss. 

Your fingers pull at his dark strands and eagerly caress his neck. You feel the way his jaw moves as his mouth opens wider to send his tongue out to press into your mouth.  

His hands turn frantic, pawing at the curves he's been fantasizing about over the past couple of years. 

You let him push you up against the counter top as you continue kissing, his hips pinning you in place as his hands continue to greedily rub up and down your back and sides before slowly creeping up your front. 

"Can I?" he rasps, fingers staying below your ribs,waiting for your consent. 

"Please. I want you to touch me, Hobi" you beg. 

He growls at your enthusiasm and roughly cups your breasts. Even beneath the layers of clothing, he can feel the way your nipples pebble with desire. 

Pushing his hands aside, you reach down and pull your sweater and top up and over your head exposing your bare torso to him.

“Fuck,” he grunts, hands returning to roll and pinch at your sensitive buds.

You shiver with need as he plays with your tits, enjoying the way pleasure shoots down to your cunt. 

Hands leaving your breasts, he swats at your bottom. “Up,” Hoseok commands.

Obediently, you hop up onto the counter top, careful to avoid his barely touched glass of water. He spreads your thighs to slot his body against you. Legs pulling him in closer, you feel the evidence of his arousal at your center as he presses his erection against your quickly dampening panties.

His arms wrap around you bringing your chest to his face and suckles your nipple into his hot, wet mouth. Moaning, you send both hands into his hair as he continues his erotic assault on your body.

Hoseok grinds his hips against your core as he laves equally at both tits, leaving your nipples perked and shining in his saliva. 

“On or over the counter,” he rasps.

“I want whatever you want,” you pant, desperate to feel him against you.

“Fuck,” he huffs. “Can I take these off? I wanna see all of you” he pleads, tugging at the waistband of your sleep shorts.

Instead of responding, you push him back a step to slowly slide off your remaining clothing and scoot back on the counter top. You part your thighs giving him the perfect view of your glistening cunt. 

To entice him further, you slide a finger up and down your slick, swirling around your clit, and dipping into your sodden entrance.

“Holy shit, I want you so bad,” Hoseok groans with his eyes focused on the way you fuck yourself open with your fingers.

He allows himself a moment to enjoy the sight of you pleasuring yourself for him, studying the way you touch pussy. Having enough, Hoseok pulls your hand off yourself and wraps his lips around your digits, moaning at your taste. 

“Fuck me, Hobi, I’m ready,” you whimper.

Unable to hold back any longer, he growls, pulling you down from your perch and flipping you to face the countertop. With gentle pressure against your upper back, he encourages you down to your elbows, bending you forwards to present your cunt to him.

You hiss at the feeling of cold marble against your hardened nipples.

Distracted, you don’t hear the rustling of clothing as Hoseok tears himself free, eager to feel your skin against his. 

You gasp at the feeling of the blunt head of his cock sliding against your slit, bumping against your clit to send tingles of pleasure through you in waves. 

“Is this ok? I’m clean,” he promises.

You trust him.

“Me too. I’ve never had anyone bare,” you moan, pushing your hips back in the attempt to slide him into you.

“You want me, baby?” he asks one last time.

“Yes, Hobi, yes, just fuck me-” you whine, cut off when he takes his first stroke into your quivering walls, going slow so you feel every inch of him.

He thrusts gently a few times into your heat until he finally bottoms out inside you. 

Eager for more, you push your hips back against him to fuck yourself on his cock. “I like it rough,” you urge him.

Growling, Hoseok sets a brutal pace, desperately drilling his cock in and out of you.

You whimper in pleasure at his handling. Hoseok caresses at your back and hips and ass as if attempting to memorize the feel of your skin as he sinks into you over and over. Curling his fingers around your hips, he pulls you onto his length as he surges forwards, your breasts bouncing with the force of his trusts.  

Eyes clamped shut in pleasure, you feel your legs shake with your impending release.

“Hobi, I’m getting close,” you whimper. 

He grunts in approval, suddenly hoisting you up onto the counter so that your toes barely skim the floor. 

You squeal in surprise. In this position with your legs dangling, you wildly grasp at the smooth marble in the attempt to hold onto something. Hoseok pounds into you and you are unable to do anything but accept the pleasure he gives you. 

“Cum on my cock,” Hoseok urges. “I need to feel you cum first”

“So deep, ah- fuck! You feel so good, Hobi” you gasp as he continues to thrust into you. 

Your toes curl as his pace increases, desperate to get you off before he blows.

“Touch me, please, I’m so close,” you beg.

Sending his fingers between your legs, he rubs quick circles as you showed him earlier around your throbbing clit.

Your walls flutter wildly around him as you begin to unravel. 

“That’s my girl,” Hoseok grunts as he feels your walls tighten around him. 

You cum with a strangled moan of his name, puffing against the marbled surface as you clench rhythmically around his turgid length. 

Ears ringing in post orgasm haze, you feel Hoseok continue to thrust desperately into your wet heat. 

Panting he asks urgently, “Can I cum inside?”

“Fill me up,” you whimper, nodding enthusiastically. 

With your permission, Hoseok lets go. Draping his front against your back, he buries deep into your cunt and releases into your velvet heat with a loud, drawn out groan. 

Lying prone over the marble and still speared on his cock, Hoseok peppers sweet kisses along your nape and shoulders, gently suckling against your skin as you both revel in post-coital bliss.

“Mmm,” you keen at his attention as he presses one last lingering kiss behind your ear.

“You were serious earlier, right?” he asks softly. “You really want more, too?”

Craning to look back at him, you see a line of worry between his brows as he waits for your confirmation.

“I just wanna be yours, Hoseok,” you affirm with a shy smile.

He beams down at you, and like a flower to a sun, you can’t help but smile back.

[akaashigiri]

Sleepy Jaegers

summary: eren and y/n are at a gathering at armin’s place, and their 2 year old is exhausted. eren is equally as exhausted.

pairing: dad!eren jaeger x fem!reader

word count: 1.69k

warnings: none, fluffff

a/n: sigh my baby fever possessed me to write this 💔 might make armin a father as well if people end up liking this one (i will anyway) 😋

These gatherings were almost like a ritual to the group.

There wasn’t ever a specific place they met, they would always gather in different places, wether it’d be the beach, a park, or at one of their homes. It didn’t matter where it took place, just as long as everyone was there. Everyone was obligated to come.

So of course that includes the littlest Jaeger.

It was mid September, and although the weather wasn’t bad at all, some didn’t really feel like going out to public places like the local park, so the group decided on Armin’s new place, since Sasha and Annie still have yet to see it (their homes are farther from the rest)

They were all gathered in the spacious living room; Jean and Sasha on the long couch, while Mikasa and Armin sat on the smaller one. Historia and Ymir shared the beige-colored chair in the corner of the room, while Annie sat on one of the kitchen stools as she watched Y/N and Connie do the dishes (Armin insisted, but the two almost threatened him if he were to touch a dish).

As soon as Eren walked in, he all but restricted anyone from sitting on the big beige reclining sofa, claiming that he deserved it for helping Armin pick it out. Eren was grateful for going to Ikea that day with Armin to pick out the sofa he was now slouched on, recliner out and all. It was now his favorite spot in the whole house (besides the kitchen, since he loved playing around with the smart refrigerator).

As Y/N passed another dish for Connie to rinse and dry, she suddenly felt a tug on her pants, looking down to meet the tired eyes of her daughter.

She was quick to rinse and dry her hands to pick her up, giving all of her attention to the little girl. “Aw, what’s wrong Mimi? Everything alright?” She asked, already noticing the fatigue on her face.

She only snuggled into her mother’s neck, giving her the simple response of, “Tired.” Her vocabulary was fairly short, due to the fact that she was only 2 and learned her words from the ones around her (Eren got in big trouble the day Y/N heard the word ‘shit’ come out of her daughter’s mouth).

Y/N wasn’t surprised she got tired easily today, since Jean gave her more candy then Y/N would usually allow. And with the way her, Ymir, and Mikasa were running around in the yard earlier today, Y/N already saw this coming.

“You’re tired?” she asked again, earning a nod from the crook of her neck. “Okay, mommy’s almost done. Go sit next to daddy until I finish, okay?” She tells her, moving her head back to face her daughter again. Myra nodded, allowing her mother to put her down.

Walking tiredly, Myra slowly moved through the kitchen and made her way to the living room, spotting her father laidback in the corner of the room, limbs sprawled out on the sofa.

Eren wasn’t sure if it was the father instincts, but he was the first to notice her presence in the room, stopping the ghost story Jean swears is real to bring his full attention to his daughter.

“Mimi’s come to save us, everyone!” Eren exclaims, throwing jazz hands up as everyone joined and cheered her on for simply walking in. Jean didn’t like what Eren was implying, but clapped nonetheless.

“You’re not funny. Aren’t dads supposed to tell good jokes?” He questioned, attempting to steal a fry from Sasha’s plate, but failing miserably as she only swats his hand away.

“No Jean, I think it’s the other way around, they’re supposed to be corny.” Armin butts in, watching with a smile as Myra finally starts walking towards her father.

Eren could already see the fatigue on her face, holding his arms out for her once she got a little closer. “What’s up Mimi, you tired?” Eren questioned, laughing as she instead of answering, simply lifted her arms up for him to take her.

She responds with a nod, her hair falling over her face as she was lifted onto his lap. As soon as she was situated, she wasted no time in making herself comfortable, wiggling out of her dad’s grasp and laying her stomach down on his, her head right above where his heart was.

“Nevermind.” he sighs, making the whole room burst out into laughter. This only made Myra whine, the loudness distrupting her attempt at sleeping. “Sorry Myra!” Sasha whispered, finally giving a fry to Jean afterwards.

“I wonder what got her so tired.” Annie questions, making Jean sink into the couch out of guilt as Eren sends him an irritated glance.

“Jean went and gave her a sugar rush before we got here. It was absolute hell.” Eren’s eyes furrow in frustration as he remembers earlier today and how hard it was for him to catch a nap without his energetic 2 year old jumping all over him. All while Jean was happily eating lunch with his wife.

“Okay, but I didn’t know she wasn’t supposed to have that much candy! Kids eat candy like crazy, right?” He attempts to defend himself, looking around the room for support, only to be met with silence.

“Yeah, thing is she’s not a kid! She’s a toddler! Dumbass.” he mumbles the last part, hoping that Y/N somehow wouldn’t hear. But she always found a way how.

“Can someone please slap Eren for me?” She yells from the kitchen. “Stop cursing in front of Myra!”

Eren has no time to defend himself as volunteers step up to do what their friend asked, but Mikasa was the quickest, and Eren was even quicker. He swiftly grabs Myra’s frog blanket from the bag sat beside him and hids his face in it, saving it from the harsh blow of Mikasa’s hand.

“You’re lucky I didn’t miss completely, I just don’t wanna wake Myra.” she confesses, walking back to her seat.

“God, I cant believe we almost named her after you.” Eren groaned, blanket still clutched in hand.

“Mimi’s close enough for me.” She smiles, noticing the way Myra starts to squirm a bit. “Throw the blanket over her, I think she’s cold.” She suggests, bringing Eren’s attention back to the little girl on his chest.

Eren is quick to unravel the rather big blanket from his grasp and take it in both hands to bring it in the air, watching it fall perfectly onto her small figure. The blanket basically covered his whole torso, the end tickling his neck a bit.

“Thanks again for the blanket, Historia. She loves it so much, a little too much.” he says, feeling his daughter move under the blanket so that her little arms were wrapped around his torso as far as she could go. “She won’t use the one I got her anymore.” he says with a slight frown.

The group laughs again, but quietly this time, not wanting the little girl to possibly wake up in a fit.

“I wouldn’t blame her, to be honest.” Jean shrugs, giving Eren a knowing glance, as well as a sly smirk. He knows how mad Y/N would get if he were to disobey her, especially a few minutes after she scolded him. Since Y/N was only a few feet away, Eren aggresively sticks his middle finger up to the man. It’s not like Myra could see through the blanket anyway.

“Are you gonna finish your ghost story, Jean?” Annie asked, although she didn’t believe a word. She just wants to see him make a fool out of himself.

Jeans eyes light up, snapping his fingers together as he sits upstraight again, ready to go into full detail once again. “Right! Okay, okay, so right when I went to shave my beard...”

Eren let’s Jean’s apparent ghost encounter story fade in the background, focusing on the shallow breaths coming from his daughter. He felt himself getting a little drowsy himself, as if her sleepiness was seeping into him.

He doesn’t waste time lifting the blanket a bit to wrap a protective arm around her small figure under it, adjusting his posture on the sofa and crossing his ankles over one another. His let his neck sink into the back of the couch, letting his head go as well so he facing the ceiling. With the warmth of the blanket and the little girl under it, he couldn’t help but close his drowsy eyes as well, finally giving in.

A few minutes pass and Jean is done telling his story, but of course, no one believes him. All except Historia. “Thank you, Historia! See I’m telling the truth. Morons.” Jean rolls his eyes at the way Armin and Sasha curl up as they laughed, Mikasa and Annie trying their best to hold in theirs.

Jean soon notices the person who would’ve regurlarly had the most to say was being awfully quiet. Getting ready to scold him for not listening, Jean is met with a site he has to admit, is the cutest thing he’s seen all year.

Eren was deep in slumber, soft snores coming from him and the little girl that rested as peacefully as he did on top of him. The print of his arm around her could be seen through the green blanket, as well as both of their steady breaths. They looked so comfortable, it would be a pain for them to get up soon, which they would have to eventually.

“Awww, they’re adorable!!” Historia exclaims from the other side of the room, which seemed to catch Y/N’s attention all the way from the kitchen.

“What’s happening? Is something cute happening? Someone take pictures!” She exclaimed, wanting to abandon the plates and take them herself, but thinks that would be rather rude to leave poor connie alone.

“On it!” Sasha and Jean say in unison. Both are quick to pull out their phones, Jean getting the more unappealing angles, while Sasha actually put some effort into it and snapped a few photos.

These were being sent to every single person on her contact list.

this was written at like 2 am sorry if there are typos i swear i reread 💔

also i’m currently working on a mob fic idk if ppl still like those but i most definitely do so watch out for that one :p

hope y’all liked this one lol

-aysha <3

[amjustagirl]

CHAPTER 2 - FALLEN

Fic Summary:

The sky Oikawa Tooru’s heart seeks is a world away from the earth yours is buried in. You are a fool to trust him with your heart anyway.

Where Oikawa Tooru tries to recapture your heart. 

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3

Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x fem! reader

Genre / Wordcount : Angst (7k words), cameo from MSBY 4

Warnings: One non-explicit bedroom scene.

Masterlist link here!

Tag list link here!

You catch sight of Oikawa Tooru as you bustle through the hospital’s sliding doors, your usual cup of coffee in your hand that you buy on the way to work. He’s seated in the waiting area next to a middle aged man you guess must be his manager, from the way he jumps to his feet immediately to act as a human shield as you call out breathlessly - 

“T - Oikawa? What are you doing here?” 

Tooru’s head swivels around to meet your gaze, and you’re shocked by the lifelessness in his eyes until you glance at the bandages wrapped around his swollen knee. 

Oh. 

You try not to stare, but you do so anyway. The sight of your ex-boyfriend makes you feel as if you’re seeing a ghost, a specter from some past life. You last saw him when he was twenty one, young and proud, wax wings fully spread, a speck in the skies. What a difference five years makes. His shoulders are still broad, and the tilt of his jaw is still proud, but the light in his eyes has faded to darkness, and the pallor of his skin suggests far too much time spent away from the sun. 

Icarus, Icarus. Your hubris has led you to such heights, but look how far you’ve fallen. 

It’s surprising there’s no news of his injury, considering he’s one third of Japan’s trifecta of setters in the volleyball scene’s monster generation. With the Olympics rapidly approaching with just over a year to go, an injury must be devastating, especially to Oikawa Tooru, with dreams of Olympic greatness and victory on his native shores. 

A nurse materialises to usher Oikawa away for surgery before he can respond to the pity in your gaze. You look around. He’s alone, save for his manager. No one deserves to be wake up alone after surgery, so you call after him - 

“I’ll check in on you after you’re done! Gambatte!”

He responds with a thumbs up and a weak smile. 

You flip through his medical files once you get the chance. 

Oikawa Tooru, twenty six. Pro-volleyball player for EJP Raijin previously, currently playing in the Argentinian league. Narrowly missed out on making the cut for the previous Olympics, but went on to represent Japan in the last three World Cups, alternating with Miya Atsumu and Kageyama Tobio. Obviously hoping for another shot at the Olympics, but that’s looking bleak from what you’re gleaning from his medical records. 

His right knee has always bothered him, even during his high school days. Now, a decade later, it looks like he’s managed to tear his tendon to shreds. 

Volleyball is a cruel, demanding mistress, especially for one not born a genius. 

The surgery to repair a torn knee ligament is delicate work, requiring an experienced surgeon, and the road to recovery requires extensive physiotherapy. It’s no wonder he’s resorted to the modern Tokyo hospital you work in rather than returning to his native Sendai to recuperate. The downside of doing so though, is that he’d have to recover alone. 

You wrinkle your nose. He may be your ex-boyfriend, but he doesn’t deserve that. 

The sun is setting when you finally find the time to slip into his room. 

As expected, he’s still asleep. The anesthetic will take some time to wear off. From the looks of the surgeon’s notes, the surgery was a success - though you know from the nature and extent of the injury that his road to recovery will be long and winding.   

So you seat yourself in the visitor’s chair with a hot cup of tea and an onigiri to stave off your hunger at not finding time for a break any earlier. You had an awful day at work today, two of your patients puked on you, another tried to fight you when you drew his blood, and the senior registrar in the ward assigned you a mountain of paperwork that you only just managed to complete, so you give in to sleep yourself as exhaustion settles into your bones.

“Princess?”  

You snap awake at the familiar nickname, ignoring the flush working its way up the back of your neck as you leap to his bedside to check his vitals, only relaxing when you’re satisfied everything’s fine. 

“You’re just waking up after a surgery, Oikawa”. When his forehead crinkles in confusion at the sound of his surname, you correct yourself. “I mean - Tooru”. The corners of his cracked lips tilt up in satisfaction. 

“Will you stay with me?” Tooru murmurs, eyelids beginning to droop again. 

You smile fondly despite yourself. “Do you want me to?” you ask. 

He manages to pout even as he’s falling back asleep. “I asked, didn’t I?” 

You smooth his hair from his forehead, slotting your hand into his. “Fine, fine. Go to bed, sleeping beauty”. 

He huffs an amused breath from his nose before he closes his eyes, contented. Trust Tooru to be shameless enough to cling on to his ex-girlfriend without a shred of awkwardness. You end up staying in his room for hours, watching him sleep.

The heart that you’ve locked away behind bars of bone and steel twitches, just once. 

You frown when the nurse catches your sleeve. “A patient’s looking for you” she says, just as you’re about to go off on a short break. 

“Who?” you reply, wondering whether it’s Sato-san who vomited this morning, or Imai-san whose blood pressure niggles at your mind. You do not expect the nurse to flush pink as she replies - “Oikawa-san”, describing the sweet young man with lovely brown eyes and such a charming voice. 

You slip back into his room when your shift ends. You expect to see a shadow of a man with broken wings, and you do catch a fleeting glimpse of Tooru staring wistfully out of the window, face tilted towards the sun before he turns to you with a wide smile and a pleased - “you came!”  

This is the Oikawa Tooru you are accustomed to dealing with. “Stop flirting with the nurses”, you tell him briskly, bustling over to look at his files. “They have jobs to do, don’t use them to carry messages to me.”

“But I’m boredddd.”

“I’m sure you have volleyball videos to watch.”

“I watched them all day today. ‘Sides, I watched all the matches on today already, twice – and I have plenty of time to watch them a third time. I have plenty of time to catch up with you, I haven’t seen you in so long!”

Five years since you broke up to be exact, but you sidestep that fact neatly, pouring over his medical file instead. His doctors’ notes indicate his recovery is promising. He brightens up when you tell him so, playfully complaining that hospital food is shit in a thinly veiled attempt to steal your food, a habit he’s clearly not outgrown. But you’re not all that hungry anyway, so you split your pork bun in half and hand it to him, dropping into the visitor’s chair. 

“So how’re you feeling?” 

“Like shit. My knee hurts so muchhhh.” 

You shrug, careless. “That’s pretty expected, to be honest.”

“Hmph. I thought they’d have taught you some bedside manners in medical school”, he snipes, though the effect is rather lost when his cheeks are comically round and full of food. 

You laugh, the stress from your day lifting from your shoulders.  

“I seem to forget them when it’s you.”

“So mean”, he pouts, hiding the familiar gleam in his eye that appears whenever he’s trying to analyse his opponents, take them apart. “As punishment, tell me about yourself. What have you been up to these days?” 

You decide to treat him like any old friend, giving him the condensed run down of your professional life,  how you’ve graduated from medical school (with top marks I bet, he interjects), how you chose to stay in Tokyo instead of returning to Sendai (your parents must miss you he says, and you brush him off with an airy they have other children, they’ll survive), how you chose to work in this hospital because you’re considering a specialisation in Orthopedic surgery (because of your grandma, I bet, he says, and you choose not to correct that, using your silence as a lie).  

He in turn tells you about the highlights of his career, how he’s spent a year at EJP Raijin before he was headhunted to the Argentinian league, how he spent four years overseas save for summers back in Japan to train with the national team, how he’s hopeful, even now, of recovering and fighting for his spot on the Olympic roster next year. 

You already knew all of that from news alerts on your phone you never forced yourself to delete, diverting him instead with a question about life in Argentina, nodding as he reminisces about his apartment in San Juan where he gets to watch the sun set over the Andes mountains, the kitchen that he stuffed full of Japanese groceries like daishi and mirin and sake and miso in his first year there just so he has a tangible reminder of home. 

You stop yourself from wondering whether he thinks about the little home he shared with you with such fondness. That time has passed. 

His voice wavers as he spins you stories about his teammates - Matteo, whose family owns a vineyard and taught him to appreciate wine like a proper Argentinian, Miguel, who makes the best empanadas and gets roaring drunk every time they win a match, Gabriel, who takes him to his family’s home in the mountains every other weekend because his grandmother is convinced that a single young man without family in the city will starve if he’s left to his own devices. 

It seems his wings were durable enough for him to soar across the oceans, his grit and determination the foundation of the new life he’s built, whole continents away. 

“It’s funny how the world works”, you remark off hand. “I never expected to see you again.”

His eyes gleam again. “The universe seems to work in funny ways.” 

You start spending breaks in his room, scarfing down your lunch and dinner while he talks your ear off about the horrible sitcoms or ridiculous game shows he’s watched today. You catch him watching a video of Kageyama’s serves and you’re amused when he practically hisses when you comment idly that his kouhai has certainly improved since his high school days. 

You ignore his spluttered protests that service records aren’t everything and besides, his own spike serves have definitely won Japan a game or two last year until, with the air of a boy king, he commands you to sit next to him on the hospital bed so he can pull up a compilation of his serves and his best moments. 

Years might have passed, but you’re still hopeless at refusing him. Besides, isn’t it better that you distract him from the sorry state of his knee? So you do as he says, ignoring the faint flutter of your traitorous heart as he leans into your side. 

“See? I told you my spike serves are amazing?”

“Yes, yes. I already knew that. I watched so many of your practices in university, remember?”

He looks at you strangely. “Did you?” he asks, leaning his head on his hand, eyes boring into yours. 

You think of evenings spent sitting on the bleachers, homework in your lap as you watch as the boy you love builds the strength in his wax wings in preparation for his eventual flight. “Yes”, you admit, sheets rustling as you shift away from him, avoiding his perplexed frown. “You were probably too focused on practice to notice.”

You already know you shouldn’t spend so much time in his room, but you’ve spent most of your life doing what you should instead of what you want to so just this once, you ignore rational thought in favour of sentiment.

After all, he’ll be discharged from hospital in a week, then you’ll never see him again. 

Tooru promptly proves you wrong the day before he’s scheduled to be discharged. 

“I need someone to help me move into my apartment.”

“Hire a mover”, you tell him. You don’t even look up from your notes. 

“Already did”, he chirps, undaunted by your apparent disinterest. “But it’d be nice to have a friend who I know will be nice enough to help poor old crippled me put my stuff away.” Then he grins cheekily, “plus I checked with that pretty nurse – Yuna-san was it? Anyway, she told me you’re off tomorrow, so you might as well spend the day with me.”

There goes your excuse to wriggle out of having to spend your rare day off with your ex. 

“I have a mountain of sleep debt to pay off”, you protest, but faced with wide brown eyes and an embarrassing wobble of his lip, you comply. Still, you manage to get the promise of a free dinner out of him, so you suppose it’ll do.

Tooru doesn’t have much to unpack, a couple of cardboard boxes of clothes and books, probably because most of his belongings are still in Argentina. He laughs and raises his hands in an attempt to placate you when you lift an eyebrow, first at the lack of kitchen equipment in his furnished apartment, second at the weights and volleyball he tries to smuggle in behind your back. 

“You’re not supposed to exercise for at least a month or two”, you cluck your tongue, sighing with disapproval at the furtive look he casts at the volleyball sitting at the corner of his living room.

“I can set while sitting on a stool! Don’t scold me, my heart can’t bear it”. He throws a hand across his face, brow creased dramatically. 

Icarus, Icarus. You’ve already fallen once. Will you seek out the sun again? 

A string of familiarity loops into a knot over your heart. If you close your eyes and count to ten, you can imagine that you’re eighteen again, chiding the boy you love for practicing too hard. But you’re twenty six now, a full fledged adult who should know better than to dabble in sentiment again (especially when it comes to brown eyed boys who only dream of the sun), so you slash through the threads connecting you to him with a flash of your teeth, bury your beating heart deeper into the dungeon you’ve built years ago of white bone and solid steel.  

“Do what you want, but your neighbours will hate you if you keep thumping that damn ball against the wall.” You say, simply, dismissively. 

“No one could ever hate me”, he declares with bravado. “I’ll charm them all with my charm and good looks.”

“Ridiculous”, you huff, dumping the last of his clothing into the cupboard. “Where’s the dinner you promised? I want ramen and gyoza at least.”

“So demanding”, he lilts. “I’ll order in. Tonkatsu ramen with char siu, bamboo shoots, extra spring onions with gyoza on the side?” 

Your heart struggles against its shackles. He still remembers your order.  

“Yes”, you finally say. “You got that right.”

He grins at you cheekily, as if to say of course. 

After you gulp down your ramen, devour your gyozas, you pack up, ready to leave. You have an early shift tomorrow, and you’re already dreaming about your soft bed whilst dreading the cup of coffee you’ll have to down tomorrow morning just to stay awake. 

He catches your wrist, presses the spare key to the apartment into your hand.  “Come back. I want to see you again”, he says, an order and not a plea. 

You are about to make up an excuse, tell him anything but the truth that you suspect it’s bad for your heart to keep seeing him again. 

“Please” - he adds with a tint of fragility to his voice. 

“I’ll be back when I can”, you finally say. 

“Tomorrow?” he looks up at you with hopeful eyes. 

“We’ll see”, you pry your hand loose from his grasp, slip out the front door. 

You stay away for two days, citing your work schedule as an excuse until he wears you down with a barrage of cutesy line stickers aimed at driving home how lonely he is and how much he misses your presence. You’re being dramatic as usual, you text him dryly, but you turn up anyway at his apartment on a Friday night, letting yourself in with an armful of reports and a bucket of oden. 

“How’re you doing? Are you listening to your physiotherapist? Eating properly? Sleeping well?”

“You sound like my mother”, he grouses, rolling his wheelchair to the dining table. 

You flick at his forehead, he slumps back in his wheelchair.  “Stop bullying the cripple’, he wheezes through his chortle. 

“You deserve it”, you retort. “Don’t run away from the question. How’re you feeling?”

“It still hurts”, he admits with a mock sniff. “It should stop hurting by nowwww.”

You push your glasses up the bridge of your nose. “That’s to be expected. Your sinews just got stitched together two weeks ago. Not sure why you’d expect any less.”

“Bah, rude. At least you didn’t say I told you so”, he grumbles, spooning oden into his mouth. “That would be insufferable.”

“Well, maybe you’ll listen to me now that I’m actually a doctor”, you inform him pertly, batting away memories of a teenage boy with hazel eyes shouting indignantly at you after practice in the Seijoh gym.

Tooru snorts. “I can’t believe my eighteen year old self was dumb enough to open my future self up to a jab like that”, he complains, chewing on a cabbage roll grumpily. 

“We’re all dumb at eighteen”, you remark. “You’re no exception.” 

“You were dumb enough to date me”, he teases with a mocking smile.  

Your spoon slips from your hand momentarily. It’s the first time he’s alluded to your past relationship. 

“I was, wasn’t I”, you say lightly, before turning the conversation to Tooru’s physiotherapy sessions. 

You have no wish to delve back into the past, but you’re willing to be his friend since he seems to need one for now.  

Tooru’s knee recovers enough for him to shift from his wheelchair to crutches, which he points at you playfully, mimicking a gun every time you pop by for a visit. He seems to plan his physiotherapy session around your schedule, just so he can wheedle you into paying him yet another visit when your shift at the hospital end, bribing you with a cup of coffee with a hint of chocolate from the café across the street that you’ve never found the time to visit. 

“Thank you, kind sir”, you say, accepting the coffee with a laugh. 

“You’re welcome, my lady”, he answers with a smirk, motioning you to follow him for yet another evening to be spent in his home sitting across him, red ink smeared on your hands as you mark up the reports in your lap. 

His façade that he’s coping with his injury just fine slips every so often. You catch him more often than not watching compilation videos of Kageyama and Atsumu at the World Cup this year with a strained expression on his face, or resting his chin on the windowsill whilst staring wistfully at the birds in the sky. 

He does not confide about his worries to you. You’re not sure you want him to. 

But you can’t explain to yourself the impulse to purchase a bird feeder for his balcony, nor the glow-in-the-dark poster of the constellations that you cart into his bedroom until your heart has to scramble for equilibrium when he thanks you, his smile soft. 

“In exchange for all the coffee you’ve bought me”, you reply, turning away to hide all evidence of your heart’s betrayal, the diffusion of blood in your cheeks.  

A month passes. Then another. 

The crutches get kept in the storeroom. A limp remains, but the degree which his knee can bend increases by the day. His mood improves even further, and you constantly find yourself swerving to avoid his affectionate gazes, his attempts at flirtation. 

“You’re looking so pretty today!” he lilts, fitting his arm snugly into the crook of your elbow as you walk down the neon lit streets of Tokyo. He insisted on this outing, and in the custom of your rekindled friendship, managed to convince you to accompany him on your off day so he can get crepes from Harajuku notwithstanding the fact that it takes forty five minutes on the train and his knee still acts up from time to time.  

“It’s my first time downtown in a month”, you tell him. “Of course I’m going to dress up.” You don’t tell him you spent far too long in front of your closet, tossing outfits on your bed until you found one that complements you just right. 

He buys you trinkets, hair accessories that you’ll never wear, tries to win you ridiculous stuffed toys from the claw machine. 

“You’re wasting money”, you scold, wiping the whipped cream from his mouth. 

“It’s not a waste if it’s for you”, he tells you, with startling sincerity that you still doubt.

He doesn’t mean it, you tell yourself. It’s just Tooru being Tooru. 

You refuse to admit what’s staring you in the face until you have to duck your head to avoid his attempt at pressing his lips to your cheek. 

“Goodnight, Tooru”, you manage to say before you bolt off into the night. You check to make sure your heart is still under lock and key. 

It is, but it beats resentfully. Tooru, it beats against its bars with frightening intensity. Tooru. Tooru.  

You ignore it. You know what’s best for it.

You stay away from him for a fortnight, requesting for a change in your schedule without updating him, taking the other exit from the hospital so you don’t have to see him. You stay away until he manages to wear you down yet again, texting you the most ridiculous conspiracy theories about your absence from his life – you must be abducted by aliens, he texts you once, or your mother forced you to marry some stranger, I can break you out if you just say the word. 

He has a guest, you hear another voice, deeper, filled with gravel and intensity, so different from Tooru’s lighter lilt. You do not mean to eavesdrop, but you don’t want to interrupt Tooru when he has a rare guest over, and there’s nowhere else for you wait save for the dusty front step, so you settle yourself in, pen poised to continue your work. 

“What did the doctor say? When are you coming back for practice?” 

“I’m doing good! The physiotherapist thinks I can try light exercise next week. If all goes well, I’ll be back to practice in a month.”

“Sounds promising.”

“I had a good medical team. And I’m actually resting properly!”

“Shittykawa. Stop sounding so proud about doing what’s necessary for your recovery.”

“Iwa-channnn, stop being mean to meeee!”

Ah, Iwaizumi, of course. You haven’t seen him in years, but you remember him from school, a stoic boy with a good heart. You wonder if he’s changed. 

“Are you planning on heading back to Argentina?”

Tooru answers without hesitation. “Of course”, he says airily. “As long as they take me back.”

Your foolish heart shudders with disappointment. Of course. If you run your fingers down his spine, you’ll probably find blooms of wax attached to his very bone. 

You are about to stand up and leave when Tooru speaks up again. 

“But I’m going to enjoy my time in Japan while I’m back. Did I tell you I reconnected with my ex? She’s great, it feels like I never left.”

The firestorm of blood in your ears nearly drowns out Iwaizumi’s growled ‘piece of shit’ (he truly hasn’t changed after all), the clatter of glassware as Tooru protests that he’s not playing with your heart, he truly cares about you, his sullen silence when Iwaizumi demands what’s going to happen when he leaves Japan for Argentina, when he inevitably leaves you behind (yet again).   

Of course. 

You know his heart longs for the sky. There is no space for you. 

You barely have time to react when the door swings open, Iwaizumi on the verge of storming out. You plaster a smile to your face that does not fool him, but you hang on to it nonetheless, cracks appearing only when he gives you a wide eyed look of sympathy that only pours oil onto the flaming war between your brain and your heart. 

“It’s fine”, you say, and though he clearly does not believe you, he bows and leaves anyway. 

Tooru stares at you, mouth open, stumbling over himself with apologies and demands for you to tell him what you’ve overheard, but you motion for him to just stop with your hand, wave aside his protest that he means what he said, he truly likes you.  

Your heart screeches in delight, but your mind is firmly in the driver’s seat. 

“Let’s just pretend I never heard you say that, and we can continue just as before.”

“As friends?” he says, twisting his lips as if the words taste sour in his mouth. He clutches at your shoulders.

“I want more. I want you.”

Your heart thrums in agreement, but you recall assembling the remains of your heart back into your chest whilst kneeling on the cold bathroom floor half a decade ago. The span of five years should have molded you to view your shared past with pragmatism, but your heart seems to have forgotten its lesson. You shake your head.

“There’s no way you truly want me. I don’t think you’ve only ever had space in your heart for anything but your goals.” 

Your response emerges more bitter than you intend. 

“That’s not true”, he weakly protests. “I care about you.”

Not enough, you refrain from telling him. “Let’s remain friends”, you do say, and he opens his mouth to object again, but at the hard look you give him, he slumps back with a defeated nod.

He tries to respect your decision, never complaining when you keep a careful arm’s length distance from him, though you can feel his heated gaze on you whenever he thinks you won’t notice, hear his quiet sighs whenever you shy away from any accidental touch. He droops when you turn down his invite for lunch with his family when they come down for a visit, citing work even though he knows you’re off for the day. 

Still, it’s manageable and he says he needs you, so you return for visits, at least twice weekly, offering encouraging smiles and friendly words when he returns first to light exercise, then to rehabilitative practice a month later, just as he predicted. 

He carves out time for dinners with you, taking care to ask about your day, preferring to spin you stories about the pigeons and doves and crows crowding his balcony rather than talking about volleyball or his practice. He insists on escorting you to his apartment after work when you allow him to, offering you his arm with a soft smile that disarms you, dissolves any resistance. 

It’s an uneasy equilibrium, but it’ll suffice. 

The careful balance you’ve maintained in the space between you and Tooru is shattered when you find you’re not the only one who’s decided to pay him a surprise visit on a Friday night. 

“Tooru, ya didn’t say ya got yerself a pretty girl during yer break”, a man with bleach blonde hair wolf whistles appreciatively when you step into the apartment. 

“I’m just a friend”, you reply confusedly before Tooru’s shout “Shove off, Miya” confirms that one Miya Atsumu has decided to invade Tooru’s apartment. Well, him and what seems like half the MSBY team, with Hinata Shoyo, Bokuto Koutaro and Sakusa Kiyoomi squashed uncomfortably on Tooru’s tiny sofa, long legs stretched across the living room. 

It turns out the MSBY team just finished a game in Tokyo, and Hinata dragged his teammates to visit Tooru in a wholesome bid to cheer him up. You try to excuse yourself after exchanging nods with Sakusa (he hasn���t changed much from his university days) when Miya Atsumu blocks your retreat with a drawled invite for Izakaya and the promise of karaoke after. 

Tooru mouths playfully at you don’t leave me alone with these clowns (you’re tempted to point out that he’s very much one himself), and before you can even blink, you find yourself dragged along to the nearest Izakaya, impressed by the amount of food each man polishes off - skewers of chicken hearts and cartilage, bowls of potato salad and rice with braised pork belly, listening to stories of their exploits on the national team together, stumbling into the karaoke bar tipsy from the beers that Miya Atsumu pressed into your hand, head heavy enough to allow him to wind an arm around your waist. 

“She’s too old for you, ‘Tsumu-kun”, Tooru trills, inserting himself in between you and Atsumu, mouth taut with aggravation. 

“I’m not old, just a year older”, you roll your eyes, as the blonde setter backs away, lips turned up in amusement. Tooru is not placated, muttering how the younger setter is a douche and a sleeze bag as he drapes his jacket over you like a blanket. You nestle against his side, head on his shoulder as his arm rests protectively around you. 

Atsumu watches this with raised eyebrows, whistling slowly, opening his mouth to remark that he’s never seen Oikawa so smitten before when Hinata interrupts with a chirped  “‘Tsum-Tsum, join me!”, handing him a microphone while bouncing on the balls of his feet. 

Karaoke is the most fun you’ve had in ages. Hinata and Bokuto and Atsumu sing all their favourite anime theme songs with gusto - Atsumu even gets misty eyed when he croons Sparkle by Radwimps, reddening when everyone teases him for being a romantic sap, Bokuto shaking his hips to Western pop hits, Hinata showing off his Spanish skills. Sakusa refuses to even touch the microphone but you suppose it’s a win that he’s even in the karaoke booth with all of you. 

Tooru slaps away Atsumu’s attempts at handing you any further alcohol, forcing you to down cups of water until you are no longer glassy eyed, but still tipsy enough to agree to sing ridiculous K-On songs with Hintata and Bokuto, not stopping even when Tooru whips out his phone to video the entire performance with an indulgent smile. 

“Delete it!” you squeal, losing your balance when you try swiping the phone out of his hands, tripping into his lap instead.  

“In your dreams, princess”, Tooru chuckles, his arms snaking around you like a vise. 

“Anndd that’s our cue to call it a night”, Atsumu quips, herding Hinata and Bokuto out onto the street, Sakusa heaving an audible sigh of relief. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, kids!” he calls over his shoulder, throwing you a wink. 

“I’m technically his senpai, cheeky brat”, Tooru mutters, the irritation in his voice washing away as you giggle. “C’mon, it’s too late for you to get home and my place is nearer to the hospital so you might as well stay over tonight. You can take the bed, I’ll take the sofa.”

You shake your head, arguing that you couldn’t possibly turn an invalid like him out of his bed but he huffs at the insinuation that he’s anything but well, his knee almost whole again. You give in after he convinces you that it’d be more inconvenient for him to escort you all the way to your own home rather than put you up for the night, and you allow him to loop his arm around yours and lead you back to his apartment. 

It’s not the first time you’ve been in his apartment this late, not by a long shot, but it is the first time you’re over with the intention of staying over. The t-shirt you borrow from Tooru hangs off your frame, the scent of the fabric softener Tooru uses is familiar. You would’ve preferred being tipsier to dull your senses, but alcohol would only impair your logic, allow your heart to prevail, so you try to quell the thrumming of your blood in your veins by curling up on a seat by the window with a cup of tea when Tooru emerges from his shower. 

“Ready for bed?” he asks, towelling off his hair, frowning when you shake your head. “It’s late, you have work tomorrow, even if it’s the afternoon shift.”

“It’s fine”, you say without turning your head to face him. “Go to bed, I’ll take the couch.”

“I’m insulted, princess. What kind of a man d’you think I am to make his guest sleep on the couch? ”

It’s less dangerous to ignore him, so you pay him no mind, choosing instead to lean your chin in your hand and look up towards the night sky. It soothes you, the moon an old friend, reminding of five years’ worth of quiet nights spent in your own flat, filtering your younger self into adulthood. 

“What’re you looking at?” He takes a step forward, kneels down next to you. 

“The moon and the stars”, you say dreamily. “They’re pretty tonight.”

A myriad of weather conditions must coincide to allow the stars to even be visible in the polluted Tokyo night sky, but tonight of all nights fate intervenes, the stars align. The sky is cloudless, the full moon hangs heavy, the stars shimmer and dance.  

“Are they?” Tooru whispers. “I haven’t noticed.”

You finally turn to look at him. “Why’re you staring at me?” 

The unconscious echo of your past - a boy and a girl, falling in love under the same night sky makes his mouth twist wistfully, eyes faded gold.

“Because you are my sun, my moon and my stars. I love you better than anything in the sky.”

Your mouth falls open, your heart suddenly roaring, pounding against its restraints. 

“You can’t mean that”, you whisper. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”

“I do”, he says, with heartbreaking sincerity. “And I always will.”

Nostalgia, aided by the lingering alcohol in your veins opens the gate to your foolish heart. You want to pretend that you are eighteen again, without a care in the world, indulging in the warmth of his hand on the small of your back, the caress of his breath on your cheek. Your lips beckon his, swallowing the catch of his breath when your hands slide under his shirt. 

“Are you sure about this?” His eyes are hungry, almost ravenous, but his hands still hover at the hem of your top. 

“Yes”, you murmur, pressing open mouthed kisses to the column of his neck. “Please, Tooru - please.” 

He carries you into the bedroom, undresses you with shaking hands, chanting your name with reverence, almost a prayer. His eyes darken with desperation and need, unwilling to allow himself any release until you fall apart boneless, caged in his arms.  

“Stay with me”, he murmurs, after you’ve both cleaned up a second time, tugging you into bed. 

It’s laughable. Five years on, Oikawa Tooru still has the power to make your mind lose all reason (however temporarily). With a single heated look, he commands your heart to break willingly in his hands. How could you not have learnt your lesson? The conversation between him and Iwaizumi merely confirms what you’ve known all this while.

(The sky his heart seeks is a world away from the earth yours is buried in)

Even now, you can see the glimmer of golden wax feathers budding along his spine, gleaming under the pale moonlight. 

You lie under the covers until his breath evens out, then you stumble out of bed. You force your heart to relinquish the keys to its freedom, handing it back to logic and rationality, pulling on your clothing, folding your borrowed clothing aside.  

Tooru mumbles your name, his hand outstretched towards you. “Come back”, he says in his sleep, fragility tinting the edges of his words. 

Your fingers miss the doorknob by an inch. You dash your foolish hopes against the darkness of the room, put on your resolve like armour, leave your spare key on the kitchen counter. 

Without looking back, you slip out into the night. 

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