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moonydustx · 6 months

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Good Medicine

Trafalgar Law x F!Reader

warnings: F!reader is sick, Law has some problems taking action to take care of her. Pre-established relationship, mentions of disgusting things about being sick (basically vomiting) , fluff

a/n: maybe I'll rewrite this better later, I just needed to get it out there to see if it sparked my creativity.

requests open | one piece masterlist

Today was one of those days where you woke up already knowing something was wrong, your only mission was to find out what. The plate in front of you looked strange that morning. The same coffee, the same bread, everything seemed wrong. The same went for your body, it seemed to weigh tons and your stomach was boiling with something that went beyond the hot drink in front of you.

"Are you okay?" Shachi snapped you out of your reverie, watching you roll a piece of the sandwich from one side to the other.

"I just need to get some air." You stood up, not having the trouble to even take your plate off the table.

With hurried steps, you reached the bathroom with just enough time to open the toilet seat before all your breakfast went away. You just hoped that like a good hangover, emptying it would be enough to improve but apparently you were wrong.

You had recently left the last island you had visited, which meant more things to keep: more work for you. In those days, you knew that rest would be scarce, as would the times you would meet your captain - who also served as your boyfriend in his spare time. Chills ran through your body as you struggled to stack two boxes of medical supplies, your body seemed to sweat more than usual. You heard your name being called in the distance, needing to focus a few times before you saw Law approaching.

"Are you ok?" He analyzed you from top to bottom. Pale lips, deep dark circles, something was wrong.

"Yes captain." you replied, respecting your treaty for when you were in public. "Just some heartburn."

"Keep an eye on it. You know where to find the medicine." he simply responded, analyzing you once more before leaving.

You finished putting away the boxes and leaned against the wall, trying to regain the air and strength lost in the whole process. Following the quick orders your captain had given, you swallowed some pills and continued with your tasks, even though your body seemed to fight against every movement.

You loved Law and you knew he loved you too, but sometimes it was a little difficult to deal with how methodical he could be especially when it came to being sick. On days like these, he tended to be more of a doctor than a boyfriend and you hated that. Ignoring the thoughts, you made your way to your shared room, reaching the bed and seeing Ikkaku hanging from the top.

"What ghost scared you?"

"What you mean?" you threw yourself against the pillows, using the blanket.

"You're pale, you look like you're going to disappear." She came down, standing in front of you and placing her hand on your forehead. "And you're burning up with a fever."

"I've already taken my medicine." you covered your head, trying to escape the cold that only you felt. "I just need to get some sleep."

"Did you eat anything bad?" She pulled your blanket back. "Or are you pregnant?"

"I'm betting more on the first hypothesis." you immediately reassured her, knowing that for the other proposal, you and Law were always responsible in terms of protecting each other. "I think it's just a virus."

"Did you warn Law?"

"He asked me to..." you sat down, to continue talking, but again your stomach turned.

Without responding, you ran once again towards the bathroom, this time Ikkaku's hurried footsteps followed you.

"Open the door." she asked and even though she didn't see it, you shook your head. A few minutes passed before it knocked again.

"I am worried." she warned. "Open the door or I'll have to call him here."

"It is not necessary." you reached up, unlocking the lock. "I'm just a little dizzy."

"Let me help you." Ikkaku pulled you, supporting your body as you washed your face. "Are you sure the medicine alone is enough?"

"Yes." you replied with clear discouragement in your voice.

"I'm going back to my room, maybe getting some sleep will help me."

Walking a few meters from the bathroom, the two of you came face to face with Law followed by Bepo, both discussing something about the likely next island they would find.

"Are you feeling ok?" Bepo was the first to ask and you just nodded. Law's gaze burned over you again, analyzing every inch of your body.

He knew there was something wrong, but he didn't know how far he wanted to intervene, for fear that you would feel uncomfortable.

"Do you need any help?" he asked in your direction, waiting for you to say yes.

"It's okay captain." you replied before Ikkaku spoke for you, giving what was your best smile for the moment.

he two of you walked away from him and it didn't take long for you to reach the bedroom. Ikkaku helped you get to the bed and watched you cover yourself up to your head. Being one of the only two people who knew about your relationship with the captain, she sat at the foot of the bed, watching you.

"Are you sure you don't want to ask him for help?"

"He's going to medicate me, probably tell me to eat and rest. I've already done almost all of that." you answered. "I don't want to be a problem for him, I know it's not in his profile to take care of someone like that, in a more intimate way."

"But it's what you need right now." she replied, walking away. "Get some rest, I'll ask them to prepare something light for you to eat."

The lights went out and you remained there in a light doze bothered by the fever. Ikkaku followed with firm steps, finding the captain heading towards his room, approaching him halfway and pretending to be angry.

"Captain, I need to talk to you."

She tried to appear more imposing in order to advocate for her friend, but she knew that would be a bit difficult when the person you want to impose yourself on is your captain. Law just gave her space to enter the room, closing the door for her.

"What happened?"

"Are you really going to let your girlfriend walk around dying?" she crossed her arms, indignant.

"She said it was just heartburn."

"That was her talking to her doctor. With her boyfriend she would definitely ask for help. Can I give some unsolicited advice captain?" Ikkaku leaned on the table, taking the opportunity to look around.

"I guess I have no choice, right?"

"She's burning up with a fever in her room, she vomited her guts out and can't stand up." with each new symptom, Law was the one who seemed to get paler and more worried. "Take care of her a little. A little affection is also good medicine."

"Right..." he seemed to analyze, waiting for more answers from the woman in front of him.

"I'll ask them to prepare some soup for her and leave it in her room, okay?"

"Could it be." Law turned his back to Ikkaku, ready to leave. "Thank you. This time I won't throw you into the sea out of insolence." he joked, earning a few laughs from the woman.

Law knew something was wrong, now he needed to find out why you didn't ask for his help. He walked quickly and felt his heart shatter when he found you curled up and shaking under the blanket.

"Just let me sleep Ikkaku, I don't know if I can eat right now." your dejected voice murmured, squeezing Law's heart even more.

Now it was all so clear, so obvious that part of the doctor felt ashamed for not having noticed it before. You were so careful with anyone who even cut a piece of their finger, it was obvious you wanted the same treatment.

"Hey, sorry it took me so long." he whispered. You opened your eyes and found Law bent down on your bed, his fingers were removing the strands stuck to your face by sweat. "I'm going to do a quick scan on you."

He warned and then used the sword he carried, analyzing every millimeter of your body. It seemed to be a virus and a resistant one. That would explain the fever and the tremors.

"Let me take proper care of you."

"No." you murmured, feeling his arms go around your legs and back, picking you up. "I already took medicine."

"I know."

"And I don't want to be tied up in an IV." you tried to pull away from him, feeling your stomach drop at the movement.

"I'm not going to medicate you." the blue dome appeared around the two of you.

"And I think I need to throw up."

At the last second, Law changed your fate, taking you to the bathroom. As soon as the gray walls of your room turned into the walls of the bathroom, you reached the floor again, leaning over the toilet and despite the immense urge your body didn't seem to have any more bile to be expelled. It took him a few seconds to follow you, but soon his hands found your hair, holding it with one hand while the other passed your forehead.

"Law." you called and flinched, pressing your own body against yourself. "It hurts."

"I'm so sorry sweetheart." he placed his hand on top of yours, which was pressed against your stomach. "You still have a fever and haven't eaten anything, we need energy for your body." he confirmed, gently lifting you off the ground. "Come on, I'll give you a bath.

"I'm disgusting."

"That's the point." Law spoke and saw you laugh, albeit lightly, which was already a relief for him. "I'm just kidding. Let's try to get this fever down."

Knowing that you didn't have enough strength to even talk, Law guided you to the shower, taking off your clothes while you leaned on him. As soon as the cold water came into contact with your body, you tried to escape and were immediately held by your boyfriend.

"Law!"

"Just a little, I know it's pretty cold." he allowed you to hug him even more and consequently get him wet in the process. "I promise, just a few minutes and I'll take you back to our room."

"If I survive until then."

"Do not say that." He scolded you, even though he knew that your way of dealing with problems was always sarcastic - sometimes even too much.

Law slowly turned off the shower. The first breeze that hit your damp skin made you cling against him and whimper, Law's usually colder skin this time was a warm pleasure to your body.

You felt a drastic difference in the environment and broke away from the man, seeing that you were in his room. Law guided you to sit on the bed and pulled a small blanket over your shoulders while he looked for some clothes for you to wear. Taking advantage of the comfort, you lay down and watched him walk from one side to the other.

"Can you sit down?" He knelt in front of you, using a small towel to dry your still damp skin.

Leaning on his shoulders, you sat on the bed and for a few minutes, you felt like a delicate, small doll. Using the extra strength he had that you lacked, Law dressed your body piece by piece, like a delicate puzzle. Even with the simple touch of your hand on your shoulder, Law could feel you tremble, probably due to the weakness that the virus brought to you.

A few minutes later, you were dressed. A pair of baggy black sweatpants and a blouse of the same size. Surprising you by showing that he had more pieces than the hat adorned with black circles, Law placed a black cap on your head, adjusting your ears so that they were also warm in the fabric.

"Unfortunately, we can't use that." he pushed away the blanket you were about to use. "If you cover yourself up and get hotter than that, it will only make your fever worse."

Avoiding your grumble, Law sat with his coat against the wall and pulled you to sit against his chest. Watching you curl up against his body, Law picked up the small bowl on the table next to him that Ikkaku had probably left as they agreed.

"I do not want it." you tried to move it away with your hand, having used your strength in vain as Law didn't move an inch. "I just want to sleep, just a little."

"Just a few spoonfuls and I'll let you sleep. It's that or more medicine." He warned, seeing you pout at the time. "Come on, I'll help you."

"Sorry to bring you into this."

"You don't need to say sorry." Law wished he could get rid of that virus right away when he saw you grunting in pain when you swallowed the first spoonful of food. "I should have noticed sooner, I know I can be more distant sometimes, but I need you to make it clear when you need me in moments like this."

"But what about the others, if they suspect something?" you accepted the other spoonful of food, the discomfort this time was smaller but still present.

"It's okay as long as you're okay."

Supporting the bowl of soup in one hand and the spoon in the other, Law convinced you to eat just five more spoonfuls, the last one being enough for him to see you push the bowl away and writhe in pain again. Law placed the bowl in the same room he was in before and saw you cling to his body, your eyes already heavy.

"Law you're going to get sick." you mumbled, already practically giving in to sleep.

"Don't worry about that." the last thing you felt was his lips on your forehead. "And if I stay, it will be worth staying with you."

#fiction #reader insert #one piece #no use of y/n #requests open #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar law #law x reader #law x you #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgardwaterlaw #trafalgar one piece #female reader

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theunaestheticstudyblr · 1 year

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Something that schools don't teach you but is much needed: how to have a work/life balance that works for you.

As someone who works fulltime and does classes and attempts a social life and hobbies, this gets very hard and stressful. But here are some tips I have for helping:

Learn to say no and not feel guilty. Picking up that extra shift when you had plans? Politely decline. Your friend is begging you to take ANOTHER class when your plate is full so you can have one together? Just be honest and say you can't.

Prioritize your sleep and eating. You can't function well if you don't sleep and eat enough. These are not things you can just push aside and do when you get the time. These are basic things you need to survive. These are literally basic needs. Don't throw them to the side. Your body does its best to take care of you. Make sure you take care of it too.

Have boundaries and be firm with them. If you tell your manager you can only work x, y, and z, don't let them add a or b to it. Respectfully but firmly let them know that you can't take on those things and if they have you do a or b, your work overall is going to majorly decrease in quality. Schedule time for yourself. For studying. For going out. And treat those set aside times just like you would if they were work or school times or appointments. You are the most important part of your life.

Understand that some weeks are going to be absolute hell. You're not going to have enough time. You're going to be exhausted and cry and throw things and want to quit everything. You got this babe. Take breaks and remind yourself how amazing you are and treat yourself after.

Prioritize things and adopt better habits. Wash your dishes right after using them. Get a set bedtime. Get easy breakfast things. Take a walk.

Your friends will understand if you just need time alone. I promise. They love you and don't hate you because you're overwhelmed. I PROMISE. And if they don't, maybe they aren't really your friends.

Not everyone is a friend. Some people are acquaintances. Some people are a 5 minute smoke break at work for your sanity. Some people are drinking buddies. Some people are library study date friends. And that's ok! Not everyone has to be your bestie. And trying to put that much energy into that many people will drain you.

#study blog #student #student life #studyblr #productivity #school #study hard #studying #school advice #work #work life #work life balance #balance #positive life #college life #life lessons #life advice #life

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remiratboi · 21 days

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Part 4 of my fluffy lil yandere half orc story. Hope you enjoy!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

After that day on the beach, Ollie became significantly more protective of you. More possessive. He was always around you. He brought you coffee and breakfast, he fixed little things around the cabin for you, he planned activities for you both to do.

You wouldn’t have thought him a hardcore hobby guy, but he took you rock climbing, and snorkelling. He took you to a local pottery studio, he brought you to the library in town. He always had you doing something.

It was starting to drive you crazy.

You had wanted to relax?! Not that you didn’t enjoy the activities, and his company, but it never stopped. You were on vacation. You had planned to lie on the beach for two months straight, eating, drinking, and probably smoking a lot of weed. Now here you were, sober, and painting in the woods.

You felt guilty. This was a beautiful activity, and you were genuinely enjoying it. But it just hadn’t been what you planned for. You would have loved a few things here and there, but not every day, all day long.

You decided to tell him that evening. The painting class ended, and you were actually pretty pleased with your work. It was a life painting of the little waterfall and pond the class had been set up next to. You weren’t anything special, but you were proud of it nonetheless.

Ollie jumped into his old, open jeep and carefully placed both of your paintings behind his seat. He leaned across the bench seat to offer you his hand. He pulled you up onto the bench like you weighed nothing. It’s something he must have done 100 times by now, but every single time, you blushed like a fool.

“You’re not heavy, you know.” Ollie broke the silence as you headed back to the camp.

“… what?” You asked, confused.

“You always look so worried after I help you into the car.” He glanced at you then back to the road. “You’re not heavy.” He stated matter of factly

You blushed again. He had no idea.

“Oh, yeah, I guess I’m worried about that.” You lied lamely. You’d always been bad at lying. You chewed on your lip.

His brows furrowed slightly. “Ok, so if that’s not it,” His voice was smooth and deep. He didn’t speak much. Even now. He mostly used basic gestures to communicate. But sometimes, when you were alone, he’d talk. You loved it. More than you probably should have. A warmth spread from the centre of you and radiated out. “what is it then?” He continued, pulling you out of your own thoughts.

“Uh, what is what then?” You replied, hoping he’d drop it if you pretended not to understand.

“Why do you blush so hard every time you get in my vehicle?” He asked. There was no getting around that one.

You sighed to yourself. Do you tell him? What the hell, you thought to yourself. What does it matter if he thinks you’re a horny slut? He’s just some guy you’re going to see for another month and a half, then never again. Who cares… right?

“I… gods this is embarrassing,” you started. You saw his one eyebrow raise. “It’s… ok… it’s hot as fuck, ok?” You forced out. You could feel how warm your cheeks were. This was worse than you thought it would be. You cared more than you liked.

“… what’s hot?” He asked slowly. You died a little. Of COURSE he was going to make you spell it out.

“Omg Ollie, I just… I’m not… small alright? So having a very attractive man casually lift me like it’s nothing?” You stared out the open window, unable or unwilling to look at him. “That’s really hot.”

He nodded slowly beside you. You could see in your peripheral that his cheeks had also darkened.

“Is it hot because any man is lifting you, or because I’m lifting you?” He finally asked.

Jesus Christ

“You know,” you started, your voice an octave too high. “I REALLY haven’t given it much thought.”

It was silent in the car for a long time.

Finally you couldn’t take it anymore. “So…”

He didn’t look at you. His knuckles were white on the wheel.

“So what are we doing tonight?” You asked.

“Nothing.” He replied, too quickly. Your heart fell. Here it was. Just like always.

You were quiet the rest of the drive. He dropped you off at your cabin. Normally he’d jump out and open your door for you. Not tonight. Had you really read him that wrong?

You shut the door behind you and turned around to speak. Before you could he shifted the gear and drove slowly away.

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formulaforza · 1 year

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—the seasons of love

or: the enemies to lovers situationship fic charles leclerc x female reader summ. the beauty of winter, the second time. minors dni. nsfw warning under the cut. 7.7k part one part two part three part four part five

18+ because: hate sex, rough sex, spanking, hand job, biting, choking, orgasm denial (m to f), unprotected sex, brat taming, name calling (slut), oral (m receiving), angst, angst, more angst.

Arthur turns the corner into the kitchen, swinging around the wide, arched door frame. You’re stood at the island, the chilly edge of the granite countertops pressed against the exposed line of skin between your shorts and your top. A plate of toast sits on the heavy ceramic plate in front of you, and you make a shaky-handed attempt at spreading mashed avocado over the dry, cool bread. Charles clears his throat a few feet away, pulling his coffee mug off the machine shelf. It’s not even steaming.

“Ciao Arturo,” you speak. Even your voice sounds sweaty. “Dimenticare la testa?” Forget your head?

Arthur’s eyes dart between the two of you. Charles, you, and then back again. Charles is lucky, his back is turned to the whole thing. You’re the one who has to deal with his questioning glances. He stirs sugar into his cold coffee, and the spoon clinks against the sides of the mug painfully loud.

Arthur smiles. “Occhiali da sole,” sunglasses, he says, reaching for the plastic frames on the counter, pointing them between you and charles. “sto interrompendo qualcosa?” Am I interrupting something?

You glance at Charles, still stirring his cream and sugar, and you realize he won’t be turning around, not while his brother is in the room, not while he’s still got a bulge in his shorts. You almost laugh. “Nope. I’m making breakfast, he’s being a bitch.”

“Ah, so, the usual?” Arthur jokes and you nod, try to stifle a laugh so you don’t get an earful later. You fail, and Charles is flipping both of you off over his shoulder. You raise your brows knowingly towards Arthur—See? What did I tell you? “Ok, well. I’ll see you guys out there?”

“Yup,” you nod. “Probably in like an hour-ish? For me, at least.”

You watch, butter knife in hand, as Arthur trudges out of the house, the shuffling of his nylon snow pants and the thud of his heavy boots across the floor. He slams the door shut behind him, a quirk of the old house—the refusal of the heavy door to latch shut unless you threaten to pull your shoulder out of its socket when you close it. You’d spent half your childhood trying to shut it properly.

“A bitch?” Charles is teasing as soon as his brother is gone, abandoning the coffee he won’t be drinking and slotting comfortably behind you. He pokes your sides, has you curling in giggles as he continues through his own laughter, “I’m a bitch?”

“You are!” You laugh out, escaping his grip and pointing the avocado covered butter knife at him. “I’ll cut you.”

“Sure you will, baby,” he smiles, and then he kisses you because you’re alone and he can. There’s been lots of kissing just because you’re alone—just because you can—as of late. Since that one date you’d agreed to a few weeks ago, and all the subsequent basically-almost-half-dates-half-hookups you’d experienced since. Officially, though, there has been no second date. Unofficially, you’re dreading knowing he’s going to ask any time now.

It’s not that you don’t want to date him, you’re just not sure you want to be dating him. It’s the difference between what you’re doing now, or having fun and being happy and keeping it all to yourself, or making it into something, turning up to joint-family parties in the same car with an overpriced bottle of wine and listening to your grandma talk about your kids having his hair. It’s belonging to yourself or belonging to him, and you just aren’t sure you’re ready to belong to anyone.

He’s ready, you know. You know, because he all but wrote it down for you in Vegas. Your agreeing to go out on a single date was the consolation prize, the taunting, the holding what might be over his head like a carrot on a string.

“We have to be more careful,” you say, wiping the last of the green fruit onto the practically stale toast. It’s been twenty minutes, at least, since you’d put it in the toaster. “Arthur’s silly, but he isn't a fucking idiot. None of them are.”

“Eh,” he shrugs. “I’m not worried.”

“Well, I am.”

“Why?” He laughs. The two of you are on such different wavelengths right now it isn’t even funny. “I mean, would it really be that bad if they found out we were seeing each other?”

You bite down hard on your toast, you have to because it’s so stale. “It would, actually,” you say around the dry bread. Crumbs fall to the counter below you. You sweep them off with your palm onto the floor, and then under the edge of the counter with your sock-covered foot.

“Oh, come on,” he says, all nonchalant. He takes a sip of his cold coffee and winces, cradles it in his hands like it’s going to provide him any warmth. You don’t laugh, don’t even want to. “They’re going to find out eventually.”

“Says who?”

“We aren’t going to keep it a secret forever.”

You nod. Slow and intentional. “Keep what a secret?”

“Us.” You hate the casualty of it, of the label, of the grouping you two together. You hate that he can just say it like that, let it fall from his lips like it’s nothing.

“There isn’t an us.” You choke on it—us—like it’s a swallowing sword. It’s not that you’re… opposed to the idea of us, so much as this is the last way you wanted to start referring to the two of you as a unit.

“I mean,” he dumps the coffee into the sink. “We’ve been fucking for a year, dating for a few weeks.” The coffee gurgles in the drain, echoes through the kitchen. He flips the sink faucet on. “I think there’s an us to be talked about.”

“We aren’t dating, Charles,” you’re quick to correct, because, well—you aren’t dating. “We’re seeing each other,” you take another bite. It’s not good, beyond just the toast, you think maybe the avocado was a day from being perfectly ripe. “It’s different.”

He fills the mug to the top with water and dumps it again. “Okay.”

“I’m serious,” you insist, but your inflection betrays you.

“Okay.” He repeats the action, drops a dollop of dish soap into the bottom of the mug and swirls it around so fast the water spins out over the edge of the mug. Fill it, dump it, swirl a sponge around angrily, fill it again.

“Dating is like, dating is like a label.” Dump it again. “We don’t have a label. We’re free to see other people if we wanted to.” You drop the toast onto the plate, three notes taken from it, each progressively worse.

“Okay.” Fill it, dump it—until the water isn’t soapy anymore. He leaves the mug face down on the dish strainer, carefully, without making a sound. It’s impressive, his silent, brooding, angry act. You know he’s full of it, that he wants to scream at you so bad. It annoys you, almost—that he won’t shout.

“Is that all you’re going to say to me?” You say, because you don’t like the implications of him refusing to yell at you. That’s like. It’s almost. You can’t even face it.

“What is it that you would like for me to say?” He spits, slams the faucet off. You almost flinch. Almost. “That I don’t want to see anyone else? That I think you’re full of shit and feel the same way I do!?”

He’s never—he’s never yelled at you before, not really. Sure, he raised his voice in Vegas, he did. But he’s never yelled at you. Your dynamic has always been sharp, yes, but it was never loud. It’s always been grounded in the smart-ass comments, in the quick wit, the silence of arrogance and annoyance and frustration. It’s never been loud. It throws you off balance, completely off kilter. You don’t know why you wished for it, why you were annoyed with his previous refusal. You—you don’t like it. Not at all.

You can’t think straight, much less speak straight. “I don’t know, like… I don’t know.”

“Like, like, like,” he mocks you. His words are like venom. He’s such a fucking child. “Like, what!?”

“Jesus fucking Christ!?” You yell right back, aren’t even hurt by the mocking so much as annoyed it’s the best he could come up with. He’s better—smarter—than playground insults. You expect more from him at this point. “Are you fucking seven years old!?”

“Maybe!” He slams his hand on the edge of the counter. You hope it hurts as bad as it sounds like it does. “Maybe I fucking am!” You scowl. This is an ugly look on him. You don’t know what you ever fucking saw.

“Fuck you!”

“No, fuck you!” He wags a finger at you, he actually fucking does it, points a finger at you like he’s scolding you.

You smack his stupid fucking finger out of the air and when you do, he grabs your arm, pulls you crashing into him, into his lips. He kisses you, and you kiss him back, but there’s nothing romantic about any of it. No, no. This might be the angriest you’ve ever seen him, all teeth clacking, tongues fighting, hands groping.

It’s reminiscent, almost. Of the time that really wasn’t all that long ago, even if it feels like half a lifetime. To the time where his only goal was to shut you the fuck up, when the only reason he fucked you was because he thought someone needed to put you in your place.

He’s not taking his time with you. Not today, not this time. No, he’s pulling your shorts down fast, grabbing at your bare ass and pulling you flush against him.

Your hands bury themselves in his hair, pulling the short locks, pulling his mouth to yours. Everything is so greedy and selfish and a fight—a fight to win the unwinnable game.

He’s crude with it, crass almost—the way his fingers move against your cunt. Quick, hard, mean. You hate yourself for how wet you are, how easy you make it for him to slide in a finger, and then another, to fuck into you with a burning curl.

When you settle into it, just as your breath picks up and your hips start to move against his hands with some semblance of rhythm, he’s pulling his hand away with a guttural fuck, moving back to your ass, giving it a hard smack.

Two can play at that game, you think, hand diving into his shorts. You take his cock and stroke him, impatiently thumbing pre-cum over his head and fucking him with your hand. He’s hard before you have to do any work, had spent the morning half-way there already.

He bites on your bottom lip so hard you think it might bleed. “I fucking hate you,” he says into your neck, biting the skin there, too.

“Good,” you say, lips curling into a naughty smirk. “I like it like that.”

He’s rough when he moves you around, almost shoves you, turns you and bends you over the countertop. It’s cold, even through your shirt, it’s cold. You push the plate away, the half eaten toast relegated to the other end of the kitchen island.

There’s no teasing, no warning. Just him, fucking right into you, leaving you grabbing at the smooth granite for any sort of stability, to brace for all of him. You can feel the fabric of his shorts; he’s got them pulled down just enough to have his cock out, and it reminds you of the fucking sauna this summer.

In the same way you were given no warning, you’re given no time to adjust. He’s already fucking into you with hard, measured thrusts that slam you against the edge of the counter. You think he might fucking break you, split you right down the middle. It hurts so good.

He’s quiet, lets the sounds of your skin smacking against him do all the fucking talking, tell the story the both of you already know. You can’t find the words. You’re just there, against the cool granite, full. Full. So fucking full.

It’s unlike him to be so quiet, but, you don’t mind it. You don’t think you can hear another sentence out of his mouth without wanting to walk clear off a cliff.

Gibberish moans are forced from your lips before you can even process them. “Fuck—fuck you,” you manage to sputter out, and then he’s reaching around to cover your mouth with a flat palm, leaning over you and whispering in your ear all husky.

“Shut the fuck up, or I stop,” he says, and you nod. You nod, but his hand holds steady, moves slowly down around your throat, applies just enough pressure around your neck to make everything that little bit hazier. You choke on your words, bite back moans until you taste copper.

When he’s had his fill, he’s turning you back around to lick into your mouth and hoisting you up onto the counter, taking you like that instead. Harder, harder. Impossibly fucking harder. You’re scratching lines over his back, dragging your nails over his skin and whining against his shoulder. When you toss your head back in a last-ditch effort to keep yourself quiet, he laughs—and then you’re looking at him.

The eye contact goes on for what feels like a decade, him fucking into you with reckless abandon while maintaining a steady, furious glare. He pushes his forehead against yours, lips just out of reach, ghosting over yours with every thrust of his thick cock.

You open your mouth to moan, feel the threat of your orgasm in your core, in the way he perfectly fucks you.

“Fuck you,” he breathes into your mouth, and the anticipation of the kiss that never comes burns. He breaks his glare, can’t look at you any longer, can’t kiss you, either. His eyes fall to your body, to the space where he disappears into you. He’s captivated by it, watches with a hard stare as he fucks you senseless.

You could see his denial of your orgasm coming before you started fucking, so when your leg starts to shake and your cunt clenches around him so nicely, you’re unsurprised by his, “don’t you fucking dare.”

The problem for him is, he forgets that you’re just as pissed, that you don’t give a fuck what he says. No, you know that he’s all fucking talk, could never actually bite what he barks, not with you. He’s all talk, and he’s just as close as you are. Nothing short of your families walking through the door right now would get him to stop railing against you.

So, you come around him, feel a special kind of satisfaction at the way his face contorts, at his canding, “God,” and the way he comes tumbling after you with a groan and a fuck.

(four hours later)

“Qu'est-ce qui a rampé dans son cul et est mort?” What the hell crawled up his ass and died? Lorenzo asks in the ski lodge. Both of your families are eating lunch at one of the restaurants on the mountain, and Charles, in his ever ending broodiness, opted to sit at the farthest possible end of the table from you and his brothers. Mostly, from you. He sits silently in a conversation with your father and brother-in-law, ever the entertainer.

“Il est dans une de ses humeurs,” he’s in one of his moods, you reply. “J'ai râlé toute la matinée à la maison,” bitched all morning back at the house.

“Ouais,” yeah, Arthur adds. “Quand je suis retourné chercher mes lunettes, il ne s'est même pas retourné pour me parler,” when I came back for my sunglasses he wouldn’t even turn to talk to me.

“Je parie que sa copine lui manque,” I bet he misses his girl, Lorenzo settles, rocks back on the legs of his chair. A pang of green runs through you, gross and envious.

“Sa copine?” His girl? You ask.

“Ouais. Chaque fois que je l'appelle, il me dit "j'ai quelqu'un chez moi" ou "je suis chez un ami,” Yeah, everytime I call him he’s talking about “I’ve got someone over,” or “I’m at a friend’s house,”” Lorenzo reasons. Your jealousy is replaced with mortification as you realize Charles not only has a girl, but that the girl is you.

“Someone should call her,” you say. “Get him laid so he isn’t so fucking annoying.” Lorenzo laughs and Arthur offers up a half-hearted smile, pulling his phone out of his pocket. Your phone rings on the tabletop. “Arthur!” You scowl. “Gross! I can't stand Charles.”

“Je dis juste que pour deux personnes qui prétendent se détester, vous passez beaucoup de temps ensemble,” I’m just saying, Arthur defends, for two people who claim to hate each other, you two spend a lot of time together.

We don’t—you want to tell him—we don’t spend a lot of time together, but then you think of all the times they don’t know about, all the nights and all the hours and all the days. “Cela aurait effectivement beaucoup de sens,” It would actually make a lot of sense, Lorenzo laughs. “He likes pulling pigtails.”

“I know you love me boys, but I wouldn’t touch your brother with a ten foot pole,” you insist, and it sounds convincing—at least in your own head. Only time will tell, you suppose, if you managed to convince them of the lie.

You enter the family room seven and a half minutes before Charles does. Where he is for those seven and a half minutes, you don’t care, as long as it’s not anywhere near you. Your families have always done this a couple days after the New Year, your own little joint Christmas celebration. Over the years, you’ve found it to be varying levels of both endearing and infuriating.

“It’s hot in here,” you say, plopping yourself down onto the sofa, fanning yourself with a magazine from your mother’s coffee table.

“Really?” Your sister peruses, eyes unmoving from her phone screen. “I was about to put on a sweater.”

“Yeah,” you continue, abandoning the magazine and instead opting to gather your hair into a messy, half-twisted knot off the nape of your neck. “I’m on fire.” You secure it with the thin black band from around your wrist, look to your sister as you pull loose pieces out to frame your face. “What’s the damage?”

She assesses the situation, pulls a few more hairs out of the knot and twirls one around her finger. “Has your hair always been so shit as holding a curl?” She asks. You nod, tucking all of the loose strands behind your ears in a swift movement.

Charles is here now, lingering in the archway between the family room and the kitchen, his hand leaving indistinguishable fingerprints on the trim above his head while he nurses a beer, nurses a conversation with your brother-in-law. His hair is a fucking mess and you’re going to kill him, something you become so, so certain of when you notice the buttons on his shirt are mis-aligned, that just above his waistband, a single piece of plastic is missing, loose threads left in the wake of the long lost button.

As if second nature, your fingers trail over your own, down the linen shirt that clings to your figure. A missing button. He has a missing fucking button. Your eyes don’t stop at the torn threads; all the way down to his sneakers, all the way back up to his messy hair.

He brings the glass beer bottle to his lips gently, parting them ever so slightly to allow the smooth brew to cool his throat. When he pulls it back, his lips are damp with condensation and ale, tongue swiping the pink skin clean.

“I need a drink,” you announce, standing from your seat and moving to the kitchen. He doesn’t move out of your way when you approach the doorway, has this stupid, satisfied smirk on his face as he takes another swig of beer. It’s the look he only gets after he has you.

“You broke a fucking button,” you mutter as you squeeze through, finger grazing the loose fabric strands that hand above his waistband. He stiffens at your contact and now you’re the one with the rotten, pleased smile.

“Leave a gap,” he says, looks past you and into the family room. You haven’t wanted to punch him this bad in at least a week, maybe two. You longed for the days when it was all you worried about: finding the next opportunity to hit him. Things were so much simpler then, so black and white. Now it’s wild colors and they’re all bleeding into each other to create a particularly shit-toned shade of brown.

Given the opportunity, you’d go back. Back to the Ski Lodge and Vegas and the sauna. Back to Monaco and the yacht and that one chilly winter night. All the way back to last year, to the club, to right before the club. You’d stop yourself if you could. But you can’t, can you? No, the best you can go back is ten minutes.

(Ten minutes earlier)

“Fuck you,” he groans, hushed and gravely, rutting up into you.

The closet is hot and humid with the air that pours in through the attic entrance. Dark, too: smells like fabric softener and lemon furniture polish–not that you’re smelling any of it now. No, right now all you can smell is him, raspberry and incense and a summer hike through a forest.

All you can feel is him, the stretch of his dick as it fucks deep into you. You moan against his hand, the calloused palm muffling your whimpers, cheek flush against the drywall. “Show up with your fucking ass out,” he says, hand forcing the hem of your skirt up higher, higher than your hips, slipping under the fabric of your shirt to cup your breast.

He’s fucking up your hair. You’d spent half the morning curling it and here he is, running his rough fingers through the hairsprayed strands like he owns them, like he has any right to knot them into a messy ponytail. You swat his hand away from your hair, and it snakes around your neck. “Don’t be a fucking brat,” he goads, the heavy weight of his fingers leaving you white and fuzzy with pleasure.

You shake your head, free your mouth from his palm and pant, “Fuck you,” you spit. “Fuck–ah,” he ruts up into you with all the force he can muster, pulling you off the wall, bringing your back flush against his chest. “–fuck you.”

He laughs, buries it in the skin of your shoulder, biting a purple bruise into the space there. “Bab–God, so fucking tight.” Your back arches against him, body moving, craving, begging to feel more of him, all of him. Every last inch.

You can feel him in every nerve ending and it still isn’t enough. You know he can give you more, that he can leave you sweaty and sleepy and monolingual if he really wants to. You know, because he had you sprawled out on his bed last weekend, dried tears crusting on the corner of your eyes, muscles weak and chest heaving against his sheets.

Tears prickle your eyes when his grip on your throat tightens, when he pushes to see how far you’d let him go. You move a hand to wipe them before they fall. You still have to face the family after this, can’t walk out there with black streaks running down your cheeks. The tangled hair is more than enough to get them asking questions.

His hand moves up your jaw, locking into your hair again and turning your head to face him. Look at me, he says, pulling you into a hard kiss. His long, measured thrusts fuck you open. His dick makes you drunk; floaty and dizzy and off balance and so, so fucking needy. You’re close, he states, knows your subtle breathing changes well enough that it doesn’t even have to be a question anymore. You nod against his lips, lick into his mouth, across the scrape of his sharp teeth. “I’m gonna. I’m coming,” you choke, breathing shallow and rapid.

“No,” he whispers, hard and gravelly into your ear, biting on the lobe. A hand moves between your legs, dips into your slick and sends a jolt through your entire body. You don’t even know which hand he moved, can’t feel anything but his two fingers circling your clit, his dick fucking into you. “Not yet.”

His instructions are thinly veiled, but you’ll follow them anyway. Your body writhes against his hand, hips fighting your mind, moving in any rhythm that might make you finish harder, faster, even a second sooner.

Your leg shakes under you, muscles weak and strung out. “Give it to me, Charles,” you beg. You know he’ll let you come as soon as he does. “Want you–fuck–want it so bad.”

“Ouais? Putain, such a slut for me.”

You nod eagerly, try to shake away the thoughts of release with it. He makes it so fucking hard. “I am, I am,” you insist. You are, you are. For him, every fucking time.

You know he’s close the same way he knows, the micro-changes in his movements, his breathing, his words. You know he’s fucking close when he loses his rhythm, tries to bury himself impossibly deep inside you, to actually rip you fucking open.

“Where?” He asks, offers you the option only because you aren’t in the privacy of an apartment. As of late, he’d been having his way with you, getting you messy and marked with him. Clean up is significantly harder in a fucking linen closet. My mouth, you mumble. Let me taste you.

He nods, picks up the steady pace of his fingers. You first, he instructs. “I want you to come for me, baby.” The pet name, always the pet name. Even when you’re this pissed at each other, it’s the only word your brain holds onto when you come around him, clench tight and quiver on his dick, muffling your own cries with your hand.

He pulls out of you with a whine and a mumbled fuck, a hand on your shoulder, turning you, pushing you down to your knees swiftly. There’s nothing careful about the way he fucks into your mouth, bruises the back of your throat as you muffle your gags around him. “Your fucking mouth,” he groans. “Makes me fucking crazy.” Your eyes meet his and you roll them, hollow your cheeks and swirl your tongue and watch, like it’s the greatest thing you’ve ever seen–watch his face contort when he comes undone, thick stripes of him painting the back of your throat.

You swallow. Clean, no mess, wipe the spit with the back of your hand and flatten your hair, twist what’s left of the curls into some semblance of what they were before he pulled you into the closet by your wrist.

You hurriedly re-button your shirt and flatten your skirt over your thighs. You’ve been gone too long, both of you have. Your families are going to catch on if you keep it up like this, all horny rendezvous in humid closests because he can’t keep his hands to himself.

His hair is pointing in every which direction, and when he runs his hands through it he misses a chunk. You reach to fix it and he swats your hand away.

You scoff. “Stay here, leave a gap,” you tell him and he rolls his eyes. You’re the brat, though, right? You turn the doorknob slowly, peek your head out into the empty hallway. He laughs behind you, what the fuck are you doing? “I’m going to the bathroom,” you quip.

He reaches over your head, wraps his fingers around the edge of the door and pulls it all the way open, moving forward until he’s flush against your back. “No UTI’s on your watch,” he mumbles.

You elbow his chest. “I said to wait here.”

“Fuck that,” he says, squeezes out behind you and the door. His feet are heavy on the hallway floor as he dips into the kitchen. You scurry in the other direction towards the bathroom.

It’s your parents anniversary party where it all comes to a messy boiling point. Thirty years of love, twenty-something years of parentage, and still. Still, you surprise them when you knock on the apartment door with a boy on your arm. A boy who, you assume to the surprise of Arthur and Lorenzo, is not their brother. The person perhaps most surprised by your bold decision making, however, is Charles. He’s glaring holes into you all night.

You try to take it as a compliment. You look good tonight, took careful consideration of your hair and makeup and clothes—your best black cocktail dress, all silk and long sleeves and exposed back, and your highest nude heels. You look good, and you like to think he notices, even if you’re nearly certain he’s watching your date more than you.

Your date, Jean, the friend of a friend and a blind date two weeks ago, hovers behind you like a lost puppy in his crisp white shirt and freshly pressed black slacks. He’s French, as french as they come—spends his evenings smoking cigarettes on the balcony and drinking wine with a careful pallet, distinguishing between the sweetness and the high notes and the low notes and all the wine terms you don’t understand. He’s a bit hushed and likes to make fun of your pronunciation and loves, loves, loves sex.

You don’t know how you get separated from him, where he disappears off to, You don’t know what compels you to follow the sightline of the stare that burns into you, to follow Charles out onto your parent’s balcony, but you do. You do, and the air is chilly and you shudder, skin prickled with goosebumps. You can hear the music playing through the glass door. If it wasn’t so terribly cliche, you’d swear la vie en rose is filling the air.

“Hey,” you nod, and he acknowledges you with nothing more than the raise of his brows. He leans against the balustrade, the cold metal of the railing clinking against his rings. You stare into the bottom of your wine glass, swirl the liquor round and round.

“Are you trying to make me jealous?” He asks, and you look up to him. He’s not looking back, smirking down at the ground at nothing in particular.

You roll your eyes, swallow down on the pit knotting in your stomach. “Oh, please,” you scoff, halfhearted and lackluster. “Like that would ever work on you,” you reply.

He chuckles, cranes his neck to look at you. “Maybe not,” he says, “but your games are always so fun.” His voice is low, unplayful. Horridly serious, despite the laugh.

“I don’t play games,” you replied, step closer to him, to the edge of the balcony. You lean against the railing, gather your hair and pull it over one shoulder. Everything is so weird now.

He quirks a brow, lets a genuine laugh slip and looks at you again. “What’s Jean, then?”

Your cheeks burn red but you refuse to let him get the upper hand. “Why do you care? It’s none of your business,” you shoot back, all spite and venom and irritation. You knew he’d be here and yet, still. Still, you hoped it wouldn’t be like this.

It was naive. Moronic, even. You should have known better.

He leans in closer, your faces no more than inches away. “Oh, but, it is my business when you’re trying to make me jealous,” he says, voice hushed, almost disappearing into the sound of the street below you.

Your eyes drift away from him, back into the apartment, into the dynamics of your families, into the way Jean hides in a corner nursing a drink. He’s so nervous, needs constant babysitting. You turn back to Charles, to his pink cotton shirt, top two buttons undone. It’s begging to be ironed. “And what if I am?” you challenge, and your voice threatens to betray you, to expose the vulnerability you try so hard to conceal.

A flicker of something, something you’re too scared to properly identify, flashes across his face. “Then you’re wasting your time,” he replied, voice tinged with the same something his expression is.

Your frustration bubbles. He makes you mad in a young way, in a fiery sixteen year old girl way. Pissed at the drop of a pin over nothing in particular. “You think you know me so well?” You ask, and he smiles down onto the street. It makes you angrier. “Well guess what? You don’t.”

There’s an air of arrogance about him. He drips with it. “I know more than you think,” he says, dips his head in the direction of the party, or your date. “And he is not your type.”

You couldn’t hold back your retort if you wanted to. “Oh? Tell me then, Charles, what is my type?”

“That guy is a bitch,” he says, stupid, satisfied smirk on his face, digging dimples into his cheek because he thinks that he’s so, so funny. “So, for starters, your type is someone with the confidence to make you come.”

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment, with anger. His words cut through you like a hot blade, the lack of decency, of basic respect. He gives more to a stranger than he does you, at this moment. You’d come to expect a lot of things from him over the years, but never, never, was blatant disrespect one of those things. He’s been raised better, you knew he had been, that Pascale would be red with fury if she heard him speak to anyone—much less you—like that. “Go to Hell, Charles,” you say, quiet, steady, without a single crack of betrayal, and then you’re turning to head back inside.

The sliding door is cracked, and you almost literally run into your date, standing just out of view from your previous spot on the balcony. You’re even more embarrassed at his eavesdropping, but it’s not like you can blame him, not with the show you and Charles always manage to put on.

Jean is visibly uncomfortable, all flushed cheeks and red ears. “Est-ce que ça va?” Are you okay? He asks, and the concern in his voice is evident, even through the embarrassment.

You force a smile, hope he hasn’t heard most of the conversation with Charles and attempt not to burden him with the emotional complexities that come with your past, with your present. “Je vais bien,” I’m fine, you reply, downplay the whole event. “C'est juste un truc de famille,” It’s just a family thing.

Jean nods, and it’s so uncertain you know he heard what you hoped he didn’t. “Je l'ai écouté,” I heard him, he admits, and your stomach churns. “J'espère ne pas avoir aggravé les choses,” I hope I didn’t make things worse.

You wonder how that would be possible—how things could get any worse than they already are.

“Ce n'est pas de ta faute,” It’s not your fault, you say, half-apologetic, half-hushed. “Charles et moi avons une histoire compliquée. C'est juste... difficile à expliquer,” Charles and I have a complicated history. It’s just… difficult to explain.

It’s not that difficult to explain. You and he hooked up a year ago. Since then, you’ve hooked up a lot. The feelings have been felt, the emotions turned, the hearts dropped. But you’re past it all now. You’re past it, both of you. It’s history now. It’s history. It’s history.

Jean gives you a half-hearted smile, and you know then that it’s as good as done between the two of you. He clears his throat, looks past you onto the balcony, onto where you assume Charles is still preparing more salt for your wounds. “Je devrais rentrer chez moi,” I should go home, he says, “Réunion anticipée demain,” Early meeting tomorrow. You know it’s a lie because you know he doesn’t work on Sundays, but you’re not in the place to call his bluff, not when you’ve got a full hand behind your back.

You offer to walk him out to his car, but he turns you down. You don’t give him the option to avoid your company on the walk to the elevator. It’s silent, the sound of your feet on the floor, the elevator moving up through the shaft, the dinging of the doors.

He steps inside, presses the ground level button and when the doors close between you two, you know it’s the last time you’ll see him intentionally. You wait five minutes before you’re pushing the elevator button, too, stepping in and heading down to the floor level. You need air. You desperately need air, and the balcony of the apartment is no longer a safe place for you.

You cut into an alleyway between your parents’ building and the neighboring one, lean against the chilly brick wall and close your eyes.

Breathe in, breathe out. It was never supposed to turn into this. The whole fucking point was that you didn’t want it turning into this, all messy and boundariless and bleeding over into the rest of your family’s dynamics. That was the whole point, it was. Your whole reasoning in Vegas, on the trail, after his best win. The whole point was to keep the damage minimal.

In. Out. You don’t know what the point of it all is, anymore. Why you’re still playing this game when it’s clear the rules are so long broken they can’t be remembered. You need to just. You need to just let it be. Let it be what it’s supposed to be.

In. Out. You know that it would work with Charles, you know it like you know your own hand. You know it would be good, and you used to be able to rationalize why the tiny little chance you were wrong outweighed any potential. You can’t rationalize it anymore, you can’t. You want to, because it’s easier to keep on, keeping on. But you can’t. It just doesn’t make sense anymore, not even to you.

Breath in, breathe out—until you hear his feet scuffing on the sidewalk.

They’re hurried, and you figure they’re making their way to you. You listen to them walk past the alleyway three times before you open your eyes. He’s pacing, typing away rapidly at his phone screen, brows furrowed, hard lines running through his face. He’s typing and pacing and muttering about something under his breath.

“Charles,” you speak, and he jumps, completely and utterly startled by your presence. He sighs out your name softly, like he’s going to startle you back, and then he’s approaching slowly, cautiously, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “Who are you texting?” You ask.

“Who do you think?” He says, offers up a weak chuckle, and then, before you can say another word, “I’m sorry.” His voice is ridiculously sincere, all drowned in guilt and regret. His eyes are soft, his lips pursed. “I shouldn’t have said that, It was stupid and immature and I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

You sigh. “Yeah, it was,” you admit, voice half tinged with resignation.

He takes another step. His posture is so docile, lacks any kind of defense. He knows he fucked up. “I can be a real fucking idiot, sometimes,’ he continues, a rare example of self-awareness.

Despite your frustration, you nod. “Yes, you definitely are.”

He leans against the bricks next to you and you look up to the sky again, close your eyes and breathe the air again. Anything to keep your resolve, to keep your wits about you.

“But, you have to admit. I was right about one thing.”

Even closed, your eyes tell the whole store, scrunch and wince before rolling open to look back at him, certain that nothing you invite to come from his lips is going to make any of this better. You frown because curiosity always kills the cat. “And what was that, Charles?”

“I know you,” he huffs, pushes air past his lips like he knows better than to do what he’s about to do. “Well enough to know you know he isn’t a match for you, that you only brought him around to make me jealous.”

Honest, honest, it wasn’t your intention. It was an added benefit, sure, but it wasn’t the intention. No, the intention was to move past Charles, to finally, finally move on from what the two of you had. The problem with that, though, is that somewhere over the course of the last year, your type had become Charles. You’d tried to force the attraction with anyone who was opposite, to the antithesis of Charles, and that’s how you wound up with Jean. He was different, in every category, and the line between hate has always been very thin, you reasoned with yourself. Very thin. Very thin, you knew, because you walked it with Charles for twelve months. For all of the seasons.

“It hurt,” he admits. “It really bothered me seeing you with someone else and that’s not an excuse for what I said,” he continues, and you drop your head to look at him. He’s looking at the sky, too. Like he’s trying to rationalize his own words with even himself. “it’s not, but it’s the only explanation I can give you.”

Somewhere on the street, an overhead light clicks on, fills the street with orange, cuts harshly around the buildings and into the alleyway where you both stand. It casts hard shadows on everything, on everything but him. It lights him softly, somehow, apologetically soft like the universe itself wants to apologize for his actions.

You think maybe you should be the one who’s sorry, the echoes of your spat still hanging in the air, heavy in the darkness just a few steps away.

Your voice trembles when you speak. “I didn’t know it would hurt you that much,” you admit. “I was just trying to move on, to prove that I could.” Prove to him, or prove to you—you aren’t sure.

The pretense falls between you, almost suddenly, all at once, and the air is different. It’s not angry and it’s not apologetic. It’s just. The air is just shared. Shared pain, shared sadness and hope and understanding.

“You know,” he says. “You know you don’t have to pretend with me.” His voice is soft, but it’s firm, unwavering. “I never wanted you to.”

Your breath catches in your chest, heart pounding fast. Fast. Faster than you can think. You can feel it in your toes, in your temples, in your fingertips. He looks to you, your eyes meeting and your heart jumping that much more. “I can’t pretend anymore,” you admit, below even a whisper. It’s a miracle he hears you. “I can’t pretend I don’t care about you, Charles.”

He reaches out, fingers brushing against the skin of your cheek, wiping away a tear you hadn’t even noticed had slipped. He murmurs your name, half-pain, half-hope, and you finally recognize it, the something about the way he looks at you, the way he talks to you. The something, you finally see it. It’s been looking you in the eyes this whole time and you’d been so blind to it all.

He was wrong in Vegas, you could be this smart and that dumb all at once, because here he is, looking at you and speaking to you the same way he always does, and for the first time you see it for what it is: tender, candid, and utterly consuming love.

"I've been so scared," you confess, voice quivering. "Scared of losing what we have, scared of ruining everything if I let myself fall."

He holds your gaze, a comforting anchor in the midst of the uncertainties. “I’m scared, too,” he admits, and you find solace in it. That even him, who’s known for how long now—you can’t remember, even he feels scared. You don’t even care if he’s lying, if he’s just saying it because he knows it will make you feel better. You don’t care, because it does. It makes you feel so much better. “But, I’m more scared of not trying.”

The truth hangs in the air between you, fragile but undeniable, a connection that has endured far more than it should have. “I don’t know what we’re going to do,” you say, voice finding steady ground now, your eyes locked on his. “But I’m done denying what’s been here all along.”

He cups your face with both hands, a sweet smile on his face, a stutter to the way his Adam's apple bobs. His thumbs brush your tears, and he says your name so sure. “I’ve loved you for so long,” he says. “Through all of the painful silences and the complicated, unspoken shit.”

Tears stream down your face now, a mixture of everything overwhelming you in the best way. You place your hands over his, hold them against your face like it’s going to ground you to the reality of his words.

“I’ve loved you, too,” you whisper, voice riddled with quiet intensity. “I have,” you laugh. He smiles. “Even when I didn’t fully understand it, even when I pushed it away.”

Charles leans in, forehead resting against yours, breaths sharing the little space between your lips. “I want to be with you,” he says, a plea. “I want to be with you, even if it’s messy and uncertain.”

Your face is half as bare as your heart, now, and you’re sure he’s got mascara all over his thumbs, that you’re a real sight for sore eyes. But when you kiss him, he kisses you back.

He kisses you back, despite it all, despite how long you made him wait. He kisses you back and somewhere in the space between the kiss and the tears, you both find the space to laugh and you know you’ve made the right decision. The decision to leap.

For him, you don’t know why you ever hesitated.

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fungusgnat444 · 2 months

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König tropes I want to burn with hell fire

sorry for this unprompted rant but some of you guys are starting to ruin my favourite comfort character (CW mentions of noncon/r*pe, mentions of xenophobia, mentions of n*zis, general problematic behaviour, mentions of bad disability/mental health representation)

-1. Casual xenophobia- I’ve lost count of the amount of content that depicts König as a n*zi and I kinda feel like I shouldn’t have to tell you why that’s not ok. These things should not be fetishised and doing this is overall just super ignorant. That’s probably the worst instance of this kind of things but there are a ton of examples. Like a lot of people seem to think that every German speaking country is exactly the same. And to codify him as a German speaker everyone seems to think they can just slap on whatever offensive stereotype they want. As someone who has visited German speaking countries multiple times and knows native German speakers personally, believe it or not not all German men are rude, humourless, cruel, alcoholic perverts who treat women like shit and have a bunch of super fucked up kinks and no understanding of consent. If any of you had ever met someone from this part of the world you’d know that in general they are very polite and friendly people. If you want to use a stereotype there are plenty that aren’t offensive and ignorant that could be fun character quirks (eg. Germans always having to have the windows open, having a sweet tooth, having three different drinks with breakfast (water for hydration, coffee for energy, juice for nutrition. Trust me it’s a whole thing lol), being obsessed with always being on time (also works because he’s in the military) etc.). Like please at least try to be a little respectful. And if you’re going to show him speaking German at least learn the basics. Duolingo is free lol.

2 mental health/disabilities- as someone who actually has autism I think it’s kinda cool that some people have written him as autistic or having adhd etc. but if you’re going to do this can you please just do a little research so you get the symptoms right and not over generalise. Like autistic people can in fact understand humour and sarcasm most of the time we’re not robots. It’s 2024 like can we stop this trope please. A lot of people write him having anxiety or ptsd, which again I think is super cool but it’s often used as an excuse for him being aggressive/violent. Like this isn’t cute, if someone is treating you like this regardless of if they struggle with mental health or not there’s never an excuse for violence.

3 r*pe/non con- this point is kinda about fanfic in general but I see it a lot with könig especially. People need to understand the difference between a cnc kink and just plain assault. Cnc is a consensual agreement with safe words and boundaries and aftercare and mutual enjoyment. What most of these fics say is cnc is literally just him being a sexual predator. For a lot of people this is super triggering and romanticising r*pe is just disgusting.

again sorry for the rant guys but I really just needed to get this off my chest. Like this stuff has gotten in the way of my own writing and is really starting to ruin the appeal of his character. Like I beg of you can someone please write something where he’s just a sweet anxious Austrian guy who’s kind and respectful despite his reputation? Like I really don’t think I’m asking for much.

#konig #cod konig #konig call of duty #konig headcanons #konig imagine #konig x you #cod mw2 #konig cod #konig fanfiction #konig mw2

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nikaizkool · 1 year

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Boys reaction to seeing you on your period Dtqk + sweater duo + Charlie fluff

• Dream

Does anything to make you happy. Cooks you breakfast lunch and dinner ordering take in and only focusing on you

Always making sure your ok “you feeling alright my love?” Kissing your forehead holding you in his arms

•George

“Eughhhh periods gross stinky” very teasing but overall very nice buying you stuff and rubbing your stomach when you get really bad cramps trying to make it better

“You alright, love?” Cuddles you laying down on your stomach and holding your hand kissing your neck and literally everywhere

•Sapnap

Brings you blankets snacks drinks takeout literally anything to make you happy. “Your so pretty my love”

Nonstop cuddles and kisses. He’s always holding you no matter what, your hands, your thighs. Anything. “My love” kissing you all over

• Quackity

Dosent know what to do so he just buys you chocolate and a bunch of chips and candy anything he knows you like.

Always within 5 feet of you just to make sure your ok and most of the time he’s clinging to your side doing stuff for you or cuddling you

•Karl

Brings you blankets and wraps you up with him snacks to your right bathroom to your left basically heaven

•Charlie

“He—heyyyyy baby?” Very nervous about and worried about you giving you minute check ups “darling you need anything? You feeling ok?” Gives you anything he can

“My sweet” holds your hand and mumbles praise to you. “Your so perfect my dear” always cuddling you

• Wilbur

Treats you like a goddess cuddling you and feeding you. All your favorite foods snacks and drinks. Wrapping you in a warm blanket giving you piggy back roses everywhere

“My sweet dove, are you feeling better?” Lays his head down on your stomach every day if you start complaining about cramps

•Jschlatt

Gives you alcohol and lets Jambo rest on your stomach. Honestly such a sweetheart kissing you all over and making you food while you lay in bed

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some-of-us-watch-the-sunset-too · 1 year

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Can you do headcanons for what the guys and their SO do on their birthday (like if they have the same birthday as their SO, what do they do?)

A/N: i really liked writing this actually! it was surprisingly wholesome since i was crying watching the movie while writing this. i really need more angst asks 😭

Tags: Fluff, hcs, birthday, all the boys

Warnings: it does kind of hint at sexual activity (thanks for that dal) but there’s no detail or anything like that so it should be fine!

The boys on their S/O’s birthday

Darry

Always the gentleman Dar would make sure you feel like the most important person in the world on your birthday.

Breakfast. In. Bed. Darry will make you the most extravagant breakfast with all your favourite foods and deliver it to you as soon as you wake up.

He’ll take the day off work (which is really rare for him!) just so the two of you can have fun and spend time together.

If he was planning a party he would let you know, just so you could tell him whether you wanted one or not

Ponyboy

He would be so cute omg-

He’d slip you a piece of paper during class telling you to meet him either in an empty classroom or under the bleachers at lunch that day. when you get there he will have made you a card and bought you a single cupcake. unless you go with my other hcs, in that case he would have gotten johnny to make cupcakes for you.

I don’t think that Pony would want to throw you a party. i think he would be more for hanging out in the vacant lot all night.

Ok hear me out- you two have been dating about a month and you’re just hanging out in the lot for your birthday. you two are talking and chatting when he realises he didn’t get you anything for your birthday. you try to tell him that it’s ok that you don’t need anything but he insists on giving you something so….BOOM first kiss right there!

Sodapop

Soda is just a tiny bit cruel so he’d probably pretend that he forgot your birthday as a joke.

You would go down to visit him in the DX and he’d be there like “i know i’m forgettin’ somethin’ bit i dunno what. is it Stevo’s birthday?”

He’d do this until you either got really upset or told him it was your birthday.

Once he revealed he didn’t forget he’d have a party planned for you and by god it would be a good party. He’d have your favourite foods, he would have rented out bucks and paid Tim Shepard or someone to act as a bouncer so nobody you didn’t like could get in.

This boy- he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off you all night. Kissing, holding your hand, hugging you from behind, simply having his hand around your waist/shoulders? he doesn’t care as long as you’re with him.

Dally

Dally wouldn’t be one to treat you special on your birthday. he’d go on like normal. it’s just how he is 🤷‍♂️

I think he’d say something like “it’s your birthday today, ain’t it?” and when you said yeah he’d just say something like “thought so” and walk away.

If he gets you a gift? i wouldn’t bet that it was acquired legally. but he still cares. he would most likely get you a new blade or something like that.

Even though on the day he wouldn’t be very attentive that night he’d get buck to close the bar early so you two could have some alone time. I’m thinking slow dancing in the bar alone. he’s a really bad dancer but he still tries. and i mean it’s dally we’re talking about so you probably know what would happen later that night…

Two-Bit

Your birthday to Two is just the perfect time for pranks, he doesn’t really know why, it just is. he would switch your orange juice for milk that he put orange food dye into, hide random things in your room, the basic pranks yk? maybe switch the fruit in your fruit bowl for that wax fruit.

He would be planning a surprise party in the Curtis’ place for like- a month before your birthday. it would be the best party ever. he’d even watch his drinking so you could have fun without having to babysit Two.

Exact same as soda, he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off you. though he’d probably be a little less wholesome, kinda like Dal.

He’d make some drunken toast at the party about how hot you are and how lucky he is to have you. he’s cringy like that plus he’s pissed drunk when he gives the roast so it’s not his fault

Steve

Steve doesn’t get as much appreciation as he should, he’s adorable! he wouldn’t be a gentleman like Darry but he wouldn’t be ignoring the fact it was your birthday like Dal. He would probably make some agreement that if you could win a challenge that on your birthday he couldn’t say no to you (with limits ofc. you couldn’t tell him to jump into freezing water cause you dropped a sandwich into it or you couldn’t tell him to kill someone yk? limits.) he’d probably let you win though tbh

So you’ve won this bet. now what? he’s your personal butler for the day! want coffee? ask Steve! need a hug? ask Steve! He would be at your beckon call at all times (that’s the saying right?)

He’d also plan you a party, just not a surprise party. He would have it in the lot since it has the most space so nobody will be cramped together.

Johnny

He would make you a present rather than buy one since he doesn’t have much money. i think that’s cuter and more thoughtful than anything else tbh.

He would want to hang out together all day. maybe you two would go to the drive in that night?

I don’t think parties are johnnies thing so he would plan that you and the rest of the boys have dinner in the Curtis’ and then if you wanted to go out he wouldn’t stop you.

#the outsiders #ponyboy curtis #dallas winston #darry curtis #sodapop curtis #johnny cade #steve randle #two-bit mathews #dallas winston x reader #ponyboy x reader #johnny cade x reader #steve randle x reader #darry curtis x reader #sodapop x reader #two bit x reader #darry x reader #sodapop curtis x reader #the outsiders x yn #steve x reader

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somber-sapphic · 1 year

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hi!! how are you doing? is it ok to ask for a wandanat x reader with reader having a migraine and they basically help and take care of her? (i have a migraine it hurtsss :( )

Painful Whispers

〖Notes: Hey anon! I hope you're feeling better! It's been a while, huh? Well, I'm sorry for the delay. I did my best with this one but I've never actually had a migraine so it required a lot of googling. I hope it's up to par <3〗

〖Summary: You get a migraine for the first time.〗

〖Word Count: 1.3k〗

〖Pairing: WandaNat x Reader〗

☾Masterlists☽

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You whimpered softly and curled yourself into a ball, shivering even under the blankets. The pain was so intense that you could barely move, every twitch sending agony through your body. The pain you were experiencing was something you had never felt before, and it was the worst you had felt in a while.

The first few hours of your day had been okay; you ate your breakfast of strawberry yogurt hesitantly, noticing that something in your body was off yet unable to pinpoint it. The only difference you had managed to identify was the glimmer shining across your vision.

Your go-to solution was to drink water – it always was. Whenever you felt even the slightest bit off, you drank some water. In fact, you were constantly reminding the rest of your team to hydrate and had your water bottle with you almost everywhere. This had become a running joke that you happily went along with.

It was during your morning workout that the pain struck. It felt like someone had slammed you on the side of the head and was squeezing your skull in a vice. It was so bad that you had practically given up on your workout immediately and retreated to your bedroom, away from the bright lights and loud sounds.

You barely managed to change into comfortable clothes before collapsing into bed, pulling the covers over your head. The comforter blocked out the light, but it didn't stop the pain; it merely kept it from getting too much worse.

You had been in that state for roughly two hours now, ignoring the buzzing of your phone, which was most likely your concerned girlfriends. Eventually, you figured they would find you and fix it. You generally trusted that they could fix whatever was wrong.

It took about five minutes after that last thought for your girlfriends to burst into the room, both of them being far too loud.

"Y/n?" Natasha demanded, storming into your ensuite bathroom. "Are you in here?" She was yelling, and you had half a mind to start shouting back at her, but that would definitely hurt too much. All you could manage was a pathetic whine, hoping that Wanda, who hadn't started breaking things, heard you.

After a few seconds, you felt Wanda's hands on your back, probably sensing your pain.

"Natasha, quiet," she snapped, her voice quiet yet stern, successfully silencing the shorter woman. You could hear Natasha walking over to you and felt the bed dip as she sat down.

"Y/n, love, what are you doing under there?" The brunette murmured, gently pulling the covers down from your face. You didn't move, simply shut your eyes in case they turned the lights on and made a low sound in the back of your throat.

Wanda's brows furrowed, and she glanced at Natasha, who wore a similar concerned expression. The redhead reached over and touched your forehead, a bit surprised when she didn't feel a fever. Your face was pale, and your eyes were puffy from crying.

"Y/n?" The witch asked again, tucking a strand of damp hair behind your ear. You winced slightly, and Wanda made a decision. She didn't like using her magic, especially without permission, but you weren't speaking, and she needed to understand what had upset you so much.

She placed two fingers on your temple, and whisps of red magic surrounded your head. She didn't pry deeply into your mind, but it didn't take much.

Pain flared in Wanda’s head, and she pulled away, shock written on her face. This was only a fraction of what you were feeling, and it was enough to make her stomach churn.

"Migraine," the witch projected, not wanting to speak any further out loud so that you wouldn't have to deal with the sound. Natasha nodded, picking up on what she was doing. You heard her voice in your head, but it wasn't loud or painful; it was feather light and soothing.

"I'll go get her some meds. Cold compress too?"

"Please." Natasha pressed a kiss to your forehead and squeezed your shoulder in a show of support. Wanda also got up and secured the windows, ensuring that no light could get in.

After that, she turned on the AC, trying to remember what she had read about caring for someone with a migraine. It had come up with Tony once, but that hadn't really been her responsibility. Cool compresses, Excedrin (which thankfully they had), head and scalp massages, and quiet music.

That was all she could recall reading, and she was going to try everything. If none of that helped, then she would take on some of the pain herself.

"Okay, sweet girl, I'm going to put on some meditation music. If you want it off, squeeze my hand, alright?" You grunted quietly and allowed her to prop your head in her lap, the movement making the pain even worse. But Wanda had an idea.

She placed one hand on your forehead and let a bit of her magic flow into your skin, smiling a bit when you relaxed. All she had really done was make her skin a bit cooler, but it seemed to help. Unfortunately, the lowered body temperature wasn't something she could sustain for long; you would need the cool compress.

Natasha wasn't gone long, and based on the quick pace of her breathing, you guessed that she had run to get the supplies. Not only did she bring Excedrin and a damp cloth, but also a glass of your favorite juice and a lavender-scented sloth that had been warmed in the microwave.

"Alright, let's get these in you, yeah?" Natasha asked, with Wanda acting as a go-between so you could hear her voice. You blinked at her; even your eyelids hurt. With the help of your lovely witch, you managed to sit up, not really trusting your voice.

Nat crawled onto the bed beside you, balancing the juice carefully as she shifted so she was pressed up against you. She tapped two of the pills into your hand, and you swallowed them, followed by a large sip of juice. It wasn't until then that you realized how thirsty you were.

You ended up drinking the rest of the glass, and when you were finished, you gave the redhead a watery smile as you leaned against Wanda.

"Thanks," you whispered, your voice a weary rasp. Natasha leaned forward and kissed you softly, simultaneously pushing you back onto the pillows. She placed the cool cloth on your forehead and put the sloth on your stomach, giving your hand an extra pat.

"Lay with me?" You breathed, closing your eyes again. You knew it would be a while before the medicine kicked in, but for now, the combination of the pitch-black room, cloth on your head, and soft music was helping. The stuffed animal was a very nice touch.

"Where on earth would we go?" Wanda responded through the telepathic link, still not wanting to speak. You didn't need them to talk out loud; this was more than enough. The gesture would've made you tear up if not for the exhaustion caused by the pain.

Your girlfriends lay down on either side of you, Natasha sitting up a bit so your head rested on her chest. She began to run her short nails against your scalp, keeping her touch incredibly soft. Wanda had one arm wrapped around your waist, holding you in a protective gesture.

You let out a soft sigh and closed your eyes, deciding that though you probably couldn't sleep, just relaxing like that was enough. You had also come to one very distinct conclusion: migraines suck.

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justice-maul · 2 years

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Promises~ Young Tony Stark x Top Male Reader | College Au

Summary: Reader is sharing a dorm with Tony Stark and they often fight thanks to Tony being an immature entitled dick so the Reader decided to put him in his place

word count: 2,432

Author note: I’ve been reading more young tony stark fics and can’t find any good male reader ones so in the words of Thanos, “fine I’ll do it myself”

Warning(s)⚠: Sub Tony, spit, hair pulling, blow job (Reader receiving), finger sucking, p in a, Reader has a huge dick, a little bit of nipple play, taking off condom in the middle of sex (wrap it before you tap it guys), and breeding

You sighed dramatically as you saw the mess in the sink once again your lazy roommate didn’t do his job.

Anthony Edward Stark was the last and the worst person you expected to room with but it did make sense because you were both the same age despite both being the youngest at MIT

he was a genius with no common sense or human decency and though you acted normal with him at first you eventually got fed up with his attitude and rudeness, so you started treating him with the same energy he gave you.

so you marched towards his room steam basically blowing out of your ears as you knocked on his door once, then twice, and immediately you barged the door hitting the wall

“Anthony,” you said with pure malice in your tone as he shot up immediately and the girl beside him groaned in her sleep

“Jeez, do you knock?” He said rubbing his eyes as he slowly got up from the covers

“I did. Twice. You forget to do all of your chores and you brought home a girl while I was sleeping making way too much noise” Tony chuckled at that last part as he tried to find the rest of his clothes in the dark

“I’ll do it later don’t worry about it,” He lazily replied

“You have one more chance Anthony, I’m not joking.” You said

“Ok well I promise I’ll do it later, alright cross my heart,” he said ironically

“I’ll hold you to that.” You scoffed out slamming the door shut going to the kitchen to make yourself some breakfast before class

You watched as the girl left his room with tony giving her a kiss and saying he will see her later, same thing he said to every other girl he brought back to the dorm

“He probably doesn’t even know her name” you mumbled scoffing at the sight before putting your stuff away and heading off to class

When you first moved in Tony took no time in claiming the largest room with the largest bed which ticked you off because he didn’t even give you room to argue, you were sure that he only did that because of how entitled he was.

The entire school day you were thinking about what you were going to do to Anthony when he didn’t go through with his promise the pure excitement on your face being subtle but very clear

At the end of the day you walked back to your dorm and settled down before finally looking in the kitchen to find the sink dirty the trash full and the entire dorm an absolute mess.

You took the liberty of cleaning everything with nothing but a calm expression on your face before Anthony got home from yet another party as you plopped yourself down on the couch after making yourself a drink

“Yeah I’ll definitely be there you can count on it” you heard him laugh as he clicked the door shut walking in with a dumb smile on his face wearing a black shirt with a collared jacket on that was now wrinkled and messy

“Hey Anthony,” you said in the calmest voice possible as he jumped back and put a hand over his chest trying to calm himself down

“God you just love scaring the crap out of me huh” he laughed almost nervously clearly knowing exactly what he did wrong

“Hmm let me guess you just forget the promise you made me? Or were you busy this time?“you said staring him dead in the face anger slowly building up inside of you

“I- well I had to kinda…” he stuttered scratching the back of his neck while trying to come up with a way out as you sat up and slowly walked towards him

“You know what Anthony I’m so tired of your bitchy attitude and your empty goddamn promises, you're selfish and you never take anything seriously your the most annoying person in the goddamn world!” You said as you backed him against a wall pinning him there with one arm

He looked up at you with a different expression from earlier that sent a shiver throughout your body but you weren’t going to give up that easy so you grabbed his chin and forced him to look up at you

“Do you have any idea how much work I had to cover for you? How much sleep I had to miss or time to do my own work?” You said pure anger coursing through you

“I can… make it up to you, make it…” he looked down at your pants hinting slightly before making eye contact again “worth your while” his voice barely above a whisper now.

You both just stared at each other silently, both not knowing what to say until he opened his mouth and took in your thumb sucking on the tip slightly

You wanted to pull your hand away and yell at him but you were too shocked to do anything, just watching his every movement that made you feel so unbelievably aroused, as he treated it like a cock

he licked your thumb before releasing it from his mouth with a string of spit still connecting it to his pretty lips that you wanted to ruin so badly

you wanted to fight back the urge to give in to his sexual antics but even you couldn’t deny the fact he was attractive, and at this moment he was downright gorgeous

You removed your thumb and grabbed his hair with the same hand pulling him closer and kissing him roughly as he wrapped his arms around your neck letting your tongue inside his mouth

After what felt like hours of you two making out, he reached his hand to your cock and slowly rubbed up and down as you groaned into him and he repeated the motion teasing your dick as his hand glided down your cock

You pulled him by his hair off of you as he tried to catch his breath, taking your other hand you rubbed his now plump lips as he looked up at you with a pleading face begging you to ruin him

“Let’s see what else your pretty mouth could do,” you whispered out leaning close against his lips and watching as he slowly sank down to his knees and unbuckled your belt using his teeth to unzip your pants

Eager to see your dick, he shimmed your shorts off your cock almost hitting his face as he starred for a moment stunned before grabbing it, he looked up at you with doe eyes as you gave him the ok

He licked a long stripe on the underside of your cock, before moving to suck on your tip and finally taking you all in while rubbing what he couldn’t fit in his mouth as his moans vibrated around your cock

“You know if you used your mouth …Shit, for more things like this we wouldn’t have had a problem in the first place Anthony,” you groaned as he started to deep throat your cock, bobbing his head

He choked as he took more of you in his mouth, his nose was pressed against your stomach as he struggled to breath gasping and releasing your completely wet cock from his mouth,

“You’re so fucking huge,” he said softly licking a stripe on your slit, sucking off the precum before taking you back in his mouth as tears started falling out of the corners of his eyes

he jacked you off with his hand and gagged on the rest of your cock looking up at you with tear-stained cheeks as you ran your fingers through his hair

You felt yourself getting closer, feeling it build in your stomach as you yanked him by his hair off of your cock and jacked yourself off while he looked up at you and stuck his tongue out in an erotic manner

That was the final push you needed as you released all over his face getting it everywhere on his cheeks, his lips, and some on his tongue as he swallowed it down eagerly

He swiped the cum off his face and licked it teasingly staring back up at you as he licked the rest off his lips which were now bruised with a beautiful red and pink hue

“What else do you want me to do?” He said with a glint in his eyes that showed utter excitement while biting his bottom lip which turned an even darker color

“Depends, how much farther are you willing to go?” You asked pulling back up your pants as Tony smirked up at you

“As far as you want me to,” he said through his lashes as you grabbed his collar and pulled him up towards you and he stumbled into your arms

You yanked him towards his room, opening the door and pushing him in before slamming it and pinning him against the wall

You immediately kissed him more tenderly with more passion and fire burning inside of you, slowly moving your lips against his as he regained his balance and leaned into the kiss softly sighing into you

You grabbed his waist and deepened the kiss pushing your knee against his crotch grinding it down on his hardened cock as he gasped into you, his hips were moving in sync with your knee long moans leaving his mouth

You pulled away from the kiss removing your knee as he lightly groaned and you both tried to catch your breath, smelling his cologne from how close you were

“Do you have any condoms on you?” You said looking at him as he slowly nodded regaining his composure as you moved back giving him room

“Yeah, let me… get them,” he breathed out before walking over to his drawer and rummaging around, finally pulling out three condoms and flashing them to you

“Here, this will probably last us,” he said setting them on his nightstand as he turned towards you nervously waiting for you to make a move.

Walking towards him you grabbed his chin and tilting his head up as you started to kiss up his neck, he grabbed at your shirt pulling you closer to him

You pushed him down on the bed and he looked up at you with those honeyed eyes of his as you traced his jawline with your hand and he leaned into your touch breath hitching

You begin tracing his neckline before tugging on his top signaling him to take it off as you did the same removing your shirt before backing him up into his large bed

You pushed on his bare chest making his back hit the bed, as you removed his pants along with yours throwing them off to the side, he watched you intently being the most silent he’s ever been

“Aren’t you cute when you finally close your fucking mouth” you mockingly said to him as he let out a small whimper, you positioned yourself between his legs

You reached over to his bedside table grabbed a bottle of lube and pulled down his boxers before you poured some on your fingers and traced his rim

“Shit,” He hissed at the coldness and the sudden touch as you then prodded your finger into his hole as he let out a small noise, you began to loosen him up getting him ready for your large cock

You finally loosened his hole up enough and positioned yourself in front of his entrance as you grabbed his thighs spreading them apart and slowly pushed yourself in as he groaned

“Oh, f-fuck,” he moaned out at the feeling of you finally bottoming him out, you gave him time to adjust as he held on to your shoulders for support as he finally relaxed around your length

You began to move and slightly rocked your hips moving back and forth quickly growing faster in your movements until Tony was leaving marks on your body and throwing his head back as loud moans left his mouth

“I can feel you fucking into me,” he shuddered out as long moans left him he tried to muffle the noise with his hand but small whines and whimpers escaped his mouth

You slammed your hips against his prostate causing him to let out a moan as you started to fuck against it repeatedly abusing his sweet spot as his moans echoed throughout the room

You moved rough and slow against him fucking his hole as breathy whines erupted from his throat, you reached over and began to tweak his nipples as he gasped letting you play with buds in your hand

You moved more animalistic against him fucking into him with pure hunger as you practically abused his gaping cunt as he let out loud sobs at the impact and hardness of your thrusts

He loudly groaned covering his face with his hands as his entire body was shaking and his red cock was standing tall leaking precum as he felt his orgasm approaching as he started leaving scratch marks on your shoulders

Leaning over you sloppily gave him an open mouth kiss tonguing him as he tried to messily kiss you back reaching a hand down to stroke his own cock feeling his orgasm build up in his stomach

He finally came throwing his head back in pure bliss before letting out a choked whimper as your movements didn’t still against his throbbing hole and he practically screamed

“Take it off… I want it inside” he panted as you pulled out and removed your condom before pushing slowly back into him moving fast and hard once more as he whimpered

You fucked him at your own pace chasing your release as your thrusts moved faster against him before slowing down and finally spilling your load into him leaving him a gasping mess

You removed your cock only to watch your cum trickle out of his gaping cunt and his entire body a blush red his chest heaving, you leaned down kissing up his chest to sooth him as he hummed

“We should definitely do that again,” he said catching his breath and handing you another condom as you laid down next to him chuckling

“As long as you keep your promises,” you said as he rolled his eyes scoffing and you both laughed

Anthony kept his promises and in return, you rewarded him each time and established a relationship together. Living at the dorms with Anthony Stark became much better and you finally got along and managed to have a good year with him by your side.

Oh and you guys decided to share the big room (more like you made him but whatever 😂)

~The End~

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sophie-looks-at-stuff · 1 year

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Some random modern HotD headcanons :)

Hey y’all! So I kept thinking of some funny, and very specific headcanons for the HotD characters, so I decided to just make it a whole post. This will actually be my first “legit” post on here, lol! Anyways, this will include some headcanons about Aemond, Aegon II, Luke, Jace, Daemon, Rhaenyra, Helaena, etc. But hope y’all enjoy lol! :)

Ok, I am convinced that Aemond has a secret stash of tea hidden somewhere. He's even put them all in a very nice ornate, antique box. It's his guilty pleasure. He probably would have some Earl Gray, English Breakfast, maybe even some lavender mint for the evenings. He'd keep it secret because all the teas he's gotten are way too expensive, and special.

Luke is an avid Minecraft gamer. Like he's basically built Dragonstone, and the Red Keep in his server. He'll play sometimes with Jace, or maybe even Aegon. But he doesn't let them into that world. Aegon would probably blow it all up with TnT.

Speaking of gaming, I think some people are on the same page that Aegon would be some kind of gamer. He'd be up to date on all the new systems and gadgets. He'd be one of the firsts to have the PS5 when it came out. He probably plays a lot of Call of Duty. Maybe even some Valorant when he doesn't wanna fire up the PS. He'd definitely be cursing and yelling at the game, to the point where Alicent threatens to take it away.

While Rhaenyra watches her shows, House Wives, Rupaul's Drag Race, etc. Daemon pretends to be not interested, but really he's super invested. He'd be leaning against the couch, or the wall totally sucked in. And when Rhaenyra tells him to just sit down and watch with her, he's all like, "no no I don't even like this show". But then he'd say things like, "Well maybe if her gown was better made she wouldn't have been eliminated last episode".

Aegon gives me frat boy energy. And I know I'm not the first to say that lol. You already know he's planning all the parties, and picking the themes. I like to think he'd be very invested into picking the themes. They would be things like, dragon night, wear your fave dragon scale colors. Or something like, Dragonstone beach night, wear your swim suits and flip flops.

Alicent likes to knit. Or maybe crochet? It's her stress reliever activity after dealing with Aegon, and the rest of the boys. Helaena is always giving her new patterns or designs to try.

I think Alicent also likes to take the occasional Buzzfeed quiz. "If you were a cake flavor, here's what you'd be based on your star sign".

Helaena runs a very successful tik tok account. She'd post her outfits, and maybe some art or cool bugs she's found.

Aegon listens to a lot of Megan Thee Stallion and Kim Petras. He's blasting Kim Petras' Treat me like a Slut at least 5 times a day. He gets ready to it in the morning.

Aemond will get down to some Amy Winehouse.

Jace works at the local animal shelter as his summer job. He only got the job cause Rhaenyra said he needed to get out of the house. Plus Helaena also works there, so she helped him get hired.

Aemond would be a great bartender. Not with like actually interacting with customers, but he can make some great drinks. Like he's over here coming up with all these crazy cocktails. Although, like his tea obsession he keeps this on the low. He doesn't want Aegon asking him to make drinks all the time. Gods forbid he asks Aemond to bartend at one of the frat parties.

Helaena was a Monster High girl growing up.

Aemond has a motorcycle. It was his one rebellious purchase. Alicent hates it.

Luke can kick Aegon's ass in any game, video or otherwise. You name it, Call of Duty, UNO, Valorent, Go fish...

Rhaenyra has a bit of a sweet tooth, but she has to hide her candy stash, cause the boys will steal it in a heartbeat. Who would have thought Daemon would love lemon drops so much.

I really could go on forever, these are just too fun to write. But I'll leave it here for now lol.

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its-time-to-write · 11 months

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i hold it like a grudge - ch. 3

I don’t know why I’m awake and still editing 😭 I have to go to work tomorrow morning. It’s not even the weekend yet and I’m acting like it is but it’s ok, right? Right.

table of contents watch me fall

Five hours later, Keeley is scrolling through pictures of you and Jamie on your phone.

“Oh my god, you’re both so tiny!” she crows. She can hold her alcohol much better than you would have expected, but by this point, she’s definitely far gone.

You can’t bring yourself to have more than two drinks. Everything leaves behind an acrid taste, so you switched to water a while ago. That means you’re completely fucking sober as Keeley swipes through your entire friendship with Jamie.

“Wow, you two were like, attached at the hip,” she comments. “Is this your mums?”

It’s a picture of two women about the same age, looking at the camera with strained smiles. You remember that day. Your mum had slipped you and Jamie money to get ice cream with the condition that you’d eat it at the shop and not bring it home. She’d looked right into your eyes as she said it, conveying a message beyond her words. You were maybe ten years old and not sure exactly what she meant, but you nodded seriously and ran to drag Jamie down the street.

You and Jamie had come back, hours later with ice cream drips on your shirts, none the wiser to what had transpired in your absence.

“I remember that picture,” you say aloud. “Jamie’s dad took it, the piece of shit. He dropped ‘round and was a happy drunk until he wasn’t. Mum threatened to call the police, but Georgie still came away with a black eye. They thought me and Jaim didn’t know, but,” you shrug. “You know how it is when you’re ten. You know fucking everything.”

Keeley nods, and you take it as an invitation to keep talking. “We used to share a brain, basically. Hardly ever seen without each other. You know we didn’t even date till I was in secondary? Mum was so surprised we weren’t already sneaking around behind her back. Guess she and Georgie used to talk about it a lot. Jamie was home four hours after she died. Not even sure how, really, he was out of town. I asked him about it once and he wouldn’t tell me, the little shit. That night… I couldn’t sleep. It was awful. I sneaked out of my room and down the hall to her bed, because it still smelled like her, you know? I had this dream that she was still there with me and when I woke up it felt like I had lost her all over again. I had to remember that she wasn’t just downstairs making breakfast.”

You pause. It’s all coming out so matter-of-factly, like it happened to someone else.

“Anyway, I just laid there and cried. The first tear had barely fallen when Jamie just came in and got in bed next to me. I think he had just woken up, but he… he held me so fucking tight and whispered, ‘I felt you crying. I can be here as long as you want,’ and then we just stayed there. We were there for fucking…hours. He just let me cry and didn’t say anything, just kissed the tears off my face and handed me tissues. The next couple days he moved all my things from the house to a room at Georgie’s. She had this like, office thing upstairs that was basically a closet, but it was the same layout for mine and theirs so it was familiar if that makes sense? Like they were mirrored, so her room was the same as mum’s and Jamie’s was the same as mine, then a third little bedroom that had room for a bed and that’s pretty much it. Jamie offered his room, but I didn’t want it. It felt wrong, somehow. And I couldn’t bring myself to get out of bed to do any of it but he did everything. I think Georgie probably helped, but when it was all done, he brought me over and he’d decorated it just how I would’ve. Except he made a copy of his Roy Kent poster and stuck it on my wall, right next to one of his dumb headshots he liked so much. He slept in that little bed with me every night until he went back. We were nineteen at the time, right before he got signed for City. We loved that team. Used to watch it every time it was on the telly, and he always told me he’d play for them some day and take me to every match, even the away games.”

You trail off. You’ve run out of steam, back in the present reality. This is the first time you’ve allowed yourself to look back fondly, to wonder how Georgie and Simon are.

Meanwhile, Keeley’s staring at you, openmouthed.

“Shit, babe,” she says.

“Shit,” you agree.

“How the fuck did he know you were crying?”

You wiggle your head back and forth. “Like I said, he said he felt it. I mean… sounds strange, but we used to be able to feel when things were wrong with each other. Even if we were in different places. We used to text and be like, ‘oi, you good?’ and every time, the answer was no. It’s like a nauseous feeling, you know?”

“No,” Keeley shakes her head. “I don’t fucking know.”

“Right,” you say, “I’m done being sober. Give me the fucking bottle.”

Keeley cheers and passes it your way. You take a swig and make a face. It still tastes like shit, but it’s better than trying to figure out the implications of Keeley’s five little words.

No. I don’t fucking know.

—

The next week, you’re slipping charms on a necklace for someone name Ashley, part of a set for a wedding party. You’ve had a steady stream of customers this weekend, many tourists from out of town passing through on their way to the heart of London. You check instagram in between sales and see that your location is getting tagged in stories and public posts, and you smile.

The day passes by smoothly and by the time you lock up, it’s drizzling ever so slightly. You grin and step out the door, turning the lock then back around to head up the street. You run smack into someone and say, “Shit, sorry,” before realizing it’s fucking Jamie. You scoff and go to step around him but he puts himself in your path.

“I’m going back to Manchester,” he tells you without preamble.

“Gaffer sent me back. Thought you might want to know.”

“Okay,” you reply lightly, as if to a stranger, then duck past him again. You hurry away and risk a glance back. He’s still standing in the rain by your store, watching you walk away.

table of contents

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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swarvey · 3 months

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ok awesome!!! in that case, could i request some fluff with abigail x a chubby reader/farmer? perhaps some headcanons or maybe even a fic depending on said headcanons? it's all up to you tbh! thank you for writing your rules and i hope you have a nice day/night !!!

how she is with a chubby reader | abigail x reader

a/n: first off i am so sorry for dragging with this request, i have been a bit swamped at work the past couple days :') but i hope you enjoy anon!! pls request more if you'd like <3

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your number one fan from the moment she met you

she's all for supporting people, especially the ones she cares deeply for

when she meets you? she's starstruck, head over heels as soon as she sees you in your farmer outfit and water can in hand

even before the two of you get together, she's glued to your side, constantly asking if you've had lunch yet or if she can follow you to your mining trip

if you're ever in the dumps, she's the first person to grab your face and remind you of how amazing you are until you agree

(this has led to multiple moments of both of you laughing as she slowly stares more intensely into your eyes)

after you start dating, though, she becomes even more of a softie

absolutely lovessss cuddles, any time of day but especially in the morning

depending on her mood, she'll either bear hug you and squeeze you as tightly as she can, or she'll bury her face in your neck and wrap her legs around your torso, trying to get as close to you as possible

overall just a big sweetheart. but we already knew that <3

you blink groggily as you open your eyes, alarm blaring in your ear. before you can turn it off, though, abigail is reaching over you to do it for you, sighing as she lays back down beside you.

"ten more minutes," she mumbles, grabbing your arm and hugging it to her chest.

you laugh lightly, still half asleep. "you say that, but we'll be in bed all day," you reply amusedly, gently attempting to tug your arm away. "abby, I've got work to do—"

"nope!" she flops herself on top of you, air abruptly leaving your lungs as you let out a noise of surprise. "you're staying here."

you sigh and let your head fall back in defeat, to which she triumphantly wraps her arms around your neck.

"don't worry," she reassures, kissing your cheek. "i'll help you finish your chores. plus, i have a feeling the spirits are happy today, so we should head to the mines!"

you smile, hugging her to your chest. "how did i get so lucky with you?" you ask softly, and she lifts her head to look at you sternly.

"luck? it was hardly luck," she scoffs. "i just thought you looked hot in your overalls." you look away in embarrassment as she laughs brightly, pressing a strong kiss on your lips. "i'm your number one fan, remember? it's basically my job to love you," she says, cupping your cheek.

after relaxing for a few more minutes, you finally convince abigail to get up, heading into the kitchen with your hands intertwined and swinging between the two of you.

"we have a long day ahead of us," she starts, her voice already full of energy as she pulls on a cute purple apron you recently got her, "so we need to have a good breakfast! go wash up first, i'll make your favorite."

"did you drink your coffee already?" you ask, astonished at how bright she is given how early it is in the morning. "how are you so awake?"

she beams at you, and your heart melts at the sight of her warm smile and crinkled eyes. "nope, this is all-natural energy, darling." she pauses. "though i guess waking up next to you is always a good way to start my day."

#stardew valley #sdv #stardew valley x reader #stardew valley x farmer #stardew valley x you #sdv x reader #sdv x farmer #sdv abigail #sdv abigail x reader #sdv abigail x farmer #abigail x reader #abigail x farmer #fanfiction #fanfic

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chansbabygirlsstuff · 4 months

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Chapter 14

As the game continued you all continued to drink as you felt more than tipsy and your eyes could show that you felt sleepy and worn out

"Okay guys I think it is time to sleep" you heard Chan say as his head pointed towards you to signal them to leave you were barely keeping your eyes open, but everyone laughed which made you open your eyes again, but you saw everyone looking at you and laughing which makes you laugh as well not knowing why they are laughing

"ok someone is drunk let's go sleep," Chan says laughing as you put your hands up celebrating that it is nap time, but your face is blank "Yay," you say and drop your arms as your eyes try shut back down

"let's go," Chan says getting up and pulling your arm You almost fall back but he pulls you back up again

"bye-bye," you say as you walk towards your room and Chan follows behind making sure you don't fall down

He opens the bedroom door for you and lets you in as you grab the walls to sustain your dizzy head

"Are you really drunk?" Chan asks with an unbelievable look on his face as you drink a bit but still, it is raw vodka

"bitch?" you asked offended as you turn to him and he just laughs with a hand on your chest

"ok, you are drunk" he affirms as his smile never leaves his face, "let's get you to bed" he moves the bedsheet to the side so you can sit on the comfy mattress

"do you know that an apple a day keeps the doctor away and an orange a day keeps the plumber away, so basically throwing fruits at people keeps them away" You laugh at your own joke as he chuckles at your stupidity

You hum stretching yourself in your sheets "Will you kiss me again goodnight?" you ask with a smile bearly keeping your eyes open as you feel sleep getting to you

Chan blushes at your comment "You want that?" he asks you with a smirk he gets close to your face as heat rises to your face but he just smirks and leaves

you roll over to your side while moaning "Muther fucker" A teasing smirk leaves your lips

8:30 am the next day

Your head hurts as hell you sit up from the bed and smell the fresh odor of food from the kitchen you get out of bed ready to get out of the room but you remember last night's events

shit y/n why are you so confident when drunk? and what was that stupid idea to kiss him, you were probably horrible at it and made him uncomfortable

you get up and get your clothes to shower and change for your class at 10 am

as water is pouring over your head you think about the kiss over and over again, how can you be able to face him, should you talk about it with him? or should you ignore the matter? and when the fuck are you going to get the money?

Fuck it you are going to ignore the fact like a mature girl and just pretend nothing happened as it was just a bet

you rub your eyes stressed, like how the fuck were you able to even ask him for a second kiss? Were you really that confident? Mother fucking vodka always takes the worse of you

you get out of the shower and put on a tanktop that says 'in my delulu era' and some cargo pants

you get out brushing your wet hair just to see Chan getting out of his room with clothes on his hand "good morning " he smiles to you as you feel your stomach sink "hey... good morning" you smile without your teeth feeling rather awkward at your salutation.

"How do you feel? he asked "Oh, I'm good" you smile again hiding your teeth and looking elsewhere as you want to get to your room "I hope you're not uncomfortable because of last night," he says I stop walking and turn behind me looking at him "oh, no worries, I know it was just a bet" you move your hands awkwardly and go back to your room as you hear him chuckle

fuck he knows your shy and not uncomfortable, you get back to you're room and finish your hair, grab your bag as you head to the living room, you make your way to the kitchen finding 2 toast on a plate with avocado and eggs on them, ooh he sure knows how to cook, but as you see he made himself breakfast you will need to look for something you can do for yourself

"y/n!" you hear Chan call your name from the bathroom "Yeah?" you reply "Those toasts there are for you" he yells back "Thank you so much Chan" you reply to him, what a kind soul

you blush as you think of him making breakfast for you.

as you're eating your breakfast you hear him come out of the shower in a big hoodie and grey sweatpants rubbing his wet hair with a towel

"I have class at 9 how bout you?" he asks as you answer "We have the same class today" you confirm to him

ok get ready is almost time to leave" he tells you as you wash your plate and run towards the bathroom to ash your teeth

15mins later

"I have work today so I'm going to be late," you tell him as he nods

"and please tell me what groceries I need to buy and give me an idea of what is your diet so I can know what you eat" he looks at you, fuck those brown beautiful eyes "Not because I'm interested or anything I just want to make sure you like what I buy" you awkwardly laugh

"yes of course I will tell you what I like and also make sure you buy what you like" he smiles before exiting the house with you and entering the car

the ride is silent and you don't know what to say to make it less awkward you can feel the tension filling the car up

"What time is your shift?" he asked you

"6-10 pm" you answer already tired from just hearing it, and he nods as he parks at the school parking lot, and he nods

"Will today be the day I try that Oreo milkshake they sell there?" he asked taking his seatbelt

you shrug your shoulders as you get shy just thinking about him being with you during work

"Do as you please" you pitch your voice as you smile cutely and open the door out the car and put your bag on "Thank you, remember the list" you remark as he smiles at you

you walk towards the entrance but he catches up to you just to walk up next to you and you smile at each other

Danm you felt nervous around him...

Time skip

You make your way to the car just to see Chan leaning against it with his phone in his hand and his leg bent against the car behind him

you get there and take your bag out of your back as he looks at you "Hey" you say as you smile at him "Hey how was class?" he smiles genuinely toward you

you know, he knows, the tension is just unbearable, since morning those smiles weren't innocent and kind, they were flirty between the two of you, feeling those fucking butterflies flapping their wings in your stomach as he came closer to you just leaving a bit of space between both of you for the holly spirit, he smiles/smirks and takes your bag

"It went alright," you say when he goes to the back of the car to put your bag there smirking to yourself when he can't see

shit, why is he so hot?

He starts driving and tells you that he will accompany you to the market to buy food

the drive was calm, almost no talk but ransom music on the radio

he parks and we both get out of the car he gets back to my side as we grab a cart for our shopping items, we enter and start looking around at the variety of things

Chan's POV

she grabs a cart and I see her looking around for things,

she is so pretty, how her nose scrunches up when she smiles and how her lashes define her big eyes, how those pants round up deliciously her cute ass, and how her tank top defines her small breast perfectly; her waist and those cute lips giving those perfect details of her facial expressions, and how soft they were, and she looks so pretty and innocent, it will be easy turn her to me

My phone vibrates in my pocket as she looks at me, I check my phone to see who's texting and see a message from Ha-yoon

-Hey meet me at Marty's(;?

She remarks Marty's motel where we met 2 weeks ago for the past month

- hey yoon, can't make it today

-aww why are you busy :(?

she answers my text

-yep

- then make some time for me...

she answers, begging knowing what she wants

-can't, busy

- 1 image attached

a photo of her bear breast on display in front of a mirror catches my eyes as I put the screen light low, I put the phone closer to my face trying to be discreet

-let me see what I can do

I wrote back

"What do you think?" y/n shows me a bread brand "Do you like this one or that one" She points at another brand

"Both are good choose the one you like more" I smile at her

Y/n POV

I grab the bread that I think is the best and put it in the cart, I see him concentrating on his phone, which I guess is important as he stayed behind for some minutes.

I also put some fruits and some snacks, and he follows behind me still texting...rude, I'm trying to buy what he likes and he doesn't even care

I go to the meat section and you grab some chicken, beef, and fish, you make sure to buy enough for the month

You also put inside some ingredients to make food for both of you, you make sure to have everything on the list you wrote in the morning

"Do you want something else?" you ask him, he takes his eyes off his phone and looks at you "Uh no I'm fine" he looks around and goes back to his phone

"ok" his attitude makes you feel bad, is he annoyed? what happened with the sudden change you continue to walk in the aisle and you see your favorite strawberry cookies and you grab2 packets for the month

he puts his phone in his pocket and sighs

"I'm almost done" you try to hurry up thinking that he probably doesn't like shopping

"don't worry" his eyes advert somewhere else but widen when he sees someone in particular

but you can't see because your fucking short

so you keep walking over to cash out your items

"Hello, how are you doing today?" the cashier asks you "I'm good and you?"

"fine thank you" he smiles and proceeds to scan your products

he is a man about your age wearing his uniform and a beenie, he looks at you and smiles each time he can... how cute

" Your total is $128 with 87 cents" You nod and take your card out, he grabs it and swipes it

"thank you so much gentleman" he blushes and smiles

"thankyou! pretty lady" he says with a smile and a big blush on his cheeks and looks down as you take your stuff to the car

Chan helps you with your stuff and totally ignores the man saying goodbye

"hey" you warn him "he was saying goodbye to you," you tell him

"yeah I know," he says "damn why so mean then?" you get offended at his attitude since earlier

"I don't know, go ask your gentleman then!" he gets mad and walks faster towards the car

Danm why is he mad at me? he was the one acting like a bitch

tag list: @oddracha @Darthmaddie25 @Stayceebs97 @strayywayy

#skz #bang chan angst #bang chan x reader #bang chan smut #skz smut #skz angst #bang chan imagines

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