#this one was on the back burner for so long. cheers.

[kisskalori]

[natailiatulls07]

could i request some leclerc!reader and so comfort with charles please

It's okay

Arthur Leclerc Charles Leclerc Lorenzo Leclerc Pascale Leclerc & Leclerc!reader

Summary - In order to find her way in life, Y/n Leclerc runs away in the dead of night only leaving a note

Warning - neglection, running away

-

Growing up with three older brothers and two of such competing in karting competions, life was hard for Y/n Leclerc. Pascale and Hervé invested lots of their money and energy into Arthur and Charles.

When she was seven, Y/n's interest in ballet started. The young girl had her heart set on being a professional ballerina. So thats what she did. Y/n convince Pascale to enrol her in ballet class.

From then on, she became more and more talented. Quickly becoming the top of class. Yet when recitals came round and she was the lead, the only person who came to watch was Lorenzo.

The rest of the family were out at karting competitions cheering on Charles and Arthur. Yes they would apolgise to Y/n for their absence but to her it never really felt quite right.

-

Y/n was 14 years old, life got harder. Karting turned to formula 2 and E. Lorenzo now building his own life, he moved out of the house.

And the worst of all, Hervé Leclerc passed away. This meant attention was limited, Pascale was busy. She had her salon to run, she was running around supporting the two boys racing and she was mourning the lose of her partner.

As much as he wanted to support Y/n during her recitals, Lorenzos life became busier and he could no longer come along each recital. She felt as though no one her family could see her or her talent.

So what did she do? Y/n collected enough money to enrol herself into a ballet academy. In the dead of night she packed just enough and left without a sound. Of course she couldn't leave without leaving a note, she loved her family.

Dear Maman, Charlie and Arthur, I love you all dearly, please don't worry about me. I will be gone for a while, Lo Lo knows where I will be but please do not pester him. Thank you for everything and more Love from your dearest daughter, Y/n xx

-

Y/n Leclerc was a sensation, one of the best of her age. She was a household name, even if you weren't that well educated on ballet you knew who this elegant women was.

However, it was rare for the ballerina to speak publicily, Espercially as many would ask of her surname and family relations. And it wasn't hard to understand why.

"So Y/n please tell me, any relation to formula one driver Charles Leclerc?"

"No comment, thank you"

Charles, Arthur, Pascale and Lorenzo watched on, following her social media through burner accounts not wanting to make this harder for Y/n.

They could see how she spent most of her time dancing, spending time to herself or getting cocktails with friends she made along the way.

~

yourusername

Week in my life...

Spending time alone, you must prioritize self care

Fruit cocktails with friends, the key to my heart

Looking after the minis, they're the cutest little things

Lounging on my sofa after a long day of rehearsals, it is tiring!

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username Gorg gorg girlie

cl_2648749 <3

username I so wanna be her friend omfggg

~

But she wasn't stupid, Y/n knew who those burner accounts were. Every single post, the burner accounts were there front and center. She felt their eyes on her, it was silly really but she constantly felt like they were watching her.

However, Y/n felt warm with that in mind. Like they were finally noticing her for the first time. No longer was she fighting for the attension with her two older brothers. But was it just online? If she were to go back, would it go back to how it was before.

Plus she had built up a life on ballet. Y/n made a family with her friends. Everyone knew her, fuck she is a household name hiding her Leclerc identity from the world, even herself.

-

"I think it's a good idea! It's been long overdue in my opinion"

"No. We need to work to her choices, not make her uncomfortable."

"Okay when?!" Charles throws his arms in the air with frustration. He was pacing in front of the television; Arthur, Pascale and Lorenzo all sat on the sofa watching him.

The topic of Y/n came up in passing by Arthur and it became much more. Charles was fighting, he was desperate to get his dear little sister back home. However Lorenzo, knowing how Y/n felt about everything, was fighting back and trying to prioritize her feelings.

The constant pacing stopped abruptly, and Charles turned to look at Lorenzo with a harsh glare. "Why do you want to so desperately work to her choices? Are you in contact with her?" You could hear a penny drop.

Eyes snapped over to the oldest boy, all confused and harsh. Lorenzo sunk into himself. "I um..." He took a deep breath before continuing. "Yeah um so I kept contact with her yes"

"Is she okay?" The first question Pascale asked. Years of guilt plagued her mind, she neglected her own daughter and she was now paying the price for that.

Lorenzo nodded. "Yes, she's okay...Y/n she um built up a family through her friends and as you know she is doing well for herself..." A small proud smile morphed onto his face, he was proud of her for doing this for herself.

"Does she hate us for what we did?"

He breathed in and out. "No, she doesn't hate any of us...she understands completely..." That did ease some guilt for the other three, it would of killed them to know that she hated them, her own family.

There was silence for a couple of minutes whilst they all fell into their own thoughts. And then Pascale spoke up again. "Can you at least text her or call her whatever...talk to her, please tell her that we love her and that we want to see her again...we're so so proud and sorry"

Arthur and Charles both nodded in agreement. "I'll see what I can do..." Lorenzo promised.

-

It seemed that the next time they would see Y/n would come round much soon than expected. It wasn't planned, totally sporadic.

Charles was in the kitchen, in Lorenzos apartment. He was scrolling through his phone when there was a ring coming from Lorenzos phone. "Lorenzo! Your phone, it's ring!" Looking over the driver read the name.

Y/n

He knew it was wrong to answer the call, but it felt right like this would do something so he did. Charles picked up the phone and answer.

Before he could speak the voice he missed so dear filled his ear, yet it was panicked and he could hear uneven breathing.

"Lo I'm sorry please, I came back to Monte C but uh um the paps they um oh my god I can't breathe they keep following me! Please please I don't- I don't know where to go!" He missed her voice, granted it for much more mature and wiser now, he still missed it.

Though he was entranced by the situation, now very concerned. "It's okay, it's okay" His mind was on speed mode, much like it was in the car. "Send me the location, I'll come and collect you"

Y/n's voice came out calmer and confused now. "Cha...is that you?"

Charles nodded his head before realising she couldn't see him. "Yeah um it is Cha, I'm on my way" He rushed down to his ferrari.

-

Pulling up to her location, his heart clenched. Y/n had grown so much since he had last seen her, she had grown into herself and looked alot like Pascale now.

Charles climbed out of his car, walking over to her and collided her into a bone crushing hug. "Oh chérie, je suis vraiment désolé..." Oh darling, I'm so sorry

Tears soaked his shoulder, the whole chaos of the day and reuniting with her older brother weighing down on Y/n had finally toppled off completely.

She couldn't speak, just hung onto him. That long time spent away from her family catching up to her. "It's okay...it's okay..." Charles whispered in her ear.

-

[greynatomy]

da da da n da da

leah williamson x reader

what can she not do?

literally didn’t know what to title this

whenever i hear this song i think of the princess diaries

———

“Hey, babe!”

“Yeah?” You hear her call out.

“Can you come here for a bit?”

Leah comes into the room, sweat dripping down her face.

“Whats up?”

“I’ve got this song I just came across after how long and honestly I forgot about it.” You grab a guitar from the wall. “Would you like to hear it?”

—

The team was out and about the training center doing their own thing. Leah, not knowing what to do this on pastime, spotted Jen’s guitar at her cubbie. Carefully picking it up, she sits at a her spot, remembering what you taught her.

—

You and Leah were sat in your backyard seating, enjoying the fresh air.

“This one right here is a C chord.”

You each had a guitar, Leah asking you to teach her not long after you’d played the song for her for the first time.

“Like this?” She asks, eyes concentrated on her fingers.

“Move your middle finger down a string. There. Now strum one time for me.”

She strums, the sound was a bit choppy, but not bad for the first time.

“Hey! That’s wasn’t bad at all. You’ll be a two instrument playing girl in no time!”

A blush creeps up on her face, the compliment making her feel a bit giddy.

—

She starts strumming the guitar exactly like how you taught her, stumbling a couple of times.

Da da da n da da, Da da da n da da

—

Da da da n da da da

You were in your studio, finally recording the song that’s been in the archives for so long. Leah wanted to come along to see the process. Intrigued, Leah asked what it felt like to be in the booth.

“Why don’t you find out yourself?”

Leah comes into the booth with you, helping her put the headphones on and giving her forehead a kiss. Exiting the booth, you take a seat next to your producer.

“Try the intro for me, babe.” You press a button, talking to her through the headphones. Turning to your producer, you talk to him on mute to Leah. “Record this for me, yeah. Might come in handy.”

—

“Hey, what song is that?”

“Fuckin’ hell Jen! Scared the shit out of me.” Leah flinches, placing a hand on her chest.

“Sorry.” Jen winces. “But what song is that? Never heard of it before.”

“It’s just something the missus wrote.”

A few days later, the team was over at your’s and Leah’s house for a little listening party. You never liked to do the whole extravagant listening parties that most artists do and wanted to keep it intimate with your friends and family. Ever since you met Leah, the Arsenal team became your family too.

“Alright. So this song has been in the back burner for quite some time and recently rediscovered it. So without further ado.” You click play on your laptop.

You have your eyes on Leah the whole time. From the first note, there’s a recognition in her eyes, eyebrows furrowed trying to figure out what it is. She listens to the song intently, as do the others, mouthing the words.

As the song ends, everyone was saying their praises, cheering you on, but Leah, Leah had tears in her eyes.

“Was that- was that me? Did you put me in it?” She stutters, using the sleeve of her jumper to wipe her tears.

“Well, yeah. You’re my muse so why not add my muse to the song.” You shrug, heat creeping up your face.

She gets up from where she sat, grabbing your face to bring you into a kiss.

“Awww- Ow.”

“Kyra don’t ruin the moment.”

[ghuleh-witch]

Fandom: Ghost Rating: General Warnings: none Relationships: Copia x female!Reader Additional Tags: established relationship, comfort, fluff, no beta WordCount: 775 Summary: Copia takes care of you while you're sick. Notes: Copia can be read as Cardinal, Papa, or Frater.

Ao3 || Masterlist

Copia knew exactly how you liked your tea: One tea bag (black tea, preferably Irish Breakfast tea), two spoonfuls of sugar (it has to be a little spoon and not a big spoon), and just a tiny splash of whole milk. He knows it by heart and has watched you make your cup of tea every morning since you moved in with him a year ago, but he was nervous as he stood in front of the stove waiting for the kettle of water to whistle. You were sick in bed with a nasty cold and had asked him to make a cup of tea.

“It’ll help my throat,” you croaked as you made sure to cocoon yourself in a pile of blankets. 

He, ever the caretaker, hurried to fulfill your request. Copia repeated the steps over and over. He had your favorite mug prepped with the tea bag, the jar of sugar, a little spoon, and the carton of whole milk that was specifically for your tea. As he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, he heard you let out a harsh cough from the bedroom. Seeing you so ill made his heart clench. If he could snap his fingers, he’d take your place because he just wanted to see you happy and healthy. He knew the tea would cheer you up though. That’s why he needed to get it just right for you.

The shrill whistle pierced the air, and he turned the stove burner off and poured the boiling water into the black mug that read: Resting Witch Face . Copia let the tea steep, debating whether to ask you if you’d rather have honey than sugar if it was for your throat, but he knew that if you wanted honey, you would have said so. He stuck to your recipe, trusting that you knew what you wanted. He put the two spoonfuls of sugar into the tea, stirred it, and then added the splash of milk. He frowned as the tea turned a lighter color than you usually drank. “Too much milk,” he muttered as he removed the tea bag. 

A minute later, he was returning to the bedroom with the mug in hand, as well as a bottle of cold medicine. “I have your tea, amore ,” he said, setting both the mug and medicine down on your nightstand. “Added too much milk, I think. Mi dispiace .”

“It’s okay,” you groaned as you sat up and reached for the mug. “It will still be delicious either way.” You held the mug in between your hands, allowing the steam to clear your sinuses, even just temporarily. You took a tentative sip of the hot beverage as Copia measured out some of the syrupy medicine. “Do I have to?” You whined, scrunching your face at the artificial cherry-flavored medicine.

“ Si, amore ,” he said, sounding apologetic. “I know you hate this shit, but it will help with your cough and help you get some sleep. You need the rest if you want to get better.”

You put the mug of tea down and reached for the metal water bottle filled with cold water that sat next to your box of tissues. “Let’s get this over with,” you sighed as you took the little cup of medicine. You pinched your nose and knocked it back before quickly chasing it with water. You could still taste the bitterness of the syrup and the sickening cherry flavor. The medicine made you gag a little, but you got it down. “There. All gone,” you said once you swallowed it all down. 

“Good girl,” he said, cupping your cheek and giving it a little pat before moving his hand to your forehead. “No fever at least. That’s good.” 

“Still feel like a truck ran me over,” you said as you snuggled back against your pillows. You reached for your tea again and took another sip. “How long is your meeting?”

“I shouldn’t be more than an hour, and then I’ll be right back here with you. I’ll make some soup for dinner and we can have cuddles while we watch a movie.”

“Hmmm can’t wait. But you better get going or else you’re going to be late for your meeting,” you replied. You went to go set your tea down but Copia took it from your hand and took a sip out of it. “Hey, you’re gonna get sick too now.”

“Then we can be sick together. It’ll be worth it if I can spend the whole day in bed with you,” he said before pressing a kiss to your forehead and leaving you to rest.

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 73: Emily's Safehouse

Previous > Masterlist > Next

tw: mind control, conditioning, memories of abuse

October 1925

Emily woke up in bed -- a real bed for human beings, not a fuzzy little pet bed on the floor -- a sensation both frightening and strangely familiar. She wasn't allowed on the bed, unless her lady --

Her lady.

Her lady was dead.

The events of the previous night came rushing back to her as she lay there in bed, staring up at the ceiling. One moment she'd been in the carriage, drunk and stupefied from her lady's aura, and in the next moment, Lady Jessica was dead and gone. She'd been pulled from the carriage and into a janky old car by a vampire hunter, leaving behind everything she'd known for a promise of freedom, or at least a promise of a hot meal and a place to stay.

Unease gnawed in her gut. Promises of help always came with strings attached. She wasn't sure how she knew that, but she felt it deep inside. She'd have to pay for this charity somehow.

Emily tried to remember. Who had she been and what had she been doing before she had served a vampire? She knew somehow that she hadn't been serving a vampire for very long, so there must have been something that came before, but she couldn't remember any of it, a swirl of colors and scents and pains where the rest of her mind should be. Perhaps serving a vampire was the only thing she was truly good for, the thing she was meant to do.

She sat up in bed, trying in vain to drive the fuzziness from her mind. She didn't want it to be true, because if it were, then the hunter had just taken away the only thing that gave her life meaning.

There was a faint smell of eggs and toast in the air, and Emily's stomach growled, reminding her that there was no existential crisis that was worth missing out on food. She pulled herself out of bed, wearing the thick flannel nightgown that had been handed to her the night before, and pushed open the creaky wooden door.

The vampire hunter's home was an old farmhouse on the outskirts of the city, one with uneven floors and chipped paint and drafts in every window. It was nothing like the luxurious modern townhouse her lady had occupied, with every modern convenience including electricity. Still, Emily liked how familiar this place felt, how natural it was to keep her footsteps soft as she walked down the hall in borrowed slippers.

The kitchen was small but cheerful, done up in bright yellow and lime green. The hunter, Vivian, was tending to a skillet of eggs, while a young woman with red hair and a simple black coat sat at the kitchen table. The woman looked dazed, her eyelids at half-mast, as though she were fighting the urge to drop off to sleep.

"Good morning, Emily!" said Vivian. "Would you like some eggs? And did you sleep well?"

"I think so. And yes, I would like some eggs, please." She sat down at the table, nervously glancing at the other woman.

"Oh, this is Jenny, the thrall I took from Edgar. Jenny, this is Emily, a thrall I rescued last night."

"Pleased to meet you," said Jenny with a smile.

"You were a thrall, too?"

"Yes, for a very long time, until Vivian killed my master. She's helping me get accustomed to the human world again. I spent so long under my master's spell that it's…" She trailed off, sinking back into a daze, before collecting herself again. "It's difficult, after having spent years under a vampire's spell."

"Years…"

"Mmm…" Her eyelids were drooping again, and in a fluid motion, she fell to her knees, bowing her head to no one.

Vivian took the pan off the burner for a moment to shake her gently awake. Her eyes popped open and she sat back down on the chair, blushing. "Sorry, I still slip back under sometimes. Vivian is helping with that."

"You've been making great progress, considering how deep you were in vampire thrall," said Vivian, as she placed a plate of eggs and toast in front of Emily.

As Emily quickly ate her breakfast, she couldn't help but feel embarrassed herself, recalling how she had acted around her lady. Many nights, she'd accompany Lady Jessica to a club or social call, kneeling by her lady's chair, laying her head in her lady's lap, allowing her lady to pet her as though she were a beloved dog. Perhaps she had looked just as Jenny did, lost in a stupor as she mindlessly worshiped a vampire.

It hadn't always been this way, she was sure. How had they done this to her?

"I should be able to help you, too," said Vivian, sitting at the table. "How long were you with vampires? Do you remember?"

"I'm not sure," Emily said, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I can't remember much of anything before my lady's -- the vampire's house. But she has been showing me off to everyone as her new thrall, still, so I don't think it's been that long. A couple of months, maybe."

"That's good, then, it'll be easier to recover if you weren't with her long. From what you've said, it sounds like you had your memories wiped. Did you go through the auction house?"

The mention of the auction house stirred up a particular image in her mind. She was standing on a stage under a spotlight, wearing an uncomfortable frilly dress and jeweled handcuffs, squinting to try and focus on the crowd in front of her, bidding. They were bidding on her, bidding more than she'd ever made in her life, and it was going so fast…

"Yes, I'm sure I went through the auction house."

Vivian nodded. "Do you know if you met a vampire named Lily?"

"Lily! Yes, I remember her well."

"She's the one who wiped your memories, then."

Emily didn't just remember Lily from the auction house, the vampire who put her to sleep so gently, who urged her to be quiet and docile and offer her blood. She also remembered Lily from nights at the Tiger's Eye. In fact, she had cozied up to Lily, shamelessly nuzzling her, feeling a deep need to be near her and to hear her voice, even though she was the one who had stolen Emily's life.

And all of the other little indignities bubbled up in her thoughts. Allowing the vampire to dress her up like a paper doll and walk her on a leash. Mindlessly accepting that she'd be discarded and sold again when her lady tired of her. Smiling dreamily as she offered up her neck to a bloodsucking monster. Oh, god, she'd let that vampire sink her fangs into her flesh and drink her blood so, so many times, and she'd been made to enjoy it.

"Emily, are you okay?"

She wiped at her hot tears. "I let them take my mind, didn't I?" she said, humiliated. "I let them take my blood, too. I don't even remember if I fought them, but either way, they won. They took my mind from me."

"You didn't let them do anything," said Vivian firmly. "Vampires are strong, incredibly so, and particularly some of the ones you've encountered. Their enthrallment abilities can be powerful, almost impossible to resist without magic. Even many hunters eventually fall and become a thrall themselves. It's not your fault that they did this to you."

Emily nodded, still lost in her deep rush of shame despite Vivian's words.

"But I have magic. I've been studying how to ward myself from vampires for a long time. And I know a ritual that can reverse enthrallment, if you're interested."

"Yes!" said Emily. "Yes, I want my memories back. I want to know who I was before all of this. There must be something I can go back to."

"If you're that eager, we can do the ritual right after breakfast, if you like. But I should warn you… not everyone who gets their memories back is happy about it," Vivian said. "It's just that vampires tend to prey on people who… don't have a lot of family, or people to notice if they go missing. A lot of thralls come from bad circumstances. Do you still want to try?"

She would be lying to herself if her heart didn't sink a bit, but she knew that her answer was still the same. "Yes. I think I want to know, even if it's awful. I don't want to feel like offering my blood to a vampire was the only thing I ever did in life."

"Then come with me."

Emily followed Vivian into a sort of parlor and up a spiral staircase that rattled with every step. They emerged in an attic that smelled of dust and mildew. Vivian lit a lantern, and then a number of candles on the floor, and Emily could see a chalk circle with strange symbols written in it. The floor was stained in some places with what looked like blood. She realized that she had been trusting the vampire hunter completely, even though she knew so little about her. Sure, she'd freed Emily from her fate as a thrall, but that didn't necessarily mean she was a safe person in every way.

"I'll need to spill some of my blood for this ritual. Don't worry, it won't harm you, apart from any harm you might get from the memories you've lost." The knife Vivian held had a blade as long as her hand that glinted in the candlelight. "All you need to do is kneel in the circle and close your eyes."

Emily shuddered, her vague memories of the auction house dancing through her mind. After all she'd been through, she really didn't want to be at someone else's mercy.

But she hardly had a choice. Without any memories or skills beyond being a vampire's pet, she didn't think she could survive on her own. She had no place to go, no friends or family that she remembered, and no job -- she was already at Vivian's mercy. Slowly, reluctantly, she knelt in the circle and held her eyes just barely closed.

"Perfect," said Vivian. "Now just try to relax, and whatever you feel, just go with it. Don't suppress it, or the ritual won't be as effective. You might feel awful as your mind returns, because one thing the vampires like to do is suppress your undesirable feelings so that you enjoy being their mindless slave. But you have to accept it, all right?"

"All right."

Emily knelt in the darkness, her knees growing sore, as Vivian began a low chant. With her eyes closed, she could hear Vivian walking around her, chanting, along with rustling noises. The scent of burning herbs joined the candle smoke.

"Hold still for a moment."

She could feel the pressure of Vivian's thumb on her forehead and cheeks, and it felt like she had smeared something on her. She chanted words in an unknown language into Emily's left ear, then her right.

Just as Emily was wondering when the ritual would start to have an effect, a wave of fear and shame and sadness swept her away. She thought she had been embarrassed before, but it was nothing like what she felt now, a deep horror at how she'd been captured and used, her mind stolen and bent and made to serve the monsters who had violated her. A choked sob escaped her throat, and she retched as she recalled what the feedings were like without the glowing haze of hypnosis surrounding them. The suppressed pain, the violence of the vampire's fangs, the smell of her own blood.

But she remembered. She remembered her family, the one she'd run from, thinking nothing could ever be worse. She remembered trying to scrape by with odd jobs and artwork, the dingy room she called home, the many nights she'd gone hungry. She remembered being tossed into a cell in the auction house, straining against the iron bars, not knowing what would happen to her.

"Emily." Vivian had stopped chanting. "You can open your eyes now. Are you okay?"

She didn't feel okay. She felt as though she'd experienced a lifetime's worth of trauma in the space of ten minutes. But at least she knew it was hers. At least she knew how hard she'd fought to make herself a real life, how much she struggled against the vampires before the fight had been taken out of her.

"I'll be okay," she said, mostly out of a hope that it would be true. "Thank you. Between this and saving me last night, I don't know how I can ever repay you."

"I don't expect you to pay me. I'm planning on ransacking your vampire's home tonight, and once I pawn most of it, there'll be money for both of us," she said. "But your former mistress was also known to be a real social butterfly, so if your memories are less foggy, I wouldn't mind if you paid me in information."

"What kind of information?"

"Mostly where I can find powerful vampires to kill."

"The Tiger's Eye," Emily said. "It's a club where all of the powerful vampires of the city go to drink and gossip. I think I can show you where it is."

"Oh, I appreciate that, but I already know about the Tiger's Eye. It's how I tracked your mistress. Unfortunately, even though I'm a real crackerjack of a hunter, I don't think I can take on an entire club's worth of vampires by myself. So as much as I'd like to, I can't raid their speakeasy. All I can do is track down the drunk ones once they leave."

"Oh, I see." Now that Emily could think more clearly about it, she would've dearly loved to see the entire place burned to the ground -- after every one of those poor thralls had been saved, of course. She could remember lounging on her lady's lap as Jessica drank from a woman covered in bite scars, who seemed to have barely any awareness of where she was, and bile rose in her throat again.

The Tiger's Eye -- there was something important she was supposed to remember --

"If you know of any individual vampires that would be good to track down… There's actually a few in particular --"

"Oliver!" That had been nagging at her. The thrall who had recognized her last night was Oliver, the unfortunate bookseller who had been her neighbor in the cells. He'd talk to her for hours, taking her mind off the sordid situation, and had ended up hypnotized out of his wits, eager to throw away his life for a vampire -- just as she had.

"Beg pardon? Is that the name of a vampire?"

"No, he's someone I met when I was in the auction house. He was sold to a vampire, of course, and my la-- Jessica said that he lived only a block away from us -- from her. Do you think you could rescue him, too?"

"A block away from Jessica, you say…" Vivian nodded slowly. "Yes, I think I can work with that, especially if you know anything about the vampire who bought him."

"I don't remember his name, but… he was fairly tall and thin, pale and with messy hair. And his voice… this may be a strange thing to recall, but his voice was like -- something you'd want to listen to for days, even if he only read the phone book."

"Hmm, that might be part of his enthrallment. I'll have to be careful," said Vivian. "I can't make any promises, but I think I could arrange a playdate with your friend Oliver and his master."

Previous > Masterlist > Next

Next week: Fitz is put under the Maestro's control.

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[ev3rgreenxtrees]

,,Spin The Bottle’’ -M.S

synopsis: You’re at a party with your best friend Nick, and you finally meet his brothers.

warnings: SMUT. alcohol, drugs, strong language.

pairing: switch Matt X switch Layla (female oc.)

Based off the song ‘This Could Be Us’ by Rae Sremmurd, and it is a slow burner😭🫶🏻

— — back to masterlist

‘Spin the bottle

if you the reason why its empty baby,

spin the fucking bottle.’

“C’MON, LAY!!” Nick yelled loudly from the other side of the crowded room. Layla shuffled through the hot room, her shoes sticking on the wooden alcohol covered floor. She tried her best to get by Nick, her best friend, but the crowd of drunk and high kids her age were restricting her. “for fucks sake, Layla.” Nick scoffed as he started through the crowd to get Layla himself.

Once he reached the much shorter girl, he gently grabbed her arm, and pulled her behind him through the crowd to the corner of the room. They both came to a halt, Layla almost running into the red-haired boy in front of her.

“Layla, meet my.. brothers..” Nick said in a disappointed tone.

“don’t say it like that, kid. you act like im a burden!” one of the boys spoke up. he had longer hair, and no tattoos, so using all the context clues from the many stories Nick has told her, this boy was Chris. “Anyways— I’m Chris!” the boy smiled, pulling her into a hug.

The sudden intimate action made the small girl let out a small giggle as she returned the action.

“nice to meet you, Chris. I’m Layla,” she smiled, and pulled away from the hug. A very slightly taller male with shorter brown hair and tattoos like Nicks stepped forwards.

He was more attractive than the other two, in ways she couldn’t understand. His sharp jawline, his defined cheekbones, his bright blue eyes, his slim face shape, the way his brown hair sat perfectly on his face, just barely covering his eyes.

“Hey, um..” the boy started, causing her to snap out of the trance he put her in. “I’m Matt..” he smiled shyly, sticking his hand out for a handshake.

Layla- without thinking- quickly responded with “I know! nice to meet you, Matt!” ‘I know?’ ‘I KNOW.?’ Was she loosing her mind?

Matt chuckled, and Layla shook her head, shamefully shaking the boys hand.

“i- uh.. sorry. Its just, the stories Nick has told me. Not specifically about you of course- but about you and chris and himself so i just assumed since he’s nick, and he’s chris-“ Layla rambled, being cut off when Matt put his hand on her shoulder.

“its okay. i get it.” he whispered.

“sorry.” Layla apologized, and Matt let his hand slowly fall off her shoulder to her hand; intertwining his long fingers with hers.

“its okay.” he smiled. “i understand.”

Layla smiled, giving his hand a gentle squeeze before letting it slip away from hers.

“sorry,” Matt apologized. “I’m not sure why i did that, you just seem.. upset? Not that you look upset or anything! Just that-“

“its okay.” Layla cut him off, and Matt smiled, Layla smiled back. He was right, the party was getting on her nerves, the loud music, the people yelling,, but thats not why she was acting like this. He was.

She could tell he was stressed too, but his stress did probably originate from the party. Not her.

“Hey! Who wants to play spin the bottle?” A random man yelled from off a red solo cup covered table. There were a few cheers, and Layla snapped her head towards Nick. Not for good reasons, though. Nick always wanted to play games at parties, and Layla never did.

Nick tilted his head, and gave her the, ‘you-better-come-play-with-me’ look. She sighed as Nick grabbed her hand, and started leading her through the crowd again.

“wait- you guys are actually playing?” Nicks brother- Chris- asked.

“I guess so-“ She shrugged in response, still getting pulled through the crowd.

Nicks fast maneuvering through the crowd allowed them to be there before majority of the other players were. The two sat down on the ground, criss-cross. Chris emerged out of the crowd to the room, bringing a confused and frightened Matt behind him.

“Chris! Did you really bring him?” Nick scolded Chris, both of the boys knew Matt had social anxiety, and this was NOT going to help.

“Hell yeah! He’ll be fine. He can just.. stand in the corner and not play if he wants. At least I brought him over instead of just leaving him by himself over there!” Chris snapped back, and Layla cut the triplets bickering out of her mind.

Her eyes met with Matt’s, whose were starting to gloss over. Since she had just met him, minutes ago, he has been anxious. His brothers were his guidance, and now with them both fighting in a room full of people wanting to play a game, it was leaving Matt with no one.

“hey, c’mere.” Layla smiled, patting the floor next to her. Chris and Nick both stopped mid-sentence, as Matt actually sat down next to her, in-between Chris and her. “if the bottle points at him, just say its pointing at you,” Layla says pointing at Chris, “so that way he only has to kiss someone when its his turn.”

“What!? But thats chea-“ Chris starts, but Layla cuts him off.

“Chris.”

“But- how come you dont-“ Chris starts again, but this time he was cut off by Nick.

“Chris.” Nick stopped him.

“okay.” Chris nodded.

-

After a few spins, everything has been going according to plan. Chris and Layla were taking turns when the bottle landed on Matt, until it was actually his turn.

“Matt, your turn.” Layla smiled and gestured towards the bottle. Matt spun the bottle quickly, without hesitation, which caught all of them off guard. They all watched anxiously as it spun in circles on the floor, and stopped moving.

Layla.

The crowd erupted in “ooh”s, and Layla’s and Matt’s heads snapped towards each others.

“fuck.” Matt whispered.

Layla shook her head, “you don’t have to if you don’t want to,”

“no- i want to..” Matt mumbled; his hand finding its way to Layla’s jaw. “ready?” he asked. This sudden boldness from Matt was confusing to Layla, but she didn’t mind. She just nodded.

Matt connected their lips, for only a few seconds, before pulling away.

“boo! that was a bad kiss! at least ten se-“ Chris booed, sticking his thumb out.

“CHRIS!” Nick yelled at the younger boy.

“You want us to make out or something?!” Matt whipped around to face Chris, who was nodding eagerly. The crowd, oddly enough, started chanting ‘Matt’

“fuck.” Matt sighed, as he turned back around to face Layla. “are you okay with this..?” he asked her,

“you mean, making out?” she asked confused.

“yeah..” Matt nodded, his eyes meeting hers.

“oh.. yeah. okay.” She nodded, and tried slowing her breathing rate. Matt was definitely attractive, and her type,, but doing this in front of all these people..? As Matt’s hand met her jaw once more, she pulled away, “wait- can we like.. do it in a room? Kinda like seven minutes in heaven!” She suggested.

“um.. yeah, sure. follow me.” the party host nodded, and led Matt and Layla to a room, leaving the ��ooh’ing crowd behind.

“In heres fine,” the boy opened a door to a fully furnished -and nice- room.

Matt and her walked in, hand in hand, and he closed the door behind them. Matt looked down at her.

“you don’t really wanna do this, do you?” he asked with a slight chuckle.

“no, i do, i swear, just.. maybe not in front of all those people?” She shook her head rapidly.

“yeah, i get it. If damn Chris didn’t bring it up, no one else would’ve.. i swear im gonna beat his ass.” Matt rolled his eyes and crossed his tattooed arms.

Now that no one else was around to distract her, she could really focus on how good he looks. His biceps being perfectly shown by the way he’s standing, his tattoos, his bright blue eyes, his tall and ‘lanky’ stature.

“you okay?” he asked, tilting his head and furrowing his eyebrows.

“i- uh.. yeah. sorry.” she stuttered. the tilt of his head was enough to make her fold.

Matt unexpectedly made his way slowly over to the bed in the corner of the room, and sat down.

“you wanna do this?” he asked. Matt was much more.. ‘out there’ when he wasn’t in a room crowded with people. Layla nodded, and felt a blush creep onto her cheeks- and she knew why.

Matt patted the spot on the bed next to him, gesturing for Layla to sit there, but her body wouldn’t let her. She sat on Matt’s lap unexpectedly, and straddled him.

Matt’s eyes shot opened and he looked up at her, his hands quickly flying to her waist. what was she doing?

“you wanna make out like this?” Matt suddenly asked, and Layla couldn’t help but nod. Matt let his grip on her waist loosen, and his hands found their way to her back, around her waist. Layla let her hands slide up his chest and wrap around his neck. “okay. ready?” he asked, and Layla nodded. Matt closed his eyes, and Layla did the same, and they both leaned in.

Their lips brushed against eachother; and they finally met. Their lips moved in sync, and Matt’s tongue swiped over Layla’s bottom lip. Their tongues fought for dominance, and Matt’s won. His tongue explored her mouth, and their make out became more heated.

Their teeth clashed together as their tongues tangled, neither of them stopping. Without even thinking, Layla rolled her hips against Matt, causing him to gasp and grab her hips tightly again.

“Don’t-“ Matt groaned, Layla immediately stopping.

“Fuck, sorry-“ Layla apologized and started to stand, but Matt quickly pulled her down.

“no, its okay.. just…” Matt sighed, and let his hand fall to Layla’s. He trailed both of their hands up to his crotch, Layla gasped as she felt the growing bulge in his jeans. Matt groaned, and let Layla’s hand go. “t-this is what you do to me..” He moaned, the girl’s eyes growing wide.

“holy shit..” she gasped, “Matt..” her eyes met his, begging and pleading ones. “Do.. do you want me to help..?” she whispered, and Matt waisted no time nodding eagerly.

“fuck, please..” he begged, his head falling back as she pushed the palm of her hand against his boner. “mmh, please,” he whined. Layla smirked, her lips finding his neck.

“Want me to mark you up, Matty? Show everyone how good of a boy you are for me?” She teased, and Matt groaned,

“f-fuck, yes..” he pleaded, not really thinking about the party he was to go back to. Layla’s hands made their way to his chest, as she pushed him back against the bed. She continued to suck and bite on the whining boys neck, and her hands trailed down his sides to his belt loops on his jeans.

Her hands slipped to the button of his blue jeans, brushing against the bulge that was below the cold silver metal.

“Can I-“ Layla started, but Matt cut her off.

“yes, please, yes..” he begged, his hands still on her hips from before. She fiddled with the cold button, and once it came loose, she unzipped the zipper and pulled his pants down slowly, leaving the poor boy in his boxers only.

Layla chuckled as she saw the small wet spot on his red boxers due to his precum, but she couldn’t lie, she was already intimidated by the size even though she couldn’t see it yet.

“Gonna be good for me, Matty?” She asked, as her hands gripped the waistband of his boxers.

“y-yes, i promise.” he nodded, and she placed a kiss on his clothed member before pulling his boxers completely off.

“Holy fuck Matt,” she gasped.

“hm? is it bad-?” Matt asked worriedly.

“no, actually.. its just.. that is supposed to fit in me?” she gestured towards the boys dick.

“well- i-.. not unless you don’t want it to..?” Matt sat up.

“I want-“ Layla was cut off oncemore, but not by Matt this time.

“aye! hurry it up in there! ya fuckin or sum?” a boy yelled into the room from outside the door.

“give us 15!” Matt yelled back.

“15 Matt?” Layla yelled.

“i- uh.. we can just.. i don’t know!” matt stuttered.

“don’t get shy on me now, matt. we have ‘15 minutes’, you wanna do this..?” Layla asked, getting on her knees in front of Matt, becoming eye level with his stomach.

“yes,” matt nodded.

Layla wasted no time spitting on matts cock, giving it a few good tugs, before licking from his base to his tip.

“mmh,” Matt whined. His hands gripped the sheets of the bed, as Layla took his throbbing red tip in her mouth, swirling her tongue around it. “A-ah- fuck—“ Matt gasped, one of his hands flying to her, the other tightening on the bedsheets.

Layla bobbed her mouth up and down, hollowing out her cheeks. Spit dripped down her chin and salty unwanted tears rolled down her red cheeks, as she hummed around Matt’s cock, sending vibrations throughout his body.

“h-holy shit— im not g-gonna.. fuck, im not gonna last long-“ Matt whined, Layla popping her head off.

“if i let you cum now, will you still be a good boy and fuck me?” she asked, and matt nodded, his face red and his eyebrows furrowed.

“yes, god, yes..” he agreed, and Layla’s lips met with Matt’s cock again. Her tongue slipped over his slit, before she took his tip in her mouth again. “mmph, f-fuck..” Matt groaned, his head falling back and his legs shaking. “i-im gonna-“ Matt warned, but before he could finish, his cum coated Layla’s mouth.

She pulled off his cock, and swallowed, sticking her tongue out to show she had swallowed.

“good girl..” Matt growled, pulling the girl into his lap, harshly kissing her. His hands found their way under her skirt, tracing gentle patterns across her wet panties.

“M-matt, please..” Layla gasped, her dominance fading quicker and quicker by the second as Matt played with her clit through the thin fabric.

“shh.. hold on, baby..” Matt smirked. Smirked. If Layla wasn’t already drenched, that would’ve done it for her.

“Matt- please, I didn’t tease you,” she pleaded, as his lips found her neck. He placed rough kisses against her soft skin, leaving red- soon to be purple- marks. Matt huffed against her, as he lifted her hips up just enough so he could slip her useless panties off.

“im keeping these.” Matt’s eyes met hers as he tossed the panties by his discarded clothes.

Layla was done waiting. She slipped her own shirt and bra off, starting to pull her skirt down after standing up, before Matt quickly stood up aswell, roughly shoving her down to the bed.

He leaned over her, grabbing her neck,

“Did I give you fucking permission to undress, slut?” Matt growled in her ear, and she shook her head.

“n-no.. I-im sorry-“ Layla apologized, and Matt tore her skirt off of her.

“You’re so fucking lucky we’re at a party and not at my house, because i swear i would’ve just ripped those in half.” Matt’s grip loosened just slightly on her throat, as he tossed her skirt.

Matt used his free hand to slide through her slick folds, slipping his fingers over her entrance a few times, before sticking two in her hole.

“H-holy shit!” Layla gasped as Matt pumped his fingers in and out of her, curling them when his knuckle hit her clit.

“Ya’know, I’d prep ya more, maybe even eat you out, but we only got a few more minutes left, so your gonna have to deal with it. Your safe word is Red, okay” Matt ripped his fingers out of her, causing her to whine.

“O-okay. red.” she repeated, knowing thats what he wanted.

“good girl.” matt nodded, as his hand around her throat tightened, and his other hand came to grab her hip.

He pushed the tip of his cock in slowly, and Layla winced. Matt continued to push into her, before completely bottoming out.

His lips came into contact with her neck again, sucking and biting at the spots that he had not already marked, as he gave her a little bit to adjust to him.

“m-move,” Layla pleaded, trying to sound demanding.

“poor baby..” Matt groaned as he started to thrust into her, his grip on her hip sure to leave bruises. “trying to seem dominant, but your falling apart on my cock..” he tsked, and his speed was relentless.

The way he was speaking to her just kept pushing Layla closer and closer to the edge, her legs starting to shake.

“already close?” Matt shook his head. His hand left her pained hip and made its way to her clit, as he rubbed circles on it.

“H-holy fuck, Matt!” Layla yelled. Thank god the music was blasting, or the people throughout the whole neighborhood probably could’ve heard that.

“shut your damn mouth,” matt growled, his head falling back, his release inching closer as he felt the familiar knot form in his stomach.

The girls legs continued to shake around matt, as she moaned again.

“m-matt, im cumming!”

“fuck, me too..” he huffed, both of them releasing at the same time. Matt’s thrusts slowed down and became more sloppy, as he chased his high. He slowly pulled out, both of them wincing at the loss of the feeling.

Matt didn’t say anything, and he just started to put his clothes back on.

Layla sat up slowly, in confusion, as she cleared her throat.

“hm?” Matt asked, slipping his boxers back on.

“really? your cum is literally dripping out of me, matt, and you dont say anything?” she asked, somewhat offended. she doesnt know why, though. its just a hookup.

“um.. sorry.. i dont really know what to say..” Matt stood up straight, scratching the back of his neck. He refused to make eye contact with her, which was even more odd.

“are you okay..?” she asked.

“yeah. im fine. sorry,” he apologized again, picking up her bra, skirt, and shirt off the ground before handing them back to her, “here. im sorry, im awkward.. i’ve never been that.. intimate?” Matt shrugged, as Layla slipped her clothes back on, after carelessly wiping herself off with the bed sheets. She doubts anyone uses that room ever anyways.

“you mean.. youve never had sex?” Laylas eyes widened, as she attempted to stand but failed, falling back on the bed.

“No no no, not like that. I’ve had sex but not that.. rough..?” Matt squinted, tilting his head. “I dunno. Sorry.” He apologized again, offering her a hand.

“Stop saying sorry.” Layla rolled her eyes, taking his hand.

“sor-..” he stopped himself. “um.. would you wanna maybe.. hangout sometime..?” he asked.

“GUYS. YOUR FIFTEEN IS UP. HURRRY IT THE FUCK UP,” the same person from before pounded on the door, causing both of them to chuckle.

“id love to. wait- shit! our necks!” Layla’s eyes widened.

“eh, it doesn’t matter. they all know we fucked anyways. who sits in a room and makes out for twenty minutes.?” Matt chuckled, admiring his work on the shorter girl’s neck.

“touchè,” Layla shrugged, and Matt grabbed her hand. “your really not gonna give me my panties back?” she asked, and matt nodded.

“nope. they’re in my pocket. you’ll just have to retrieve them next time.” Matt teased, and Layla rolled her eyes.

The two opened the door and walked back to the others, sitting on the floor.

“oh, for fucks sake, they’re back! we only managed to do six whole rounds without-“ Chris started, but stopped when he saw the hickeys on both of their necks. “holy. shit.” He gasped, his mouth falling agape.

Matt and Layla sat down together, still hand-in-hand, as all of the others stared at them.

“we were in there for over fifteen minutes. the fuck did you think we did?” Layla snapped in a joking way.

“if were being honest, we thought you guys were pranking us.. like you didn’t want to play the game or something..” Chris’ shrugged. “but god damn, Matty boy. I really didn’t think you had it in you.” Chris gave his brother a nod of approval and a slap on the shoulder.

“im gonna be sick.” Nick fake gagged.

“oh, shut up, nick!” Matt groaned.

“wait. Why is there HANDPRINTS on her neck, and what the fuck is in your pocket, matt. YOU KINKY MOTHERFUCKER!” Chris yelled as he laughed, Matt’s face going bright red.

-

small A/N: i finished this since i cant sleep. enjoy😋

[buckysgrace]

2. Eyes Without a Face

Billy Hargrove x Fem!OC/Tommy Hagan x Fem!OC

Now That We Don't Talk

Three Years Later

Tommy

He viewed Kim differently now. 

He still loved her in the same manner, perhaps even more in his opinion. Being married and having a child together had really changed his point of view. He wasn’t ever sure if he’d really be happy getting married. His eyes had a bad habit of wandering, of thinking that there could be more out there for him. 

Kim hadn’t given him an option to think about anyone else after their honeymoon. She had gotten pregnant right away, surprising him completely. They had always been safe. He didn’t see how it was possible, but he had been happy nonetheless. A baby was special. 

Sex was new between them, on the rare occasion that they had it. He used to be rough; enjoyed pulling her hair and smacking her skin. He no longer liked to do that. He supposed it was fairly plain, vanilla for sure. He just didn’t feel right being so brutal with the mother of his child. 

Nora was anything but a handful. With rosy cheeks, golden red hair and big blue eyes; a looker, just like her mother. She acted like Kim too. Always getting into things, eyes full of curiosity and a nose that was able to sniff out sweets for miles. Other than that, she didn’t do anything too chaotic. A little angel. 

He had made a deal with Kim, well, rather he had pleaded with her to take his suggestion. He worked and she stayed at home with Nora. It was easier that way. Kim was motherly, had no issue changing diapers and wiping runny noses. Tommy didn’t like any of it. Not the messy part. He could play with Nora for hours but once she got fussy or overheated, she went straight back to Kim. 

“Hi,” Kim waved from the kitchen, her hair pulled back into a ponytail as she held Nora against her left side. She stirred something in her right hand, nodding her head as Nora babbled off while she finished off a creamsicle, “How was work?”

“Good,” He replied, quickly kissing the side of her cheek and narrowly avoiding Nora’s sticky hands, “Uh, we’re going to have one more over for dinner.” He added, smiling as he tapped the top of Nora’s head.

“Oh?” She asked as she looked up, hazel eyes inquisitive as Nora mirrored her expression. Tommy still thought it was funny that Nora had ended up with blue eyes, instead of brown like theirs, “Who is it? It’s not Jason, is it? That guy is a creep.” She reminded him of her disdain, making him sigh deeply. 

“He’s not a creep,” Tommy defended him quickly, knowing he just got a bad reputation, “But no. It’s not Jason. It’s uh, someone you like.” He replied, hoping that was still the case. Kim stopped for a second, analyzing him for a long time. 

“Is there a reason you’re being secretive about it?” She questioned him sourly, nose scrunching up like she was scared about what his answer would be. He honestly wasn’t too sure about how she’d react. Neither of them had seen Billy in so long. 

“It’s your brother,” He introduced slowly as he pulled a smile on his face, “Yay! Uncle Billy is coming to town!” He cheered, clapping his hands as Nora began to bounce and giggle in Kim’s arms. Kim, on the other hand, looked less than pleased.

“What do you mean he’s coming to town?” She bore a pained expression as she pushed her pan of food off of the burner, quickly shutting the heat off before she placed Nora on the ground. The toddle whined, gripping a hold of her jeans with sticky fingers. 

“Well,” Tommy paused, “I guess he lost his job, had a little relapse incident, and then his girlfriend kicked him out. Ex girlfriend I guess.” He rubbed the back of his neck, deciding that he was going to keep a few more details out. He had a feeling she’d say no if she knew the full story.

But she already looked like she didn’t like his answer. She played with her hair, a little telltale sign that she was nervous. But he also knew that it likely meant that she’d give in anyways. She still didn’t like to say no, even if it made her uncomfortable. 

He knew that there was some well deserved hesitancy there. The last time either of them had seen Billy had been at the wedding. He had skipped the exchanging of the vows, but then showed up to the reception more drunk than Tommy had ever seen him. He had made a fool of himself. 

“You couldn’t ask me first?” She asked, dampening a paper towel before she began to scrub Nora’s face and hands clean. He watched, glad that he had stayed out of the toddler’s sticky path. 

“Oh come on, he’s your brother,” He said quickly, “And he’s all alone in Los Angeles. No wonder he has all the drug issues.” He gestured about with his hands, a little jealous that Billy had such wild stories to share. Tommy felt like he hadn’t really gotten to experience anything with getting married so young. And having a baby straight away. 

“He hates it here.” She mumbled, keeping her eyes focused on Nora as she continued to try and talk at the same time Tommy was. 

“That could change,” He shrugged his shoulders, “What happened between you two anyways?” He asked, furrowing his eyebrows as he tried to recall the last time they’d spoken. In fairness, he hadn’t spoken to Billy in years either. But he and Kim had been raised together. 

“What?” She snapped her head towards him, eyes wide with worry. He shrugged his shoulders, not sure why she seemed so on edge. 

“I mean you guys don’t talk anymore,” He said slowly, “Surely something had to happen.” He pried a little deeper, wondering if there was something she was keeping from him. Surely not. 

“We just never got along, different interests,” She brushed his inquiries away as she began to make Nora’s plate with one hand, “And he’s not my brother.” She replied stiffly, smiling as Nora patted her shoulder in confusion. 

“No Uncle Biwwy?” Nora asked, eyes filled with sadness as she rested her wet cheek against Kim’s chest. Tommy winced, wondering how Kim could stand the mess. 

“Yeah,” He added as he rested his chin on his fingers and pouted his lips out, “No Uncle Biwwy? Because I promised him the spare room until he got on his feet. He should be here anytime. I uh, need to figure something out if he can’t stay here.” He replied awkwardly, balancing on the tips of his toes in hopes of changing her mind. 

“I didn’t say he couldn’t,” She sighed as she shifted Nora once again, pausing as she brought a damp towel up and began to wipe her face clean, “I wish you would’ve just asked. You never ask.” She reminded him, making him wish he could roll his eyes. He didn’t like how that was always the argument. He asked when he needed to. For important things. Most of the time. 

“I’m asking now.” He replied as he stood up a little straighter, feeling like he didn’t have to ask to have someone stay in his own home. The one that he had bought and was still paying for. 

“You’re telling me,” She clarified with a soft smile, “I’m not his maid though. He’s going to have to pick up after himself.” She nodded her head along, looking like she was determined to keep some ground rules for herself. 

“Cool,” Tommy replied as he nodded along, “Uh is it done, hun? Because I’m starving.” He glanced into the pot, desperately wanting something to eat. 

“Go ahead,” She responded as she walked away, holding Nora in one hand and her food in the other. He did as she requested, filling his plate full as she ensured that Nora’s tray wasn’t too hot. She always sat with Nora as she ate first, then made her own plate after, “I need to get the guest room ready, can you watch her?”

“Yeah, she’s my daughter.” He snorted, sometimes irritated with the way she thought he couldn’t handle things. He was perfectly capable of watching her eat.

“Tommy,” She said in exasperation, “I just need you to make sure she doesn’t choke on anything.” She replied, pushing her hair out of her face as Nora placed her spoon into her mouth.

“She’s going to be four, she should know what she’s doing. Right, Nora?” He tilted his head, smiling down at the little redhead.

“Wight.” She giggled as she nodded her head, smiling brightly up towards Kim. She sighed in agreement but didn’t look so reassured.

“I was just teasing,” He said as he noticed Kim staying near Nora, “I’ll watch her. Go clean up the room.” He felt a little bad, knowing that they didn’t always understand each other anymore. He didn’t think either of them were getting what they really wanted; but he supposed that was just marriage.

“It can wait,” She said, smiling and pretending to take a bite as Nora offered her a handful, “She’ll need a bath anyways.” 

He took his own shower while Kim used the other bathroom to bathe Nora, then prepare the guest room. Even though Tommy thought it was clean enough, she had her list already planned out. But it was the room where he had been storing most of his spare things.

“Can you watch her?” Kim asked as she peeked down into the living room, Nora hot on her trail. She clung to her everywhere she went.

“Uh, why?” He asked as he glanced towards the ball game, his beer already opened and ready for him. He wasn’t the least bit ashamed to admit that the quick view of the cheerleaders had done something to him.

“Because I still need to shower,” She responded in exasperation, “And she likes to try and play with the power outlets now.” She touched the top of Nora’s head gently, making her giggle.

“Sounds like a lesson to be learned, huh?” He mumbled underneath his breath, sure that his father would’ve let him mess around and find out.

“Five minutes,” Kim begged, “Please.” She begged softly, making him sigh and nod in defeat. He didn’t think their toddler was that helpless. She could be alone without burning the house down or harming herself. Especially for five quick minutes.

“You don’t need me to watch you, do you?” He asked her, whispering so Kim couldn’t hear from the bathroom.

“Uh uh.” She shook her head, red curls flying as she bounced back and forth between rocking two different baby dolls in her arms.

“You won’t tell mommy?” He asked her quickly, holding his palms together in a quick plea. She worked on bundling her babies up in a blanket before she answered.

“Suwe!” She giggled, giving her baby doll a little kiss before he was scurrying away. He wouldn’t be that long anyways. He’d been worked up for the past week.

He retreated to his room, shutting the door gently. He knew that he’d be able to hear the water shut off and hear if Nora got into anything from this distance.

He had just managed to shrug his pants off, his briefs around his thighs and his fingers wrapped around his cock when the doorbell sounded. Again. And again. It continually rang until he felt like his mind might explode.

“Can you get that?” He shouted out the door, keeping it closed so no one could see what he was trying to get up to.

“What?” Kim shouted, her voice muffled from the bathroom door.

“The door!” He shouted, “Can you get it?” He shut his eyes tightly, quietly begging for her to rush out and get it. 

“I’m in the shower!” She protested back, making him sigh deeply. He resisted the urge to slam his head against the door, irritated with the timing.

“Shit,” He huffed, tucking himself back inside and adjusting his pants. He gave his hands a quick wash before he was rushing down the stairs, “I hear you!”

The ringing continued as he rushed down the stairs, his eyes widening as he removed the toddler away from the back of the TV stand. That’s all he needed.

“It woud.” Nora commented with her hands over her ears as he placed her back on the couch. Nosey little thing.

“Get used to it,” He chuckled as he kissed the top of her head, “That’s your uncle Billy.” Her eyes widened in fear as she glanced around, her little legs moving quickly up the stairs as she retreated. She was apparently too shy to introduce herself. 

“Jesus Christ,” Billy grinned from ear to ear, “Took you long enough.” He stated, looking a little bored as his eyes fell towards Tommy. He looked a little skinnier, his hair shorter and bags underneath his eyes deep. But he was still Billy. 

“That was very annoying,” He scoffed as he popped the door open, “C’mon in.” He gestured inside at the almost annoyingly clean living room. It must’ve meant that his mother stopped by, that was the only time that it was truly spotless. 

“Holy fuck,” Billy spit out, “You did get a nice place.” He held his duffel bag over his shoulders as he peered around, stopping to briefly glance at the framed photos before he turned away again. 

“Yeah,” He chuckled, “You better put that out. Kim doesn’t want anyone smoking around Nora.” He pointed out, looking at the cigarette that was placed behind his ear. It was half smoked, like he’d been savoring it. 

“And you have a kid,” He laughed, like it was hilarious, “Who would’ve thought?” He shook his head, speaking the truth out loud. Tommy was still surprised each morning. 

“Not me,” He muttered in admittance as he gestured towards the living room, “Welcome in.” He clapped his hands together, unsure of what else to say as he watched Billy slowly glide around. 

He looked around intensely, like he was inspecting each little detail. Tommy could feel himself bouncing in excitement, wanting to know all about how LA was. How the partying was, the girls. Everything. 

“Billy,” Kim replied softly, her face flushed as she tugged on her damp hair as she took slow steps down from the stairs. She looked anywhere but him, following the same nervous tick she did anytime she met someone new, “Good to see you again.”

Tommy’s relationship with his own siblings wasn’t the best, but he didn’t know how he could ever just stop talking to them. Even if Billy and Kim both claimed they weren’t siblings, they were raised together. He just didn’t get it.

“Kim,” Billy nodded at her; features stoic as he looked around, “You guys have a nice place.” He said again, rubbing the back of his neck as he turned away. Apparently he didn’t know how to talk to her either. Or he was expecting a lecture.

“You were supposed to see it a long time ago.” Tommy pointed out, shoving at him playfully. Billy nodded along, shrugging his shoulders softly. 

“I was busy,” He replied with a smirk. Tommy did his best not to sigh, knowing that Billy had done things that he could only dream about. He supposed that was the issue with getting married young and having children at such an age too, “This must be Nova?”

“Nora,” Tommy corrected, smiling at the way she curled up into Kim’s side. She had the same shy nature about her, “This is Uncle Billy, remember?” He squatted down, hoping that she might become more comfortable. 

“Hi.” She said shyly, face half hidden as Billy joined Tommy on the floor. He looked kinder and Tommy suddenly remembered that he had spent a summer or two teaching kids her age how to swim. 

“Do you like dolls?” He asked, tilting his head as a gentle smile pulled onto his lips, “I have one for you. Your dad said you liked Barbies.” He dropped his bag slowly, looking proud at the way Nora perked up. 

“Oh, yeah,” She said with a giggle, suddenly more interested, “I like dem.” She nodded her head happily, squeezing at Kim’s leg for reassurance. 

“Do you want to go get it?” Kim asked her, kissing the top of her head, “We already ate, but I can warm the leftovers up if you want.” She added awkwardly, furrowing her eyebrows together before she crossed her arms over her chest. 

“Uh, sure,” Billy replied with a shrug of his shoulders as he dug through his duffel bag, “Here you go, kid.” He plopped it into Nora’s hands, earning a loud squeal from her as she examined it. 

“Oh cool times Barbie,” Tommy responded, trying to keep a calm expression, “How neat.” He chuckled, wondering how many Barbie’s she’d have before it was too much. 

“What do you say?” Kim asked gently, her lips curled into a soft smile as Nora pulled a bright grin onto her lips. She teetered back and forth before she answered. 

“Tank you,” She grinned in excitement, “Mama, open?” She held it up over her head, looking conflicted as she pulled at the plastic. Tommy stood first, wandering if this would be an appropriate moment to pull out a few beers. 

“Yeah, come to the kitchen with me.” Kim told her, holding a hand out as Nora waddled quickly to keep up. It was a pretty cute sight. Their nightgowns even seemed to match. 

“How are you feeling?” Tommy asked seriously, collapsing on the recliner as Billy followed suit. He stretched his legs out, suddenly looking exhausted. 

“Like shit,” Billy grumbled, “I hate this fucking town.” He replied bitterly, almost angrily as he linked his fingers over his abdomen. Tommy exhaled deeply. Sure he wanted to travel, but Hawkins wasn’t that bad. All of his friends and family were here. 

“Better than living in your car.” He said seriously, sure that it had to be an uncomfortable few weeks. Things must’ve been really bad for him to come crawling back. 

“Barely,” He sighed as he stretched his legs out once again, “So what do you do? I never saw you as a family guy.” Billy cocked an eyebrow curiously, leaving Tommy shrugging. He had been too young to have known what he really wanted. He still felt that way in all honesty. 

“I guess it was just a bullshit gift from fate. Right after the wedding.” He laughed as he thought about how nervous and scared Kim had been. He wasn’t much help through the pregnancy either. It had all freaked him out. He understood how people got cold feet. 

“You’re not happy?” Billy looked for clarity, his eyebrows furrowing together like he was sure he was hearing Tommy wrong. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” He said quickly, trying to defend himself, “It’s just mundane sometimes. That’s all.” He shrugged his shoulders, not sure if he should mention that the love between him and Kim was clearly gone. Their passion had long since fizzled out. 

“Lucky.”

“Here,” Kim said slowly as she sat the bowl down on the table for Billy to reach. She sat down near the corner of the couch, smiling as Nora crawled onto her lap. She got comfortable as she held her Barbie to her chest, beginning to brush her hair out slowly, “I hope the drive wasn’t too bad?”

“Nothing terrible,” Billy replied as he glanced towards her, “I guess it is kind of nice to be back, sort of like home.” He mused softly before he turned away, eyes glancing towards him.

“Bullshit.” He laughed, nearly cackling at his terrible lie. There was no way Billy thought of this shitty town as home. He hated it here. 

“There really is nothing good about this place.” Billy replied after a brief pause, grinning as he bounced his knee up and down. Tommy shook his head, still marveled at how Billy could say such a thing.

“Come on,” Kim whispered as she adjusted Nora on her lap, “Say goodnight. Let’s go get ready for bed.” She picked her up quickly, ignoring the little protest Nora let out before she waved her fingers at them.

“Night night!” She squealed, giggling as Tommy leaned up and kissed her warm cheek. At least she wasn’t sticky.

Kim carried her off, promising of a new story tonight as Tommy settled back into his chair. It was the same routine. The same everything. He was bored.

“You’re lucky.” Billy said suddenly, taking him by surprise. He supposed in a way he was, but this hadn’t been the life he had wanted. He felt like he was stuck in a box most days.

“You are,” Tommy corrected, “You got to live and we’re just stuck in whatever this is.” He gestured about, keeping his voice lowered so Kim couldn’t hear. He didn’t want to deal with her crying about it next. Their fights were always like that.

“Hm,” Billy hummed softly, “You sound happy. Does she know you’re this joyful?” He mocked, fingers twitching repeatedly against his abdomen. He was clearly still coming off of something, noticeable by the way he kept locking his jaw and darting his eyes around.

“She doesn’t say anything.” He shrugged his shoulders, speaking the truth. Even when they fought she usually went quiet. She was just a shell sometimes, like she’d dug herself into her own hole that only she could be a part of.

“Marriage,” Billy scoffed, “What a wondrous thing.” 

[aplaceforyourhearttorest]

I don't know how to explain it to you, but I've been thinking a lot lately about 80s!James dating the most naive and sensitive girl to ever walk this earth. Like, sensitive in every way. Specifically with loud music (loud sounds in general) and very crowded places. She loves making colorful bead bracelets and giving them as gifts, and James loves teasing her, teasing her in any way. So much so that at the beginning of the relationship, this was a problem 'cuz she always cried when he got the name of a stuffed animal she had wrong... y'know what i'm saying? (I would love to read something like this written by you, something that follows this line i hope it doesn't sound so stupid)

80s!James and hypersensitive!girlfriend headcanon

⭒ James was initially hesitant to introduce himself and talk to you when he first saw you, after seeing how sensitive, shy and naive you appeared to be around your guys' mutual group of friends. He only made his way over once he saw you were being bothered by someone who was an obvious plus one, his earlier doubt and delay dissipating once he acknowledged how uncomfortable you looked.

⭒ What started off as a mindless and minor threat being thrown at an already fully drunk and nearly close to blacking out stranger for you, slowly turned and evolved into a mutual agreement, a friendship, and then eventually, a relationship. You would subliminally intercept any girls James didn't seem like he'd be interested in talking to on his own, and in return, he'd make sure you were left alone and as far away from the party's speakers as physically possible- him purposefully keeping the flinches you made whenever the cacophony of beats would accelerate and blare from them, and when too many people brushed against and bumped into you, in mind.

⭒ One night, the mansion was too overcrowded, and you were almost shaking in fright. Your breathing became labored once you realized James was no longer in sight, and you didn't see it possible for you to be able to escape the situation by using the front or back doors of the house. So, you did what you thought would be the second-best option. You fled upstairs. Your legs nearly collapsed beneath you, and the friends that had dragged you back here once again, slowly disappeared and became smaller in the ever-growing pit with every uncertain step you took further upstairs. Before you could have searched for a bathroom or an abandoned bedroom, James came turning towards the staircase you were ascending on. You quickly loosened your death grip from around the wooden railing and instinctively pushed yourself forward, directing yourself into the taller man's chest.

⭒ James took you in his arms for the first time with careful hands and ease, already knowing from your trembling frame that you were on the verge of having a panic attack. The ringing in your ears dwindled down to a constant back burner of a buzz as he guided you up the last few stairs, and toward his bedroom. Before your impending embarrassment could overwhelm you, or you could attempt to apologize, James guided you to sit down on the edge of his bed and took your unsteady fingers and intertwined them with his. That was the first night and time James proved to you he could be there for you, as long as you would allow him to be. "I'm right here, and you'll be alright," he whispered to you, his tone confident, yet gentle. A warm pad of a thumb traced the ridge of a line on the inside of your sweat clad palm, light blue irises grounding you as you fought to control your erratic and painful heaves of aborted exhalations. "Take a deep breath for me, come back to me. That's it."

⭒ But you were there for him as well. Your hypersensitivity allowed him to feel comfortable enough around you to be vulnerable. On the occasional nights you were invited back to the mansion or coerced back by your friends, you both found solace in each other's company. You'd lie in bed with him as music and drunken cheers continuously barreled on downstairs, listening intently as he confided in you about his own anxieties. About his fears of the band growing too big too fast, his fear of the band falling apart, and him losing his best friends and members because of it. His anxieties that came with him not being able to control what was happening around him, and to himself. You'd steadily hold onto his hand and run your fingers through his disheveled mane, while he'd lie his head on your shoulder and grip the fabric of your shirt, like it was his one and only anchor. And on certain overwhelming and exhausted days for him, it was. Other and often times, conversation would be lighthearted, hysterical laughter lifting the weight from both of your guys' shoulders as you each took turns exposing small parts of your opposite personalities through embarrassing stories from the past. You both would share books and overly folded and torn pages from magazines, you being teased every time you realized you were tricked into looking at a Playboy, your cheeks a blazing bright red, and James' smile wide and boyish and youthful. Handsome, even.

⭒ The first time James invited you over during the day, he surprised you by instead taking you out to the carnival. Your usual fear of large crowds and loud sounds was mostly taken care of, as James made sure to have you both arrive early and be the first in line before they even opened up that morning. Every time someone ran too close by you or screamed a little too loud, he'd wrap an arm around your shoulders and distract you with a new game, or gently guide you away to someplace quieter. Your heart fluttered in your chest for the first time after he won you the first of many stuffed animals that day, the proud and soft look on his face as he handed it over to you was forever imprinted in your mind. A branded memory that you held close to you.

⭒ "Please don't cry, sweetheart, you know I was just fucking around. Of course, I remember the name of your favorite, childhood stuffed tiger. His name was Lucky!" He tried to reassure you, after you began to cry at the idea of him forgetting something so monumental and important to you. Translucent tears cascaded themselves down your flushed facial features, as James absentmindedly bent down to place a consoling kiss on the precipice of your forehead. You both froze in place, before stuttering out twinned, awkward bouts of shy laughter. You gripped the hind legs of your pig stuffed animal and averted your eyes, hoping your erratic heartbeat and the butterflies clashing in your midsection weren't audible enough to make it up to his ears. Insurmountable relief flooded through you, as a calloused and ringed finger delicately tapped itself on one of the many beaded friendship bracelets covering the entirety of your left wrist. "How about you make me one of these, and we'll call it even after I win you a few more of these little guys?" James let out an amused sounding guffaw once he expertly ducked away from one of your usually soft and painless punches, after his next words playfully aggravated you. "I'll even let you name one of them Lucky Jr."

⭒ The sun was lowering itself in the sky, by the time James braked and parked in front of your family's dimly lit home. You wrung your hands together in your lap, undecided and contemplating on whether or not you should be the one to speak up first. You nearly jumped in your seat, after his voice lightly reverberated in the small confines of the car. "I had a good time." James announced, as his stomach muscles tightened, and his fingertips whitened underneath the pressure he exuded around the steering wheel. You squeezed your knees together and nodded, hoping none of your new gifts would slide away and make contact with the floor. "I did too, thank you for taking me." You murmured in response, warmth filling your chest as you watched James grin, despite his body language being a juxtaposition to the action. You sucked in a shuttering breath as he leaned over you to push your door open, the ends of his dirty blonde hair coming down in waves to caress the side of your bare forearm, as he fully made his way back into the driver's seat once again. "Since you don't feel comfortable with men walking you up to your front door." He joked, his smile slowly falling as he watched your eyes rake all over his face, as if they were now only taking him in for the very first time. The words you spoke next, stole all of the oxygen that resided in his being. "You're not just a man, James. To me, you are so much more than that." James sat still in place for a long moment after you whispered a goodnight and took action to make your way outside of the vehicle, dazedly waving back at you after you tossed a halfhearted one behind your back, before clumsily footing your home's front door open- with your hands fully occupied with his prizes, your gifts. He lowered his head down with a resounding groan, not even flinching as his forehead made contact with the cool to the touch, worn-out leather covering and stretched around the steering wheel. God, he was so fucked. He was falling in love with his best friend. Little did he know, so were you.

⭒⭒ "Did you run out of beads, or something?" He asks you, a seemingly permanent upward quirk on his lips as he leans forward and over the center console separating the two of you in his car, helpfully twisting his limb as you triple knot the braided fabric around his much larger wrist. You absentmindedly shake your head no, biting back a smile of your own as you hear him let out a confused, yet content sound. "Everyone else has beads, I wanted this one to be different." You admit, inwardly shying away after you raise your eyes, and they meet his own. James keeps his eyes set on you for a second too long, before looking down at the bracelets you made once again. Yours is a sage green, interconnected and intertwined with small, yellow flowers. His, a light blue, with a deeper shade of flowers making their way around the entirety of the fabric, yellow dots of color embracing the inside of each one, causing them to stand out even more against his healthily tanned, soft skin.

"You wore a sage green and yellow dress on the night we met for the first time." James verbalizes and realizes, as the image of you pops in his head. Your shaky smile and wide eyes, as he watched you try to get away from the man harassing you near the sound system. Your smile turning genuine and soft, as he asked if you were alright, and when he playfully came up with a way for you to help him back for the rest of the night. Your light titter of amusement, and finally, your nod of agreeance. The soft looks you two shared throughout the rest of the duration of the party, and the murmured goodnights you two parted with, you both being reluctant to separate and walk away.

Your bitten back smile turns into a wide grin as he vividly remembers your first meeting from all those months ago, your left hand resting on top of his wrist. Your fingertips absentmindedly shift the backing to the side so that the front would be fully visible, as James tentatively flickers his eyes back up to yours. "I wasn't wearing light blue that night, was I?" He asks you. You slowly inhale and straighten up in the passenger side seat, your free hand anxiously beginning to tug at the bottom hem of your t-shirt. You nervously lick your lips and shake your head no, missing your best friend's eyes as they helplessly follow after the movement.

"The light blue represents your eyes," you begin and confess, a small flicker of hope lighting anew in your gut, as James sucks in a deep breath and shifts closer. "I was making mine over the past few days, and what you wore didn't matter to me, not as much at the color of your eyes did," your hair falls free as you lift your head from against the headrest, lowering your hand from your shirt to use it as leverage to push yourself flat against the console. "Your eyes were the first thing I noticed about you when we first met, and you calmed me down. And now they're the first thing I search for whenever I know you'll be around."

A warm and large hand reaches forward to cup your nape as James whispers out your name, the softness in his tone enough to bring tears to your eyes. You blurrily blink as silver rings etch themselves in the tendrils of your locks, and as he slowly guides your head forward. The wake of goosebumps gather and multiply on your wrist as it makes contact with the divider, as James brings his other open palm up to delicately caress your cheekbone. Light and royal blue and yellow make safe haven in your right eye's peripheral as you're held in the most gentle way, and as your best friend looks down at you with his own set of blown, wide open eyes.

"If I'm reading into this wrong," James trails off, his expression turning into a grimace at the thought alone. You look back at him with longing, before lifting your hand from the console and encircling it around his wrist nearest to your face. He expels a sigh of relief at the familiar warmth in the smile you send his way, ignoring the pressure against his ribs as he leans forward to rest his forehead against yours. A light breath of a laugh is breathed out in the small space between you two, and you squeeze his wrist in reassurance, feeling alive and understood at the feeling of his incessant and abnormal heartrate pulsing beneath your fingertips. "How are you the one confessing first? I thought you were the shy and oversensitive one."

Your smile is overabundantly large as James kisses you before you can answer, the fabric of your guys' bracelets rubbing against each other as you press your lips on his and savor the feeling and taste. You both don't pull back until you're gasping for air, and as soon as you both reopen your eyes and look at each other once again, laughter ensues. You rest the weight of your head in his palm connected to your nape and look up at him gently, a sigh of contentment making its way out of your plush and kissed red set. Those same light blue irises from that first night, peer back down at you, filled with adoration and devoted conviction. "I think you confessed to me a long time ago, I was just too nervous to acknowledge it," you speak into the charged and electrified air surrounding you two. You unlatch your hand from around his wrist to raise it and graze the pads of your fingertips against his smile doted skin, and his lifted, already swollen lips. "You once told me to come back to you when I was having a panic attack, but I don't think I ever left. I think I'm always present when you're around. You bring it out of me."

James damply and disbelievingly chuckles, before placing a trembling kiss to your fingertips. You gently detach and wipe away a stray tear from the corner of his right eye, a few of your own already making their way down your jawline. "I love you; you know." You confess through a mused grin, the tone in your voice easy, because admitting it now was the easiest thing in the world. James beckons you forward once again, kissing you breathless before admitting his love back to you, although you already know what his next words will be.

"And God, do I love you."

⭒⭒⭒ Bright lights, heavy bass and thousands of screaming fans erupt from around you, yet all of your prior anxieties and worries are gone as you watch James and the rest of Metallica perform on stage, the partial noise cancelling headphones you're wearing giving you enough balance and security to be able to fully enjoy yourself. You lean back against the barricade and smile widely, the pride and joy you have for them nearly beaming out of your chest, as you look at the fruition and proof of all of their hard work over the past few years.

James' voice bellows out the next few lines of the song, before he makes his way over to the edge of the center stage, and squats down in front of you, his mouth outstretched in a euphoric and blissful smile. Something he always deserves to wear. He cheekily raises his left hand, and you do the same, the light and royal blue gemstones in his engagement ring shining just as brightly as your sage green and yellow ones. You both share muted I love you's, the sounds of cheers and sung back lyrics too loud for your guys' indescribable joy to be audible. But you both know how true the words you mouth back to each other are.

You twist the gold-plated jewelry around your ring finger as you sing along with the crowd, fully embracing the experience, and all that is yet to come.

As long as you had James by your side, and James had you, you two were prepared for anything.

(note: your request was so much fun to write, and it wasn't stupid at all. don't doubt yourself, babe! i hope i did it justice and you enjoy it ♡)

[patchofgrey]

Sleepless nights Chapter 3-2 snippet

"Sorry about this." he breathed. "I tried not to go overboard with the drinks tonight."

"Don't worry about it. You were out with the boys, I wouldn't expect anything less than you coming home trashed." Tenten laughed softly.

Neji let out a groan and he slightly shook his head. Home, he thought. She opened his house to him as if it were his own home; he was forever grateful. His chin lifted a bit as he felt tenten tug on his long locks. Reaching his hand back, he ran his fingers along the high ponytail that she had styled for him. Then his stomach gave again, and he hunched over the toilet bowl. Her hand was back in between his shoulder blades, rubbing his back in comfort. It was weird, he thought. The roles were switched around this time and he wasn't sure how he felt about Tenten taking care of him. He was happy, but at the same time he felt as though he was burdening her. Trying to stand, Neji fell back onto his knee with his head spinning. The cheerleader hummed as she pushed him back down. Announcing that she was going to make him some ginger tea, she stood and shuffled back into the kitchen. She turned on her burner to boil water and took out two mugs. Hopefully his stomach will hold this down, and she wouldn't have to stay up making sure he doesn't choke on his own bile. A sigh left her lips as she heard the toilet flush and a cough. Reaching for some tea bags, she jumped a bit as she felt hands snake around her waist. His forehead collided with her neck as he leaned into her. Yep, she thought, absolutely trashed. He mumbled something inaudible to her ears as she patted his head. Touchy-Feely, she hummed. Neji was so touchy-feely with her whenever he was drunk. And it was only with her. Dropping the tea bags into the mugs, she served the tea and led him to her couch. She gently pushed him down and gave him a mug. His eyes watched as she ran back upstairs and for some unknown reason. After a moment of listening to her shuffling about, he took a sip of his tea. Ginger and lemon graced his tongue to which he gave a pleasant sigh. The warmth of the ginger traveled down his throat and into his stomach with such ease, he was sure he wouldn't feel like shit when he woke up. Tenten had finally come back down and sat herself next to him. She grabbed her mug of tea and shifted so her legs were resting on her best friend's lap.

"So, how was it?" Tenten asked after taking a sip.

"Just as you'd expect it to be with them," he murmured bringing his lips to the mug once more. "The food was actually pretty good and overall, they all behaved."

"Oh, shocker." Tenten hummed.

Neji rolled his eyes. Yes, his team had a reputation at university parties to...get a bit reckless. He never really joined in unless Tenten was present with her cheer team. They would make some kind of agreement about who got to get trashed and who would be driving the other home. It was usually Tenten who would be found with bottles and grinning to some stranger from the division one basketball team, to which he would look about from a distance just in case. And if they decided to both get trashed, they'd have Lee drive them to whomever's house was available and it was usually Neji's.

"I was shocked that Sasuke went through your phone to call me," Tenten said carefully. "I was hoping to not bother you guys. That's why I texted Lee."

"You texting me is never a bother, Tenten." He breathed.

"You've...been avoiding me."

Neji's ivory eyes snapped to hers. With whatever focus he could muster up; he locked eyes with hers. Tenten blinked awkwardly as the Hyuga searched her face. After a moment he sighed and placed the mug on the coffee table. Bringing his hand to his face, he rubbed his eye. He was trying to process some words, without just spewing out random whatever popped into his mind. Neji wanted to appear as if he was in control, however, Tenten knew he was trying to stop himself from babbling to her. She had told him before he left that she would hang up the phone on him if he did start babbling. Not that she didn’t like it when he did, it’s just she wasn’t in the mood to listen to him or his woes at the moment and was trying to push him to talk to his other friends.

"It's just… I've been…" he trailed off trying to find the right words.

Read the story here _| AO3 link

[axelsagewrites]

it'd be cool to see some theon fluff :) maybe from the era after he escapes from ramsey bc that boy deserves some comfort omg (also if you could use he/him pronouns that would be cool too!)

Theon*Dream of Sweet Memories

Pairing: Theon x m!reader

Platonic: Jon, Robb, Sansa, x reader

Summary: Reader helps Theon recover from a nightmare and reflects on their past

Tw: Theon having ptsd

Word count: 1474

Masterlist Here

Winterfell felt colder than before. The hollow halls of your childhood had been through so much the past few years. Now you were back, the war was over, Sansa was queen in the North, Bran in the south. Robb was dead, Jon was gone, Arya too. Sansa was kind but you had never been close. Your family was all but gone as well. There was one thing left though one thing that made all the pain, all the suffering, the war worth it.

Theon lay asleep on your bed, his face relaxed as he slumbered. The last candle that was burner illuminated a small portion of the room but enough for you to admire his features in the candlelight. His hair was soft under your touch as you stroked it gently.

Moments like this were rare. Theon was skittish, paranoid, quiet. He’d never been this quiet before. Robb was the loud one who knocked into everything and everyone, who’s barking laugh rang across the hall. Theon was the funny one, always a joke up his sleeve that he would loudly proclaim to anyone who would hear. Jon was quiet in public but when the four of you would hang out in the stables he was just as loud as Theon, and they would banter long into the night.

Theon had always joked you were practically a mute. You liked to listen and laugh along, adding in your own comments occasionally. Theon tried to drag the conversation out of you. He’d ask a million questions just to get you to speak. Tell jokes just to make you laugh. It was usual for you to be left out of discussions, but Theon had always made sure to drag you into them even when you didn’t want him too.

You opened up more in your chambers, laughing and cheering with him especially after a drink. You’d both gossip like it was nobodies’ business. Theon was shocked when he found out you were actually funny. He spent months, years, growing your confidence but even still you were always the quiet one.

Till now at least. Theon could barely look you in the eyes when you were reunited. He was ashamed. Ashamed of everything he had done, everything he had caused. Jon wanted to hate him, wanted you to hate him, but he couldn’t after he saved Sansa.  You wanted to hate him too, but you couldn’t. you had thought for months if you ever saw him again the first thing you would do was punch him. Then he walked through those gates.

He was meek, quiet, skittish. He looked like even walking was a battle for him. And gods were he skinny now. When he walked through the gates you weren’t angry. A warmth poured through your heart. Theon looked up and instantly away again when he saw you. he couldn’t face you.

You didn’t even realise you were walking, running even, till you had pulled him into your arms. Theon froze at first, stiff as ice but it soon melted. His head fell into your shoulder, his arms wrapping weakly around your waist. Your hand clamped against his head, holding it tight against you, “If you ever leave me again, I’ll fucking kill you Greyjoy, understand?”

He hadn’t left your side since. You had been so distracted by your thoughts you hadn’t noticed him stirring. You looked down at his face which was contorted with worry, his lips mouthing something you couldn’t fully hear. Leaning down, you tried to listen, “Please,” you managed to make out, “not please,” he mumbled, “no, no, no,” he began to rush out, you sat up about to shake him awake when a shrill shriek rang across the room.

Theon’s cried echoed around the cold chamber, his body stiff as a bored as his body flung himself up, backing away up the bed. “Theon!” you yelled, trying to grab his flailing arms, “It’s me! Its (Y/N)! You’re safe,” you said as you grabbed his shoulders.

Theon’s eyes danced crazily across the room till they settled on you, his hands grasping onto your shoulders, “(Y/N)?” he asked.

“Yes, it’s me my love,” you said as you held his face softly in your hands, “It’s just us you’re safe Theon,”

“No, Im not Theon im- “

“Reeks dead Theon,” you said, moving to kneel on either sides of his legs so you could face him straight on, “Ramsay’s dead Theon. Its okay. you’re safe I promise,”

Theon stopped for a moment, his eyes dazed as he stared into space before finally turning back to you, “I was so scared,” he whimpered, “it was like he was back,”

“He’s not coming back Theon,” you said, stroking his cheek, “I’m here sweetheart. I’ve got you,”

“You’ve got me,” he whispered, and you just nodded, smiling lightly at the terrified boy.

You moved to be laying on the bed again, bringing Theon into your arms as you cradled his shaking body, “Nothings gonna happen to you. I promise,” you said, kissing the back of his head.

Heavy sobs fell from his lips, shaking his body. The feeling brought tears to your own eyes but all you could do was hold him. “I wish I could be normal again,” Theon whispered.

“You will be,” you said as you began to stroke his hair, “but it’ll take time,”

Silence fell over the room for a moment, “Sometimes,” Theon began to croak out, “I wonder if I deserved it all, for what I did to Robb, to you,”

A heavy sigh fell from your lips, “No one deserves what Ramsay did to you. no one. It’s a fate worse than death but you survived it because you’re strong, because it’s your fate to go on. If things had went differently Robb would’ve forgiven, you. you know that”

“That just makes it worse,” he whispered, his voice horse from his whimpering, “I wish I had stayed with him. At least he treated me like family, he was my family,”

“We cannot change the past,” you said as you moved Theon to face you, stroking his cheek lightly, “But we can live for the future. You saved Sansa, you helped save Bran. Robb would be grateful for that. Now you must live for him, protect Winterfell for him,” you said, and Theon just nodded.

You pressed a kiss to his forehead and fell into a comfortable silence. Before the war Theon had just been a friend to you though you couldn’t help your stares after him. The way his laugh light up a room, his jokes never failing to cheer you up, how his smile curved. He fascinated you. he didn’t admit it, but he had always felt the same.

You grew even closer when you both rode off with Robb, sharing a tent to save on supplies. There had been a moment, one night after a particularly hard battle. The cold was settling in, and it was bitter.

******

“Your chattering so loud Tywin can hear,” Theon whispered from across the tent as he sat up beneath his thin furs. “Get over here,”

“I um but what if someone- “

“Get under these furs before we freeze to death,” he said rolling his eyes. You did as you had been told as slipped under the furs beside the boy. “See already better,” he whispered.

You rolled over to face the other side of the tent to try concealing the blush coating your cheeks. However, you were confused when you heard Theon shuffling then blushed even harder when you felt his arms reach around your body, “What are you doing?” you whispered back.

“I can’t have my best friend freezing to death,” he replied. At one point that night Theon had obviously figured you had fallen asleep, but you were still awake enough to feel the kiss he placed to your cheek, laying still as he settled back down until his soft snores filled the tent.

******

“We should visit the crypt tomorrow,” Theon said breaking the silence, “I want to see him again,”

“Okay,” you said, kissing his lips gently. He had visited Robbs statue many times since it had been placed in the crypts. Neither Robb nor Neds’ bodies had made it to the crypt, but Sansa had still ordered for their statues to be placed there. The last lord of Winterfell and its first king in this new dynasty. A statue of Catelyn and Rickon at either side. “We’ll go at first light but for now we must rest,”

“Okay,” Theon whispered as he placed his head on your chest. You had almost dozed off when he spoke again, “(Y/N)?” he asked, and you yawned a what. “I love you,”

“I love you too,” you murmured back as your eyelids grew heavy, “Sleep my love. Dream of sweet memories,”

General Taglist: @clairacassidy @nyotamalfoy @fan-goddess @valeskafics

[rindouspuppygirl]

gn!reader x ran : recovering from trauma + dealing with mental illness (hurt/comfort)

was feeling down, so i wrote ran haitani comforting gender neutal mentally ill reader!

TW: mental illness, implied suicidal ideation, mentions of abuse, mentions of therapy, reader masking, gender neutral

ran can tell somethings wrong, when you get home. he always notices. youre the type to mask your feelings, hide the frustration and sadness coiling in your chest... but youve been dating long enough, you cant fool him anymore the cheerful "hello" and tight hug from you dont convince ran. even your little peck to his cheek as you grin and ask about his day... your eyes seem empty. he can see how close to breaking you are

ran knows you try not to do this. its a longterm habit from dealing with toxic and abusive relationships - you cant break it overnight. still, it hurts... less because its a lie, and more because ran knows even you dont realize how much youre hurting.

but he can tell you need to decompress, so he doesnt push... not yet. offers to cook one of the few meals he can make without your help (hes trying to be independent, but hes a lazy spoiled brat) and you accept ... but the sparkle in your eyes is dull

ran does what he can. runs you a bath before he starts dinner, picks out your favorite towel and comfiest pjs. he lights that candle you love but never use, and drops in one of his prized lush bath bombs while hes at it. puts on a relaxing spotify playlist... at this point, youve caught on. still... the hard shell youve donned starts to melt, even as ran leaves to cook ran isnt as surprised as he should be when you glom onto him from behind while hes cooking, freshly bathed and smelling like rose. hes thankful the sauce just needs to simmer.

he also isnt surprised when theres a wetness on his back he knows is tears, not bathwater. he hums softly, turning off the stove burner before picking you up and carrying you into your shared bedroom

ran gently runs his long fingers through your damp hair, murmuring reassurances and praise as you sob incoherently about your stressors. you are so strong. you want to do the best by everyone. its alright if you make mistakes...

clinging tightly to him, warm and safe... it feels like the anchor you could only dream of for so long. youre in therapy, and you do everything you can. but you need support, and ran does everything he can to help

your life is so much better, but maybe that is scary, too. you dreamed so little, didnt believe youd get far. and ran and your friends believing in you is terrifying. you sometimes feel undeserving.

but here, buried in ran's warm embrace... the smell of his home cooking, his cologne and signature smell, the bath bomb he shared with you...

your breathing begins to calm, albeit your chest aches. you smile up at ran with teary eyes. he smiles back.

it will be okay, after all... it really will.

[flurrys-creativity]

Rockstar

Pairing: Yuta Nakamoto (NCT) x Fem!Reader; Genre: strangers to lovers?, enemies to lovers?, SMUT; Rating: nsfw, MDNI, 18+; Warnings: mentions of cigarettes, bars/clubs, alcohol, SMUT -> fingering (f receiving), orgasm denial, oral (m receiving), dacryphilia, mentions of safety precautions, rough oral, hints of actual sex, hints of hate sex; Wordcount: 1.750

Summary: You had worked your butt off to get somewhere as a reporter. So when you got offered to interview the famous rockstar Yuta, you immediately agreed, excited to meet someone like him and dig up some dirt.

Event: February Filth Fest - Track 6: Dacryphilia held by @thelargefrye and @sanjoongie

A/N: Had this idea sitting on the back burner for a long time. So I am very glad it has now a time to shine with this fest! Also loosely inspired by Rock of Ages (I wanna know what love is).

You scrunched your nose from the heavy smell of smoke lingering in the air. It actually surprised you that you didn't see grey clouds of it wafting through the bar.

Your gaze wandered over the room, seeing tons of girls, boys, women and men alike standing in the middle of it, screaming their lungs out for one person only.

Yuta Nakamoto.

Renowned Rockstar with a voice of a siren. A voice that captivated everyone who listened to him. 

It didn’t surprise you to see him having so many fans, nor did it surprise you to see such a wide range of fans. What actually surprised you was the fact of his clean vest. No rockstar could be that pure and you were there to prove that.

Yuta performed on stage, singing his heart out, flirting with the crowd - simply being effortlessly talented.

As the show neared its end a manager pulled you backstage, guiding you to one of the occupied rooms.

While this establishment usually was a bar with several rooms for pool, dart or any other kind of gaming, those rooms turned into improvised backstage dressing rooms for the star.

The manager asked you to wait in one of these rooms, shortly after leaving you alone again. You turned around your own axis, noticing strewn around clothes, a tray with glasses and a bottle of alcohol, cigarettes and a variety of accessories.

You jumped slightly and clutched the camera you held in one hand tighter when the door behind you opened all of a sudden and the cheers became louder again.

Yuta walked into the room, brushing through his hair with one of his hands. He held a small towel in his other hand, wiping around his neck to get rid of some of the sweat. His skin felt sticky and glistened in the dim lighting of the room. “You must be the reporter”, he grinned and closed the door behind him.

“That I am.”

“I assume you’re here to dig some dirt up. Some dark secrets or a gruesome past I might hide.” Yuta walked around the room, somewhat ignoring your presence as he poured himself some alcohol. He even took of his top and threw it on the ground, rubbing the towel loosely over his upper body.

“Well, is there something you might be hiding?” You questioned him, raising an eyebrow as if to challenge him. You even crossed your arms in front of your chest, disliking the fact he had you figured out so easily.

Yuta chuckled and turned around to look at you. He leaned against a pool table and tilted his head, holding the glass of alcohol in one hand while the other rested besides his body on the table. “Getting straight to the point. I like that.”

Without giving you even a chance to respond he retold his whole life up to the point he was right now - standing in front of you and telling you every detail you would ask for.

You stared at him, feeling somewhat dumbfounded. This was not what you had expected when you were told to interview a rockstar. 

“I do not have any secrets, sweetpea.” Yuta chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mirth as he raised the glass to his lips and took a sip of the liquid. “And you must have quite the memory since you’re not taking any notes.”

You opened your mouth about to retort something but closed it again, unable to find anything you could actually say. Like a fish out of water you stood in front of him, stammering nonsense and fiddling with the camera and the little notebook you had pulled out of your pocket. 

“Cat got your tongue?”

“More like a butterfly was taking my breath away.” Your eyes momentarily dropped to his hip bone before you quickly composed yourself again, pretending you didn’t just oggle his body.

Yuta smirked and placed the glass down on the table. He tilted his head to the side as his eyes slowly raked over your form. 

You wanted to squirm under his intense gaze, feeling as if his stare alone undressed you. “Since you claim to be an open book”, you started, wanting to distract him somehow.

To your dismay though, Yuta only pushed himself away from the pool table. He circled you like a predator circled its prey. He licked over his lips until he finally stopped right behind you, his breath fanning over the expanse of your neck. “Ask right away, sweetpea.”

Your heart hammered inside your ribcage and you could feel the heat radiating off of his body. The temptation to lean into him nearly took over your body. With the last ounce of self control you kept yourself from following your urges - no matter how strong they were and how desperate your body craved for some touches.

Yuta reached around you, grabbing the notebook and the camera out of your hands. His fingertips purposefully brushed over your skin, making you shiver. He placed the items on a small table next to you, before stepping even closer to your body.

“I could show you a secret of mine”, he whispered into your ear, his lips brushing over your earlobe. “If you let me.”

A violent tremble ran through your whole body. For a moment you even feared your knees would give out underneath you, just from his voice and the sensual thoughts your brain cooked up. “Please.”

In an instant Yuta had his hands on your hips and pulled you back against his chest, pressing your ass against his hardening dick. He rolled his body, pushing his length between your cheeks with the movement.

Your head dropped back on his shoulder while his hand slid down to your front. His long fingers glided into your pants, quickly cupping your heat. “I can’t wait to ruin that little pussy of yours.” He rubbed circles around your clit, making you whimper and squirm until he pressed two fingers past your folds. Yuta fucked his fingers into you, switching with his pace several times.

You only grew wetter by the second - more and more desperate for his touch and for your own release. The knot inside your lower body tightened while your mouth dried up. The tingles sparked throughout your whole system and you only needed one last push from him so that you could cum.

Yet, Yuta pulled his hand out of your pants and almost removed himself completely from you. He stepped back and plopped down on a plush chair behind him, spreading his legs and smirking up to your pouting form.

The sudden change in his tactic made you frustrated and you could feel your eyes welling up by it. 

Yuta licked over his lips again, his breath hitching as he silently observed your reactions. Before you could calm yourself though, he beckoned you to come closer.

You didn’t really want to give him the satisfaction of rushing over to him. You wanted to tease him as well, wanted to make him somehow suffer for leaving you all high and dry. Sadly, your own body betrayed you and you found yourself between his legs faster than you could fathom.

“Don’t they say reporters are good with their mouths?” Yuta teased and tapped his thigh, bringing your attention down to his pants.

You pursed your lips, desperately wanting to be defiant but you already dropped down to your knees. Your fingers swiftly opened his pants and pushed them aside, revealing his dick.

To your surprise he wasn’t as hard as you thought he’d be after playing with you already. You didn’t think much of it though, instead wrapping your fingers around his shaft and pumping him leisurely. 

“So you’re someone who lets the partner do all the work?” You tried taunting him, looking up at Yuta through half-lidded eyes. 

He chuckled softly, his shoulders slightly moving from the amusement. “Not at all, sweetpea. It’s just missing something for me to go all out.”

You raised an eyebrow questioningly. You didn’t ask him the question burning on your tongue. Instead you opened your mouth and wrapped your lips around the tip of his dick.

“We’re agreeing to having a good time right now, right?” Yuta grinned when you hummed around his dick, before he continued: “If at whatever point it turns to a bad time, you will immediately tell me to stop. If for a specific reason you’re unable to speak, tap on the butterfly. Are we clear?”

You only hummed again but Yuta grabbed the back of your head, his fingers carding through your hair as he pulled you forcefully away from him. “Are we clear?”

“Yes-yes. We’re clear.” Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes from the stinging and you noticed how Yuta’s dick twitched in your hands as he stared at your face. 

A suspicion formed in your mind but you couldn’t voice it as Yuta slammed you back on his cock, forcing a rough pace on you with his tight grip. You could only hold onto his thighs, struggling to slacken your jaw and control the gagging while Yuta continued moving your head.

As the first tears streamed down your cheeks and messed up with your makeup, Yuta groaned almost animalistically. His cock hardened even more, growing bigger inside of your mouth.

Yuta pulled you off of his length with a loud pop. He leaned forward and cupped your face, cooing as his thumbs rubbed over your wet cheeks. “You’re so beautiful, sweetpea.”

“Tears”, you rasped out, chest still heaving from wanting more air. “You get off on tears.”

Yuta grinned at you, bobbing the tip of your nose with a finger. “There you have it. Revealed my oh so dark secret. Aren’t you a good reporter, sweetpea.”

You frowned, knowing full well he only mocked you right now. He didn’t make it a secret - not technically. He also knew you couldn’t report about it unless you wanted to reveal having done some sinful things with him, which would compromise your position at your job in the long run. You narrowed your eyes, blinking away the tears of frustration and anger. Yuta had you right where he wanted you to be. “Fuck you.”

“I’d rather fuck you”, he murmured, wiping over your cheeks ever so gently, “if you let me.”

“I definitely won’t leave here without cumming at least once.”

Yuta snickered, the amusement evident in his features. “Feels like a challenge I oh so gladly take on.”

© all rights reserved

Taglist: @xavi-in-kpopland

[awkwardchick87]

Is it ok if I can request for Mikey chifuyu and baji of what they would do if there gf wears there shirt without panties pleasee also I really really love you and your writing sm like whenever you post it just cheers up my day☺️♥️

Sorry this took so long!! Thank you so much for reading and enjoying! I literally can not express how much I love hearing I cheer you guys up!

Mikey, Baji and Chifuyu catching their girlfriend in their shirt, no panties on. Using the final timeline, like usual!!

nsfw under the cut - Minors DNI

cw - fingering, pet names, grinding, somno if you squint

Mikey

He rubbed his eyes as he walked to the kitchen. Stepping around the corner he spotted you at the stove, the smell of eggs wafted through the house. Grinning, his eyes trailed up your bare legs to where his shirt reached just under your ass. At that moment, you reached into the cupboard, grabbing the salt and pepper. Mikey groaned, seeing your bare ass.

"Oh! You're up Jiro." You turned and smiled at him.

"Yeah. What are you doing?" He padded across the floor.

"Just making you some breakfast. What-?" He wrapped his arm around you.

"Just making breakfast hmm?" You could feel him grin against your neck as his hand snaked down your body. His chest pressed against your back.

You tipped your head back against his shoulder, a small sigh escaped your throat, "Manjiro, I'll burn the-"

His other hand grabbed the pan and shoved it across the stove, off the burner as he reached over to shut the stove off, "Now c'mere"

Lips trailing down your jawline, nipping under your ear, Mikey's hand reached between your thighs, fingers swiping at your folds. "You're so wet."

You whined in response, your hips stuttering, chasing his hand as he pulled it away. A blush spread across your face when he brought his hand up in front of you, watching your slick web between the fingers. "Jiro, stop. That's embarrassing." You tried to shove his hand back down between your legs, urging him to continue.

He chuckled, his hot breath fanning your ear, bringing his hand to his mouth, his eyes closed as he licked your essence off his fingers, "Shh baby, lemme have my fun."

Baji

When he opened the door, the last thing he expected to see was you dancing in the living room to your own personal concert, music turned up so loud you didn't even hear the door. Baji couldn't help but smile as he watched you twirl around the room, singing along with the music.

You gasped as he grabbed you, dipping you down deeply, fangs showing past his lips, laughing as you grabbed his jacket instinctively. "Kei!" You cried out.

Standing, he pulled you up and close to his body just as the song switched to a slower tempo, "Look like you're having fun so I wanted to join in" he mentioned, swaying you both to the song.

You pouted, sticking your lower lip out, "You scared me."

"You never even heard me come in?" He asked, "What if I was a burglar?"

"I'd fight them off." you argued back.

Baji laughed, running his hands down your sides to grip your hips, a sly smirk spreading across his face, "Baby? Where are your panties?"

"Got out of the shower and just grabbed one of your shirts out of the drawer." Bringing your hands up his chest, you gripped his jacket, bringing your bodies flush together.

Baji growled, reaching his hands behind your thighs, pulling you up as your legs wrapped around him on instinct. "What if I really was a burglar?"

You gasped, arms winding behind Baji's neck, steadying yourself. "Good thing you aren't" You giggled, kissing along his jaw, reaching his lips, biting his bottom lip.

Baji groaned, hands massaging the back of your thighs while he kissed you, maneuvering the apartment. Baji refused to let go of you, sitting on the bed with you in his lap, his hands grinding your hips down on his clothed cock. The rough material of his jeans dampening.

"God you look fuckin sexy like this" Baji slurred between kisses. "Wanna give you a treat for lookin so good f'me"

Chifuyu

The last thing he expected when he walked into the bedroom was to find you, his shirt pulled up to your stomach, no panties on. Your breath was steady while you napped. He could feel his cock twitch in his pants while he watched you.

Quickly, he tossed his work apron and shirt in to the hamper, making is way across the room. He crawled behind you and pulled you against him, "baby, wake up."

You mumbled, grabbing his arm that was around you. He was kissing along the back of your neck. Hands reaching under your shirt, you could feel his fingertips graze the bottom of your breasts.

sighing, you wiggled yourself closer to Chifuyu, suddenly remembering you had no panties on. "Oh, Fuyu! I'm sorry!" you tried to pull away, embarrassed.

Chifuyu tightened his grip around you, "No baby, please, stay like this. Why are you embarrassed?"

"I didn't meant to fall asleep like this." You settled back in, relaxing into Chifuyus arms.

"Wearing my shirt?" He questioned.

You huffed, "I missed you and it smells like you."

You felt his hand trail down your side and grip your hip, pulling your ass back against him. "Looks really good on you." he whispered behind you.

"Oh yeah? You think so?" you flirted back.

Chifuyu nipped at the back of your neck, making you jump. He wrapped his arm tightly around you, "Yeah, I think so."

You smiled, turning your head, you looked at Chifuyu, "Gonna do something then?"

[hey-kae]

Could you please write a drabble Charles x communications manager!reader, just some cute moments of them at work (like him and the reader are the reader are in love with each other and everyone knows it except them). Really in some mood for fluff after yesterday's race😩 I love your writing so much🫶🏽

a/n: communication manager!reader trope my beloved 🫶🏻

Your eyes followed him around as he walked back into the team hospitality and deep down, you were hoping he was okay, but when his eyes looked you way, the stack of paper cups on the table across from you became more interesting.

He didn’t notice you looking but his own gaze lingered on you as you talked to a co-worker, an irrational thought in his mind making him wish you would try to talk to him as more than just a colleague for once, that you would simply come check if he was okay.

You didn’t notice him looking either, but every other person in the room did. Everyone always noticed the way you looked at him and the way he looked at you, but Charles was still oblivious to it all and so were you.

Between you and him, it was really a pile up of small moments that snowballed into something more. He was a co-worker, a boss technically but he never treated you as such.

A few months into working with him, you showed up upset one Sunday. He sat you down in his driver’s room and told you to relax, that he’d listen if you wanted to talk. He brought you coffee and snacks and sat with you in silence until he was called into the garage for a practice session.

Even then, as he walked to the pits, he was still busy on his phone, sending you the link to his cheer-up playlist, which surprisingly worked wonders, considering his go-to music was depressing.

Last season, after a Ferrari strategy disaster-class, you had walked in on him angrily throwing his things around. At first, Charles really expected you to judge him, tell him he’s acting childish, but when you started throwing things with him, he broke out in laughter and hugged to his chest for a second too long.

There was no going back from then on.

This year’s Miami GP was a big point of criticism towards Charles, with the jokes of him being crash prone filling social media, and when during the interview post-qualifying, an interviewer made an out of pocket comment, you had snapped at her, leaving Charles staring at you with an adoring look.

“I think we’re all professionals here and we should always be reminded of our professionalism and supposed objectivity during these interviews. Isn’t that right, miss? I do believe the media pen is not a place for you to project your personal perspective on the drivers’ skills and piloting abilities but since you fail to do that and to maintain a respectful tone, I believe this interview ends here.”

After wrapping up the remaining interviews, you walked alongside Charles back to the hospitality, and he was donning a small smile that had only one explanation.

You stepped inside and went to grab a bottle of water but instead, you were abruptly pulled into the familiar small room with the monegasque flag and the CL on the wall as it’s most prominent characteristics.

Charles was looking at you with a really amused expression and an ever-charming smile that never failed to make your heart beat faster.

“That was-… I love you.” He blurted out when he lost the words he had planned to say, his eyes widening as he realized what he just said.

“What?” Your eyes mirrored his.

“Shit. I shouldn’t have said that, even if i do mean it. Scusi.” Sorry.

“No, I actually think you should say it again.” You laughed and wrapped him in a hug, letting him know you felt the same way about him as he did about you, and as he kissed you as a reaction, you mumbled against his lips, “I have a burner account on Twitter from which i argue with your haters.”

a/n: thanks for you request🤍

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Hi! Can I request something?

I would love some fluff with Frank with these prompts: thunderstorms, pillow forts and cuddling under a blanket

I hope it's okay that I picked three... I couldn't decide on just one :) Thank you 💕

Hello lovely! I made this a hurt/comfort/fluff fic. I hope that’s ok! I am so happy to give Frank all the gentle things. (Title based on Hold On by Michael Buble)

Stronger Here Together

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader 

summary: Frank receives comfort after a nasty mission.

Warnings: swearing, implied depression, non-graphic descriptions of violence

w/c: 1.8k

Keeping his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, Frank desperately tried not to let the pounding raindrops drive him past his current stimulation threshold and into total insanity. This mission was the worst he’d had in a while, with the universe kindly throwing every possible worst case scenario at him despite his growing irritation. 

First, the target zipped across state lines mere hours after he’d gotten set up in a vacant motel room, meaning he had to completely reevaluate his stakeout location and do a whole other recon session in a new area. Then, the bastard made the brilliant move of teaming up with a local sex trafficking ring to peddle the drugs he’d been selling all over the tristate area. Which, fine, Frank was always ready to rid the world of some fucking perverts but these particular perverts happened to be toting massive amounts of guns, which was why he now had 4 crudely sutured wounds aching across his torso. 

Of course this was far from the end of his horrific three week endeavor. After nearly passing out from blood loss, the overwhelmingly understanding agents of the CIA and homeland decided to blame him for shit going south. And that meant he’d received earful after motherfucking earful from Madani about every little misstep he had apparently taken. All of this made up the shit sundae—top that with the pulsing aches from injuries and stiff muscles, the sheer exhaustion from the stress and intense lack of sleep, and the fact that he hadn’t seen you in 19 fucking days? Yah. Pissed didn’t even begin to describe his current mood. 

He’d sent you a short, discrete text from his burner, just letting you know that he was coming home and where his mind was at. At the beginning of your relationship, he’d come back from an equally long, equally stressful trip and exploded on you when you tried to dote on him. Though he’d never admit it, he still has nightmares about the hurt in your eyes and the sound of your sobs after he screamed at you to leave him alone. He’d man up and talk about his feelings if it meant never seeing you that upset again. 

Letting his mind wander, the tension in his body faded slightly as his thoughts drifted to images of you. His gorgeous, gentle, thoughtful girl who deserved so much better but refused to let him go. After that first rough experience, you’d learned to be less persistent with him, to treat him almost like a feral dog. Lay out some things and let him care for himself before coming to you. 

And that is exactly what you were doing while Frank drove home to you—busying yourself with household chores as you tried to make the space as cozy as possible. Though you were a bit nervous about his reaction, you had a few tricks up your sleeve to cheer both of you up on this gloomy Sunday. Once the living room was set up, you finished wiping down the counters, lit a scented candle, and nestled into an armchair while you waited for your boyfriend to arrive. 

After a 7 hour drive, and a mile long trek through the pelting rain from the one free parking spot he could find near your apartment, Frank was ready to collapse and block out the world for a week. The rough, soaked denim of his jacket was rubbing at his skin, making him downright miserable as he trudged the last few blocks to your place. Hauling himself up the stairs and in front of your door, he knocked once before resting his head against your door frame. 

Opening your door, your sweet smile morphed into a concerned frown as you took in the stiff, sopping wet man before you. 

“Oh Frankie, what happened?” Carefully pulling him into your apartment, you let him remove his boots while you snatched your softest towel from the linen closet. Handing over the cloth, you helped him strip off his drenched outer layers as he cleared his throat to speak. 

“Couldn’t find a spot. Had to walk a bit.” His voice was more gravelly than usual after being silent for so long. You tutted in sympathy, taking the damp towel and clothes from him. 

“Bet that was exactly what you wanted after the past few weeks. I’m sorry, honey. I’ll throw these in the wash. Did you want to shower?” You resisted the urge to pull him into a hug, not wanting to overwhelm him. 

Frank nodded, scrubbing a hand over his face as he shuffled to the bathroom. Turning the shower on and removing the last of his saturated clothes, Frank sighed and rubbed at his strained eyes. Taking a moment to look around, his spirits lifted slightly as he realized you’d clearly prepared the space for him. The small tiled room was pristine and scrubbed of any debris, with a clean towel and fresh set of clothes hanging over a towel bar. Christ, he loved you. 

The sounds of water bombarding ceramic walls soothed your nervous heart as you started your coffee maker. If you’d been the one to walk a mile in a torrential downpour, you’d be craving a hot drink and some soft fleece blankets when you got home. Thankfully, you already had the latter covered. 

There was a small squeak from the bathroom as Frank turned the shower off, shuffling around behind the door before emerging in a tee and sweats. Nodding his head at you, he grunted. “Thanks for the clothes.” 

“My pleasure, pumpkin. Make yourself comfy, I’ll have coffee ready in a bit.” Pulling two mugs from the cupboard, you bit back a smile as Frank turned and finally surveyed your hard work. 

“The hell is that?” 

You couldn’t stop the giggle that burst out of you at his grumpy confusion. “It’s a pillow fort!”

“A…pillow fort?” Frank scratched the back of his head, looking inquisitively at the structure you’d built. 

Nodding eagerly, you came to stand next to him. “Yup. When I was little, my siblings and I would always make forts on rainy days. I haven’t done it in years, but I thought we could both use a pick me up today.” Shifting from foot to foot, you looked up at him through your long lashes. “If you don’t like it, or it’s too childish, I can put it all back and we can pretend it never happened.” 

“Hey, no, you don’t need to do that, doll.” Frank wrapped his arms around your hesitant form, drawing you into his chest before kissing the top of your head. “I wasn’t expectin’ it, is all.” 

“Would you like to sit with me? Or did you need some time alone?” Your words were slightly muffled by his muscular torso. 

With a snort, Frank tilted your face towards his. “Fuck no. Spent enough time with myself the past few weeks.” Kissing you tenderly, he brushed a thumb over your cheek. “I’ve missed ya like hell, sweetheart.”

“God, I missed you too, Frankie. So much.” 

Resting his forehead against yours, he pressed a kiss to your nose. “Why don’t you show me around the new setup?” 

Giggling happily, you took one of his hands in two of yours and tugged him over to the towering stack of cushions. “Well this is the entrance, obviously.” 

“Obviously.” Frank’s mouth twitched, feeling the dark cloud over his shoulders begin to fizzle away as you showed him the comfy nest you’d built. 

“And, if you come inside…” You scrambled into the fabric cave on all fours, Frank followed in a more rigid manner, his aching joints not pleased about the new posture. 

The structure you’d built was quite impressive. You’d utilized damn near every piece of furniture in the living room, but that meant it was tall enough for you both to sit up and sturdy enough to not collapse on top of you. There were strings of small lights hanging from the makeshift ceiling, and a pile of the softest blankets and pillows you owned waiting to be burrowed in. Everything about it was so unbelievably you that Frank could have cried. 

“So…” Sitting back on your knees, you gazed at him with wide eyes. “What do you think?” 

“It-it’s perfect, doll face.” He pushed past the crack in his voice, hoping you wouldn’t question it. “I love it.” 

“Would you like to lay down?” You offered, pulling back the duvet at the base of the pile of blankets. 

“Fuck yes.” Frank groaned, making you laugh. 

Plopping down on the squishy surface, you made grabby hands at him, earning you a hearty chuckle before your broad-shouldered love crawled on top of you. He peppered your face with stubble-rough kisses as you squirmed beneath him. 

“Frank!” You laughed, placing two fingers over his lips. “As much as I love your kisses, you should really lay down. I can see how much tension you’re holding.” You punctuated your murmur with a soft hand placed between his shoulder blades, fingers massaging the resolute knot beneath his skin. 

With an appreciative groan, Frank’s chin dropped his chest, his body inadvertently sagging downward as it stopped resisting gravity. Towing him atop your own horizontal body, you gently positioned him so that you could continue to knead at his upper back while he melted into a puddle beneath your fingers. 

Letting out a soft sound that was more moan than hum, Frank squashed his face against your neck. Kissing his forehead, your free hand came up to card through his damp hair. 

“Better?” You teased, knowingly. 

Nodding, your stoic boyfriend remained silent and pliable in your embrace. 

Carefully pulling the blankets over the two of you, you grinned as Frank shuddered with a satisfied groan. The poor guy was practically falling asleep, head pillowed on your chest as you tugged at his hair gingerly. “Did you want something to eat or drink before passing out? I think the pot of coffee I started is about ready.”

“You made coffee?” The muscular lump of boyfriend that was splayed over you rumbled hopefully at the notion. 

“Course I did. Wanted you to have something to drink when you got home. It’s decaf though, figured you’d also want to sleep.” 

“Mmm love you.” Was the only response you received. With a giggle, you nudged Frank so that you could see his face, which had gone peacefully slack thanks to your ministrations. 

“I love you too, pumpkin. Sleep first, or coffee first?” 

“Sleep. ‘M tired as fuck.” 

Chuckling, you pulled the blankets tighter around the two of you. “Sleep well, handsome. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

[kumezyzo]

Omggg imagining famoussinger!reader or famousactor!reader and sapnap.. imagine him defending them on his stream and them going to red carpets together :(((

ive been a little preoccupied writing a tasm fic rn so this has been kinda pushed on the back burner. but i did already technically write singer!reader. so enjoy actor!reader

anyway, enjoy! or dont :) m.list

bf!sapnap hates when he gets chats where people are bashing your acting. he hates it even more when they're comments on his vods with you that you can see.

he makes sure no ones posts are actually up long enough for you to see them

bf!sapnap always tries to promote your stuff nonchalantly. but it's never actually nonchalant.

"oooh, what's this ad about?" he asked, sharing his screen. his youtube recommendations were just clips from the shows or movies that you've been in.

then he clicked on the ad at the top of the screen that was for a movie you were staring in. everyone in his chat started spamming in his chat about how he was putting the sap in sapnap.

bf!sapnap who likes going to your film locations with you and cheers you on on the sidelines. when you get off set, he smiles so widely at you and tells you how well you did.

bf!sapnap who first watches a movie with an actor that doesnt like you and can't help but shit on them.

"you would've been so much better for this role," he huffed, crossing his arms. you looked at him and couldn't help but smile at his glare. you tried suppressing your smile and turned back to watching the movie.

or

"fuck you," he murmured to himself. you looked up at him as he aggressively closed out of twitter.

"what was that?" you asked, concerned.

"that bitch is trending right now."

bf!sapnap who likes going to your movie premieres with you. he gets to walk the red carpet with you (because hes technically famous) and he loves seeing twitter posts the next day of you two.

the flashing lights can be too much at times, but he likes hilding you close and people knowing youre with him. he likes when people stop to interview you about the movie and just to do promo. He stands off to the side, just out of view and watches you in your element, he finds it so admirable.

bf!sapnap who even gets asked questions when walking with you.

"so, sapnap, were you on set for this movie at all? what was it like seeing yn in their natural element?" the interviewer asked with a large smile.

"i was sometimes," he nodded. "it was cool. i think im used to seeing them get in the zone but seeing it in person was something else."

"so, what is it like dating them?"

he looked at the interviewer strangely as he tried to figure out how to answer that. "unlike anyone else. they have such an interesting life and im just glad to be here for it."

i dont like the endinggggg 😁😁😁 but its whatever. -nony