#ok. ice pack time

[r1ngfinger]

i need our body to stop fucking with us

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

work was a bitch, excuse me while I lie down, listen to gentle Chinese music, and pretend Lau is giving me a private acupuncture session for hours instead of doing anything productive

thanks for ur understanding 😌

[meanderfall]

Sometimes the suicidal ideation hits you outta nowhere and it's like

[softwaluigi]

oh my fucking god I need squeaky cheese Right Now

[toastsnaffler]

been so brain fogged again today :(

[f1fantasys]

Lando, you and some other friends are spending the weekend with hiking and camping. But being the clumsy one you kinda slipped and hurt yourself. Lando offer to help you to go back to the tent and you just innocently ask him to massage your feet. At first it’s just an innocent act and Lando purely wants to help as a friend. Until you accidentally moan and it turns him on and the massage is not so innocent anymore. He then promise you it’s just a tip but well… all men do is a lie 😜

TIP-SY

Warnings - explicit smut 😇

Note - this pic has made me FERAL.

F1 summer break meant a parade of different experiences and getaways. As a presenter for Sky, you were quite close to some of the drivers. Lando, in particular, was one of your favorites, though he doesn't know that. You wouldn't say you were close to him, but you'd now been on a fair share of getaways with him and other mutual friends, and it was safe to say that there was an ever-growing sexual tension between he two of you.

The tension met new heights when you went on a ski-trip in Finland last winter break. You'd often catch each other staring at one-another for far too long, share lingering touches, and dance closely with wandering hands while partying, flirting shamelessly through the days and nights. Your mutual friends always teased you both about when you would finally jump each other - anyone could see the pull that gravitated you towards each other, so it was just a matter of time until the line was crossed.

Right now, you both together with Max and P and Arthur and Jade were out at a secluded resort, camping and hiking for 5 days.

Of course since the other two pairs were couples, it meant you and Lando had to share a tent. Probably the push you needed to be honest, so you weren't complaining one bit because god, you wanted him in ways that would be sinful to say out loud.

You'd arrived this morning and had set out for a hike straight away. Thanks to the gods above, you were clumsy. You were walking in front of Lando when you missed a stone and tripped over it, hurting your ankle while doing so.

''Fuck y/n'' he said, rushing to help you up. ''You okay?'' he asked, but his worry faded away when he saw you chuckling to yourself.

''Yeah good, just little miss clumsy, tripped over a fucking tiny stone'' you said, taking his hand to help you stand up.

You thought you were ok, and even managed to walk another 5 minutes until you decided that you were actually not okay, and wanted to head back to the camp.

Lando, being ever the gentleman, literally hoisted you up and threw you over his shoulder to take you back.

''Lan!'' you shrieked, but you gave you no room for argument. Instead, being a cheeky bugger, he playfully smacked your ass before resuming homage on your thighs for the walk back. You were thankful you were facing the opposite direction, so he couldn't see the blush forming on your face.

Once you got back to the tent he gently placed you on your bed.

''Relax. Gonna get us some water and find you an ice pack. Need anything else?'' he asked.

'''I'm good. Thank you Lan, really for bringing me back'' you sincerely told him, your hand lingering with his for longer than it should have before you pulled away and he walked out of the tent.

''Fuck'' you thought to yourself. You were definitely in too deep.

Lando returned not 10 minutes later with a handful of snacks and drinks.

''Lando did you buy the whole supermarket?'' you asked teasingly.

''Oi, I wont share if you tease me like that!'' he said, dropping everything on your bed and smiling at you.

You wanted nothing more than to pull him in for a desperate kiss but you held yourself back.

''So there were no ice packs but I did find this ointment, says to massage it in gently'' he said, sitting down and lifting your feet onto his lap, taking you by surprise.

''Oh you don't have to, I'll do it'' you said, already sitting up and moving your legs out of his hold but his strong hands stopped you from breaking free.

''You're not saying no to a free foot massage, are you?'' he asked. ''One time offer, by the way'' he finished, winking at you.

It wasn't worth arguing further, so you stuck your tongue out at him and said ''fine,'' relaxing back again.

His touch was gently but it felt oh so heavenly, and without realizing it you let out an involuntary moan as you felt the pleasure rip through your body.

He chuckled, though he didn't find it funny one bit. His mind was racing as to what other noises you would make and if they'd sound as good as you just did.

''Feel good?'' he asked.

''Hmm yeah, never better'' you said, eyes closed and smiling.

Lando couldn't get your noise out of his head, and he felt his dick growing harder with each second that past.

A few minutes later you moaned again, and that was his breaking point.

''Y/n'' he said, in warning.

Your breath hitched as he said you name. You cleared your throat and mumbled an apology.

You looked down at him and took a deep breath in. His eyes were shades darker than they were before and he was looking at you with such an intensity.

''Lan'' you cooed, not sure what you wanted him to say or do.

He gently placed your feet back down on the bed and hovered above you, putting all his weight on his hands instead of your body.

Your eyes stayed glued to one another's until he finally stooped low and captured your lips in a swift movement.

You instantly bought your hands to his face, cupping it as he lowered his body so you could finally feel him.

The kiss was messy and desperate, spit already running down both of your chins'.

You moaned again and he pulled back only to whisper ''you don't know what that fucking does to me y/n,'' before he leaned down again and quickly slid his tongue into your mouth, exploring it.

You pulled at his curls which had his moaning in return, smiling through the kiss.

His lips left yours and moved down to your neck, very quickly finding your sweet spot where his bit and sucked at it then soothed it with his tongue.

''Lan'' you said, begging him for more.

''I know babygirl'' he said, his hand snaking down and slipping past your leggings to your core - which was dripping wet by now.

He pulled his head up to look at you again. ''So fucking wet. For me, yeah?'' he asked.

''For you'' you whimpered as your felt him slide his fingers through your folds.

He found your clit and immediately assaulted it bu pinching at pulling at it. By now your moans were obscene, the feeling of his hand down there stimulating to your core.

''More, Lan'' you begged again, biting down on your lower lip before pulling his face back to yours so you could kiss him again.

With ease, he slid two fingers through your entrance at once. Your back arched off the bed and your nails dug into his biceps.

You whimpered again as he set a quick pace, thrusting in and out of you and curling his digits at just the right time to tap the spongy spot inside of you.

''So tight, fuck you're gonna feel amazing around me'' he whispered, adding a third finger to the mix.

You couldn't help but moan at the thought of finally fucking him, but you needed to calm yourself down before getting ahead.

His lips were back on your neck now and you leaned to the side to give him better access, lightly biting at his biceps.

He sped up his pace and you soon felt the all too familiar heat pooling in your stomach.

''I'm close'' you coxed out, breathing increasing.

''Do it'' he mumbled. ''Let it out.''

Lando made his thumb brush against your clit with each thrust and in no time you were releasing all over his fingers, moaning his name through gritted teeth, squeezing your eyes shut.

You panted through your breaths, expecting him to slow down and ride you through your orgasm but if anything, he sped up even more.

''I know you have more in you, come in, y/n'' he said, hiding his head in the crook of your neck and nibbling on your ear.

Your breath hitched again. ''Lan'' was all you were able to get out, and not two minutes later you were gushing all over his fingers again, your throbbing pussy clenching around them which had him moaning with you.

''Fuck'' you let out a breath as he slowed his fingers and pulled them out of you.

He pulled back, looking at you again and took his digits into his own mouth, sucking him clean and moaning at the taste of you.

''My new favorite flavor'' he said, smirking, before kissing you again.

He pulled back for a second to remove you t-shirt, ridding is as well before returning his lips to yours.

Your hands explored his muscle-clad body, internally moaning at how hot he was - physically and mentally.

His hands also roamed your body, stopping at your boobs and giving them a few squeezes before sliding them under your bra and pinching at your nipples.

The action had your back arching, digging your nails into his skin.

Your mind was racing at 1000 miles per hour, trying to catch up to what was happening. A feel of joy and euphoria overwhelming you.

Lando took your bra off completely and you didn't miss the way he licked his lips when he looked at them.

He roughly took one of your nipples into his mouth and sucked and bit at it, earning breathless moans from you as you pulled on his hair, edging him on.

''Fuck, yes, please'' you moaned.

''So fucking perfect angel'' he whispered, rolling your other nipple between his fingers.

He continued his onslaught for a while until you started ti grow impatient. You pussy was desperate, clenching around nothing.

''Lando please'' you begged him. He quickly notes that he loved it when you begged him.

He finally sat back on his knees and looked at you, though the expression you had on your face was not one he was expecting to see.

You weren't looking back at him with lust and desperation, instead you looked confused and constricted.

Rewind - just as you had begged him for more, your mind caught up to what was happening and something clicked. You liked Lando, too much, and you didn't want just a quick fuck.

''Baby?'' he asked.

''Lan, ugh, fuck. I like you too much for just a one time fuck'' you said, slightly shy at your confession and use of words.

His eyes grew wide and he couldn't help but chuckle a sarcastic one.

''You seriously think I want just a fuck from you? Really y/n?'' he questioned.

''I-I'' you started but he cut you off.

''You're fucking blind if you think I don't like you and want to be with you for something real. Fuck y/n you're the most amazing person, and yes i want to fuck you senseless right now, but i want to fuck you senseless everyday, and after that I want to clean you up and cuddle with you and fall asleep with you, and wake up with you!''

Words had left your brain by now so instead you just pulled him down for a feverish, passionate kiss. ''I want all that too'' you said between pecks at his lips the both of you smiling.

Just as Lando was about to pull your leggings down again you stopped him, again.

He pulled back and gave you a questioning look.

''Lan fuck we can't do it now like this, in a tent in the middle of nowhere!'' you blurted out.

''You're joking, right?'' he asked, unable to keep a smile a bay.

You tried to keep a stern face but failed miserably as he ignored you and took your leggings off.

''I'm serious! We can't have our first fuck like this''

Lando groaned. ''Ugh, ok, how about this - just the tip''

''Huh?'' you asked.

''I just let my tip enter you, for now, until your 'content' with the perfect date'' he reasoned.

You took a few seconds to think. You were so desperate for him, but at the same time you were so desperate for everything to be perfect, so maybe him inserting just his tip was a win-win.

''Okay fine'' you said, palming him through his shorts.

His own breath hitched as you pulled down his shorts and freed his aching dick.

You'd always suspected he'd be big. But not this big. You were speechless, thinking how the hell he was gonna fit in you. It stood tall and angry, begging for attention, with precum already dripping out the slit at the top.

''Easy,'' he said, seeing you thinking at a million miles per hour. ''I'll take care of you'' he whispered.

You nodded you head and he settled above you again. He slid his cock through your wet folds numerous times, often stopping at the clit to push against it, as he kissed you for the hundredth time today.

''Please, need you'' you mumbled.

And finally, he entered you. Just feeling his tip was a sore enough stretch, but it felt fucking amazing.

He slid out and pushed in again, hands on your hips to hold you still while your nails were digging into his neck muscles.

''Fuck baby, so tight'' he said, breath faltering each each movement.

''Lan you're so fucking big, feels so good'' you managed to mumble, pulling his lips down to yours for a feverish kiss.

A few thrust later, Lando's eyes turned shades darker. ''Y/n, i need you you. All of you, please'' he begged.

You knew what he meant because you wanted him just as much, and just as you started saying ''Ye-'' yes to him, he bottomed out, thrusting his whole dick into you.

You had no time to react, your breath getting caught into your throat as he was fucking into to at a relentless pace.

''Shit, how are you so fucking tight y/n, feels so good'' you said through gritted teeth.

''Hmm Lando. Fuck. Please. Harder. Give me more'' you begged him again, the pleasure fully taking over the pain and every time you shut your eyes you swear you could see stars.

His face was close to yours, breath mingling with yours and as he tightened his grip on your waist, surely leaving bruises for tomorrow, while you wrapped your legs around him as tight as you could, nails now stretching at his back.

You weren't surprised to already feel the warmth in your stomach building up. ''Lan I'm close'' you warned as he bought his fingers to toy with your clit.

The noises in the tent were obscene, and if anyone were to walk past they'd surely hear both of your pornographic moans and slick bodies slamming each other.

''Let it out'' he said breathlessly, lips violently sucking on your nipples as you pulled on his hair as hard as you could.

In no time you body was shaking underneath him, your juices gushing all over his dick and dripping out of you.

'Fuck me, Lando'' you moaned his name over and over again, praising him.

He didn't slow his movements, instead he quickened his pace further, chasing his own orgasm now as you felt his dick start to twitch and his movements become careless.

''So proud of you, taking me so well. Fucking waited for this day for too long. Not gonna get you go now y/n, you're too fucking amazing'' he said through grunts and moans.

hearing him say that tipped you over the edge again, violently releasing around him again. You let out a series of moans and closed your eyes, rolling them to the back of your head.

''Gonna cum, where do you want it?'' he asked, though you were too fucked out to say anything back.

''Y/n, tell me. Fuck I can't hold on anymore'' he all but shouted through gritted teeth.

''Ug, fuck, in me. Cum in me, please'' you finally said.

He bit down on your shoulder as you felt him shoot sheets of warm cum to paint your walls, his body shuddering above yours, now praising your name.

Finally he slowed his movements and settled still, still inside of you. You wrapped your arms around his back and held him as tight as you could as he settled his weight on you.

You both tried to catch your breaths, unable to move or say anything but just content to be in each others' arms.

Lando's head was nestled in your hair while yours was just in the perfect position to leave kisses on his shoulder.

He finally pulled his head up after some time and gave you a sheepish smile. He looked handsome as ever, and his curls were stuck to his forehead with a thin sheet of sweat that was dripped down his neck.

You couldn't help but lean up and lick the sweat that was dripping off.

Lando moaned again/ ''Úgh y/n, you're incredible. That was amazing'' he cooed, pecking your nose and looking back at you.

You decided you had to tease him a bit. ''You said 'just the tip!' what happened to that?'' you asked, chuckling so he'd know you were only playing him.

He raised a brow. ''How can i not give you a good fuck when you're here looking all pretty and making the best sounds from your mouth?'' he questioned back causing you to blush.

''Ugh, okay but you still owe me a romantic dinner'' you replied.

''Deal. You're mine now'' he said, kissing you again.

A/N - this was sooo much fun to write! Please send more requests!!

These pics though 😮‍💨

[swampthingking]

can’t study for my test because i’m having brain rot about neil accidentally getting super drunk and stumbling up to aaron like “andrew???” and aaron is like “wrong one” and neil is like “andrew.” and aaron is like “???? are you stupid” and neil goes to look for andrew but he stumbles into the table, and aaron has to catch him or he will get trampled for fucks sake, and neil just collapses into him in a drunk cuddly heap. and aaron is like “neil. you need to stand up” and neil is like “i am” and aaron is like “that’s because i’m holding you up” and they get neil to stand but neil kinda just flops into aaron’s arms again. and neil is like “i don’t hate you, i don’t, but it’s okay if you hate me” and aaron is like “ugh, ew are you really an emotional drunk???” and neil, to aaron’s horror, looks at him with tears in his eyes because you know when you’re too drunk and you kind of just get a little scared and you need help???? ya. and aaron is like … ok. and kinda holds neil until andrew comes back from the bar with more drinks. and he sees neil basically asleep on aaron’s shoulder, and aaron looking uncomfortable but accepting, so he kinda raises an eyebrow, an okay? and aaron nods and is just patting neil on his back

and tomorrow they’ll wake up and neil will toddle downstairs with his hand against his temple and aaron will have advil ready for him, and he’ll say “you’re annoying and you don’t know when to shut your mouth or mind your own business, but i don’t hate you” and the thank you for helping repair my relationship with my brother and thank you for testifying and thank you for staying goes unsaid but yeah

and that’s how aaron and neil became kind of friends

edit: vomited out a one shot for y’all (this will prob become a 5+1)

Aaron swirled his drink a few times, listening to the ice clacking against the glass.

Eden’s was packed tonight, courtesy of it being the end of the school year. College students and the regular patrons flocked to the bar, the dance floor, and all of the tables, leaving Aaron to reserve a high-top table, and his legs to dangle from the stool.

“Drew?”

Aaron ignored him in favor of the twinkling sound the ice makes in his glass. He’d already taken shots, danced, had another drink, danced again, and now Aaron’s body was heavy with alcohol and exhaustion.

“Drew,” Neil said again.

Aaron looked around their table and didn’t see Andrew. He remembered Andrew getting up and walking to the bar with their empty tray. Aaron found him a few seconds later, hands in his pockets at the bar. That and Neil, staring up at him, looking uneasy.

Before Aaron could tell Neil to get out of his face, Neil was speaking.

“Are you’nt having fun?” Neil frowned, blinking sleepy, hooded eyes at him. He leaned closer to study Aaron’s face.

“What are you doing?” Aaron grumbled, pushing Neil’s face away.

Aaron hadn’t even pushed him hard, he more removed Neil from his space rather than pushed him, but Neil wobbled like his world had tilted out of orbit. Aaron realized, quickly, that Neil was going to fall backwards. He grabbed two fistfuls of Neil’s shirt and pulled him forwards. Neil’s head lulled on his shoulders with the force, his chin hitting his chest then righting itself.

Aaron’s stomach lurched, sick with the thought that someone had put something in one of Neil’s drinks, as he would for anyone, but thankfully he’s never been put in that situation. Neil’s eyes were hooded, his face flushed. Aaron snapped once at Neil’s ear, and Neil recoiled immediately.

“Does your head hurt or anything?” Aaron asked. Neil shook his head, frowning.

“Are you dizzy? Follow my finger.” Aaron pushes Neil back so he can see his face, keeping one hand on Neil’s shoulder to hold him up. Neil follows Aaron’s finger as it moves back and forth, albeit a little labored, but not as if he’d been roofied. Aaron declares that Neil’s reaction times and responses are fine, but he still pulls the front of his shirt up and checks his belt, the button of his pants.

“What—?” Neil slapped a hand on his abdomen, stopping his shirt from being lifted any higher. Aaron didn’t need to see anything but his pants, but it was reassuring that Neil still had inhibitions.

His clothes were fine. His belt was still done, zipper up. No one had tried anything. Aaron relaxed.

“Sorry,” Aaron said. “Sorry, I just needed to…”

While racking his mind back to why Neil is this drunk, Aaron remembered Neil taking shots with Aaron, Nicky, and Kevin. Four shots. He’d seen Neil sip on another drink like the idiot had the tolerance for alcohol that the rest of them had.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Aaron said and released Neil. Neil attempted to step back, his hands raised in surrender.

“No?” Neil asked warily. Even drunk as fuck, he still respected boundaries. Andrew’s boundaries specifically, as it still hadn’t registered that he wasn’t talking to the right twin.

“I’m not Andrew,” Aaron said.

“Where’s Andrew?” Neil asked, turning his head pathetically in search. Aaron only had a good view of Andrew because they were seated at a high-top. Over the throng of taller people coupled with strobing lights, Neil’s view was obstructed.

“At the bar,” Aaron nodded in that direction.

Neil turned towards the bar. Well, he attempted to. He pivoted, lost his balance, and toppled into the table. He tried to right himself and started to fall to the other side. Aaron caught Neil before he could bust his shit and get trampled.

“Jesus Christ, Josten,” Aaron spat, righting Neil with hands on his biceps. Neil slapped a hand on the table and leaned his weight on it. The table quaked under such abuse, but held.

Neil turned slowly, grappling against the table as if he was standing in one of those spinning fair rides. In his excursion to simply spin 180°, his hand slipped off the edge of the table as he faced Aaron once again. He reached for the table, missed, reached for it again, missed, said, “Motherfucker,” under his breath, and finally gripped onto the edge. His eyes locked on Aaron’s again, and Neil’s useless hand landed on Aaron’s shoulder.

“Andrew,” Neil said. Aaron didn’t know if it was more a request or if it was just not registering.

“Wrong,” Aaron said, tense under Neil’s hand, but he didn’t push him off. He’d rather hold Neil up than peel him off the floor. “Aaron.”

“‘m very drunk,” Neil said, looking up pleadingly at Aaron as if he had a magical cure to shitfacedness, and all Neil had to do for it was look a little scared. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Aaron asked.

“I’m drunk.”

Aaron snorted. “That’s kind of the point when you’re at a bar.”

“But,” Neil said, taking a labored breath, “I’m…too drunk.”

This was beginning to feel exceedingly similar to speaking to a child. Aaron was annoyed, but not completely heartless, unlike the narrative of Aaron Neil had likely concocted. “It’s okay, Neil,” Aaron said. “You should sit down.”

Neil promptly sat as if there was a chair under him, but there was not. Aaron, still holding Neil vertical, got pulled out of his chair with the momentum. To avoid toppling to the ground—which did not get mopped as often as it should—Aaron planted his feet on the floor and hauled Neil up by his armpits.

“Help,” Neil murmured. His arms dropped to his sides as he yielded his dead weight to Aaron.

“Stand up,” Aaron grunted, readjusting to wrap an arm around Neil’s back. One of Neil’s arms flopped over Aaron’s shoulder.

“I am,” Neil complained.

“No, you are not.”

“I am.”

“Neil,” Aaron said through clenched teeth, “I am holding you up. You need to lock your knees.”

“Oh,” Neil said. He looked at his feet as if he needed to check they were on the ground.

To be fair, Neil did lock his knees, but he also leaned all of his upper body on Aaron, arms still hanging limply at his sides. He tucked his head into Aaron’s neck with, what seemed, every intention to make a home there for the night.

“Neil,” Aaron said, frozen against the hair tickling his cheek. “God dammit.”

“And…ron,” Neil spoke against his shoulder.

“Yes,” Aaron said sarcastically. “That’s me.”

“Can I j’stay here?” Neil slurred.

From what Aaron had seen of Neil’s dynamic with his brother, he knew Neil would get off if he said no. He could place Neil into a stool or pull up a chair with a back so he wouldn’t fall out and concuss himself. He could shove Neil off and make him fend for himself. He could pawn him off to Andrew.

At the moment, those other options seemed like far too much work.

That, or maybe it was the med student in him, the intrinsic urge to heal and help and nurture that smarted at the thought of pushing Neil off.

Aaron didn’t push him off when Neil readjusted and tucked an arm into his chest, the other gripping Aaron for stability. He didn’t when Neil asked again, a quiet, “Aaron.”

“Okay,” Aaron conceded. He rubbed a hand up and down Neil’s back placatingly, but also because Neil seemed like he needed it. And he came to Aaron for it. Well, he came to Andrew and got Aaron. But he didn’t push Aaron off, and Aaron hasn’t done the same.

And they just…stood like that. For what seemed like a long time, but it probably was only a few minutes before Neil spoke again.

“Aaron,” Neil said.

Aaron hummed in response.

“I don’ hate you.”

“What?” Aaron asked. “What the fuck are you talking about, Neil?”

“I don’t hate you.”

“What?” Aaron said again.

“I don’wanna fight.” Neil lets out a colossal breath.

“We haven’t fought in a long time,” Aaron says, his idea of agreement. Acceptance.

Neil was quiet, because it was true. Neil seemed content to lay in Aaron’s arms, and Aaron didn’t have another stool next to him. He sure as shit wasn’t giving his up for Neil, but Neil was genuinely so unsteady on his feet that Aaron couldn’t let him go.

He trembled a bit, and Aaron was almost amused that after everything Neil had been through, being a little too drunk is what finally did it for him.

But Aaron had felt that way before. Inebriated and scared in a crowded room of strangers. Neil, however, has people he knows. How can Aaron be upset at Neil for wanting the comfort that he also craved? How can he be upset that Neil feels safe enough with Andrew to ask for help? That his brother finally feels safe with someone too?

“Aaron,” Neil said.

“What,” Aaron said.

“It’s okay if you hate me.”

“Oh God,” Aaron groaned, “Ew. Are you really an emotional drunk?”

Neil pulled back and, to Aaron’s horror, there were actual tears in his eyes. His lip trembled as he bit it, holding the tears in. Aaron hated how much of himself he was seeing in Neil tonight. The harrowing fact that maybe they are quite similar.

“Oh God,” Aaron said again, mortified. He grabbed the back of Neil’s head and shoved it back into his shoulder, effectively hiding Neil’s teary face.

He cast a desperate look to Andrew, who was finally on his way back to the table. He patted Neil on the shoulder, like one would burp a baby when they have no idea how to do so.

“Andrew.”

Andrew didn’t need prompting to look. His eyes were trained on Neil and Aaron from the moment he turned around. By the nonchalance of his movements and his lack of alarm, Aaron guessed he had been watching their interaction.

Andrew set the tray down on the table and cast a significant look between them, settling on Neil’s intoxicated form keeled over on Aaron’s shoulder.

Andrew raises one eyebrow, a silent question, an okay?

Aaron finds himself nodding, and unsure why. All he knows right now, a few drinks in, is that he doesn’t hate this. And he doesn’t hate that Neil doesn’t hate him.

-

The smell of coffee set Neil’s feet moving like a Pavlovian response. He was half awake already with a pounding headache, like his eyeballs were beating his closed lids to death.

Neil toddles down the stairs with his eyes closed, a hand pressed hard to his temple, stabilizing his brain.

Aaron was standing at the counter already, facing the sputtering coffee pot. His arms were crossed, hair ruffled from sleep. At the sound of footsteps behind him, he turned.

The memories from last night played past Neil’s mind like a sped-up movie. He grimaced in embarrassment, and felt a little sick at how drunk he was. How stupid he was, to drink that much. He should have known his tolerance isn’t matched with the rest of them. He could have gotten hurt, could have said something—

Fuck.

“Fuck,” Neil said, covering his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Aaron said. He turned back to the coffee, though his posture was rigid.

Neil grabbed a glass of water. He noticed Aaron watching from the corner of his eye, but Neil chose to ignore him, figuring that’s best. He sat on the counter with his water, sipping it slowly while he and Aaron waited for the coffee to finish brewing.

The silence was thick, but they were both too stubborn to leave the kitchen. Usually, they preferred to wait and pretend the other wasn’t there.

That’s what Neil thought, at least. After a painful few minutes, Aaron huffed and grabbed the bottle of Advil from the drawer next to the sink. He shook two pills out and sat them next to Neil.

Neil stared at them until Aaron cast a pointed look at the pills, then physically gestured to them with raised brows. Neil took them while Aaron watched.

The coffee pot beeped. Aaron made a split second decision, grabbing two mugs and pouring coffee into them. He slid Neil’s across the counter. It sloshed over the side, but Aaron wasn’t capable of caring at the moment. His mind was busy, and he knew Neil had noticed his lack of eye contact; the analytical fuck.

“Look,” Aaron said. He did not look at Neil to say it. “You’re annoying, and you never know when to shut your mouth or mind your business. Most of the time, I’m convinced you have a death wish, and a lot of the time I find myself resenting you. You complicated our lives, put us all in danger, didn’t give a shit.”

Neil’s chest hurt. He didn’t know if it was anger or guilt. Aaron started talking again before he could figure it out.

“But I don’t hate you. I can’t, really. I can’t even fault you for the shitty things you did, because it all worked out.” Aaron glanced quickly at Neil, looked away. His cheeks were red.

The thank you for helping repair my relationship with my brother and thank you for testifying and thank you for being good to Andrew went unsaid, but Aaron hoped Neil wasn’t obtuse enough to force him to say it out loud.

Neil must have understood, because he nodded. Aaron figured that was as close to a reconciliation they were going to have, so he leaned against the counter and pretended everything was normal.

For the first time, they drank their coffee in silence without animosity orchestrating it.

Neil’s mug was half empty when Andrew joined them. He paused in the doorway, squinty eyed and mussed, looking between the two. Neil on the counter, Aaron leaning against it. Their silence, but lack of tension.

“This is weird,” Andrew finally said, his voice gravely from sleep.

“Yeah,” Neil and Aaron said simultaneously.

Neil glanced over his mug at Aaron, the corner of his mouth twitching. Aaron regarded it, but looked away, because something like contentment had made its way onto Andrew’s face.

Aaron smiled at that instead.

[afkaskus]

I wanted to write the fanfic I was thinking on Christmas, and I have a lot of imagination rn and it's amazing the things I have come up with today.

Bad thing is that it's because I'm burning in fever.

[lixie-phoria]

↳ ♡₊˚. rest please ꒱

9th!member reader falling sick from overwork and stress

requested - yes // Would you be able to possibly do a skz x ninth reader where she’s not feeling well and like throws up everywhere, and chan and the members help her though her not feeling well then specifically chan?

gn!reader x ot8 // warnings - reader is overworked, faints, mentions of diets, reader throws up (lmk if I missed anything!)

there is only one bang chan. you're sure of it. but as you stand up from the floor of the dance room, you see double images of your leader looking at you in confusion.

"yn?"

his voice resonates through your head, like an echo from someplace far, concern woven through his urgency.

you should probably reply to him, right?

"yn? can you hear me?"

when he steps forward, the world shifts. a searing pain runs across your head, like a red hot spike drilling into your skull.

"wha-"

you see it happen in the mirror - your figure collapsing onto the ground, jeongin's panicked yell, and the thud that follows immediately after before everything goes black.

it was just the three of you in the practice room that day, the others too busy with vocal training or recording or filming. it was comeback season, and to top things off your solo project was nearing too, closely following the release of your group album. and to say that you were overworked was an understatement. you don't remember the last time you slept for longer than an hour.

your days revolved around practice, recording, photo shoots, diets, promotions, and what not. this was busiest you have ever been, and it was slowly starting to show.

you register a dull pain in your upper arm and the throbbing of your head as you blink up at the bright ceiling lights glaring at you. you're covered in sweat, lying on the couch with your head awkwardly propped up against it's arm rest.

"she's up!" someone shouts as your senses return to you slowly. you're still in the dance room, but everything feels stuffy. someone is pressing an ice pack against your forehead.

"yn you scared us!"

all the members seem to have assembled in the dance room, crowding over your figure.

"what happened?" your voice is hoarse and your head feels groggy as you sit up, leaning away from felix as he tries to push you back down.

"you fainted! you were out for nearly fifteen minutes!"

"what?"

"yeah. scared the life out of chan hyung," jeongin adds.

"of course she did! do you know how worried we were?"

you feel mortified. you can't believe you fainted in the middle of practice.

"are you ok? does anything hurt? you fell pretty hard."

you shake your head - no. of course, the pounding in your head was getting worse and you were sure you bruised your arm but you weren't going to tell them that. being the maknae meant they already babied you a lot. there was no way you would admit how sick you felt.

"alright good. let's leave then."

"leave?" you stare at chan in confusion as he goes to unplug his phone from the speaker.

"yeah. you don't think we're going to let you dance after this, right?"

your eye twitches in mild annoyance as you listen to him speak so matter of factly.

"how come i don't have a say in this?"

"because the last time we let you have your say, you passed out."

"i'm ok! i don't need a break," you hiss, eyes narrowing as chan turns to look at you exasperated.

"yn-"

"i passed out, so what? big deal! you can't just call off practice when we have an album coming out!"

your voice escalates as you snap, and the others look at you in shock.

"yn calm down-"

"stop asking me to calm down!"

you don't know where the burst of annoyance was coming from, but it was strong and red hot, urging you to take it out on your members.

"i'm fine! stop treating me like a baby!"

you push away felix's hand from your shoulder, standing up to prove your point.

but that was a big mistake.

an ugly feeling immediately rises up your chest, slithering through your throat as the world tilts again and the lights blink at you.

"fuck."

you were far from fine, and that is the last thing you register before pushing past lee know and han, running out of the room and to the nearest washroom you can find, heaving your insides out.

it's terrible, kneeling on the ground as your head pounds worse than ever and flashes fill your vision.

"yn!"

you distantly register chan's panicked voice as he skids into your cubical, wasting no time in kneeling down right beside you, pulling your hair up into a makeshift pony.

"i need you to breath, ynnie. let it all out," he whispers softly, rubbing a soothing hand up and down you back as your body tembles from the gags.

a small part of you wonders what chan is doing in the washroom, before realizing that in your hurry you probably ran into the common staff bathroom.

"are you feeling better?"

chan's hands hover behind your back as you weakly get to your feet, mustering the energy to pull the flush and rinse your mouth with water.

you can do nothing but nod, slumping against him as you exit the bathroom, and his hands immediately clasp your waist, holding you up.

"i'm so sorry," you mumble, closing your eyes as you let him guide you to wherever he decided was best.

"it's not your fault."

"i shouldn't have yelled at you."

"it's ok, yn. we all have our bad days."

you feel the cold breeze on your face as you open your eyes to see he's walking you out of the building's back door, with your manager waiting with the car.

"if I take you to the dorms will you please rest?"

your brain wants to refuse. you need to perfect your choreography. you don't have time for rest.

but your body is an entirely different story. you can barely walk or see straight.

"ok."

your voice is small, and chan immediately knows you're reluctant.

you hear him sigh softly as he helps you into the car before climbing in himself.

"ynnie, please rest. or you'll get worse and might not recover until the release day. wouldn't that be worse?"

he does have a point.

"and taking a break is okay. you're doing so well, you don't have to push yourself when there's nothing you're lacking in."

he ruffles your hair softly as you lean into the seat.

"thank you."

"don't thank me when I didn't even realise how overworked you were until you literally collapsed!"

you laugh softly, slightly leaning down to rest your head against his shoulder.

"don't blame your-"

you're cut off when Chan's ringtone blares into the silence and he jumps slightly, fishing out the device from his pocket.

"fuck."

"what's wrong?" You turn to look at his steadily paling face.

"I forgot to tell the others you're okay and I'm taking you back to the dorms."

"shit," you agree, wincing as chan hesitantly slides the accept button.

"hello...?"

"YAH WHERE ARE YOU BOTH WE'VE BEEN SEARCHING THE BUILDING FOR THE PAST 10 MINUTES IS YN OKAY?"

lee know is loud, and chan has to lean away from his phone as the second oldest's voice comes out loud enough as though he's on speaker.

"minho-ah I'm sorry, I forgot to tell you guys. She's okay now we're going to the dorms."

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU FORGOT?"

you sigh before taking the phone from chan as his wince deepens.

"I'm okay. I'm so sorry for worrying you but please calm down."

the change in lee know's voice is so immediate it earns a snort from chan.

"oh yn, of course! Please take care, I'll bring back some soup and ramen for you when we come back from practice."

"thank you! Now please stop worrying."

you hand back chan his phone as he flashes you a grateful smile.

"i hope he brings me back ramen and soup too."

©lixie-phoria, 2024

taglist - @foxinnie8 @hamburgers101 @starlostlaiba @jiisungllvr (send an ask to be added/removed)

[shy-writer-999]

Giving Zoro a hand when he’s injured

WARNING: MINORS DNI. THIS IS NSFW CONTENT.

Author’s note: This is porn with plot. ~5.3k words. The smut starts at the asterisk I inserted, so you can skip the plot if you’d like. In this fic the reader (afab) gives injured Zoro a hand job. Includes Zoro touching himself and the reader later does the same. ʕっ•ᴥ•ʔっ \(๑•́o•̀๑)/ xoxoxo - see part 2 for more!

Giving Zoro a hand when he’s injured

Zoro tore one of his shoulder rotator cuffs in his last battle, and he was in bad shape. He also had a huge gash on his thigh that desperately needed to be cleaned and stitched up, but Chopper was on bed rest for a similar reason. The rest of the crew decided that you got to deal with Zoro while he recovered, because you had the most experience (other than Chopper) and least injuries.

Considering that Zoro had almost superhuman stamina and his body could repair itself quicker than most humans, the full recovery process would be a couple of weeks. Zoro would have to avoid using his shoulder for the whole time and he would need ice packs applied every 20 minutes for multiple cycles each day. And it was going to take Chopper at least four or five days to get back on his feet, so… that left you with lots of time babysitting the cranky swordsman. Those few days that you acted as Zoro’s nurse were the only days you had spent in such close proximity with him. Usually Zoro was always around, but you were far from close friends, he wasn’t overtly social, and when you were in the same room you were many feet away.

It would be safe to say that your proximity while you were taking care of him tortured Zoro. He couldn’t put a finger on it at first. You were annoying the fuck out of him. He had never noticed how annoying you were before—too smiley, too careful and tender with him when changing his ice packs, too patronizing… in reality, he was just projecting his misery and frustration on you, in part. But whenever you came into the room his blood pressure rose and he felt agitated, he couldn’t figure out what the hell his problem with you was, since you weren’t doing anything objectively wrong, either.

However, Zoro quickly figured out why you had been agitating him the second you were bent over his thigh, stitching it up. He was lying flat, slightly propped up because his pillows, cranking his head down to watch you work. He was prepared for the stitches to hurt and for the job to be shoddy—you were no Chopper, after all. But Zoro was quickly surprised. Your touch was as soft as a feather, you dabbed his wound with antiseptic so tenderly, gripped his leg firmly but delicately at the same time. Your stitches were swift and as smooth as could be, as painless as he had ever experienced.

Zoro had never felt care like this before. He could sense that you were adjusting your movements slightly to accommodate his comfort, and it caught him off guard. His gaze shifted from your hands to your face. You were so close. He could feel your body heat, see your chest rise and fall, bent over his upper thigh, focusing so intently. He always thought you were beautiful, but he had never been this close to you before. As you looked up quickly to check that he wasn’t grimacing in pain from your stitches, you locked eyes. Suddenly and unexpectedly, Zoro’s heart felt like it skipped a beat. Something stirred inside him. He had never felt this before. What was this feeling? Is it just her beauty that I’m taken aback by? How tender her hands are moving? Her closeness? Zoro reflected internally as his heart calmed down in a millisecond.

“Are you doing ok?” You asked, and briefly paused your work.

“Yeah.” He replied curtly. You got back to work.

It was amazing that he got flustered in that moment, considering that he was the Roronoa Zoro, being treated as tenderly and with as much care as a baby. He went back to watching you work, which had quickly turned into him staring at your face and hands. He was wrapped up in analyzing you, admiring you, so distracted that he forgot the pain for a moment. A thought intruded his mind—your head was down by his thigh, bobbing up and down as you leaned closer to get a better look at his wound. Your head was alarmingly close to his crotch. Would you look like this while sucking his dick? He was sexually frustrated as it was, so the thought wasn’t the most surprising. It’s not like he hadn’t imagined it before. But now that you were inches away from his cock, he couldn’t shake the mental image. His mind wandered. Would he grab your hair and push you down on it? Would you look up at him, like you just did, but with your pretty lips wrapped around his shaft? Before he knew it, he was starting to get hard. The timing was perfect though. You finished tending to his thigh and stood up.

“Okay, all done. Do you need anything before I leave?” You asked him, not noticing his bulge was growing bigger.

“No, thanks.” Zoro responded curtly again, and you left the room.

Recently, Zoro had been so sexually frustrated that he couldn’t go a whole day without excusing himself to the bathroom to masturbate—and you had been the object of his fantasies for weeks. He felt a bit guilty after cumming so hard to the thought of you straddling him, arching your back for him, spitting on his cock and sucking it dry, moaning sweetly as his fingers wandered inside of you…  Even before you were positioned down there by his crotch, he would see you walking around deck without a bra on and in a big t-shirt and he just couldn’t help but get ravenous thinking about you riding him.

Of course, you never noticed. You just thought he was sassy and kind of a dick sometimes. But he was being even coarser with you to compensate for how much you had taken over his mind. Having you so close to him for the first time, looking up at him while your body was bent over his, being able to see the outline of your breasts even closer and having an excuse to look… he wasn’t taking it well. He was getting harder by the minute, but managed to fight it off before you came back in an hour to carefully put ice packs on his shoulder. He held his breath when you got that close to him.

Zoro was shirtless, and while you were changing his ice packs and adjusting the padding, you couldn’t help but notice how tan and ripped he was. Even his scars were beautiful because they held stories, memories, pain, and strength. They told a narrative about his past, one which you admired him for. Zoro’s jaw was chiseled, his brow bone strong, his mossy hair was ruffled and endearing, his arms and chest were solid, like they were made of iron. He smelled good, which was weird, because you couldn’t remember the last time he bathed. He was rugged, beat up, covered in small scars and large ones, bruises, and marks. And he was all the more attractive for it.

“Is there anything else you need, Zo?” You had never used that cute nickname before. He took a second to answer because he was just staring at you, caught off guard again.

Zoro was thrown off by how much he was enjoying this, and he was realizing that he felt some sort of way about you. He hadn’t been annoyed, in fact, quite the opposite. He was sexually frustrated and didn’t know how to handle your presence. He realized that he loved it when you touched him, he even loved the sound of your voice. He was putting the pieces together. All things considered, it seems like he had an enormous crush on you that he hadn’t realized until then.

“Zoro?” You asked again, seeing he was spaced out. “Do you need anything else?”

“No, I’m fine. Thanks.” He waved his hand. When you left, the room felt empty. He didn’t know what to do with himself. Not only was he horny, but he was also bored. This is a painful combination, as I’m sure we all know.

The second day you cared for him was much like the first. You changed his ice packs many times. He only got up to go to the bathroom. The only thing that really sucked for him was the horniness and the boredom, neither of which seemed to have a cure that didn’t involve you.

“How’s your pain level?” You asked on one of your trips to his room.

“I’m fine. It’s not bad at all.”

“Ok cool. Do you need anything else?” You queried sweetly, again taking his breath away with your tender eye contact and attentiveness.

“No, I’m good. I’m going fucking crazy with boredom.” He opened up a bit, being the most real with you that he had been so far.

“Do you want me to read you a book? Or we can talk?” You asked.

Zoro thought about it for a second. He worried that he would get hard again if you were around for too long. You, his nurse, were a blessing and a curse.

“No, but thanks. I guess I’ll take a nap.” He responded, and you left the room.

Zoro waited until you were out of the room, and he heard your footsteps retreat down the hallway before he let himself get carried away again. He needed to masturbate as soon as possible. He’d gone almost two whole days without doing it, which was unheard of for him. Your presence was really throwing him for a loop. He let himself indulge in fantasizing about you for just a second and he was hard almost immediately. The blood rushed to his cock with such a speed that you’d think he would have gotten one of Sanji’s nosebleeds. His body was craving your touch. He felt like his core was on fire with need.

Zoro imagined you crawling on top of him naked and rubbing your sopping wet cunt all over his dick—he imagined you humping and grinding on it, getting off on it, before fucking yourself with it. He imagined you cumming on his dick and moaning his name. At this point his hand had crept down to palm at his erection through his pants. He was desperate for it. He grinded his palm down and over his hard bulge.

It had been so long since he touched himself. Zoro was starving for it. He imagined you sucking him off, cumming on your face, your mouth wide open to taste him, licking his cum off your lips. Zoro now took his cock from his boxer briefs and started stroking it slowly, up and down, moving his hand slightly so it felt just right. He was using the hand from the non-injured side of his body. He figured it would be fine, since he only had to worry about the other shoulder.

Zoro imagined fucking you from behind, fucking you from the side, fucking you standing up, fucking you over a counter, on the bed, on the kitchen table, in the crow’s nest, on the floor… He imagined cumming on your ass, on your tits, on your lips, on your stomach… he was stroking himself harder and faster now, fisting his cock furiously, precum smearing down his fingers, letting out muted gasps and grunts, wet sounds seeping into the air. He was getting so close to climax; he could see you so clearly in his mind.

Zoro was just a couple seconds away from orgasming when—“Hey Zoro, OH! Fuck!”

You had opened his door without knocking and just waltzed right in with a glass of water for him. You realized you forgot to refill it earlier and it had been maybe 20 minutes since you first left Zoro for his “nap.” When you walked in and realized what he was doing, your heart stopped, and your brain took a mental screenshot.

He was bent slightly, tensed up, his hand jerking up and down, his cock red and weeping precum, his head was thrown back. His brow was furrowed, he was panting, grunting, lost in pleasure. Zoro let out a small gasp when he saw you and immediately tried to pull his boxer briefs up, letting out an accidental and loud “FUCK”. As he tensed and tried to cover up his cock his shoulder seized up. Pain seared across his shoulders, up his neck, down his spine. He winced.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry I-I’ll come back later!!” You screeched and turned around immediately, slamming the door. The interaction lasted a couple seconds but left you both flustered, disturbed, embarrassed, and cringing.

And holy shit, was Zoro embarrassed. His erection was immediately gone, and he was pissed at you for not knocking on the door. He was incredulous. In addition, his shoulder hurt so badly that it was pulsing in pain. Why the fuck didn’t she knock? His heartbeat was through the roof—he didn’t know how to feel either, that you, the person who he had been getting off to, had walked in and interrupted. Was he… turned on by that? Surely not, yet he felt some sort of way about it and couldn’t put his finger on it.

You knocked on the door timidly an hour later.

“Yeah. Come in.” Zoro replied and his tone was icy. You peeked your head in.

“Hi… Zoro, I’m so sorry for not knocking.” You gave him puppy dog eyes and frowned. He thought you even looked cute while apologizing. “I really am sorry.”

“You bonehead,” he replied, scathingly. “Can’t a man have a second of peace? Jeez. Fucking knock next time.”

“I promise I will. I’m sorry, Zoro.” You were both blushing crimson and avoiding eye contact. The awkwardness was palpable, the silence suffocating.

“I-I- brought you some food and water… and a towel, in case you… y’know… in case you needed it.” You placed the items on the bedside table and almost ran out of the room. You couldn’t take the cringe anymore and you felt the animosity radiating from Zoro (or so you thought). Later, you changed Zoro’s ice packs and checked on his thigh bandage. When you changed his ice packs you could see that his shoulder looked worse; it was more inflamed, and he was hissing air out of his teeth every time you touched it.

“Sorry Zo, I know it hurts. But you know, you really shouldn’t masturbate for a few days while you heal.” You scolded him slightly.

“I injured my other shoulder, I’ll be fine.” He rolled his eyes. He wanted you to leave him alone. Bright red blush flooded his cheeks.

“No, Zoro, it’ll irritate the shoulder and arm muscles that are healing on your right side, even if you use your left hand.” You objected. “It’s going to make it difficult to heal if you irritate it, so just hold off for a couple days, ok? I’ll still knock though.”

Zoro sighed. “Okay, fine. I’ll try.” He was resigned and annoyed. Internally, though, he was cursing. How was he supposed to go multiple days if he didn’t manage to get off today? How was he supposed to keep himself in check if you were around him so frequently? He would go crazy, he’d die from blue balls, he’d cum in his pants if you got any closer to him. This was not good. Zoro was worried it just wouldn’t be possible. No masturbating for the next few days… it was unheard of for him.

As he was battling and mentally preparing himself to hold off on touching himself, Zoro was also dying from embarrassment. You had seen him in such an intimate and probably unflattering position—fisting his cock in bed thinking about you. Gosh. He thought that you probably thought he was gross, that you regretted being his nurse, that you would never speak to him of your own accord now. You, on the other hand, were absentmindedly wondering what he was masturbating to. Part of you wished that you could know, and you wished that it was you, and the other part told you to stand up and get a grip because you were too old to be pining after a man, period.

The next day you were changing the bandage on his thigh and reapplying antibiotic ointment when he got a boner again, and this time it was very noticeable. Zoro was accidently imagining you bending down in between his knees and choking on his cock. He was imagining you cradling his balls, slurping up and down, spitting on his cock and—oh God, he had a boner now. A full-fledged boner and you were less than a foot away from it. You glanced up from his thigh and immediately noticed it.

“Fuck—sorry.” He choked out. To divert your attention and downplay the awkwardness, he came up with a poor and somewhat weird excuse. “Go put some clothes on, lady. Sheesh!” You were wearing a black tank top, and he could see a tiny bit of cleavage as well as the outline of your breasts underneath it without a bra on (you rarely wore a bra on the ship because why would you?). He had imagined you peeling off your tank top, pulling it over your shoulders, your breasts free and naked… The boner was still raging, his pants became uncomfortably tight. You had, of course, taken note of how ridiculously huge it was.

You rolled your eyes. “Zoro, I always wear this!!”

“It’s indecent! GO put something else on!” He was using your tank top, exposed shoulders, and cleavage as an excuse for you to leave. He wanted to have a second to cool down and mentally try to extinguish his erection.

“Fine. Fucking hell.” You rolled your eyes again, genuinely annoyed.

Moments later, you returned in a light blue t-shirt, certainly more covered, but this was even worse for Zoro. The light color allowed him to make out the outline of your breasts even more. He cursed himself out for staring at you, but he couldn’t get his eyes to move. You noticed that he was laser focused on your chest and you started to blush. A fantasy flashed in his mind of latching onto one of your nipples and sucking, swirling his tongue around it while you moaned his name. Fuck. He still had the boner. It was getting even bigger now.

“Can’t you just hand me a pillow or something?” He asked, annoyed, and blushing vivid red.

“Ok Zoro, one sec.” You grabbed a pillow and threw it on him; he covered his erection.

The room was painfully silent. This was excruciating for both of you. Zoro’s hard on was pressing against the pillow and the pillow was doing far too little to conceal his erection, but even the friction of the pillow felt good.

When you came back with his dinner later that night the same thing happened. You walked in the room, set his dinner down, changed his ice packs and BOOM, another boner. He got even brighter red, and you matched him.

Zoro tried to defend himself from his rogue erections. He was worried he would make you uncomfortable. “Fuck, I swear it’s not you. I’m just dying over here. It’s been days.” He wrinkled his brow and looked at you, showing how agonized he was.

“You’ll be fine. Stop being so dramatic, Zoro.” You rolled your eyes for the thousandth time that day. “If you jerk off it will hurt your shoulder though, don’t forget. “

“Aghhhh” he groaned. “Fuck. Okay, I get it. Now just leave me alone.”

“Okay, big guy.” As you closed the door to his room, you threw one last sentence over your shoulder, half joking: “But… if you ever need a hand, let me know.”

Zoro was stunned. What the fuck did you just say? There’s no way. He thought it was funny that you were fucking with him like that but boy, did he wish you would give him a hand. He felt like a dog in heat, like he hadn’t fucked in ten years, like he was going to go crazy if he couldn’t let his load off in the next twenty minutes. He was so frustrated by this state that he couldn’t remedy. Unless you were being serious… but there’s no way, right? He had a boner all day at this point and he was getting sick of it.

The next day was more of the same. He had an instant boner the second you were changing his ice packs; it grew bigger when you checked on his thigh wound. You tried to ignore it, he blushed and averted his eyes again. You started to pity him at this point.

“Zoro, I was being serious about helping you out,” you looked at him carefully. “You look like you’re in agony. Are you really this sexually frustrated?” You were semi-joking with him, trying to banter to let the awkwardness dissipate.

Zoro swallowed hard and locked eyes with you again. He couldn’t tell if you were being serious, even though you just said so.

“I feel bad for you.” You said again, looking at him tenderly. “I’ll help you out if you need it, it doesn’t have to be weird.”

Zoro cleared his throat. “If you’re sure…” He trailed off.

“I am your nurse, after all,” you tried to put him at ease, joking.

“Stop teasing me,” Zoro pleaded pathetically. “I’m dying over here.”

“You know, you’re cute when you get flustered,” you poked some fun at him. He blushed again, his boner huge and pushing on his pants, painfully obvious.

“Fine. Let’s just get it over with. I can’t take it anymore.” He looked at you with genuine anguish, his heartbeat racing each second, erection growing, rubbing against the coarse fabric of his pants, pulsing with need.

“Okay, but make sure to hold still. Don’t go shaking around or anything, it will fuck your shoulder up.” You cautioned him and he rolled his eyes.

“I’m sure I won’t be doing any ‘shaking around’. Now let’s just get this over with.” He was visibly distressed.

(*) You shifted closer to Zoro, sitting on the bed. Your hand crept up and ran over his boner, and he inhaled sharply, looking away from you, tensed up. You unzipped his pants and shifted them down, giving yourself just enough access to his bulging cock that was rock hard.

Another tug and his boxer briefs were down, freeing his cock, which sprung into the air, huge, girthy, long, red and inflamed already. Your hand tentatively grasped his shaft and he shuttered. Reaching your other hand to caress his balls, Zoro couldn’t believe this was happening. It was one of his fantasies. Your soft hand began to move up and down his length. It felt so fucking good. He was finally, finally getting off, after days of torment. He had to mentally steady himself not to cum within two minutes.

You looked at Zoro and he had thrown his head back, eyes closed, blushing and obviously embarrassed. His mouth hung open barely, letting out puffs of air. He was so, so worked up, it was unreal.

As you stroked him and massaged his balls you realized that you should have grabbed lube or something. You spat in your hand and started rubbing his cock with more fluidity. The wetness of your spit felt amazing. Electricity ran up and down Zoro’s core and his cock was pulsing, jumping in your hand. He let out a small groan. He wasn’t expecting you to spit on it and it aroused him more than he thought was possible.

Zoro’s tip started to leak precum onto your fingers. It was milky and white, pooling out of him, lubing his throbbing red cock even more. He lost composure and started to groan quietly. You looked up at him again and he was watching your fingers sloppily graze up and down his slicked-up cock. Your hand picked up speed.

“Does that feel good?” You whispered at him, both hands now stroking his shaft, leisurely jerking him up and down. He nodded clumsily and threw his head back with a deep groan.

“Fuck. Don’t stop,” Zoro said out hoarsely, and his deep voice made fire pool in your stomach. You were wet already. You wished you could put his cock in you and ride on it, grind on it, bounce up and down on it, moaning his name. You removed a hand from his cock and crept it into your pants, rubbing your clit under your panties. You couldn’t help it. He was groaning and moaning, panting, his dick twinging—you were unbelievably turned on.

When Zoro saw you touching yourself, his heart stopped. Your eyes met and you looked at him with need and desire so plain on your face it was shocking. His hips started to buck up into your hand, making you jerk him off faster and deeper. He was desperate. He needed more, he wanted to cum so bad, he wanted to moan your name, watch you cum from touching yourself.

“Oh my fuck, Y/N,” he whimpered. “Feels so fucking good. I needed this so bad, I was going crazy, I wanted you to touch me so bad.” Your face flushed red, and you fingers moved faster, your wetness seeping into your already soaking panties, gasping with pleasure as his words went straight to your pussy. Zoro was watching you pleasure yourself and it felt good.

“I wish I could fuck you right now,” you murmured quietly.

“Please,” he begged. “Please fuck me.” His voice was deep and gravelly, he was out of breath, his face twisted in pleasure, his hips jerking up into your hand fervently.

“I can’t,” you pleaded. “It will hurt you, Zo. We have to wait.” He furrowed his brow and closed his eyes, letting out another moan.

You took your hand away from your dripping wet panties and started to stroke him with your own wetness. Zoro could feel every drop of it. He was shaking, moments away from orgasm.

“I’m going to cum,” he whispered. “Fuck.”

Your hands moved faster, squeezing him tighter, encouraging him to let it out. Seconds later he let out a deep, desperate, harsh groan and convulsed. He came hard. His cum spurted out of his tip that was red and inflamed, shooting ropes of sticky milk all over your hands and on his own stomach.

He moaned your name deep, low, and drawn out, and your pussy vibrated. You moved a hand to rub your clit again immediately upon hearing his deep and needy groans. Hearing him utter your name so sensually made you feel feral. It was something you had been dreaming of for so long. As you came, you moaned his name back at him. “Zoro, fuck.”

After a moment of endorphins blitzing his brain, Zoro regained clarity. “Holy shit,” he panted out. “I needed that so bad.”

“I know you did,” you replied. Something came over you and you leaned up to kiss him. He went rigid and then slowly melted into your lips. It was intimate and special; it was more than just a transactional hand job—the kiss transformed the moment into something more than that.

Looking down at his cum that laced his stomach, you quipped, “I’ll have to try that next time.”

“Next time?” He looked at you cluelessly, blushing.

“Mmmhmm. Now let’s get you cleaned up.”

( ˘ ³˘)♥ (・ω<) (^≗ω≗^)

check out part 2 if you're interested! thank u so so much for reading!!

also here is my masterlist :3

[lidiasloca]

Ok this one of my ideas not sure if I have actually read it before or if it was a fever dream. Az has a girlfriend/ mate that the inner circle hasn’t met before.she works with marja as a high and has maybe other powers I don’t know. I have 2x options in which to take this idea. 1. Azzy gets very hurt on a mission and his brought to you to fix him. Very emotional IC and reader. They save him blah blah. 2. Some of the healers are working on so far out town. Az was cutie and like don’t go. She was like boo you go all the time I going to help people. Love you be back soon. But while they are there they are kidnapped by someone ( you pick). Word gets back to Marja who tells Rhys and Az happens to be there. Az freaks out when he hears our name on the list of miss. Blah blah.

totally cool if you don’t wanna use. It is just an idea.

azriel being worried about you going on a mission

azriel x reader

fulff

a/n: i ain't really not for angst these days, so i only took the beginning of your second idea, hope u dont mind :)

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄☆

“You will not go,” Azriel sates, and his voice is so commanding and serious you stop in your tracks. 

“Azriel, we’ve been through this. I’m a healer. This is my job.”

“No, your job is to heal people being safe,” he explains as if you were stupid. You know he means well, but you are growing more irritated by the moment. “Your job is not putting your life in danger.”

“Well, saving lives in the middle of a war comes obviously with my life being in danger.”

Giving him your back, you continue packing all you need for the journey. You hear his footsteps getting closer, then his hand is on your back, gently stroking. “Y/N. Please,” and it sounds enough of a plea for you to turn and face him. 

“Azriel, you constantly put yourself in danger. Almost everyday I have to see you leave to work, with no assurance you will come back.”

His eyes drop to his feet in defeat. “I know, and I know it’s not fair for me to ask you this. But - I simply don’t care.” He watches you again, a spark of confidence and hope settles in his eyes. “I cannot risk loosing you, and the risk of loosing you is higher than yours is to lose me on a mission.” When he catches your frown, he adds, “You must give me this; I know how to defend myself better than you in the battlefield.”

You let out a soft chuckle, the seriousness of before fading a bit as a timid smile blooms on his face.

But your mind is made up. “Azriel,” you sigh. “I must go still.”

His lips close to a thin line, worry back in his face. He takes your hands in his scarred ones. You are to hear his angry pleads again, but to your surprise, he simple answers, “Alright.”

You open your eyes wide in astonishment. “Alright?”

Your mate grins before adding, “Alright.” And that grin means two things. Trouble, or planed trouble. 

“What is your mind up to, Az?” you ask accusingly, as if he was no more than a kid planing mischief. 

His grin grows more teasing. “Nothing, nothing,” he says as he turns to your travel trunk, putting things. His things. “It’s just that I'm going with you.”

“What?”

“What?” he says, totally unfazed by the situation. “You need protection. I want to know you are safe. You are no good with a sword, yet excellent healing people. I’m quite good with a sword. I think it’s a perfect plan.”

“You miss that Rhys has assigned you a mission in the Spring Court. Tomorrow.”

He looks at you, looking at you as if what you’ve said it’s dumb. “I don’t remember that.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Love,” he says, and his voice is serious again. “Please. I beg you, don’t make me suffer like this. Let me accompany you. I will talk to Rhys and he will understand. He knows how terrible it is to know your mate is in danger, no mater how strong or brave she is. And you are, but I am not strong enough to spend every second of the following days not knowing if you are safe.”

You sigh, now you are defeated. “Alright.” He smiles triumphantly, so you are quickly to add sternly, “But no scaring anyone that comes near me, understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” and he has that teasing smirk on his face again. 

-Characters by Sarah J Maas

HEY! IF YOU LIKED THIS, YOU CAN CHECK OUT MY AZRIEL MASTERLIST HERE <3

and you can also request any fic idea you have through my inbox so i can write it down :)) i much appreciate requests for azriel and other acotar characters

[muwapsturniolo]

♱ 𝐁𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐆𝐨𝐝, 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐖𝐞’𝐥𝐥 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐤 ♱

IN WHICH…A virgin meets the new priest of her church, father Matt, and her world of all things holy begins to crumble.

WARNINGS…Religious figures, god is mentioned, Demons, innocent!reader, and blood.

APOLOGIZING NOW TO ANYONE WHO IS SUPER RELIGIOUS! THIS IS NOT MEANT TO DISRESPECT ANYONE, I JUST GOT THE IDEA FROM OTHER SMUTS I'VE READ, THE SONG BY PATD!, AND THE MOVIE MOTHER!

From the time she was born, Y/n was introduced to the church, her 1-week old body being bathed in the tub of holy water. Her parents made sure to bless her quickly, not liking the idea of their child being tainted instead of pure. As she grew up, her parents kept that going.

They didn't let her go to public school, opting for her to be homeschooled. Except it wasn't the typical version you see in movies and TV shows, it was a school system that was based on their religious views. every day at 6 AM, the girl would get ready, walk to church, pray with the other church children in the community, and sit in the cathedral, and learn the bible. At 4pm, she would make the walk home and do her homework at the table, as her mother cooked dinner and her father worked. By 7:30 she would be in bed sleeping.

She didn't see anything wrong with it, none of the children did. Their parents never let them go into town with the heathens, they never let them watch TV or movies unless it was holy.

It was a very strict and mundane lifestyle, but it's all she knew so she had to be ok with it.

However, there was a certain day that was her favorite.

Saturdays.

It was her favorite day, but she would never say that out loud. It was a day she had to herself, being able to do whatever she wanted within reason. She would usually spend the day at the park, nose-deep in a book as she ate the snacks her mother packed for her.

That brings us to today.

She was giddy as she pulled on her pink Mary Janes, the sleek material complimenting her white frilly knee highs very well. She bounded down the stairs with ease, her steps light and fairy-like. Just as she makes it to the last step, her father comes out of the kitchen holding her lunch bag for the day.

"Park today?"

"Yes Daddy," she gives him a soft smile, which he returns. He hands her the brown sack as well as a few dollars. She frowns in confusion as she stares at the money in her hand. "Did you need me to grab something from the market?"

Her father chuckles and shakes his head, "You've been good. I heard from Father Jon that you did well on your test, so I decided to reward you. Why don't you get yourself some ice cream before you go to the park? it's a hot day."

She gives him a wide and joyful grin, her mouth salivating as she already tastes the vanilla ice cream in her mouth. She gives him a tight hug and a quick kiss before rushing out the door.

Her movements are childlike as she skips towards the park, the ice cream stand soon coming into view.

"One vanilla cone please!" She hands the worker the money and watches as he scoops the ice cream into the sugar cone. She's soon walking off with the cone, her tongue licking up the sides of the dripping desert. She hums in delight, thanking her god for such a delicious treat. She was in her own little world, oblivious to the pair of eyes trained on her. She didn’t feel the piercing gaze watching her tongue swirl along the cream, but she did feel the heat on her body. A thin sheet of sweat forming as the sun burned bright.

Sadly, she finishes the cone quickly, but her sadness is replaced with joy as she sits under her tree. She sets her bag next to her and pulls out her lunch sack and her book.

She wasn't allowed to read certain books, her parents monitoring whatever media she consumed. She managed to convince them to let her get versions of the Bible and stories from the Bible that still had a bit of freedom and new world views in them.

She knew it was a sin to be sneaky and lie to her parents, but it wasn’t that bad of a lie…right?

She hums as she pulls out her book, The Handmaid's Tail. It was a pretty dark book, but she loved the storyline, eager to see how June finally would make her escape.

She sets her book down due to the heat and begins to search through her bag, looking for one of her handkerchiefs to wipe her face. Suddenly a looming shadow forms over her, blocking out the blazing sun of California. She looks up from her bag and sees a man, a very tall man at that.

“Sorry to disturb you angel, I was just wondering if you were ok. You seemed a bit…parched.” She swallowed thickly as his bright blue eyes bore into her, everything about him making goosebumps rise on her skin.

“Oh-I umm-it’s a bit hot and I was just looking for my handkerchief.” The man hums and hands her a bottle of water, a smile on his face. "Take this, seems like you need it." She couldn't tell if it was the sun making her cheeks heat up, or if her face was hot in bashfulness. His smile was angelic, gracing his face as his teeth shined bright and white.

"T-thank you, that's very kind," she says softly as she shakily takes the water from him. The man watches with pricing eyes as she takes a sip of the cooling liquid. He watched the way her lips wrapped around the rim of the bottle, some of the liquid dripping out the sides and down to her chest. He licks his lips as the water collides with the cross on her neck.

"And what is your name angel?"

"Y/n"

“Beautiful name…Tell me Y/n, do you follow the path?”

She gives a firm nod, “Yes sir, it’s the right way to live.” The man smiles at her words, his eyes soon landing on the book in her lap.

“The Handsmaid Tale? That is a pretty heavy book, especially with June defying the natural order of Christ.” Y/n tenses, feeling scolded like a child by his words. She knew the book was taboo, anyone in her town who read it would hate June's defying personality. It was known to her that everyone agreed with the mindset of Gilead.

She looks down at the book, now feeling bad about tricking her parents into getting her the book. She knew if they found out what she was really reading, they would lose their head. They'd probably burn all her books and have her wash the floors with a toothbrush again.

“I um, I-I won’t tell.” Her breath catches in her throat as he winks at her. He chuckles at her shy and timid demeanor, enjoying how flustered he's made her.

Suddenly Y/n catches a glimpse of something out of the corner of her eye that makes her turn her head. Her eyes land on a person who’s standing far away, their outline being a simple black figure, but it doesn’t seem right.

Their body is curved slightly to the right, their head looking like it’s going to fall off their body. Their arm was raised halfway, giving her an eerie wave. It unsettles her, her body suddenly feeling cold and tense. The person reminds her of the shadow people she would see late at night in her room when she was younger.

“W-who’s th-“ She turns to the man only to realize he’s gone. Her brows furrow in confusion, where could he have gone that quickly? She looks back where the assumed person was standing, only to see them walking towards her, only they aren't walking,

They're running...Quickly.

She scrambles back, her eyes wide and breathing ragged. She feels her back hit something making her scream in fright.

"Calm down angel," She quickly turns around and sees the man holding a plain white rose. She turns her head back to see if the figure is still running at her, but they're gone. She looks back towards him in a panicked confusion.

"They-It-But you-" She pants heavily not understanding what just happened. The man ignores her confused jumble of words and holds the rose out to her.

She stares at the rose in confusion, not understanding why he's offering it to her.

"Take the rose angel, all angels deserve a rose."

She's hesitant for a moment but slowly reaches her hand out for the flower. She takes it and stares down at the rose fondly, examining it's fragile petals.

"I'll see you around angel," He whispers as he walks away. It takes a moment for her to realize, but she shoots her head up and calls out for him. "Wait I never-" She winces feeling one of the thorns prick her finger.

She brings her finger closer to her face, watching as a pool of crimson trickles down the side of her hand. It's almost as if she's captured in a trance, her eyes void of all emotion as she focuses on the blood. Her eyes land on the petals of the rose, the once bright white flower now tainted with the crimson fluid

She stares at it, watching the substance soak into the petals.

"Y/n there you are! It's late and time for dinner!" She jumps in shock and drops the rose, her head darting up to see her mother. "let's go! you've been out here for hours! And what happened to your hand?" her brows furrow in confusion.

Hours?

Her mother rolls her eyes and motions for her to grab her things, "it's already 5 o'clock!" Y/n's lips parted in shock. It couldn't be 5 o'clock, she didn't even get to eat her snack yet or read more than a page of her book.

Seeing her mother's frustrated look, she quickly gathers her things and stands up, following her mother back home and listening to her rant about being inconvenienced.

She's soon showered and dressed in her pajamas, dinner having already been eaten. She lays in bed and stares at the ceiling, her mind swarming with the thoughts of what happened at the park.

She couldn't understand that shadow figure, how time moved so quick, nor could she understand the man she met today.

She'd never seen him before, was he new in town? How religious was he? Would he be at church tomorrow?

It seemed as if her slumber flew by, as soon as she closed her eyes, they were opening once again.

It's Sunday, meaning it's time for church.

She goes through her routine quickly, making sure her church clothes are modest and not a hair is out of place. It wasn't long before she was sitting in her usual seat of the church, listening to Father Jon preach as her pink bible sat in her lap.

It was the usual sermon, Father Jon preaching about how it's important not to stray from the righteous path of the lord, and how you should devote your whole life to thy heavenly father.

"Before we end our day with our prayer, I would like everyone to welcome a new face to our church. He came all the way from Boston to be with us so I hope all of you give him a warm and heavenly welcome. "

The girl looks up from her bible and gasps softly when she the man from the day before. He was wearing a long-sleeved clergy shirt and suit jacket, his rosary hanging from his hands that were clasped together.

"Thank you all for having me, i'm joyful to see what this church is like. I wasn't satisfied with how they ran the church in Boston." The man speaks with a soft smile.

"How rude of me, I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Matthew, but you all can call me Matt, Father Matt to be precise. If you don't mind Father Jon, I'd like to read a quote from Proverbs and debrief on it a little."

Father Jon nods firmly and steps to the side, allowing Matt to have the podium.

He clears his throat and looks down at the bible, flipping to the page he was looking for.

"Proverbs 26:28..." Matt's eyes search the crowd before landing on Y/n, making the girl tense. His gaze was firm and unwavering.

"Proverbs 26:28 states that 'a lying tongue hates its victims, and a flattering mouth works ruins.' .'' His voice bellowed through the speakers of the church.

Y/n can't help but shrink in on herself, she knows why he chose this scripture. She anxiously begins to tap on the hardcover of her bible, not being able to break her eyes from his.

"Lies are tools, harmful tools that hurt others and grant the liar whatever they want. Proverbs is trying to tell us that liars don't care about their lies hurting others, and that liars are selfish and greedy. The second half of the scripture states that when we flatter others to get what we want, we are causing damage. "

A loud thud is heard as he slams the bible shut, his gaze finally breaking with Y/n and scanning the rest of the attendees.

"So you see... This is a very important scripture. I don't like liars, and I'm more than certain the church doesn't either. I'm under the impression that confessions are to take place after our sermon today, so I suggest you take the opportunity to confess your lies and sins to be forgiven."

Y/n looks down, nibbling on her bottom lip anxiously. She felt guilty about her actions.

Why would she lie to her parents? The people that gave her life and love her...all for a few books?

She was a sinner.

They get through their ending prayers and stand up from their place in the pews, "Let's go greet Father Matthew and let him know how grateful we are to have him." Her father states. Y/n quickly shakes her head.

"N-no! I'm sure he's tired of all the greetings! How about we just g-Hello you three," She tenses hearing the all too familiar voice. She turns around and comes face to face with Matt who has a mischievous smile.

"Father Matthew! It's a pleasure to have you join our church!" Her father's voice is joyous as he shakes Matt's hand firmly. "Thank you for having me, I'm hoping this church is a better fit for me. The church in Boston seemed to...stray from the path and warp their views into the bible."

Matt's eyes move to Y/n who is staring at him with wide eyes, "Y/n, nice to meet you again."

Y/n stares at him nervously, her whole body frozen. Besides the fear of him exposing her lies, she's not sure why he makes her so nervous, something about him is off...and she doesn't like it.

It's like that feeling when you're on a roller coaster, at the highest point anticipating the drop.

That's where she was currently, at the top of the roller coaster, waiting for Matt to drop the ball and tell the truth, exposing her lies and manipulative tendencies.

However, it doesn't come.

"Forgive me, your daughter and I met yesterday at the park. You all are raising a wonderful, and holy-spirited girl. I can't wait to see how she performs in class tomorrow."

She blinks and suddenly she's back home and lying in her bed, staring at the ceiling. She doesn't know how she got here, she still remembers being at church and standing in front of Father Matt. She huffs and pulls her blankets higher up. As she does so, she notices something moving in her closet. She turns her head just in time to see a shadowed hand clench the side of her door from inside the closet. Her eyes widen seeing the long talons scratch the white wood, creating an ear-piercing scratching noise. Her whole body is stricken with fear, frozen in place as the small hairs over her body stand up, alerting her of danger.

Before she can scream, her door is opened, the hand reaching from the closest quickly retreating as light floods the room. She whips her head towards the door and sees her parents standing in the doorway.

"No book tonight?" Her mother asks in confusion. Usually, the girl would be tucked into bed, nose-deep in a book. "N-no, I umm...I don't really feel like reading anything tonight," She answers softly, trying to make sense of what she just saw moments before.

"Well, we just came to say good night and also tell you how happy and proud we are that you made a good impression on Father Matthew. Make sure to keep that up, maybe he can put in a good word to get you in the choir."

She says nothing, just pulling the blankets closer. Her parents go to leave the room but she quickly stops them, "Can...Can you leave the hallway light on with my door cracked...Please?" She questions timidly. Her parents give each other a look before looking back at her.

"You're not seeing things again are you?"

"No No..." Another lie.

"It's just...I actually might read a little bit before I fall asleep." Another lie.

"Alright, that seems fine. Just don't stay up too late, you have school."

Her parents do as asked, leaving the door cracked and the hallway light on. Y/n tries to go to sleep, closing her eyes and saying a soft prayer as she begins to drift off, the hallway light casting a soft glow on her face.

As she falls into a deep slumber, doesn't hear her closet door opening, nor does feel the shadow looming over her, watching her.

AHHHHH PT 1!!!! PLZ LET ME KNOW WHAT YALL THINK SO FAR! CHAPTER 2 REALLY DIVES IN DEEP FOR THE PLOT SO I CAN'T WAIT FOR YALL TO READ THAT NEXT!!!

𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 🍑: @mattslolita @thenickgirl @guccifrog @luverboychris @zayyluvz @mrsmiagreer @chrisssluttywaist @78yaz @hoesformatt @freshloveforthefit @3lizaluvs @mattsturniolosgirlfriend @jetaimevous @luxy-nyx @ts-is-my-spirt-animal @iihrtsturniol0 @idontexistman @katw4shereee @madisturn @starlace111 @zivall @adoreindie @imwetforyourmom @sturnsxplr-25 @sturncakez @theyluvme-2315 @moonk1ss3d @@babyalliah-777 @sturniololol @oliviasturniolo21 @ariithereyet @blahbel668

[helen-with-an-a]

I am an adult pt 4

Hi. So this is pt 4 of the I am an adult. I really liked writing it and hope you enjoy it too. I definitely want to do a 5th part but I'm not sure about how many more after that I will do (if you get what I mean). Also, all of the German and Spanish is from google/google translate so if it's wrong, I apologise

Barca Femeni x Reader ; Lena Oberdorf x Reader

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 3.5 : Part 4 : Part 5 : Part 6 : Part 7 : Epilogue

Description: Lena gets the talk

Word Count: 4.1k

TW: Slight smut (undescribed/suggestive rather than outright)

You weren’t used to waiting at airports for people. Usually, you were the one who was walking off the plane to visit friends and family. But you couldn’t deny the excitement bubbling up – just thinking about who would be walking through the door made you smile. You didn’t quite know the protocol for meeting your long-distance girlfriend off a flight. You were nervous about it – wanting to do it right. You may have gotten into a bit of a TikTok wormhole over couples reuniting; most people went with flowers and a sign, but you were staying in an unfamiliar city for both of you, and you did have a match to play. It was something you agonised over for days before the arrival. Having consulted an unhelpful Ona, a laughing Patri and an amused Jana, you settled on asking Alexia. That was an adult thing to talk about, right?

“Um … Ale, can I … can I ask you something?” You said as you curled up on her sofa.

“Of course, pequeña. Esta todo bien?”

“Yeh, um … it’s about Lena, actually” That might have been a bad way to phrase it. Alexia’s face dropped, her gaze becoming a little icy.

“Que hizo ella?” Her voice was just as cold.

“Nothing, nothing, prometo.” You reassured her. “I wanted to ask you what to get her for the airport,” you explained quietly, a little apprehensive over her response.

“Oh, cariño.” Alexia cooed, pulling her legs up to tuck underneath her as she twisted to face you, her hand reaching along the back of the sofa to pick at the corner of the cushion. “Honestly, I don’t think she’d be expecting anything. I certainly wouldn’t if Olga and I met somewhere in the middle.” Her look softened even more as you nodded furiously, eyes locked on her patterned carpet. She could see you sag ever so slightly – clearly, you wanted to get Lena something. “I think, if you really want to get her something,” she continued, smiling as you perked up at her response. “You could do something small – like a … ugh, what’s the word …” She was so fluent in English you often forgot that it was technically her third language. “It’s small and fluffy; you give it to niñas,” she clicked frantically, clearly trying hard to remember. “Un oso de peluche,” she sighed, wracking her brain to remember the English word.

“A teddy bear?” You asked, helping her out slightly.

“Sí, sí, a teddy bear. You could get her one of those? It would be small enough for her to pack away when she travels, and it is something she can keep with her when she’s back in Germany.” You smiled at her suggestion – nodding happily at her words.

The day was finally here. You were finally seeing Lena again. Madrid airport was a little struggle to navigate but you stood, buzzing with excitement, as you waited at arrivals. You looked down at the goodies you had with you – a little bag filled with a very cute and very fluffy teddy bear, some Spanish sweets, and an iced coffee in your hand. You had also packed a few extra jumpers to sneak into Lena’s bag before she left.

L💚: Just got through passport control and stuff

L💚: I’ll be maybe 5/10 more mins

[Initial] ❤️💙: eeeeeeeeeeeeee

[Initial] ❤️💙: ok – I’m like right by the exit

[Initial] ❤️💙: turn left when u walk through it and im by the pillar post thingy

5 to 10 more minutes … you could do that. With every passing minute, your excitement and anticipation grew. It had been a long few months without Lena by your side. Yes, you texted every day; Yes, you Facetimed 5 times a week minimum; but seeing her in person, being able to hug her and hold her and kiss her and smell her and touch her and … you couldn’t be more excited.

“Hola, mi amor.” Very poorly pronounced Spanish whispered to you as strong, familiar arms wrapped around your waist.

“Lena,” you squealed, clearly having missed her walk up – far too much in your own head.

“mmmm, ich habe dich vermisst,” she sighed happily as you twisted in her grip to hug her tightly. She was warm and soft and smelt of cinnamon.

“I’ve mis- no, wait,” you cut yourself off. She tilted her head to the side, drawing back to look at you. “Ich habe dich auch so sehr vermisst,” you stumbled slightly but the big, wide grin on Lena’s face told you, you had said it right.

“Can I kiss you, Schatz?” she asked gently. You blinked slightly, not expecting her to ask you that in such a public space. “I, we, don’t have to. It’s just it’s been so long, and,” she rushed to get out, hating the fact that she had made you even the smallest bit uncomfortable.

“Liebe,” you cut her off, waiting until she looked at you before you continued. When her warm chocolate eyes met yours, you struggled not to float away in them. “Please, kiss me.” You smiled as she let out a breath of relief. You met halfway, and it was just as perfect as all the other kisses you two had shared, if not more so after such a long time apart.

“As …” she cleared her throat as she pulled away slightly. “As much as I want to continue. We should get going … but later, ich verspreche.” She vowed and picked her bag up off the floor. And extending her hand for you to take.

“No, wait, gimme that.” You gestured for her bag, forcing it from her when she hesitated to hand it over. “Also, these are for you,” you said with a proud smile, giving her the now slightly watery coffee and bag of goodies.

“Schatz, you shouldn’t have.” She began, but you shook your head, denying her the chance to complain. You stuck your tongue out at her, intertwined your fingers and pulled her towards the exit.

Taking the metro back to your hotel reminded you a lot of your first date. Lena looking slightly puzzled over the Spanish being spoken all around you. On your first date, you had shyly stood next to her, closer than two friends would be not enough to make her feel uncomfortable, and quietly translated a bit of the conversation between two girls nearby; you added the voices to differentiate between the two girls and jokingly copied any actions they did. This time, you let her lean against you, one arm sneaking around her waist to fiddle with the belt loops on her jeans and the other holding tightly onto the handrail. Her head dropped into your neck, muttering something in German.

“What was that, Liebe?” You asked softly, mindful that your mouth was quite close to her ear despite the busy train.

“Müde,” she said again into your neck. It took you a minute to sift through the German in your head. You pouted when you finally understood what she was saying. She was tired. That you could understand, travelling was difficult when you understood the language, let alone one where you landed in a country where the language was entirely different and almost no familiarity to yours. You pressed a chaste kiss to her hairline, hoping to comfort her a little.

“Naw,” you cooed. "It’s okay. We’re almost back to the hotel. We can have a nap if you want,” you pressed another kiss to her head. "But Alexia says she has to see you at some point tonight,” you reminded her.

“Forgot ‘bout Alexia,” she whined tiredly, her grip tightening on you.

“I’m sorry, Liebe. I promise she won’t be too harsh or scary. I know she can come off a bit..." you struggled for the right word. “Intense? But I promise she’s really sweet.”

You finally made it to your stop, and you filtered off the train, fingers laced together so neither of you got lost (mainly Lena, as she didn’t know a lick of Spanish). Just as you were walking up the steps outside, a flustered woman appeared next to you.

“Lamento mucho molestarte. Pero estoy intentando llegar al aeropuerto y tienes una maleta. Sabes cómo conseguirlos?” The flurry of Spanish through you off for a second as you had been conversing in English almost all day.

“No, no te preocupes en absoluto. Um, sólo necesitas …” As you explained the directions to the woman, Lena couldn’t help but watch in awe. She knew you could speak Spanish – you lived in Spain, you played for Barcelona, and she’d seen you talking in Spanish on the football pitch. Hell, the first time she had met you, you were finishing a conversation in Spanish with the film and media crews. It had done something to her then, and it was doing something to her now, too. She couldn’t understand a word of what you were saying, but the accent, the rapid words, the hand gestures, your kind smile … she suddenly wasn’t as tired as she felt on the train.

“Sorry, Liebe,” you said as you finished, waving to the woman as she sped down the steps towards the platform. She was asking about getting to the airport—she had seen your bag and guessed we had just come from there.” You explained, taking her (now slightly clammy) hand and leading her towards your hotel.

The hotel room was big and welcoming, a large bed in the centre with your things thrown haphazardly across it called to Lena as she walked through the door. She left her stuff by the wall and flopped heavily down, sighing at the softness that surrounded her. You looked at her from your vantage point by the door. Her top had ridden up, exposing her abs slightly, her biceps were on full display, and the veins in her arms rippled slightly as she twisted her fingers in the bedding underneath her. She was doing things to you – maybe it was because you hadn’t had sex a good few months (it was currently the longest you had ever gone without since you started having sex); maybe it was because she looked so at home amongst your things; perhaps it was the fact that your girlfriend was finally within touching distance. You also realised you didn’t quite care enough to figure it out.

“Incoming,” you yelled as you launched yourself at her.

“Oof,” she huffed, her breath leaving her body as your weight settled on top of her, both of you laughing quietly at your behaviour.

“Hi,” you smiled at her, arms either side of her head, legs straddling her hips.

“Hi,” she smiled back, lift her hands to stroke her thumbs across your exposed skin.

“I…” should you say it? “I’ve missed you,” you chicken out from what you really wanted to say. You knew you told her at the airport that you missed her, but you needed her to know just how much her absence affected you.

“I’m sorry.” She knew the distance was difficult for both of you. You shook your head, refusing to let her think that this was her fault.

“No, there’s nothing that can be done at the moment. I’m at Barca; you’re at Wolfsburg. It is what it is.” You shrugged, hoping it would ease her sadness a little. “But … you’re here now, we have this weekend. And that is all that matters.” You smiled, the wide, soft smile full of love and tenderness that only Lena got to see often. You felt rather than saw Lena crane her neck up to try to kiss you; your smile shifted into a cheeky grin as you pulled back just out of her reach. She stopped looking at you offendedly.

“Nuh, uh, uh,” you teased, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. “I...” You kiss her forehead. This was your chance. “Missed.” You kissed her cheek, backing out again. “You.” You kissed her other cheek.

“And I’ve missed you, Schatz.” Her hands left your waist, coming up to cradle your face, holding to exactly where she wanted. She waited a few moments, letting her eyes scan your face, trying to commit everything to memory (even though she had already done that well before you left Germany at New Year’s). “So much,” she whispered as she finally tugged you down to meet her lips.

The kiss started out slow, sweet and tender, as your love was poured into it. As you parted, her darkened eyes roamed your body, one hand cementing itself in your hair, tugging lightly as the other moved to trace along the waistband of your shorts. Your kisses weren’t a battle for dominance, but you were falling into a pattern of give and take that was uniquely yours. Your top was the first to come off, hers following not too long afterwards. Buttons were undone, drawstrings loosened and more clothing adding to the mess on the floor. Her hands grasped at any available flesh as your fingers slipped inside. Dark spots were bitten into supple skin, moans were melodies as you rediscovered each other.

“Don’t stop,” You panted into her skin as she guided you to the brink of ecstasy.

“Never,” came her reply, equally as breathless.

“What happened to being tired?” You laughed as she snuggled into your side, her once-eager fingers tracing light shapes into your skin. She groaned at your teasing, pressing more weight onto you. You fiddled with her hair as you waited for an explanation.

“Dein Spanisch. Mit dieser Dame am Bahnhof … Es hat etwas mit mir gemacht” You didn’t understand it fully. Spanish … train station? You were a little confused.

“Sorry, I got something about my Spanish and the lady at the train station. What was the last bit?” You were trying to learn German, but you had started with the most practical things – the greetings, stuff that happened in daily life, cheesy lines you could say to Lena to make her blush.

“Um … it’s a bit embarrassing, really … you were speaking Spanish to that lady at the station,” she blushed profusely. You just smiled, letting your fingers comb through the mess her hair had become. “Es war wirklich sexy.” Your grin doubled in size. So, you speaking Spanish turned her on? That was useful to know.

“Well,” you said after a moment of silence. “If me giving directions to the airport is sexy, you should hear me when I say something truly seductive,” you teased, squeezing her gently as she buried her head in your neck again.

“Mmmm, déjame pensar. Cuando llegue a casa, debo acordarme de llamar al administrador del edificio.” You laughed as you felt her blush, the new heat obvious against your skin. You also couldn’t help but notice the slight shift of Lena’s hips against your thigh. “Liebe, I just said I needed to call my building manager – that is not sexy.” She pulled away from your skin.

“Uh, everything you do is sexy,” she countered. “Say something else? Something that’s actually hot,” she begged, ignoring your teasing smile, and raised eyebrow.

“Hm, vale, vale,” you wracked your brains, trying to think of something that you actually considered sexual. “Quiero que me tengas en todas las formas que quieras. Quiero destrozarte una y otra y otra vez.” You usually weren’t that explicit about your wants, but you were reliant on Lena not really knowing what you were saying.  Lena was gobsmacked. She had not a clue what you had just said but the way you had said it – the slight rasp in your voice, the rosy hue to your skin, the sticky sheen of sweat, the hickeys she had sucked into your skin. She rolled you over, balancing above you as her legs slotted between yours.

“Redonda Dos?” You asked. She knew enough Spanish for that.

Just as things were getting interesting again, your door swung up.

“Y/N? ¿Estás aquí? Ale te ha estado enviando mensajes de texto toda la tar -” Ona cut herself off with a shrill scream.

“Me arden los ojos.” She gagged dramatically. “Ew, mis ojos.”

“Oni, qué carajo en realidad?” You shouted back, dragging the duvet up to cover the both of you.

“Do you want to introduce me?” She grinned evilly.

“No, get out!” You glowered at her. When she made no effort to move, you threw a pillow at her.

“Ale says to come to her room.” You flicked your finger at her, letting her know your displeasure. Turning uour attention was fixed back on Lena, you heard her cackling outside.

“Scheiße, Scheiße, Scheiße. Alexia wird mich töten. Ich bin tot. Ich werde sterben. Ich hatte praktisch Sex mit ihrer kleinen Schwester. Oh, mein Gott. Ich werde sterben. Fuck.” Lena was panicking – real, genuine anxiety spread throughout her chest as she sat up against the pillows.

“Liebe, it’s ok,” you soothed, grabbing one hand in yours and swinging your other arm across her shoulders. “Liebe?” you tried again.

“Alexia is going to kill me.” Lena said, looking into your eyes for what she genuinely thought might be the final time.

“No, she won’t.” You smiled softly, not wanting to laugh at Lena’s ridiculousness. “I won’t let her,” you vowed, squeezing her hand tight in promise. “Now, we should probably get some clothes on and head to Ale’s room.”

As you reached for your hoodie, your world darkened suddenly as fabric landed on your head. You lifted it up to reveal a very familiar Adidas hoodie, turning back to see a sheepish Lena.

“How did that get there?” She asked innocently.

“I don’t know, Liebe. How did it get there?” You played along. “There’s only one Adidas athlete in this room, and it’s not me.” She shrugged, snatching your Barca hoodie out of your reach.

“I don’t know, Schatz. But it looks like it’s your only hoodie, and I want you to stay warm.” She was a terrible actor.

“If you wanted me to wear your clothes, you could have just asked,” you laughed as you slipped on the material, getting slightly lost as you tried to find the head hole. You heard a sigh and footsteps before the fabric was rearranged on you as your head burst through the top.

“Guten Tag,” you beamed at her.

“Hallo, Schatz,” she smiled at you before stealing a kiss. You hummed gently, allowing yourself to melt into her just slightly.

“Vamos, vamos.” You spun her around to face the door. “Let’s not keep Ale waiting,” you laughed and tapped her on the bum to get her moving.

Alexia’s room was exactly the same as yours – a wide, comforting bed with a mountain of pillows dominating the space. You tapped on the door, knowing that she would probably have at least 3 of the other girls in her room with her.

“Schatz, I know I said I would endure this for you … for us,” Lena said when it was clear Alexia was making you wait a little. Was she second guessing this? Was she regretting you? “And I will, I will.” She added when your head snapped back to look at her. “But I’m really freaking out here.” You softened.

“Oh, Liebe. It’s ok,” you said, pulling her into a hug. “I understand, really, I do. This isn’t exactly how I wanted you to meet Ale, but I promise you,” you squeezed her to emphasise your point. “She’s a giant softy with a tendency for affectionate bullying. If she starts speaking in Catalan, just ignore her; that’s what I do,” you joked, trying to lighten her mood a little. “She’s just like Alex and Svenja are to you. She’s just looking out for me – even though I don’t need her to and certainly not in this case,” you were rambling now, unknowingly easing Lena’s anxieties in an instant.

Someone cleared their throat behind you, cutting your talking off. Lucy. You smiled at her, pushing past as you guided Lena to sit on the edge of the bed, taking her hand in both of yours when you sat next to her – providing quiet but noticeable support. There were more people in the room than you were expecting. You knew Alexia would call on Lucy, Irene and probably Paños and Marta to give the talk, but Ingrid’s presence surprised you, as did Ona’s and Patri’s.

“Entonces, quieres presentarnos a Lena?” Alexia asked, leaning against the desk in front of you, Paños on her left, Lucy on her right. Irene and Marta stood blocking the path to the door – all of them with what they thought were tough expressions on their faces. Ingrid looked annoyed to be there, Ona was trying to look hard, and Patri had an amused smile dancing on her lips.

“In English, Alexia. It’s not fair on Lena to speak in a language she doesn’t know.” You said calmly, breathing deeply to keep your emotions in check. They had promised not to treat you like a child.

“Do you want to introduce us to Lena?” She asked again, voice artificially calm.

“Not if you’re going to treat us like children.” You raised an eyebrow, reminding all of them of their promises to treat you more adult-like.

“That was before we found out you were having sex,” Lucy started. She stood up from where she was leaning, you matching her behaviour by squaring your shoulders.

“Suficiente, vosotros dos.” Alexia ordered before you had the chance to comment. As much as she wanted to give a protective big sister talk, she realised that maybe this was what you meant when you said that you wanted to be treated more like an adult. It was silent as she studied you and Lena – sitting so close you were practically on top of each other, your thumb never wavering in its soothing motion against the back of Lena’s hand, the way Lena’s eyes kept flitting back to your face in search of any discomfort. She didn’t need to do the grandiose speech she was planning to give – she didn’t need to let every one of the older girls chime in with their threats. If Lena harmed you, Lena wouldn’t harm you – of that, Alexia was sure. “Everyone out. Not you or Lena,” she said as you shifted to leave. “Ona, quédate también por favor.” Alexia ignored the other’s protests; Lucy’s whining was heard even with the door closed. She had allowed Ona to stay in her role as your best friend – she wasn’t about to deny her this opportunity (especially since she knew you had promised Lucy you would exact a painful revenge if Ona ever came to you crying over something about their relationship).

“Lena. I am going to say this one time,” Alexia began, watching as Lena’s eyes grew wide and gulped noticeably. You just rolled your eyes at her antics. “If you hurt her,” she paused for dramatic effect. “I will hunt you down … and end you.” Alexia was quite pleased with herself – she considered that to be restrained enough to appease you whilst instilling enough fear in Lena to make her slightly nervous. Lena nodded, taking a breath to start making promises of never ever hurting you.

Ona cleared her throat from her perch on the windowsill, drawing all of your attention to her. She took a deep breath before letting out the sentence she had been practising since you first mentioned a German footballer had caught your eye, “Ich werde dir die Beine brechen.” The pronunciation was horrendous, but Lena knew what she meant. It was the worst threat Ona could think of with Lena being a footballer.

“Oni,” you whined, although you had no leg to stand on – your threat to Lucy had been so much worse.

“There, we have said what was needed to be said. Let’s go to dinner, sí?” Alexia smiled at the three of you, the polar opposite of the menacing Captain that stood in her place moments before. Ona laughed, looping her arm through Alexia’s and heading to the door.

“That wasn’t so bad,” You joked, nudging Lena. The tension was still very much in her body, however.

“I need them to know, and you need to know it too. I won’t hurt you, ever, Schatz. I promise, ich verspreche, prometo.” She looked deep into your eyes, willing you to understand how deep her vow went. She made the promise to herself in the shower after your first date; her mind kept replaying your almost-kiss, your bubbly laugh and the feel of your soft hand in hers. She had vowed that day to never let your smile fade, and she wanted … no, needed … you to know that.

“Liebe, I know that. They know that.” You reached up to cradle her face in your hands. You took a deep breath and said the words that had been playing on your mind for weeks now: “I love you.”

I hope you liked it <3<3<3

[moonstruckme]

Hi! A lil Sirius request or u could do it with one of the other boys (Remus James) but what about if his gf May be has an old injury that always flares up? (I hurt my knee years ago and even tho it's ok now every once a while if I over use it then it still hurts) and just fluff about her being upset her body won't cooperate and him just icing it and doting on her

Thank you for requesting!

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 623 words

“Try to get up one more time,” your boyfriend threatens, “and I swear to god I will sit on you.” 

“I just want the remote.” 

“And I’m getting it for you.” Sirius stretches towards the coffee table, keeping the ice pack held to your knee with his other hand. He grabs the remote that had been too far for you to get on your own, passing it to you with an exasperated look. “Relax, sweetness, you won’t miss your show.” 

“Thanks,” you huff, turning the TV on. Really, you just want the distraction. Your knee is still radiating a warm ache, your skin still prickling from the humiliation of having to admit it when Sirius had noticed your limp. 

“Don’t mention it,” he replies, voice quieter than usual. His touch is gentle as he adjusts the ice pack, careful not to press down too hard. You feel shitty for being snippy with him, and resolve not to speak until you can be trusted to do it nicely, in the way he deserves. 

It doesn’t work. Sirius is watching you, gaze shrewd and contemplative, fingers tapping a distracted rhythm on your ice pack. You keep your eyes obstinately on the TV, but it’s only a matter of time before he speaks up. 

“Penny for your thoughts, pretty girl?” 

You sigh, closing your eyes ashamedly. “I’m sorry.” 

Sirius tsks. “For acting pissy when you’re pissed? Don’t worry about it.” 

“I don’t have to be mean to you just because I’m pissed,” you say, tilting your head back on the couch cushions. “I just feel like I should be able to run a couple of blocks without crippling myself. It’s got nothing to do with you.” 

Sirius’ mouth pulls sympathetically. He brings his free hand to your hurting leg, rubbing up and down the back of your calf. “We did a lot of walking before, too,” he points out. “It was a big day.” 

“That’s just it.” Your mouth tastes bitter. “I’m not eighty years old, walking around shouldn’t be a big day for me.” 

“I know, baby,” he says softly. “I’m sorry, it’s shit. But when it’s cool out like this, and you’re putting a lot of pressure on your knee, you’ve just—you need to treat yourself a bit more gently.” You make a sour face, and Sirius squeezes your calf, lips slanting upward. “I know, you’re very rugged. You’re the picture of youthfulness and good health. But try looking after yourself the way I look after you, yeah? For my peace of mind.” 

He speaks with blasé lightness, but his words melt you like butter in the sun. You sigh heavily, feigning reluctance. “But you’re so good at it,” you complain. 

“It’s hard work, yeah.” Sirius’ canines peek out as he grins. “Don’t worry, I’ll train you up. You’d really be helping me out, taking a load off. And it’d free me up to do more things like this.” 

He keeps his eyes on yours as he leans down, dark lashes fluttering prettily close to his brow. Your cheeks heat. Sirius moves the ice pack momentarily, pressing a featherlight kiss to the skin just below your knee. 

“There,” he says decisively, putting the ice pack back in place. “It’ll be better by tomorrow now, guaranteed.” 

You bite down on your lip to keep a smile at bay. “I didn’t realize how much you’d be able to accomplish if we shared the responsibilities.” 

“Yes, well, I know I make it look easy, but it is a lot,” Sirius tells you with faux solemnity. “Is there anywhere else I should see to?” He makes a show of looking you over. “Tsk, that lip looks to be hurting, too. C’mere, gorgeous, let me take care of that.”

[seijorhi]

Oleander

Oikawa Tooru x female reader x Iwaizumi Hajime w.c 8.6k tw: yandere, mentions of child abuse and neglect, references to underage kissing, murder, horror themes, pseudo-cest (foster siblings), blanket dub/non-con vibes for a good portion of this

The patisserie smells of sugar, vanilla and freshly baked croissants. In a word; delicious. 

For several minutes now, your brother’s been standing bent at the waist, studying the display case stacked full of cakes and desserts with an intense kind of focus. Considering. Deliberating. Inadvertently placing himself, and by extension you, as an obstacle for other people trying to do the same. 

“Alright, the crepe cake or the fancy looking chocolate one, the…” Heisuke squints at the display case, trying to decipher the label, “gateaux? Or should we go for the red one with the strawberry mousse thing?”

Bingo. You hold back a smile. 

“Go the strawberry one.” Nobody loves strawberries like your mom loves strawberries. 

“Ok, great. We’ll grab that, a bottle of nice wine, hit the florist and I think that should do it.” He nods to himself, satisfied. “She’ll be over the moon.”

He’s not wrong. The woman you’ve called a mother for the past ten years would fall over herself for something as simple as a birthday card, regardless of the fact that your dad insists on going all out every year. 

“She’s already over the moon; you’re home for the week.” The admission’s soft, hesitant – poking a little too close to an open wound for you to feel entirely comfortable voicing it. Hei gives you an odd look, but it mellows into something more genuine when he realises you’re not taking a stab at him. 

Baby steps. 

Finally, Heisuke steps up to the counter to order. Within minutes the cake’s boxed up, with little ice-packs slipped in to keep it cool, and paid for, and the two of you head out, you holding the door open for Hei to carefully maneuver his way out without jostling the precious, expensive cargo. 

“You’re good at this stuff, y’know,” he says as the two of you fall into step together. 

“At… picking cakes?”

He snorts, “No. I meant the whole… I don’t know. You’re good at remembering stuff, the cakes mom likes, dad’s weird habits. You probably already know what flowers we’re going to pick for her, don’t you?”

This time you don’t bother hiding your smile – peonies, pink ones. 

You go to tell him as much when a loud voice calls out your name. On instinct, you both spin to the source, and when you meet those piercing, olive green eyes, bearing down at you from the other side of the street, your heart leaps into your throat.

A ghost.

You can’t breathe. For a moment you can’t even think. Your hand stretches out, blindly seeking Heisuke, an anchor, anything–

Before your fingers can brush his sleeve, a hard, lean body collides with yours, sweeping you up into a crushing hug. Not Iwaizumi, though. 

Oikawa, taller, broader than the last time you saw him, smelling of citrus, summer and salt lets out a breathy noise, halfway between amazement and disbelief. 

“There you are,” he beams, setting you back on unsteady legs. 

Found you, the glint in his eyes seems to say. 

Rather than let you go, step back and give you some much needed space to breathe, his palm instead slides to rest on your hip, taking your chin between the index finger and thumb of his other hand in order to look at you properly, dark eyes poring over you for signs of anything amiss – bruises, tear-tracks, red eyes, swollen, split lips. 

Your mouth goes dry. 

On one side, there’s your brother, bewildered, arm half outstretched as if he can’t make his mind up whether he should be intervening or not. Iwa’s already jogging across the street, snarling at a driver who lays on his horn. 

The weight of Oikawa’s appraisal is as familiar to you as it is oppressive, and while his touch is delicate, featherlight, it burns to the marrow. Suddenly you’re fourteen again, trying to duck past him before he can notice the state of you.  

‘It’s nothing, Tooru, don’t worry about it!’ 

And just like back then, there’s a knot in your chest that doesn’t loosen until satisfaction melts the too sharp edge to his grin – right as Iwa joins you two. Three, you suppose, because while Heisuke remains in stunned silence, eyes darting between you and Oikawa, he’s still party to this, still a witness, and the thought makes you want to curl up into a ball and disappear forever. 

(You shove down the fleeting rush of warmth at the relief you find there, the voice in your head that coos that he still cares enough to check. You don’t want him to care.)

“Holy fuck,” Iwa laughs, and Oikawa’s shoved aside, both of you ignoring the indignant grumbling as your rigid body’s pulled into his chest, his hand finding its way to the back of your head. He breathes in slow. Deep.

He still smells the same, earthy and masculine, the faintest tinge of his last cigarette still clinging to his jacket. Back then, he used to steal them from your foster father. You imagine that now, he probably has the money to go off and buy his own. 

“I’m sorry, who are you? What– can you let her go, please?” 

If it wasn’t them, the sheer absurdity of the moment might’ve made you giggle. Heisuke’s ears are bright red, a flush that extends down his neck. He doesn’t look angry per se, uncomfortable, absolutely, but from the pinched expression on his face, it’s clear he’s fighting the urge to bite out something far less polite. 

None of this, least of all the way they’re tugging you between them like a rag-doll, feels very polite to begin with.

As it is, Heisuke’s interruption has the intended effect. The fingers wound in your hair twitch, the cage of his arms drawing you closer. You almost expect the baring of teeth, a possessive snarl, yet it’s a small, almost imperceptible thing. He retreats – reluctantly – turning to glance at your brother, Oikawa by his side.

Judging from the stony, almost bored expression he levels at Hei, he’s not impressed.

“Friend of yours, imouto?” Oikawa’s purr skitters down your spine like ice. Unlike Iwa, there’s nothing less than friendly curiosity on the surface. He’s even smiling. 

Tongue darting out to wet your lips, you find your voice. 

“Hei, this is Iwaizumi and Oikawa,” you say, gesturing at each respectively. “We were in the same foster home for a while.” Sparing the two of them half a glance, you continue, “We’re actually right in the middle of something, if you’ll excuse us.”

The explicit dismissal’s bolder than you feel, but you’re proud that your voice doesn’t waver. You can’t say the same for your hand when you reach for Heisuke’s spare one, uttering the words that’ll only damn you further, “C’mon, nii-san. Mom and dad are waiting.”

Heisuke doesn’t blink. His hand slips into yours, the two of you sidestepping the pair and walking off towards the car without a backwards glance. 

Neither one of you speaks until you’re buckled into the passenger seat, Heisuke adjusting the rear-view mirror, the cake safely stashed away in the back. Until you’re pulling out onto the main road and there’s distance between you and them.

If only the gnawing, unsettling feeling in your stomach would go with it.

“Sorry,” you mumble, blankly staring out the window at the passing scenery. At the clouds hanging overhead, dark and threatening. Funny, that. Fitting. The skies were clear when you left home this morning. “About the nii-san thing, and grabbing your hand,” you clarify, because whether it was rude or not, you’ll be damned before you apologise for brushing them off. 

That’s not your relationship with Hei. It’s never been that. 

He eyes you for a beat. “You know, I never understood why mom wanted to adopt so bad. Dad too, but mom was always the one pushing for it. We were happy, the three of us. I wasn’t a screw up, their marriage was solid. I couldn’t understand the need to bring someone else in. Our family was fine, perfect the way it was.”

His thumb taps against the steering wheel, his shoulders loose and relaxed. You can’t quite pin the mood he’s in, where he’s going with this. 

“Oh,” you say, mostly because it feels like he’s waiting for you to acknowledge it. 

None of what he’s saying is news to you. None of it’s anything you haven’t wondered yourself a thousand times over. It’s just that Heisuke… you’ve never talked about this. Your adoption, your relationship with him, none of it. This sort of honesty is brand new territory for you both. 

You’re not so sure you’re loving the development. 

“When they committed to it, I thought they’d bring home a baby, a kid, not some weird, skittish fourteen year old who wanted nothing to do with me.” 

Ah.

Your cheeks heat, and you find yourself wishing you were anywhere but here. If Heisuke notices how you shift in your seat, the small tightening of your expression, he plows on regardless.

“You wouldn’t look at me, would barely talk to me. Hell, you acted like I had the plague most of the time. You didn’t hate me, I don’t think, you just… didn’t want to be anywhere near me, and it bugged the hell out of me. I couldn’t figure it out; who wouldn’t want an older brother to look out for them?” His next words hit you like a sledgehammer, cracking at something vital in your chest. It hurts before he opens his mouth.

“It was them, wasn’t it? The reason you steered clear ‘til I moved out of home.”

“Heis–”

He cuts you off with a look. “I’m right, aren’t I?” he demands. 

“Can we just– it doesn’t matter, alright? Can we move on?”

From the unhappy set of his jaw – the first true sign of discontent he’s expressed since getting in the car with you – it’s obvious there’s more he wants to say. You can’t blame him for that, curiosity’s only human. 

But you’re still too raw. It’s too soon.

You’ve spent too long burying those secrets deep to rip yourself apart to bring them to light. 

“Please, Hei. Let’s focus on mom’s birthday.” You force a smile, tiny and wrong, “The florist is next, yeah?” 

You get a grunt of acknowledgement and not much more than that, your brother’s attention pulling back to the drive. The silence that settles in the car should bring some relief. It’s what you wanted, and yet, amongst the churning feeling in your guts, the prickling at the back of your neck that hasn’t left you since you first spotted Iwa across the road, there’s a sense of discomfort that has nothing to do with crossing paths with your past life. 

Like a slap in the face, it hits you that you’re floundering for something to say, something – anything – to bridge the sudden, stark divide between you. Something that won’t sound hollow and meaningless. 

This thing you have with Heisuke. It took years, and maybe it’s skin deep and miles from what it should be, but the thought of losing it leaves you feeling oddly panicked.

It’ll… hurt.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, because it’s about all you can give him right now, a tried and true method of soothing egos and hurt. 

Heisuke doesn’t say anything for the remainder of the drive, and you resign yourself to the very real possibility that in the course of a single conversation, you’ve managed to fracture this fragile thing between you two. 

Until you go for the door, and a hand on your wrist stops you. “Hey. I’m glad they did.”

—

When you startle awake a little after midnight, it’s because he’s yelling again. 

Mr. Furukawa had been in fine form at dinner, already three beers deep. You can only begin to imagine what’s set him off now, hours after lights out. His wife, probably. Although it’s equally possible he’s caught the oldest sneaking back in from seeing his girlfriend, or the twins trying to break into the pantry for a midnight snack. Or he tripped and stubbed his toe, or thought someone stole the rest of his beer when in reality he’d already swallowed it down. 

The reasons don’t really matter when he’s been drinking like that, in the same way that the initial target of his ire doesn’t matter. Once his voice reaches that slurred, furious pitch, anyone’s fair game.

There’s a pair of headphones in the top drawer, you have every intention of yanking them out and putting on one of your sleep playlists, drowning out the noise of your foster father’s drunken raging until he wears himself out or you fall back to sleep when you hear the thumping of his feet on the staircase.

“Where’s that fucking bitch?”

Eyes wide in the darkness, clutching at the comforter, your pulse jumps.

Again, it’s possible he’s talking about Mrs. Furukawa, or one of your foster sisters – the older one hunched over in the bed opposite yours, watching you shrewdly.

“Well go on then,” she sneers. “Run to your big brothers.”

You don’t bother to respond, any hesitation you might’ve had over leaving her to fend for herself shrivelling up under the mocking bitterness she’s sending your way. Fine, whatever. You don’t care what she thinks, scrambling from the warmth of your bed and hurrying for the door.

He’s halfway up the staircase when you reach their room. You’d knock – it’s the polite thing to do – except you definitely don’t want to be out in plain view when your foster father hits the landing. 

“Hajime?” you whisper into the darkness, slipping inside and shutting the door behind you, “Tooru?”

“Shit, c’mere.” At Hajime’s voice, the calloused, rough hands that guide you onto his mattress, the vice around your chest loosens. He won’t come in here, not after Hajime socked him in the face after catching sight of the raised, discoloured flesh of your cheek from your last run in. You’ve gotten better at using make-up to conceal the marks since then, but there’s also been less of a need for it.

“Can I stay for a bit?” you ask. Until he calms down and passes out. Until the sun rises and you can sneak back into your room. Until you feel safe again. It’s kind of a pointless question, considering how many times you’ve done this before and how many times they’ve let you. You ask it anyway.

The scoff that sounds moments before the mattress dips on your other side is answer enough. “You should probably just move in at this point. We’ll kick Iwa out, he can go sleep in bitch-face’s room.”

Although you know you shouldn’t, a not-so-nice grin tugs at your lips, nestling into Tooru’s side under the arm he offers, “She’d drive him homicidal in a week.”

“Doesn’t she already?” Hajime mutters. “And fuck off, if anyone’s moving out it’s you.” 

“You’d miss me too much.”

Absentmindedly, he rubs at your arm like it’s second nature. “In your dreams, Shitty-kawa.”

You can still hear Mr. Furukawa stomping around outside, snarling and snapping at no-one and nothing. Your pulse skitters, an inbuilt panic response. But the lights are off, you’re not being too noisy, and he’s wary of the other two.

He won’t come in here. 

“Relax, we’ve got you,” Tooru breathes, his nose nudging at your temple. “Where were you this afternoon?” His voice is so soft, a soothing rumble that it takes you a second to register what he’s said. 

“This afternoon?”

“Mm. You didn’t come home when you were supposed to. We were worried.”

He’s pouting, you can tell. Which– he can’t be genuinely bothered by it, it was only a few hours, and the Furukawas don’t care where you are or what you do so long as you’re back before curfew. You were. 

A distraction then?

“I went out with some friends. We hung out at the arcade for a bit,” your expression brightens, thinking of the lights and the laughter, your feet blurring as you hit the sensors on Dance Dance Revolution… poorly. “It was actually pretty fun!”

Tooru hums again, “Which friends?” at the same time that Hajime says, “You didn’t tell us you were going out.”

“I didn’t realise I had to check in.” And because the slightly bitter and very defensive edge to your tone catches even you by surprise, you sigh, softening. “I’m allowed to have friends, aren’t I? A social life?”

You’ve been in this home for a few months now, and this is the first time any of your classmates have invited you anywhere. 

This time it’s Tooru who sighs. He coaxes your face upwards with a hand on your cheek, peering through the dim light at you, “I’m not saying this to be cruel or hurt you, but… I need you to be more careful, okay?”

You frown, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

His thumb glides across your cheek bone, hesitating on whatever it is he wants to say– at least until Hajime huffs and mutters, “Just tell her, dude. You’re the one that brought it up.”

“Tell me what?”

“You’re a foster kid,” he reminds you, as if this is vital information that’s somehow slipped your mind. “That’s all they see when they look at us, all they’ll ever see. No money, no family, nothing worth wasting their time on. We’re charity cases at best, at worst…” he trails off, the sentence dangling in the air. 

He thinks it’s a trick, you realise. He thinks they’re setting you up in an elaborate joke where you’re the punchline. 

Bright blue eyes and a crooked grin flash in your head. Cheeks dusted pink and the warmth of his hand in yours. 

“That’s not true,” you defend, though the words sound weak even to your ears. 

Now that your eyes have adjusted to the dark, the gentle, pitying expression on his face twists at your insides like a knife. You hardly notice Hajime scooching closer, shifting the blankets so they cover you both, too busy staring at your foster brother with wide eyes and parted lips, a thick lump of emotion lodging itself in your throat. Tears prickle in the corners of your eyes, and you blink them back.

You won’t cry in front of them over this. You refuse.

“No? You’ve been here for months now. If they wanted to be your friend, truly, genuinely wanted that, why haven’t they made an effort before now? I’m not trying to be a dick,” he murmurs when your breathing hitches, “The kids in this town, they’re assholes. I just can’t bear the thought of someone hurting you.”

Hajime nods. “We only wanna protect you, imouto.”

But you don’t need to be protected. Omori isn’t like that. His friends aren’t either. 

—

When the last bell rings for the day, you walk down to the gates to find Hajime there, leaning against the brickwork with a pilfered cigarette dangling between his fingers. 

That in and of itself isn’t a surprise. Lately they’ve taken up the habit of ditching their last period to make the half mile trek to your school in order to walk back home with you. Most days, you don’t mind. Today, however–

“I sent you a message at lunch, you didn’t need to come all the way down here, I’m going to a friend’s place to study. Sorry, I thought you would’ve seen it before you left.”

He drops the cherry red remnants of his cigarette to the ground and grinds the butt under his heel, eyeing you slowly from head to toe. “Which friend?”

“When did you become so nosey?” you laugh, a touch uneasily. “It’s only for an hour or so, I’ll be back before dinner, promise. I’m all yours after that.” The last part’s meant to lighten the mood a little, yet something flashes in his eyes, a twitch in his jaw, and you get the sense that he doesn’t find it all that funny. 

“Which friend? That slimy piece of shit you were hanging out with last weekend?”

Omori? How does he–

You frown, “We went to the movies, Hajime, it’s not illegal. And he’s not slimy or a little shit, he’s my friend.” A friend who sets butterflies loose in your stomach and makes you weak at the knees, but Hajime doesn’t need to know that. 

“Oh, I’m sure he wants to be your friend,” he mutters darkly. 

Your cheeks burn hotly, “Why are you being like this? He’s a nice guy. Besides, it’s not him. I’m going to Masako’s to work on a group presentation we’ve got due in a few days. I didn’t think you’d make such a big deal out of it!”

“Your mistake,” he says, as if you’re the one being unreasonable here, and before you can spit out a retort, his hand is curled around your bicep, tugging you down the road. “C’mon, we’re going home. Tell your little friend you can work on your project tomorrow at lunch.” 

“Ha-Hajime!” His too tight grip on you doesn’t relent, his stride doesn’t falter. Nervously, you dart a glance around, half hoping that someone will intercede, all the while praying that no one’s actually noticed him dragging you off like a misbehaving toddler.

As always, you’re not that lucky. The sight of your classmates pointing your way, giggling behind their hands sends a hot pulse of shame flooding through you. 

“You know you’re not my actual brother, I don’t need your permission!” 

That does stop him, turning back around to throw a scowl at you, “No? Because I don’t see anyone else lining up to stop you from spreading your legs for the first asshole who comes sniffing around. Jesus Christ, weren’t you listening the other day?”

“I’m fourteen!” you shriek, ripping your arm away from him. “Stop being gross and leave me alone, I already told you I’m going to Masako’s. We have a project. For school!”

In an instant, he closes the gap between you. Hajime isn’t as tall as Tooru, but at two years older, he still towers over you, all broad shouldered and intense, and while he’s always cut an intimidating figure, it strikes you that this is the first time you’ve ever looked at him and felt afraid.

A split second later, and he exhales with a mumbled curse, the tension deflating from his body like a pin’s been pulled. In a quieter voice, hooking an arm over your neck to press a fleeting kiss to your hair, he says, “Sometimes it feels like I’m losing my damn mind trying to keep us all safe and sane and fucking together.”

It’s not exactly an apology. Still…you shift on your feet, nibbling at your bottom lip. “I’m sorry for snapping,” you mumble – an olive branch, even if you’re not feeling particularly charitable right now. The problem is, you do understand where he’s coming from. In two years, they’ll both age out, free to go and do whatever the hell they want. There’s a not insignificant part of you that’s terrified that when that time comes, they’re not gonna hang around another two years waiting for you. 

You’re not sure you can hold them to that promise. 

And that’s if nothing happens before then. Foster kids in group homes get shuffled all the time, there’s no guarantee all three of you will still be with the Furukawas come their 18th birthdays. 

Of course he’s over-protective. Of course he’s being a little nuts about it. 

Hajime nods, pats you on the head and gives you a rare smile, “Good. Now get your ass moving, we gotta get home.”

“Wait, but I thought–” you’d apologised, he’d admitted he was overreacting… sort of. Isn’t that enough?

“Social worker’s coming by this afternoon. Furukawa wants us to play happy families ‘til they’re gone. Your friend’s gonna have to wait.”

And that’s that. 

Dejection washes over you, trudging back home with Hajime – trying not to be childish and petty and hold it against him.

The social worker never shows, but there’s a message waiting on your phone when you finally manage to pry yourself away from Hajime and Tooru.

Your brother’s a dick. Raincheck? ;)

Butterflies erupt. 

—

You’ve been biting your lip again.

The raw, chapped evidence stares back at you in the mirror. 

A few days ago, they were a little swollen, rough and reddened. The sight of it sent a giddy sort of thrill through you, a physical – if not sore – reminder of your afternoon spent kissing a cute boy with very pretty blue eyes. 

Now, the state of your lips is the least of your worries. You’ll bite your lips, gnaw on your fingernails right down to the quick, pace and think and pace and think, fingers tap, tap tapping at your side.

“You look tired.” 

The arms that loop around your shoulders, dragging you back into a loose hug don’t bring the sense of comfort they usually do. Things have been weird between you. Off.

Ever since Tooru caught sight of your face that day, saw the messages on your phone. 

‘I never took you for a liar, imouto.’

The resultant argument left you choking on sobs, heart-broken and beaten down in a way that you haven’t felt since you found out your parents died. 

It’s a strange, alienating thing to be cut so viciously by the only people who give a damn about you.

At first, you had Omori there to help pick up the pieces. He wasn’t allowed over, of course, and even if he were, you doubt it’d do anything but throw a whole gallon of kerosene on the fire. Still, being able to message and vent to him felt like a lifeline. 

And then he simply… stopped replying. Your last message sitting there for two days on read.

You tried not to feel hurt. Maybe this whole thing was too intense, too quick. My god, you weren’t even dating officially, he was just, you were–

It was fine. Not everyone’s tied to their phone, and he doesn’t owe you anything. Maybe something came up, maybe his phone died.

But then, come Monday, he wasn’t in school.

On Tuesday morning, sitting in first period maths, a grim-faced man in a dull suit informs your class that Omori’s been missing since Saturday morning. You’re passed a business card with the detective’s name and phone number printed in crisp, black font and encouraged to contact him if there’s anything you can think of that might help them.

Uneasy looks are shared. No one says a word.

Which brings you to today, to the hug Tooru’s drawn you into and his voice murmuring at your ear. 

“Aren’t you still mad at me?”

His laugh rumbles at your back, “Maybe I miss you too much.”

You should tell him to shove it. Whether you’re in the right or the wrong, it’s not fair of him to play hot and cold with you like this. Being at odds with your brothers is painful enough on its own, dealing with that on top of everything with Omori – it’s too much. You’ll drown under the weight of it.

And so you turn, wrapping your arms around his middle and burying yourself against him. “I don’t wanna fight anymore. I’m sorry.”

While he doesn’t say anything back, he does squeeze you that little bit tighter. You’re content with that, soaking up the affection and comfort you’ve sorely been without. It’s an apology, yes. It’s also forgiveness. 

“Where’s Hajime?” you ask after a little while. They aren’t inseparable by any means, but you don’t think you’ve seen him this afternoon at all. 

Rather than answering you, the brunet pulls back enough to meet your gaze, a twinkle in his eyes, “We’re going out tonight.”

The words bring you up short. “But–”

“Furukawa won’t know a thing. It’ll be fun, pinky promise.” He holds out said pinky, the grin on his face infectious enough that you offer a tiny one of your own, locking your finger around his.

He winks. 

—

“Sweetheart, shall we open the wine?”

She hasn’t stopped beaming all afternoon, delighted at the flowers and the gifts, your dad humming away in the kitchen, cooking enough to feed a small army.  

Heisuke’s already plucking a bottle from the fridge, glasses set out on the counter. He lifts a questioning brow in your direction and you nod with as much of a smile as you can muster. Nothing sounds more appealing to you right now than a drink.

Several of them, actually. You’ll start with one.

“Thanks,” you murmur when he passes it to you. 

Quietly enough that your parents won’t hear, he asks, “You good?”

“I’m good,” you reassure him, lying through your teeth. His knuckles knock against yours, and when you glance up, there’s a wordless promise that the two of you aren’t done with this. 

He’s been watching you ever since you got home. Not in the predatory, possessive way they used to, just… you very reluctantly gave him crumbs – not even that much – yet he’s staring at you like you’re a piece of a puzzle he’s desperate to solve. He’s looking at you like he’s seeing you for the first time, and you don’t know how to deal with it. 

It makes you nervous.

“Did something happen between you two?” The quiet voice at your side startles you – perhaps you’re more on edge than you’d like to admit, because your whole body flinches, the wine in your glass sloshing up over the rim, just barely avoiding your dress and the edge of the couch. 

You hadn’t even noticed your mom had sat down.

Cursing under your breath, you jump up before she can, snatching some paper towels from the kitchen, paying no mind the slight, disapproving tilt to your father’s mein (the one which, to his credit, he does try to hide) to mop up the mess on the floor.

“Sorry,” you throw out, both for the spill and for swearing, because that too is something neither of your parents are fond of, but your mom’s quick to wave it away.

“Nonsense. You’re fine, sweet girl. Come, sit!” She pats the seat you’ve vacated. “Relax.”

Your dad’s in the kitchen, laughing with Hei. Your mom’s still happy – it’s slowly leaching from her eyes the longer she looks at you, the more she sees. Relax. 

Today’s supposed to be a happy day.

Relax. 

You can’t.

They know some of your past. Bits and pieces. 

In ten years, you’ve never uttered a single word about them. Not to anyone. 

The more you shove it down, the more it fights back, bubbling away inside of you like the tempest of a storm. You can feel yourself cracking, unshed tears burning at your eyes. 

You can’t.

“… Mom–”

A knock cuts through the rising tide of emotion battering through you, and all four of you start. 

Your dad moves first, drying his hands and striding on over to answer it. On his way, he glances to where you and your mom are sitting – instinctively. Unthinkingly. He glances her way a thousand times a day – to check in, to see what she’s doing, to catch those little expressions she makes, only this time he isn’t met with the picture of a happy wife and daughter. You see it when it hits him, the tension, your wrought expression, the hand your mom’s slipped you in the seconds since, holding you tight and keeping you tethered.

You see it when he does a double take, sharp surprise quickly overtaken by alarm. 

Another knock at the door. Louder. 

His head snaps back towards the door, glaring at it like it’s personally wronged him. “One sec,” he mutters to no one in particular, and your mom squeezes your hand as he yanks it open with a touch more force than necessary.

“Yes?”

The air punches out of your lungs.

From where you’re sitting, the door cracked ajar, your dad’s frame blocking the gap, you can’t see who’s there. Not until he peeks over your dad’s shoulder, his charming grin widening into something shark-like and predatory when he spots you, delighted. 

An elevator careening out of control, your stomach plummets.

Ignoring your dad – your family as a whole – entirely, Oikawa addresses you. “You dropped this this morning. Clumsy girl.” 

Iwa passes him something, your wallet, you realise when he holds it out to you, waving it like a dog treat. 

Your wallet with your ID, this address, tucked away inside. 

The wallet you absolutely, in no way dropped. 

Primarily on instinct, shaking like a newborn foal, you start to rise, to stumble forward and take it from him, only it’s Heisuke who moves first. Angrier than you think you’ve ever seen him, he plants himself between you, one arm outstretched as if to keep you back, his withering gaze fixed on the duo.

“Thank you for returning it,” he bites out. “You can leave now.”

For your parents, already on edge, suspicious by their familiarity and your reaction to it, it’s enough to set their hackles up. Gone is any semblance of politeness when your father snatches your wallet from Oikawa’s fingers, “Go.”

Up until now, Oikawa’s paid them all the attention one would a gnat, an annoyance maybe, but one hardly worth acknowledging. That changes as his head tilts, dark eyes appraising your father. 

“What’s the rush?” he asks, reaching behind him. You can’t see it, what with your dad and now Heisuke standing between you, but there’s movement, your dad lets out a sudden, choked off gurgle, lurching back inside. 

Your eyes widen, a bone chilling horror taking hold of you as you spy the sleek black handle of a knife sticking out his gut, a slow stain of red seeping out around it. 

“We’ve still got so much catching up to do.”

—

You’ve never been this far into the woods before.

Stars glitter overhead, condensation from your breath puffing out with every exhale. It’s cold out. The path you’re walking isn’t one of the trails they lay for hikers and tourists, and you’ve been walking for a while. 

Still, Tooru’s hand is warm entwined with yours, and there’s that wicked thrill in your belly that comes from breaking the rules, doing secret, exciting things in the dead of night.

“Is Hajime waiting for us?” you ask, when you can hold the question back no longer.

“Always Hajime with you, isn’t it,” he teases. “Y’know, a guy could develop a complex with all this favouritism being thrown around.”

You’re pulled closer into his side even as he says it, and you go happily. You’ve got your brothers back – tonight you’re only thinking good thoughts. 

Tonight he promised you fun.

A giddy bounce in your step, you follow where your big brother leads until you spot a glow in the trees ahead, smell the smoke on the mid-autumn breeze.

Tooru grins in the dark, “Have you ever been to a bonfire?”

You shake your head. 

It takes another few minutes before you can see the fire in all its grandeur, Hajime standing off to the side, warming his hands against the flames. They dance through the clearing, bright and high and hot, hot enough that you briefly consider shedding the jacket Tooru swaddled you up in before you left.

A bonfire? 

They built this for you?

You look incredulously to Tooru, “This is where he’s been all day?”

“More or less.”

“Do you like it, pretty girl?” Hajime calls out when you’re closer. Your hand slips from Tooru’s as you leap forward, allowing him to catch you in his arms and tug you against him, and like earlier with Tooru, it eases some of the hurt weighing you down. He’s here, he’s not angry anymore, you can fight and argue like siblings but they aren’t going anywhere. 

He presses a kiss to your forehead, smoothing down your hair. “It’s pretty cool,” you tell him with a decisive nod, making him chuckle. 

“Maybe we should add more accelerant,” Tooru says, eyeing the flames with a considering look. “I don’t know if it’s hot enough.”

Hajime scoffs, “We don’t need any more accelerant.”

“But–”

“It’s fine, dumbass. Leave it.”

Heaving out a long suffering sigh, Tooru takes the space on your other side. In the Western movies you’ve seen, these bonfire things usually have more of a party-like vibe. There’s music and dancing. Drinking. This is something wholly different.

You don’t mind the quiet, though, sitting between your brothers on the fallen log they dragged over. Listening to the crackle of the fire. Watching red embers spark and fly off into the night. 

You’ve missed this. Them. 

In the hypnosis of the fire, the heat that covers you like a blanket – burning strongly enough, despite what Tooru thinks, that down to a tee-shirt, leaning into Hajime’s side, Tooru playing with your fingers, you feel you could so easily drift off to sleep, sated and content.

“You love us, don’t you?” Tooru says it so quietly, so off-handedly, that for a moment you don’t hear the stinging accusation beneath the words. 

When it does, whatever fleeting contentment you’d managed to wrap yourself up in is ripped away, leaving you cold and exposed. 

A slap in the face might’ve stung less.

You gape at him. At the both of them. “How can you ask me that?”

Tooru shrugs, casual and cruel, “I dunno. You lied to us. Multiple times.”

“Snuck around behind our backs,” Hajime adds.

“Kept things from us. Don’t think we haven’t noticed the new lock on your phone, imouto. Doesn’t sound like love to me.”

“I– I’ve already apologised.” You try to keep your voice calm and level, but with every word that pours out of you, the faster your heart beats and the more distress leaks into your tone. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I lied, I’m sorry I went behind your backs, I’m sorry I kissed him! I don’t know what you want from me, I don’t know how to fix this!” 

Hot tears spring to your eyes, stinging as you ferociously blink them back. 

If you start crying now, they’ll probably just mock you. That, or they’ll claim that you’re trying to manipulate them into feeling bad with crocodile tears and hiccuping sniffles. 

In a tiny voice, you say, “I didn’t do any of it to hurt you. Please,” you beg helplessly. “You can’t keep holding it over my head and punishing me for it.”

“You think we’re punishing you?” Tooru asks, still in that cold, flat tone that makes you want to sob.

Aren’t they? Sure feels like it.

Hajime lets out a heavy exhale, shaking his head and staring up at the night sky. “You still don’t fucking get it.” 

Hands slip under your armpits and without warning you find yourself hoisted onto Tooru’s lap. It’s whiplash, especially when he curls around you, those lithe arms caging you in, and presses a kiss to your burning cheek. “Iwa, brute that he is, is right. You’re not listening to us. This isn’t punishment. You can pretend to hate us, cry, yell, fight. You can try to shut us out if that’s what you feel you need, but this,” his chin juts out at the bonfire crackling merrily a few feet away, “this is love.” He shivers as he says it, voice like honey. “We did it for you, and I’d do so much more.”

Your head’s still spinning, reeling from being yanked from one extreme to another. Hot and cold. Spiteful to affectionate. You stare at the fire, but you don’t understand. 

“Yeah, like you didn’t enjoy the hell out of it,” Hajime snorts, which makes even less sense.

“…You mean the– the bonfire?”

Tooru laughs. His nose skims along the shell of your ear, earning him a shiver of your own. “Hm, almost.”

So you peer at the fire like it’s supposed to give you the answers you need. There’s nothing. It’s a fire, there’s nothing special about…

Oh.

You learn forward – as much as the cage of his embrace will allow, at any rate – squinting a little. Nestled beneath the stacked logs and kindling, there’s an oddly shaped lump, black and gnarled, with ridges and a scooped out hollow that kinda looks like–

Your blood runs cold. 

“What’s the matter, baby?” he croons. “You’ve been so sad all week, wondering where your friend up and disappeared to. Aren’t you glad to see him again?”

“No.” Whisper soft, the noise lost to the crackling of the fire. You shake your head, “This– you’re being cruel. Stop it, it’s not funny.” 

But the tears you’ve so valiantly held back are falling, your breath coming in short, panicky gasps. The skull in the fire doesn’t look fake, and if this is a prank, it’s gone beyond too far.

Your head grows light and all too heavy at the same time, “That isn’t– you didn’t– you… you– you wouldn’t–”

“No?” the voice at your ear questions, low and dangerous. “You think I wouldn’t stab the little fuck after you kissed him?”

“Stop it,” you tearfully beg, squeezing your eyes shut. The skull’s still there, burned into the back of your eyelids. 

No, no, no. Omori isn’t dead. 

Omori isn’t dead.

Your heart slams against your ribs, a violent chorus to the swell of sick dread and fear you’re desperately trying to tamp down. Omori isn’t dead!

“STOP IT!” 

They wouldn’t kill him. 

The crunch of footsteps sounds, and you don’t need your vision to know that Hajime’s now crouching in front of you. When rough fingers seize your jaw, holding you in place, and he leans in close, almost nose to nose, they fly open regardless. 

“You ever try that shit again, and next time we’ll drag you by the fucking hair and do it in front of you,” he promises, calm despite the fury that rages in his eyes. 

Caged between them, Hajime appraises you, taking in your hysteria, the tears dripping down your face, your bottom lip quivering – as though he’s committing the sight to memory. His eyes dart to Tooru’s for a brief second, the latter squeezing your side, before he speaks. “If you’d listened to us in the first place, this wouldn’t have happened. Don’t make us into monsters, sweetheart.”

Your fault is what you hear. 

There’s a loud pop from the fire, and you lose it entirely. 

You explode. Elbows flying, kicking, clawing. A wild, terrified, desperate thing, and it takes them by surprise – enough to catch Tooru in the gut, loosening his grip. Enough to knock Hajime back onto his ass. A gap, however small, for you to scramble to your knees, violently kicking back when a hand snatches at your ankle, and flee through the woods in the dark, away from the furious shouts, the raging footsteps chasing after you. 

You run and your lungs burn, heaving for every breath. 

The light of the bonfire disappears behind you, plunging the forest into an inky black, and the shouts and yells turn into calls of your name, then coaxing pleas, almost sounding worried. Eventually, those grow distant too, and fade away altogether. 

You keep running, uncertain of where you’re going. No, blind to it entirely. All that matters is keeping out of their reach. You’ll run to the ends of the earth if you have to. 

And so you push until your legs scream for a reprieve, until you taste iron on your tongue and when your body can keep the pace no longer, you stumble through the underbrush, tripping over roots and branches instead, pausing every once in a while to lean against a tree and catch your breath. 

As your adrenaline fades and the sweat dampening your clothes cools, the cold night air bites like needles at your skin, you start to shiver, rubbing at your exposed arms in an effort to generate a little warmth. Bitterly, you remember that the jacket that you’d brought, the one Tooru had all but forced on you before you’d left, is back at the bonfire, slung over a nearby log. Useless to you now. 

But the shivers that wrack your body aren’t solely from the dropping temperature.

Every snapping branch, hoot of an owl, rustle of leaves sends a fresh wave of terror spiking through you. You think of Tooru’s cruel smirk and Hajime’s bruising grip, of Omori’s skull staring back at you from the fire, flesh melted to the bone, black and twisted, and a ragged, distraught sob brings you to your knees.

Hopelessly lost, cold, frightened and alone, you curl into the dirt and cry. 

—

Hikers find you at dawn. 

Emergency services are called – an ambulance to take you to the nearest hospital to be poked and prodded, police to question why a fourteen year old girl was wandering the woods alone at night.

They treat you for dehydration and mild hypothermia, a few small cuts and scrapes, and when a soft spoken nurse pulls the curtain around your bed and gently asks if you’d like them to perform a rape kit, you blanch and shake your head. Eventually, they allow the detective into the room. In his late forties, bespectacled, a smattering of grey dusted throughout his close cropped black hair, he pulls up a chair beside the bed and patiently asks how you’re feeling.

If you were a better person, you’d tell him everything. The Furukawas’ abuse, your foster brothers’ increasingly overprotective behaviour, sneaking behind their back to see Omori and the fight that followed that nearly ripped you apart. 

The bonfire.

Your fault, your fault, your fault.

Omori deserves that much. His parents should know what happened to their son.

Your jacket lying forgotten by his bones. 

“Please don’t take me back there,” you mumble, tears shining in your eyes. 

Back to the woods, or the Furukawas. Back to the boys you’d loved who’d murdered for you.

In the end, it doesn’t really matter that that’s all they can get out of you. A traumatised teenager found miles from home without a single soul raising the alarm would be one thing. When that traumatised teenager’s a girl supposedly under the care of government approved guardians, it raises red flags not even they can ignore.

By lunch, they’ve arranged for you to be placed back in an all-girl orphanage until a more suitable, long term solution can be found.

—

Some nights you dream that you’re back there, in their bedroom at the Furukawas’. It’s dark and cozy, there’s an arm slung over your waist and you find yourself drifting off to the steady beat of the heart behind you, soft snores by your ear.

They’re nice dreams. You feel safe, loved. 

Tucked away in your subconscious, nothing exists but the sanctuary of them, and when you inevitably feel that tug of awareness coaxing you awake, you sink your fingers in and cling to it for dear life. 

Just another minute. Another few seconds. Please.

Right now, you’d give anything to wake up and have this be nothing more than a nightmare you can banish. 

But there’s no escaping this one. Your dad’s on the living room floor by the couch, hunkered over, pale and sweaty, pressing what was once a clean dish towel to the wound in his stomach. The coffee table’s been pushed to the side, Heisuke and your mom sat on the chairs Oikawa dragged into its place, ankles zip-tied to the legs, wrists bound, duct tape slapped across both of their mouths. Between the knife Oikawa idly toys with, still wet with blood, the handgun held loosely in Iwa’s palm and your dad slowly bleeding out on the floor, they’ve been compliant. 

Much like you have, although you’re neither bound nor gagged, sitting in the armchair Iwa ushered you to, arms looped around your knees with the man himself perched against the backrest.

The only one of you making any kind of noise at all is your dad, his voice a slurring mumble, words near intelligible. He’s begging, you can tell that much. Pleading through gritted teeth for them to let you go, not to hurt you, your mom, Hei. 

You desperately wanna tell him to save his breath, but you can’t even look at him – at any of them – without wanting to throw up.

“Do you still love us, imouto?”

Your eyes track Oikawa as he leans over the two chairs, the edge of his knife carelessly poised above Heisuke’s shoulder. From your periphery you see him flinch and stiffen, the sharp uptick of his breath smothered by duct tape, but you don’t dare shift your attention from the brunet smiling genially back at you.

Your heart squeezes, clenched by an invisible fist. Buried deep beneath the guilt and the paralysing dread, a slightly hysterical part of you almost wants to laugh. 

“Do you think I could ever stop?” 

Surprise flashes in his eyes and his grin widens. “You ran,” he accuses.

“You ran again this morning,” Iwa adds, sounding far less amused.

“I was scared.”

“Of us?” Iwa slides off the back of the couch, straightening up. In an instant, his hand’s wrapped around your throat, the broad pad of his thumb forcing your jaw upwards. “You think we’d ever fucking hurt you?” he growls, looking genuinely angry. 

Distantly you register the sound of Heisuke’s muffled indignation, another gasping wheeze from your dad, but all that fades to the background as Iwa’s mouth crashes against yours.

He doesn’t kiss you sweetly. It’s invasive, rough. His hand flexes around your throat, forcing a gasp to drive his tongue between your lips, and you can feel every ounce of possession, of pent up need and frustration as he drags it on despite the awkward angle. 

When he does break away, eyes darkened and simmering, he holds your gaze, ignoring the pointed throat clearing from the other side of the room. “Never,” he swears, waiting for you to nod before finally relaxing his grip. “Good girl.” To Oikawa, watching you both with a barely constrained hunger, he says, “Enough screwing around. Do it and let’s go.”

Oikawa huffs, rolling his eyes, “Fine. Should’ve known you’d get all impatient after you had a taste.”

“Like you’re not?”

There’s not enough air in the room, your heart’s doing somersaults in your chest, your pulse hammering through your veins. Oikawa stares at you, head tilted, the corner of his lip slowly curling up as you start to tremble, shaking your head, tears beading at your lashes, “I guess we could hurry it along.”

“No, please–” 

“Shh, sweet girl. It’s okay.” You try to stand up, but Iwa takes a hold of your shoulder and forces you back down. “Me and Iwa, we were gonna give you a choice. Let you pick. If you could kill one of them, we’d let the other two go.”

A strangled sob rips its way free, your whole body shuddering with the force of it.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. We’re not gonna make you do that,” he comforts, side-stepping your now thrashing brother to make his way over towards you. “Cause the thing is, they kept you from us. Lied to you. Manipulated you. Whether they meant to or not, they hurt you. I don’t think they deserve that kind of mercy, do you?”

“No, no, no, please! Please don’t, please don’t hurt them–”

Abandoning his knife, he drops to a crouch in front of you, “We’re gonna make it right, and then we’ll go home, okay? We’ll take care of it.”

“Please, Tooru! I’ll do anything!”

There’s a kiss pressed to the crown of your head, the cushion behind your back being tugged free. “You don’t need to do anything,” Iwa says, the cold cocking of his gun echoing like a death knell.

 “We love you. This one’s on us.”

[woso-lover234]

Barca femini x (teen) reader- banged up

inspired by Ona

you were running down the line with Renard behind you coming at you with pace. You looked to your left to see Pina who had just been subbed on and passed the ball to her. You didn’t notice Renard was now on your left side and as the ball left your foot you got shoved forward by Renard and as she kept running her cleats scraped against your face from the bottom of your cheek to next to your eyebrow. To make things worse the left side of your face slammed against the ground right onto your new cut which burned. You instantly tried to stand up to get out of the way of play but your head was spinning and your sense of direction was off so you didn’t even know which way was up. Instead you decided to lay back down and try get the attention of alexia or Ingrid. You waved your hand in the way you thought was up and then felt hands on your back.

“Hey Joey” the voice said and you relaxed instantly in your hold. It was Ellie. “What’s wrong?” She said trying to help you sit up which you tried to contribute to but she ended up doing most of the work and winced when she saw the left side of your face covered in your blood and your eye almost swelled shut with bruising already forming. “Oh darl” she said cupping your face as she called out for someone from the Barcelona team to come and help you aswell the medics.

“Ellie shhhh” you said rubbing your head and rubbing the blood from them onto your forehead aswell. Once you brought your hands down alexia, pina, Ona and Ingrid had now joined you just as you noticed the blood and looked up to Ellie

“Ellie what happened?” You say as tears started filling your eyes and Ellie’s face softened knowing you most likely had concussion

“It’s ok you just took a nasty fall and got a cut on your cheek, your gonna be ok I promise” she said as you nodded and alexia pulled your body back slightly to rest against her as she sat down behind you.

The Barcelona medics arrived, stood you up with the help of ale and Ingrid, wiped up most of the blood and realised that you were showing signs of concussion and needed to be subbed off.

“Noo ale I don’t want to go off! I just came on!” You whined trying to grab onto her to stay on the pitch even though she was walking with you off the pitch

“You didn’t bebita you came on ages ago” she tried to explain as she held your smaller hand in hers and rubbed over your knuckles knowing it comforted you. You sighed and leaned into her side just as you got to the edge of the field were you were transferred to mapis side as she immediately began doing the same thing alexia just had been as you slowly started leaning more and more of your weight into her.

“Hey bebita your gonna need to stay awake until they get you all fixed okay” mapi said gently as she pushed your flyaways out of your face and kissed your forehead as you merely nodded and opened your eyes a little bit more.

The medics bandaged your face and gave you ice for your eye and you got diagnosed with stage 1 concussion and got cleared to go back to the bench to watch the rest of the game as long as you wore your ear defenders and kept your ice pack on your eye to which you agreed and mapi said she would watch you. By the time you got out there they were announcing the extra time as you went to the bench and sat near Vicky who laughed at you as you tried to shove her which caused her to laugh harder as you pouted before Frido pulled you into her lap and held your ice to your eye for you so you could focus on the game.

“And back on the bench we have 15 year old Australian Y/n Y/l/n who looks like she has a shiner coming through and matching cuts to her fellow team mate Ona batlle” the commentator announced as the bench laughed and Ona winked at you from the field.

When alexia scored her goal Frido was up and carried you with her like you were a koala and she was your tree. Alexia took you off her and span you around after she had whipped her shirt off as you groaned at her sweaty body.

“Yuck ale your all sweaty” you complained as she laughed and gave you a big kiss on the head before pina came and you gave her a big hug for her assist as she kissed your forehead too. Then Frido came and took you back to the bench where you basically fell asleep in her lap for the rest of the match.

“And it looks like Barcelonas young talent has fallen asleep” the women commentator said “I wouldn’t blame her she took a hard knock to the head and she’s got a black eye forming and that massive cut” the man said as the camera locks in on you and frido on the bench as she absentmindedly runs her hand through your hair.

When the whistle blows you are jostled out of your sleep and immediately know what’s happened as everyone is screaming and cheering. Your first thought is to find Ellie and make sure she is ok as she is your national team mate and one of your favourite people. When she spots you she pulls you into a big hug which you accept as she gently lifts your headphones to whisper in your ear

“I’m glad you’re ok, you had me nervous for a while” she said pulling back slightly to cup your cheeks and inspect your face. She winces, kisses your forehead and then tells you to go celebrate which is when you run into Ona.

“Oni! Look! we’re matching!” You say as you walk into her arms after repeatedly pointing to your bandaged cheek

“I know” she laughs but doesn’t lift your ear defenders due to close proximity and you them blocking out louder noises (which Ellie didn’t know)

“Did your sleep get some of your energy and awareness back?” She asked to which you nodded slightly before you change the topic and ask her to get a photo of you guys together with your medals, the trophy and your matching injuries to which she accepts. She kisses your hairline before walking with you to find the others.

What you found unfair was Ona got to take off her bandage for the presentation while Alexia made you keep the big white plaster on your face which stick out like a sore thumb on your tanned skin even when you whined to her about wanting to match with Ona fully

“Everyone knows you have the same knocked up face” she laughed and ruffled your hair which you grumbled about as well

“But ale I want us to be fully matching not half matching” you said as ale shook her head

“Yours is bigger than Onita’s besides she’s a big girl” she said that part jokingly “and she can decide whether or whether not she wants it on” you were about to jump in and say you too where a big girl when ale continued “and no you aren’t and im the captain and I decide whether or whether not you keep it on” she said wrapping her arm around your shoulder as you leaned into her but looked up at her with an innocent smile

“Since your captain you can just make her out one back on though ale” you said practically begging as she sighed. Ona didn’t end up putting on a new bandaid which you weren’t very happy about.

You weren’t allowed to be around the kids because they would be too loud and crazy for you right now (ale, irene and martas words) so you were stuck with the adults for celebrations, the bus and plane ride and alexia even stayed with you at Mapi and Ingrid’s for a couple days just to make sure you were fully fine. The photo you and Ona took got posted to the Barcelona page with the caption; ‘put their bodies on the line and for a good cause ❤️💙’ to which you reposted it to your instagram with the captain ‘I’ve gotta do everything you do @onabatlle 😉😜’ to which Ona reposted and said ‘of course my little shadow ❤️’

And it went viral as the fans found it hilarious that you and Ona were not taking the injuries that seriously.

A/n Sorry this took so long and wasn’t even any of the requests y’all sent