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mackenzielovee · 3 years

Note

Hi, I loved crazy love. Literally I become obsessed, so I was wondering if you could write something about them when they are moving to their new apartment near to college and both of their families are helping them to have everything in order, but Rafe only want them to leave to be all alone with you in their new home. Maybe a little bit of smut?

a/n: this idea had my heart bc i'd really been wanting to write something like this ;) i hope you enjoy! thanks so much for the request!

Warnings: swearing, smut, mentions of planned pregnancy, discussion of sex

crazy love masterlist

my writing

our home: crazy love blurb - rafe cameron

"No, no a little to the left. Ward, are you listening to me?"

You sigh as you set the very last box down on the kitchen counter, stealing a glance at Rafe, who is sitting on your new couch. His head is in his hands as he listens to his parents bicker back and forth, trying to hang up the painting they had bought the two of you. Rose had gushed over it when she bought it, telling you it would match the rest of your decor perfectly.

"Of course, darling. You're talking loud enough," Ward gripes, shifting the painting to the left as Rose demands.

"Oh, come on, now. Back over to the right-"

"It's straight!" Rafe raises his voice, standing up from the couch.

You inhale sharply and step into the living room of your new apartment, wrapping an arm around him to try and calm him down. Ever since his parents and Wheezie arrived with the moving truck to help you both, he's been on edge. When your parents showed up with Macy, you thought he was about to go into cardiac arrest.

"Actually, I think it might just be straight," Rose nods, "Good eye, Rafe."

"Thanks so much," he remarks sarcastically.

"Hey," you whisper to him, trying to tell him to quit being mean to his step-mom, "They're here to help, remember?"

Rafe rolls his eyes, "I could do this shit myself."

"Because you're such a handy man?" you snort.

Rafe clenches his jaw as he looks down at you, but can't help the smirk on his face. He pulls you closer to him, leaving a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"Where did Macy and Wheezie go? They should start on those kitchen boxes," Rose tells Ward, stepping away from her husband to look for them.

"We can handle the kitchen boxes," Rafe tells her.

"Y/N?" Rose looks to you for a final answer.

You glance up at Rafe only for a second, noting the look on his face, then nod your head in agreement.

"I like the kitchen organized a certain way, anyway," you tell her with a smile.

She nods her head, "All right. Ward and I can start on your sheets-"

"Y/N's parents are taking care of that," Rafe informs her.

Wheezie and Macy come tumbling into the front door, running past all of you and into your bedroom with your parents.

"What the hell are those two up to?" Ward questions.

Wheezie and Macy have become as thick as thieves, the best of friends, over the summer. One day, you'd shown up at Rafe's only to find your sister in her kitchen with Wheezie, baking away. Ever since then, you and Rafe have had to be extra quiet upstairs.

Rose and Ward step toward your bedroom as well, which is down a small hallway just off the kitchen. Rafe grabs your hand and yanks you with him, following the crowd of people.

"Can everyone get out of our bedroom, please?" Rafe grumbles, standing behind his father and watching your parents finish up making your bed.

Your parents had not been crazy about you and Rafe living together right as you both make the transition to college. You had cried, begged, threatened to not go to school, and even dragged Rafe over for a family dinner so all of you could talk the situation out. You'd never seen Rafe's face so red as the night he had to sit at a dinner table and discuss with your father how the two of you would be sleeping in the same bed.

When your parents found out that the Camerons would be financing your rent bill, however, the living situation had changed. Your parents hadn't realized how expensive dorm living is, and the thought of not having to pay for housing on top of tuition sounded like a dream come true.

Which is how you land in your new, empty kitchen, trying to hold Rafe back from killing every family member the two of you currently have within arms reach.

"It's quarter to three," your dad tells your mother over your bed.

"Macy," your mom speaks, "Get your stuff, honey. We have to get going."

"Yeah," Rafe perks up, earning the attention of his parents, "You guys should get moving, too. Y'know, lots of traffic, and Wheezie's got that thing early in the morning."

Wheezie opens her mouth to speak, but stops suddenly when Rafe gives her the death stare. She looks to you, to which you just shrug, and then turns back to her parents.

"What thing?" Rose asks her. Ward's phone buzzes in his pocket, earning his attention.

"Uh," Wheezie hesitates, looking to Rafe once more.

"Girl scout meeting," Rafe blurts.

You cover your face with your free hand to try and prevent Rose from seeing your laughter. You truly have no idea where Rafe gets this idea that Wheezie is old enough to be in girl scouts. Wheezie narrows her eyes at him, shaking her head slightly.

"Girl scout?" Rose questions to herself, still trying to figure it out when Ward speaks up, eyes still glued to his phone.

"Wheezie, get your stuff. You won't want to be tired in the morning at your meeting."

Wheezie rolls her eyes but does as she's told, making her way out of your bedroom and down the hall to collect her things in the living room.

"Seriously, Rafe?" she hisses, "Girl scouts? I'm fourteen-"

"Shut up, Wheeze," Rafe says back to her through gritted teeth.

Wheezie turns to you, "He's your problem, now."

"Oh, boy, do I know it," you tease Rafe, smiling with Wheezie. She laughs, but it's short lived when Rafe shoves her away.

"Get your shit," he mutters.

"Stop it," you demand, stepping in front of him and holding onto his forearms as they are wrapped around your waist.

The one thing you love about Rafe more than anything is how he always shows affection to you, even if your parents or his parents are around. He just doesn't seem to care about anyone except you.

"I want them to go," he defends himself, keeping his voice quiet, "I just want to be alone with you. In our home. I didn't realize that was such a difficult request."

You smile up at your fussy boy, dragging one hand up to his face to stroke his cheek. You can faintly hear your families moving around the two of you, but you're too lost in your own little world to think too much about it.

"Be patient," you whisper to him.

He smirks, "Will you make it worth my while?"

You give him back the same look, loving the way he smirks at you and allows his eyes to rake over every inch of your face and torso. It takes everything in him not to just grab you by the throat and kiss the hell out of you, only controlling himself because your dad is ten feet away.

"Don't I always?"

Rafe groans, trying his best to keep his composure. He has to close his eyes as he continues to whine, knowing that if he keeps looking at you, he'll be hard in no time.

"All right," Rafe says loudly, tugging himself away from you, "Thanks for coming, everyone, but we have a lot to unpack here. Dad, Rose, Wheezie, I'll show you to the door."

You snicker as you watch him attempt to lead his confused family out the door. You turn to your own family, giving hugs and promising to call whenever you can. Rose refuses to leave without giving you a hug, which pisses Rafe off, as he's gotten Ward and Wheezie out successfully and only needs one more.

Rose promises to send flowers, one that match the color scheme of course, and tells you she'll call you to check on Rafe, since he doesn't bother to return her calls. You give Wheezie a hug and give Ward a polite smile and wave from the doorway.

The second they're all out the door, Rafe slams the door shut and locks it before any of them can decide they forgot something.

"Ah, free at last," you joke.

Rafe turns around, licking his lips as he thinks about how you two finally have an empty house and he has you all to himself. No distractions, no parents, no little sisters listening intently at the door for secrets and drama. He eyes you up and down once, and when he brings his blue orbs to meet yours again, you know what he's thinking.

"Come here," he demands, but he can't help himself.

That boy rushes over to you, pushing you up against the wall in the entryway of your new apartment, kissing you as if his life depends on it. You accept his kiss without a second thought, allowing your hands to wrap themselves around his neck.

"Up," he mutters against your lips, hands guiding themselves to your waist as you jump up and let him position himself in between your legs, wrapping them around his torso.

He moves his kisses to your cheek, then your jawline, then your neck, while his hands relentlessly roam your ass.

"Rafe," you say, tilting your neck to give him more space.

"Hmm," he hums against your skin, not stopping or slowing down for anything.

"I really do have to unpack the kitchen if you want to eat dinner tonight," you tell him, although you're fully aware he would never set you down for anything right now.

"Not hungry."

"Rafe-"

"I think," he stops you, wet kisses trailing your collarbone, "We should fuck everywhere. Y'know, break the place in."

Even though you two have been together for a while, him saying things like that to you always seems to send tingles through your whole body. He always knew what to say, what to do, to get you riled up in all the right ways.

"That would take us all night," you whisper, smirking because you already know what he's going to say.

"Fine with me, baby."

You smile, then reach down and grab ahold of his cheek with your hand. You lead his lips back to yours, kissing him harder than you had been before. He moans into your mouth and you know you have him right where you want him now.

"Kitchen first?" he questions, breathless, "Or should we mess up that pretty little bed your parents just made up?"

The raspiness in his voice gets you going, enough for him to notice you squirming in his grip. He grins, knowing exactly what it is you need.

"Kitchen," you tell him, watching as he barely nods before he kisses you again, carrying you over and setting you on the counter.

With ease, he removes your shorts and underwear, dropping his own shorts to the floor beneath him. He kicks all of the clothes away, knowing the two of you won't be needing them for a very long time.

"I can't wait, baby," he mumbles, excusing his lack of foreplay.

You shake your head, and he already knows you don't mind based on the way you're dripping onto the granite, "Please, Rafe."

He smirks and then grunts as he enters you, breathing out a sigh of relief that you two are finally home.

By the time you and Rafe even make it to your bedroom, he has to carry you because your legs can't physically function anymore. Rafe's proud of his work, but pretended to pout when he finished you off on the couch and you told him you needed a break.

He lays you down on your new, freshly made bed, moving the pillows out of your way and tucking you underneath the duvet. He climbs in beside you and molds you into his body almost instantly, inhaling your shampoo scent and perfume, thinking about how perfect this moment truly is.

"I can't believe it," he whispers.

"I know."

"Our home."

"Yes, it is."

You two lay there for a while, staring out at the tens of boxes that have each of your names written on them, just begging to be unpacked. You're sure Rafe's boxes will still be sitting there in two weeks, as he had packed a separate duffle bag of his 'essential' belongings.

"You know," he starts after a while, a devious smirk finding it's way to his cheeks, "The next big step is having a mini you. Or a mini me. But, I'd rather have a mini you."

"We just moved into our college apartment and you're talking about impregnating me," you laugh, as if to ask him if he's serious.

"She'll be so cute," he goes on, "A little girl that looks just like you. And she'd have your smarts, thank God, because she'd be screwed with mine. But she'd have my humor, of course."

"Of course?" you tease him.

"And then we'll have a boy."

"Wow, Rafe Cameron, you really just have this all figured out," you move your head up to look at him, noting the small, cheesy smile plastered across his face.

"I do, baby. He'll be a hellion, though. Never listening, always running away, but a total momma's boy. Never wants you to leave his side-"

"So, just like his dad, then?" you grin, watching Rafe clench his jaw and shake his head.

"Break's over," he grunts, rolling you on your back and climbing on top of you, "We're trying, now."

"No, we're not," you say forcefully.

Rafe rolls his eyes, "I'm joking. We'll wait until, like, junior year or something."

"Rafe."

"Fine. But the second you walk across that stage with your diploma, I'm putting a baby in you."

"Deal."

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fangirl-creates · 3 years

Text

The Most Unlikely Thing

A Stolitz Wedding One-Shot

Inspired by this lovely art by @sator-the-wanderer on Instagram (Link at the end)

(Note: This is my first time writing with Helluva Boss Characters—I was worried they wouldn’t be in character, but I hope you enjoy!!)

Most would say a night like this would never happen. That it was one of the many outlandish and downright ridiculous thoughts that appeared within the mind of anyone who knew them. If you said it outloud, you’d get a quick laugh out of the person you told, then the subject would be changed in an instant-as if it was never said at all.

Moxxie had that thought once. Right around 2AM he woke up from an uneventful dreamscape, and processed the thought with every ounce of his intellect. Even after that, it still made no sense. He turned to Millie’s side, taking a deep breath before he spoke.

“Millie? Are you awake?”

His wife stirred for a moment, a small yawn before she responded. “Yeah, Moxx?” She mumbled.

“I...had a weird thought..” He sat up, running his hand through his snow-white hair, soon scratching the top of his head.

“What was it?” She sat up a little, both curious and worried about what he might be thinking.

“Well-” He paused for a moment, giving the room a good look around before he continued. If a certain someone was here, listening, he wouldn’t hear the end of it. “It’s about Blitz and uh...Prince Stolas.”

Millie’s golden eyes widened as her tail started swishing like a curious cat. Any worry she had was gone, now she wanted to know all the details surrounding this. “Well?? Don’t keep me in suspense!” She smiled eagerly, shaking him by the arm a little.

“So like...and this is just a hypothetical..” He chuckled, smiling nervously for a quick second. “I just wondered for a second...well..” At this moment their eyes were locked, Moxxie’s face now torn between smiling or frowning. He had no idea what to feel. “Do you think they could ever...end up like us?”

Millie tilted her head, raising a brow. “Ya mean like...married ‘n stuff?”

Moxxie nodded a few times. “Yeah, Yeah! Do you...do you think-?”

She put a hand on her chin. “Well...I don’t think it isn’t possible. I mean...I’m pretty sure...excluding their little agreement...maybe they do like each other..”

“Do they though?” He started to lay down again, now staring at the ceiling. “I mean clearly Stolas likes him to the point where he won’t stop gushing over him. But...Blitz?”

“Who knows, hon. Blitz hardly talks about how he really feels. Maybe he does. And maybe one day they will…” The last thing didn’t sound so sure.

Moxxie turned his head. “But?”

“All relationships are complex, Moxx. And those two? Hell, it could take them years before they even think about something like that. But then again…”

“What?”

“Sometimes the thing you least expect might happen sooner than you think.”

Moxxie blinked a couple times, squinting a bit. “Sooo...you do or you don’t think they could-” He was interrupted by Millie giving him a kiss on the lips. She turned the light off next, shifting back into her sleeping position.

��Goodnight, Moxxie.”

Moxxie sighed, slowly closing his eyes as sleep began to cloud his mind again.

He still couldn’t believe he actually thought that. Although it wasn’t the worst thing in the world, it still surprised him no less. But despite how much he just wanted to forget it, it made him think about what Millie said.

It was true Blitz was starting to show a small glimmer of affection towards the Goetian Prince, especially since the rescue from a few nights ago. The concern and sudden display of power through a demonic transformation was enough to make Blitz gawk at the sight of it. And the way Stolas gently cupped his face asking if he was alright afterwards made everyone else in the room stare, Blitz feeling slightly embarrassed by the whole situation.

Yet it still made him think that maybe...just maybe something like that could happen. But that wasn’t up to him. Whatever they decided would leave this idea, this thought, completely within the hands of faith itself.

And with that, Moxxie fell asleep.

———————

Three years ago, it was never spoken of outside of that one night. And neither of the two had ever acted upon such a decision until much much time had passed. But now the stars were in their favor.

The sky was a dark, beautiful crimson that had mixed with a captivating wine purple. The stars were scattered, dusting the sky and turning it into a dazzling display of twilight.

They had kept it small, the only ones being present were close friends and family—which was basically four people. But it didn’t matter how many people were there, or where they did it. All that mattered was that it happened—which had ended up on the roof of I.M.P’s office building.

The vows had been short, with a few important bits here and there; Moxxie having to be both the one to wed them and the best man to the boss himself. He wasn’t sure he had the exact authority to do so, but both explained it was better than having someone else they didn’t know. Because once this got out, they’d have a whole other thing to deal with. But that was a future problem they would solve when it became relevant to them.

Blitz was given a stepstool so he could reach Stolas without having to stand on the tips of his toes. He didn’t want the stepstool, saying that he’d look like a complete joke. But if Stolas had to lift him up for this part, he would be unable to think clearly from the embarrassment.

Stolas didn’t seem to care how many people were present, or where they decided to host the reception. There was only one thing that mattered in this moment, and the smile of genuine compassion refused to leave his face the entire night. Blitz looking up with him while trying to contain himself only seemed to make him smile more. He was adorable.

Both eagerly waited for Moxxie to finish up, Blitz trying to keep himself from falling off the stool by how much he was moving. Of course he stood perfectly still once he heard the last few words out of Moxxie’s mouth.

“You may now kiss—”

Blitz practically jumped into Stolas’ embrace, quickly locking lips with him as the two slowly started to get lost in intimacy.

The four clapped while giving the newly weds smiles of congratulations. But those quickly faded away when they noticed the two weren’t paying attention anymore. The passionate kissing lasted for almost two minutes before Loona had to break them away from each other.

“Hey, lovebirds. Maybe wait till none of us can see you.” She rolled her eyes, putting Blitz down after basically pulling him off of Stolas.

Blitz put a hand on his head, taking a look around. “Oh shit, I forgot we were doing this.”

Stolas bent over with a light chuckle, booping Blitz’s nose. “-and aren’t you so glad we did, Blitzy~?”

The Imp pushed his face away as he blushed a bit more. “Yeah yeah just…don’t make it a bigger deal than it already is..”

“Looks like someone’s trying to pretend he can’t be romantic for once.” Moxxie smirked, making Blitz turn around in retaliation. His face was now a different form of red.

“Well you know what, Moxxie?! You—!” Then he stopped, biting his lip as he put his accusing finger away. “You…did..a good job…tonight..” He mumbled under his breath.

Moxxie kept smirking, raising a hand to where his ear would be. “Oh, what was that? Could you repeat what you said a little louder?”

Blitz shifted uncomfortably, hoping this was the last time. None of this was like him. And in front of his entire friend circle too!

“You…didagoodjobtonight..” He said it louder as per Moxxie’s request, just a bit faster than normal. Now everyone heard him…however-

“Maybe a little louder…and slower?” He leaned in closer.

“Goddammit, Moxxie! I already held back insulting you just let me have this!” He snapped a little, making everyone else just laugh in response. Moxxie put a hand on his shoulder, his smile genuine.

“Thanks, Blitz.”

———————

The rest of the wedding had lasted a couple hours. Since the group was so small, dancing and talking underneath Hell’s strangely unnatural starlight felt more meaningful.

Eventually, M&M had to leave. But they wished the two best of luck, the wedding present they got the only thing left of them from tonight. Octavia and Loona decided to head inside the office to give their dads space. Now that they were legally sisters, hanging out would feel more genuine. Like you had someone else there looking out for you. Loona now was able to shout anything about being her big sister to anyone who tried to mess with them.

Up on the roof, Blitz and Stolas were laying down on what used to be the tablecloth to the buffet, staring at the stars. Blitz had taken advantage of using Stolas’ chest as a fluffy pillow. It was so comforting, like he could just lay there forever and never get up. But then…something did make him get up. He sat and hugged his knees close, his expression somewhat distraught. His eyes turned briefly to the owl demon, feeling strange.

“Stolas?” He finally broke the silence.

Stolas had already taken note of Blitz sitting up. But he quickly sat up when next he saw his partner’s face.

“What’s the matter, Blitzy? Are you feeling alright?” His questions were genuine, making Blitz feel worse.

“Is this…is this what you want? Do you really want…me?” Something in his voice cracked and that made Stolas’ heart feel a strike of pain.

“Of course I do! Tell me, what brought this on?” He held Blitz’s chin in his hand gently so their eyes met once more.

“It’s…It’s just how we started out. And everything after that…I don’t know why it took me so fucking long to actually admit that I…” He paused. “…felt this way.”

“And?”

“And…I didn’t think that you would actually..! You…You said yes.” His eyes started to water. “Why the hell did you say yes?!”

Stolas pulled him in close, caressing his back. “Because I love you, Blitzy…And you being there all those times, even when I didn’t truly feel this way—it still meant something to me. And I know it meant something to you.”

Blitz let out a crying sound, something he would never do. At least, not in public. He didn’t know what was wrong with him, but he just felt so vulnerable now…and he hated it. Stolas quickly responded to this by cupping his face and lifting it up so they were at eye level again.

The Imp’s lip was quivering and his eyes were bloodshot enough to almost blend in with his eye color. The tears were staining his cheeks, big droopy ones making him look like an absolute wreck. He looked even more embarrassed now than he did before.

Stolas wiped some of the tears away with one of his hands, a comforting smile. “Oh, Blitzy…do you think we’d really be here if I didn’t feel this way?”

He sniffed, trying to contain himself before he responded. “No..None of this would be…” He took a deep breath. “I guess I’m so used to pushing people away I never thought you’d actually stick around.”

Stolas gave him another kiss, shorter than before, but something about this one felt even more emotional than the last. Something about this one made Blitz want nothing more than to be with him. No matter what his fears were telling him.

“I love you, Blitzy…” It was the third or fourth time he had said it tonight, but this time it felt deeper.

“I love you too, Stolas…” He returned the kiss, both landing back down on the floor.

It was at that moment they refused to let this feeling leave them. For even though the memory of this magical night would fly by, they would never ever forget it.

End.

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xmalfoyweasleyx · 3 years

Text

I hate that girl - F.W

Summary: Fred doesn’t really know how to cope. He hates y/n and everyone loves her. But is the feeling truly hate, or something else?

Warnings: Mean Fred, eating, semi-smut it's just oral: male receiving, a little hair pulling and stuff like that :)

A/N: Maybe I'm going to write a PART 2, with the rest of the smut? Idk? What do you guys think? x

Words: 2,1k

It was summer, finally, my favourite season. I sat at the table with my family at the Burrow, enjoying my moms dinner.

“So, y/n is coming tomorrow mom, you remember?” Ron asked while trying to put a big piece of meat in his mouth.

“Of course I remember dear!” Molly smiled.

“Pfffttt ohno” I sighed, making the whole dinner table glare at me.

“Don’t be mean Fred, I really don’t know what’s wrong with you” Ginny said angrily.

What was wrong with me? That girl was wrong.

I hated how my whole family fell for her trap. Like she’s so innocent. They all believed her act. But I knew the truth, I hated the girl. She wasn’t sweet and shy and helpful. I just knew it. She couldn’t be. I didn’t believe it.

I never liked the girl. She visits us every year, being very good friends with... yea, almost every person here.

She was a liar, I saw it in her eyes. The girl was always like: “Molly can I help with the dishes” or “Hey George, I looooveee the new joke product” with her silly sweet voice.

No I didn’t fall for that. She didn’t even say those things to me any more, I've already scared her away. Well, great. That’s great.

“I really don’t understand why you hate her that much Freddie” George sighed when we were back in our bedroom.

"Well and I don't understand why you like her that much Georgie, are you in love with her or something?" I accused him.

"It seems like you are the one in love with her, silly brother" he answered laughing.

What the hell??

"WHAT? For God's sake! Why would you even think that?!" I screamed defensively. George only laughed.

"I give up" he smiled. Leaving me extremely irritated.

Me in love with y/n, like I said, I hate that girl.

I almost threw up seeing the girl acting like that.

We were all welcoming her in the living room. She hugged Ginny, then my mum and Ron and... you know how it goes.

Then she hugged George giving him a kiss on the cheek. Urgh disgusting. It was my turn. It was clear she didn't really know what to do. It was pretty awkward.

"Fred" she nodded staring at me full of doubt. She gave me a sad look and I almost fell for it.

I knew my sister was looking at me with eyes full of anger without even looking her way. I couldn't take it any more and just left without saying a word.

"I'm sorry about him" I heard George saying to her. "It's okay" she answered softly.

It was quiet at the burrow, everyone was already asleep. I've always been the only person in this house that stays up this late.

I was getting tired so I decided to get ready for bed. Even George had ignored me all evening, I don't get it, why are they this mad? I mean, okay, I wasn't very nice to y/n. But I can do what I want and I can dislike who I want, what do they have to do with it?

So I opened the bathroom door and before I could process what happened, my face was already bright red. Y/n was changing, her, apparently pretty, chest was bare in front of me.

The first thing I did was slap my hand to my face, trying to close my eyes and hide the redness. What the actual fuck, did I just see the girl naked?

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE THIS LATE" I screamed.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I should've locked the door, I'm sorry" she answered embarrassed.

Okay how could I ever get this image out of my fucking head?! Yes, she did have an impressive body, and...but... BUT NO FRED, NO.

"Stop apologizing all the time, for god's sake, it makes me crazy" I hissed angrily.

She didn't really answer and she ran past me, I didn't even see the look on her face. Maybe that was a good thing, because I knew I may have been a bit too mean this time...

"Fuck Fred, keep going" y/n moaned, she looked like a mess and her perfect boobs bounced up and down when she rode me. It was the hottest and the best thing I've ever felt. Moans and grunts left my mouth. "Fuck I'm cumming baby" I grunted.

Suddenly a loud knock on my bedroom door woke me up. Y/n wasn't there any more.

Shit, was this a dream, an actual sex dream? About her?

"FRED WAKE UP IT'S ALREADY 1 PM, WE'RE GOING TO SWIM!" I heard my little sister scream at the door.

I freaked out immediately. I could never face y/n again after this, why did it happen? Why is my brain like this? And then I had a little problem down there too, I had an obvious boner.

"I'm coming Gin wait a minute" I answered nervously.

An hour later, I finally reached the lake that was a mile away from the burrow. The others were already there.

Great, swimming.

The dream was still spinning around in my head. I was so confused and like it couldn't get any worse, they decided to swim. Why today?

This was the worst moment ever to see y/n in her bikini. I saw her from a distance. God she looked hot. Her perfect boobs in the red bikini top, and damn it, that ass...

Bloody hell, STOP IT FRED, I just got rid of my boner, I don't need it to come back again.

"There you are Freddie, finally!" George smiled when he saw me. Damn it.

Y/n looked up too, still smiling at me even though all the mean things I said or did to her. Her hair was in a perfect bun and I could see her red bikini better now. I never really realized how sexy and good she looks until now, until the moment I walked in on her changing this night. Or maybe that was the problem, maybe I always knew, but shut it out?

But what if this was her trap again? The trap everyone fell for except me. I couldn't allow myself to fall for it, I promised myself!

I walked up to them and tried to get out of my confusing thoughts. "I'm sorry I didn't realize I slept for so long" I answered trying to sound okay.

"Guess it's because you were still up pretty late" y/n joked. Her pretty smile appeared and out of nowhere my legs were weak, like jelly.

"Fuck y/n SHUT UP, SHUT THE HELL UP" I snapped out of nowhere. My face went red and the others looked at me in shock.

It was quiet, y/n gaped at me, speechless.

"I.. I-" I tried to apologize when I saw y/n her hurt eyes, but nothing came out. My heart broke when a tear fell down her cheek. Maybe I was wrong about her.

I was the bad person in this story, not her.

She ran away and I heard her sobbing behind me.

It wasn't a trap, she never acted like she was an innocent sweet girl, she really was an innocent sweet girl. It wasn't her trap, it was my own trap, a trap I made up in my own head.

I heard sobs coming from her room. I stood behind the door. I promised my siblings I would apologize, because it was true, maybe I was wrong about her.

I opened the door slowly.

"Fred, please go away, you don't have to act like you're sorry because I'm crying. I know you hate me." she sobbed when she saw me.

“N-no, I, I don’t know what’s wrong with me” I stuttered.

She looked confused. Her red eyes really broke my heart. It was my fault.

I sat next to her on the floor and put my hand on her leg. She seemed shocked.

“Why do you hate me?” she whispered.

I sighed. Not really knowing what to answer.

“I don’t hate you, I just had the wrong idea about you y/n, I’m stupid.” I answered.

It was weird, she was still in her bikini and this was so not the right moment, but I felt that bulge in my swimming trunks appear again. I guess it’s because of the dream that was still so damn clear in my head. And of course, the fact that my hand was stroking down her bare leg.

Before I could cover it up, her eyes were already on it. Fuck.

We both didn’t utter a word. It was silent.

“You have a problem down there” she whispered, breaking the silence.

I gulped, trying to not get red.

“Is that why you hate me? You just want to fuck me?” she grinned extremely bold.

I wasn’t really used to being this speechless. But she was right. So, so right. So I just nodded.

Suddenly she was on my lap. My breath hitched in my throat. Her, so perfect, boobs now pressed to my bare chest.

“You make me crazy, I can’t even explain how crazy y/n” I finally said.

Her hands were now stroking my hair. Shit. My tummy tingled. Was George right, am I in love with her?

“So you just decide to be mean Freddie? Ignore me? Hurt me? Why?” she squeaked, searching for a rightful explanation.

“I... I’m sorry, I don’t know what I feel. I’m so confused but I know I was wrong about you now. I’m sorry for hurting you.” I apologized.

“It’s okay Freddie, I understand, we have enough time to find out how we feel” she promised me while lightly stroking my cheek with her small fingers.

A wave of electricity went from my feet to my head. So is this what being in love feels like? I wasn’t sure, maybe it was something else. I’ve never experienced this before. But one thing was sure: my pants got too tight now.

And that’s when I felt her move slowly. She moved the (oh so thin) fabric of her red bikini against my clothed cock. I could feel everything that was underneath and a shock of pleasure went through my whole body.

She kept grinding down on me, a soft whimper left her mouth and a grunt left mine.

I slammed my lips on hers. They moved perfectly in synchrony. They were soft and sweet. It was perfect.

I’ve kissed before, a lot. But this. This was different. The passion was overwhelming.

Her tongue explored my mouth while I helped her hips grind up and down.

She stopped the kiss and her beautiful y/e/c eyes locked with mine. In an instant, she was already on her knees in front of me, pulling down my swimming trunks.

"Can I?" she asked politely. I nodded eagerly.

She kissed my tip gently making me gasp a little. Her beautiful, soft hands stroked down my thigh.

"I'm pretty sure you're finally gonna stop hating me after this" she promised.

"You already succeeded princess" I praised, making her eyes go wider because of the nickname.

She started to kitten lick my tip slowly and my hands were already in her hair, making a ponytail with my hand.

She took my whole cock in her mouth, all at once. A grunt escaped my lips when I felt my tip hit the back of her throat.

"God y/n where did you learn this" I moaned huskily.

A smirk appeared when she started to bob up and down. I tried to control myself but I couldn't resist from pulling on her hair a little, guiding her head up and down. It was clearly something she liked because a moan left her mouth. The oh so sexy sound and vibrations made me grunt loudly. "Fuck baby" I moaned

I tried to hold it in but my hips started to pound a little into her mouth, making her gag on my cock.

"I'm gonna cum" I stuttered. One second later her mouth was already gone. I whined with a frown.

"Now already Freddie?" she smirked.

"Please don't stop, your mouth is amazing y/n" I asked trying to not sound too desperate.

She didn't answer but put her lips back, taking my cock in her mouth again. Now she started to suck fast and harder, making me go completely crazy.

She was so beautiful and so so so sexy. I couldn't hold in any longer. My head fell back and my eyes scrunched shut, a loud moan slipped from my lips when I came. I've never felt this amazing before. It was perfect. Y/n stuck her tongue out, showing me she swallowed all of my cum.

"Good girl" I praised huskily.

"Did it feel good?" she asked. She looked a little insecure now.

I grabbed her hips and placed her on my lap again.

"So good, I think I might be in love with you, and not just because of this moment, but for so many reasons y/n" I admitted.

"You.. you do?" she whispered getting red and shy. But the little smile on her lips said enough

_____

#fred weasly x reader #harry potter #fred and george #fred weasley #weasley twins #fred weasley smut #harry potter smut #george weasley #x reader #smut

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anyoneseenadam · 3 years

Note

You write fenrys so well 🥺

Can I request something for him falling in love with a lady who works in a library and is friends with aelin and he keeps finding excuses to visit the library and one day they realize they’re mates ? Can you plz include alot of longing looks & touched and his friends noticing ?

pairing: Fenrys x reader (throne of glass)

warnings: drinking, small argument, mainly fluff

a/n: kay so it's been a hot MINUTE since I've posted and I am sorry my loves, also I comepletely modified this but I hope you still like it, comment and shiz pls it really helps with writers block lol <33

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

You had met Aelin sometime after the war. She had been wandering around town a couple days after the coronation, smiling at children and waving at the elderly, observing the way the town was slowly filling again, people returning home now it was safe. There weren’t many people about however, it just being seven in the morning.

She had walked past a shop then. It was small and rickety, the door barely on its hinges as a girl fought with it, swearing like a sailor.

“Do you need some help?” she asked, moving to stand beside the girl. You screamed instantly, jumping out of your skin at her sudden appearance, having not heard anyone coming due to how absorbed you were in your job. Aelin screamed when you screamed, and it left the two of you staring at each other with wide eyes before you fell apart in fits of laughter.

You stood from where you had bent to clutch your stomach, wiping tears from your eyes as you calmed down.

“Jeez you fucking gave me a heart attack,” you laughed as she apologised, still giggling behind her hand. You then turned, hands on your hips as you glared at the door of your shop.

“Rude men should be put down,” you muttered and Aelin was laughing again.

“That I can get behind,” she said as you opened it, giving up on fixing it completely, Aelin gasping when she saw the inside.

“You have a bookshop!” she exclaimed, and you laughed.

“Had, now I just have dusty books and a broken door. It was my mother’s before…” you trailed off and Aelin put a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and you shrugged.

“It’s fine, it was ages ago anyway,” you stepped further into the shop, going to the large window up front and tugging of the white sheet that obscured it from light. “However, this shop isn’t dead yet so might as well get it done.”

Aelin looked around the shop, the paper on the walls was peeling, the paint on the shelves cracked and the books covered in a fine layer of dust. “Damn, where do we start?” she asked, rolling up her sleeves and grinning at you when you whirled around, frowning at her.

“Doesn’t the queen have better things to do?” you asked, and she shrugged, laughing at your bewildered expression.

“I’m sure my husband will cope.” You gave her an unsure look at that, and she laughed, “He’s competent.”

“If you say so.”

“If you knew I was queen you really have no fear of authority do you?” she asked as you started pulling books down and pilling them onto the sheet you just pulled off the window.

“Respect is earned, plus you’re the one who made me shit myself.” She laughed again, smiling widely, and helping you take down more books as she realised this was the most she had laughed since the war ended.

The worked all day. First removing the books and putting them upstairs in the rundown apartment you lived in, filled with plants, blankets, and somehow even more books. Next the repainted the shelves, setting them outside to dry while they re-wallpapered the walls and cleaned the floor until it was shining.

When the sky got darker you swore as you realised neither of you had eaten all day, going up to your new friend and asking her what she wanted for dinner.

“I make really good pasta,” you had suggested, and she had nodded enthusiastically as you went upstairs to your apartment, drinking wine as you cooked together. As you ate on the floor, drinking yet another bottle of wine, this time straight from the bottle Aelin asked about your past.

You assured her it was relatively normal, asides from the whole ‘evil tyrant thing’ as you put it. You talked together for hours, going back downstairs, and bringing the now dry, sage green shelves back in and putting all the books away, setting them in categories.

Hours later Aelin decided to go home, not wanting to worry so much and she opened the still broken door, the both of you laughing as you realised you had forgotten a pretty integral part.

“Hey, you could just name the shop, ‘the broken door’,” she suggested, and you smiled.

“That would work.”

When Aelin got home she was met with a concerned Rowan, asking where she had been all day.

She smiled at him, pausing before answering, “I think I have a new best friend.”

Rowan frowned at that, “And what brings you to that conclusion?”

“Today was the first time I’ve laughed since…” she trailed off as silence fell at the thought of their past few months, Rowan then bringing her in for a hug.

“You know this means I have to meet her too then,”

“Nope my best friend get your own.” She shoved him playfully, falling asleep next to him that night with a smile on her face.

They went to see you the next morning and Aelin laughed when she saw your dishevelled state.

“Did you sleep?” she asked when she walked into the shop and found signs put up and plants dotted around the room as you sat on the floor, drinking a coffee that smelt so strong she almost gagged, much preferring sweeter tastes.

“Sleep is for the weak!” you said, half-heartedly raising your hand.

“And what’s with all the plants?” Rowan asked, frowning as he almost walked into another and you sat up straighter, glaring at him.

“What you too good for plants?” you asked your hands moving over-exaggeratedly as you got to your feet. “Don’t listen to him, he’s just a stinky man,” you whispered to the plants and Aelin laughed at her husbands offended face.

You stood and started walking upstairs, your feet dragging as you went to get breakfast. You heard them follow you and you pushed open the door to your flat.

You had even more plants up here and Rowan rolled his eyes as you moved to open the large windows, letting in fresh air, you then moved about making pancakes, mixing enough for the three of you and adding blueberries when you were finished.

You cooked them up while chatting idly with Aelin and Rowan, only receiving a small amount of judgement when Aelin discovered you didn’t actually have a bed and instead just a mattress on the floor with a sheet for warmth and some soft pillows. Your house was newly decorated, art hung on the walls, plants and candles decorating every surface.

“Tea, coffee, water, vodka?” you offered them drinks and Aelin whined.

“No vodka, we had too much wine last night,” you laughed at that as you served up coffee and pancakes.

“Yeah we’ll have to go properly drinking some night,” you muttered, Rowan chuckling under his breath and nodding in agreement.

The three of you ate the rest of your food, laughing and joking together and Rowan really noticed the difference in Aelin’s manner. She hadn’t been truly comfortable or at ease in months, always looking over her shoulder, but now she sat laughing with her friend and Rowan wanted to thank you a million times over for bringing her back out of her shell.

Since you first met Aelin you were meeting up almost every day, discussing books over tea and hanging out at your shop, or drinking from expensive glasses in her castle while trying on elaborate dresses. Soon you were practically apart of the family, but that didn’t stop the confusion Fenrys felt when he walked into the castle and found a young girl sleeping on Aelins’ bed, a book opened but abandoned on her chest.

He tentatively walked forward so he could see her more clearly and felt his heart clench when his eyes fall upon her peaceful face, her eyes closed, and hair spread around her head like a halo. He was about to reach a hand out to brush a strand of hair from her soft hair when he heard the door open, turning to see Aelin run in, wrapping her arms tightly around him.

“Fenrys I didn’t know you were back,” she said when she pulled back, bouncing on the soles of her feet excitedly and he laughed.

“Are you going to explain why there’s a girl in your bed, or do I need to break some news to Rowan,” he joked and she shoved his shoulder before moving to the bed and shaking the girl awake.

“It’s just (y/n),” she explained as the girl huffed and rolled away from Aelin.

“Ah of course this person who I definitely knew existed,” Aelin stuck her finger up at him as he laughed, unable to stop his eyes from trailing back to her.

He watched as she breathed in deeply, her eyes opening slowly as she took him in, before she pulled her covers up to over her chin and frowned at him and Aelin with a small pout.

“I was having the best dream every asshole,” she complained and Fenrys smiled as she sat up on her elbows and reached a hand out to him to shake, introducing herself. He brushed the shake of and instead brought her hand to his mouth pressing a kiss to the back of it as sparks show through her skin at the sensation.

“I’m Fenrys, ambassador of Terrasen,” he smiled cheekily as she shrunk away slightly, nerves taking over her, “hope to see you around more.”

He left, pressing a quick kiss to Aelin’s temple, and winking at you as Aelin moved over to you with wide eyes.

“Aelin…” you started as she squealed.

“He was totally flirting with you! You would be such a cute couple, please, please ask him out I need you two to get married and have to worlds prettiest babies!” she was bouncing in hr seat as you moved to shut her up.

“Okay ONE, I just met him. And TWO, he was far too pretty for me,” you said and Aelin frowned.

“Nope, nope you are incorrect, and he is going to fall in love with you,” she demanded, and you laughed, kicking her with your foot.

“Mhm sure.”

The next few days, Fenrys was coming to your shop every day. He would bring chocolates and flowers some days, or coffee and pastries other days. Always dropping them off with a smile, before lounging in the plush, green chair in the corner of the shop and talking to you for hours. He has also started coming to your and Aelin’s weekly cocktail night, wrapping his arm around your shoulder’s and laughing drunkenly into your neck as you told stories.

However, through all this you remained ‘friends’. He would press kisses to your cheek and hands, keep an arm slung around your waist when men came to speak at you at bars and primarily referred to you using pet names and rarely ever your actual name. And it was getting frustrating.

You were having to start putting genuine effort to not kiss him every time you had a drink and he sat extra close to you. Or when you were invited to parties, and he moved smoothly through the countless questions asking if you were dating.

And while you revelled in the attention it was tearing at your heart slightly as insecurities told you that he would never actually be interested in you. You wanted to scream at him every time he kissed you but wanted to melt into him every time he hugged you, your brain constantly at battle with itself when he was near.

You knew you were due to explode any time soon. So when you were out one night and he was holding you extra close, you pulled away, muttering an excuse about getting another drink.

Standing at the bar as you waited you rested you head in your hands for a second before you saw a man begin to approach you. He was attractive, not like Fenrys, but honestly you would take anything to get your mind of him at the moment, so you smiled at him, tilting your head.

“What’s a doll like you doing all alone?” he asked, his voice rough and gravelly, unlike the smooth, deep timbre you were used to, but you just laughed.

“Waiting for a man to not dehumanise me,” you bit back, and he raised his hands sheepishly.

“Sorry about that, what would you prefer?” he flirted, sidling up closer to you as you turned to face him.

“Can’t go wrong with ma’am,” you joked, and he laughed, looking down and shaking his head, only to look back up, his eyes going wide. You felt a familiar hand wrap around your waist and looked up to see Fenrys, resisting the urge to roll your eyes as he glared at the man in front of you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, his voice deep and full of authority, the man in front of you shrinking under his gaze.

“Shit sorry man, didn’t realise she had a boyfriend,” he apologised and this time you did roll your eyes.

“He’s not my-“ you began but Fenrys cut you off.

“Yeah she does, so back the fuck off.” You looked down as he spoke, shaking your head as tears of frustration built in your eyes. You harshly pulled out of his grip, leaving the bar as quickly as you could, wiping away the escaped tears as you heard Fenrys follow after you, shouting your name.

You whirled around when you got outside, your glare murderous.

“You do not get to do that!” you shouted as he moved closer to you.

“Sweetheart I’m sorry,” he began but you cut him off.

“NO! I am not your girlfriend! You have never once asked me to be so you don’t get to try scare away any guy that might have genuine interest in me!” his shoulders slumped as you spoke. Truthfully, he has been working up the courage to ask you out for months, and while he knew it was unfair how he treated you, he couldn’t help himself. He was addicted. He thought of you constantly, the texture of your skin, the smell of your hair, the way your eyes lit up and the way you moved your hands as you spoke. So when he saw you engage with the man that had the audacity to talk to you, his grip tightened on his glass so much it shattered, ignoring the worried looks from Aelin and Rowan as he stomped over to you.

“(y/n) listen, I’ve been an asshole I know,” he raised his hands, tentatively stepping towards you, “But I really care about you, and I want to be yours.”

You laughed bitterly, “You’re just saying that.”

He shook his head vehemently, stepping closer to you again and wrapping his arms around your shoulders so gently, one would think you were made of glass.

“I love you darling, please be mine,” he said into your hair, and you pulled back, looking up at him through glassy eyes before nodding slightly.

“I love you Fenrys,” he smiled down at you before leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss against your mouth, pouring his heart into the action. You gasped slightly as your lips met and he smiled widely against your mouth as the bond clicked into place.

“You know this means I now have an excuse to break the nose of any man that talks to you,” he whispered against your lips, and you giggled, shoving at his shoulder gently.

“I’m still annoyed at you,” you muttered, and his eyes darkened.

“Well I’m sure I can make it up to you.”

#fenrys moonbeam x reader #fenrys moonbeam #fenrys x reader #throne of glass

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omegawolverine · 3 years

Note

👀 mcc discourse? /gen

okay mcc discourse time everyone strap in

the three things i see people being pissed about most often are the lack of lgbt+ people in the event, the specific lgbt+ creators playing and, of course, technoblade being involved. so, let's break down why all three of these things are fucking dumb.

1) "there isnt enough lgbt+ creators".

this would be a fair argument that i could get behind...if not for the way mcc is set up for this specific event—and by that i mean it is a youtube sponsored event. the ccs involved need to have platforms on youtube to be able to participate to begin with, as it is a charity event. mcc doesn't have a lot of lgbt+ streamers involved this time around because a lot of those streamers straight up could not stream this event and scott literally said this himself.

on top of that, this isnt a "get invited and you can play!" event, it is a "you need to apply to be involved" event, meaning, if people dont meet the deadline, or they dont apply at fucking all, they cant play. that's not on fucking scott or anyone organizing mcc, that is on the ccs (if they even wanna be involved, i could not blame them for avoiding mcc after last times mess) who didnt apply in time/at all.

2) "there isnt enough diversity in the lgbt+ streamers" aka "im erasing people's identities and, again, disregarding the literal qualifications for this mcc which include having a youtube platform"

i keep seeing people bring up how every lgbt+ person in mcc is white and able bodied and neurotypical etc etc (which is an inaccurate statement anyways) as reasons why they "arent good enough" or they're bringing up how there "isnt any of [x] sexuality/gender involved" as if that's the organizers faults and i uh. i hate to break it to yall but, again, this is an apply to get in event. if these ccs that were "more diverse" (bc why the fuck are we referring to these ccs playing in fucking minecraft championship as some weird ass diversity characters instead of real life people who are more than their race, disability, etc.) met the requirements and were lgbt+ but just didnt apply, while a lot of other white, cis, neurotypical, able bodied, whatever the fuck else, did? yeah. nobody can change that. scott didnt just pick and chose who gets to play, there are literal rules for this event and also applications that are involved like?? hello????? and obviously i would love to see some more lgbt+ creators from different backgrounds with different identities in the cast, that would be awesome, but that is ultimately not up to the organizers. they cant force people to play. they cant skip people in the waiting lists. they can't have people who cant stream be involved in this mcc as their first event, both because it would be sad for them not to stream their first mcc and because it is a literal charity event.

and, to make things worse, a lot of people are saying there "isnt any trans people this mcc" which is just. a blatant lie. eret isnt cis and sqiashey is genderfluid, yall just dont like eret so you decide to refer to her as a "cis man" constantly, which is transphobic, and yall also dont know sqiashey so instead of doing research, you started running ur mouths and then didn't apologize when you got called on it.

like. even if eret was truly problematic, which i dont believe they are as they have apologized for every little mistake theyve made and dealt with the backlash from entitled little privileged teenagers online all while not complaining even the slightest bit, that still doesnt give you a right to misgender them and erase their identity as a non cis person entirely because you're mad over a fucking minecraft event like??? how fucking privileged you must be that this is what gets you heated. not any actual homophobia or transphobia, but apparently "lgbt+ people in minecraft not being diverse enough". choke.

3) "technoblade is a lesphobe, why is he in mcc"

tw on this section: i discuss my expierences with homophobia as an afab nblw briefly and reclaim the d slur (if you wanna read this section and avoid the homophobia discussion and/or d slur, skip from "as someone who is nblw" to "techno making a shitty joke").

all of techno's lesphobic comments are from 5+ years ago and were, at worst, jokes in poor taste. as someone who is nblw, i have had men follow me and my friend around and call us dykes for holding hands in a museum, i have had my family members harrass me for my sexuality and casually talk about how im gross and wrong for liking girls and i have been punished by literal teachers for showing "too much pda" with my past girlfriends despite the fact that ive never even kissed someone on campus before, just held hands and hugged. techno making some shitty jokes when he was a teenager years ago, while also having a plethora of examples of him being an lgbt+ ally, which does include lesbians, should not be treated the same way as literal bigots calling queer people slurs. and if you think it should be, you have had it fucking lucky.

yes, it is valid to be upset over these jokes, they're fucking weird and he shouldnt have made them, but to treat it with the exact same seriousness as a grown ass adult showing blatant homophobia in current times? no. fuck no.

extra notes bc there's some minor discourse points i left out: no, dream team shouldnt get to be involved in this event over other cishet ccs involved just because they have bigger platforms because this quite literally isnt about them, it's about lgbt+ people and they just didnt happen to get in. shut the fuck up. stop mentioning ant and velvet as people who shouldve been involved, they're quite literally together rn doing little daytrips and shit and they most likely dont wanna spend their time together playing fucking minecraft. also, stop saying techno should be replaced with ranboo (or anyone for that matter), it breaks ranboo's fucking boundaries and him donating 100k to the trevor project doesnt suddenly mean he gets to skip the mcc waiting list.

in conclusion: twitter stop whining over pride mcc, your privilege is showing.

(tagging @tauntwenthome bc you said you wanted to hear as well <3)

#mcc #technoblade #mcyt fandom critical #dsmp fandom critical #fandom critical #discourse #this was hard to write bc this situation is a pain in the ass to explain ajsksk #like specifically the 2nd section i kept rewriting and i still think it sounds confusing but whatever #mcyt #mcytblr #ask to tag #shit self #ok to rb #asks #ghcstbvr #magnus tag 💭#bangerz

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dyketubbo · 3 years

Text

im rewatching doomsday (comps of all povs of course) and. yeah i just.. feel bad for the lmanburgians. i dont know how i could just. say these people deserved it, when they all sound, panicked and desperate and so so fucking sad. long long ramble under the cut as i recount the events and pick out a bunch of little things

even the day before then is painful. ranboos panic room. ranboo and tubbos talk (tubbo admitting that hes wrong, saying he believes that history is repeating itself and trusting ranboo because he believes in his loyalty), fundy showing the ring toss. tubbos surprise at being told to kill dream before stating that quackity would be in control if he didnt (god, did he plan to fail?). tommy being so so excited. everyone playing ring toss and cheering on jack. tommy still believing in tubbo. tubbo panicking. ranboo and tommy and techno talking, ranboo giving them info. dream placing walls and quackity instructing tubbo on where to kill dream. dream lying about the community house. the entire community house debacle. just, everything.

and then doomsday itself. having to frantically get there because it started early, tubbo only having diamond armor to protect him, fundy standing still after he sabotaged them. tubbo and ranboos genuine despair about the apiary.

tubbo eventually going nonverbal and actively putting himself in danger, not even moving away from techno at first and getting in the way of the firework launcher. tubbo trying to save tommy from the fireworks, ponks broken "dont come over here!" after she was trying to save his cat, tommys face falling and desperate attempts at convincing techno, ranboo going "its all gone", niki spiralling and silently burning down the tree, quackitys pure anger. all the death messages.

jack going "what is there left to protect", tommy brokenly trying to accept that its gone as tubbo and quackity blankly do accept it. jack going "i lost everything again". tommy desperately trying to understand dream, on the verge of tears as he asks why dream didnt just hurt him. his low health and food as hes unable to do anything anymore, his quiet gasp as he spots ghostbur, tubbos tiny shake of his head when dream says dream and tommys story wont be over.

tubbo and quackity breaking the repeaters. ghostburs "i didnt even know we were fighting". ghostbur finding out phil let friend die, hes pained "phil? but i- i gave, i gave phil to look after. and dream found me friend, and technoblade said we were friends", tommys pained talk about technoblade. "we were never his friend. to him, all of this was just an act of politics, an act of clout and a-a social ladder, and you won't remember. tubbo you will, and to you big q, this was a friendship. but to technoblade, this was a ladder. and techno climbed to the tippity talk. do you wanna know the only way you can go? on the ladder? -- and once you reach the top of the ladder tubbo, you can only go down."

quackity asking to sing the anthem again, him strumming as ghostbur sings (and tubbo and tommy joining in). ghostbur forgetting the second verse because it blew up. quackity remembering it, them stumbling through it. tommys "tubbo? im so so sorry", tubbos quiet "its okay." the four all singing together. tubbo looking at the lava with an ender pearl in his hand, tommy correcting quackity and going "our l'manburg". ghostburs speech about friend, about people not taking him seriously just because he has memory loss.

meanwhile.. phil and techno were laughing. cracking jokes. phil mocks them as he spawns withers on the apiary, going "ohhh noo not the bees!". techno shouts at tommy and shoots at him and tubbo. he kills jack and doesnt even notice that it was one of his lives lost. jacks death itself proves that it doesnt take any particular intent, doesnt have to mean anything to the killer. techno and phil were willing to kill people. it would be foolish of them to act as if there were no risks in the terms of canon lives, especially with phil. phil doesnt take ghostbur seriously, treats his despair as an opportunity to drill in a lesson. the most either of them lost was some of the dogs and used up potions, fireworks, and wither skulls

and then theres dream. dream whose been harming the l'manburgians since the beginning, who had taken tubbo hostage, offered eret a chance to betray them all, who had been the man in tommys walls and offering money to tubbo and jack to try and get them to destroy things, who tried to get tommy to kill tubbos villagers. dream, who took tommys discs over and over, who killed tommy twice in one day, who stopped caring about his friends that loved him and were so so loyal. dream, who helped schlatt and pushed wilbur deeper into his spiral, who even then tried to manipulate tommy.

dream, who helped destroy l'manburg the first and second time, who took advantage of tubbo so he could have a premeditated kidnapping of tommy. dream, who abused tommy, physically, psychologically, emotionally. dream, who degraded tubbo and had taken ranboos memory book (which btw, since ranboos memory loss counts as a mental disability with the memory book as his aid, thats dream taking the thing that aids ranboo in dealing with his disability).

dream, who had been the reason l'manburg was created. dream, who got to destroy l'manburg three times. dream won. and techno and phil dont regret it, dont care.

maybe l'manburg was never meant to be. and sure, it started with stealing and an attempt to monopolize on potions but. that wasnt even l'manburg then, was it? it was just wilbur and tommy having fun. l'manburg came after. after the police hurt them. l'manburg started as a silly little revolution, led by a naïve man who thought he could win wars by saying no. it was a place for a family, a place for them to escape from dream. it was a place to try and escape the harm of those outside the walls. it was meant to be safe, even if those against them made it hard to be. it was made from love. it was meant to be happy. it was a symphony, however unfinished.

so. i don't know. i just feel, bad. they never really won, did they? tragedy after tragedy, death after death, destruction after destruction, betrayal after betrayal, hurt after hurt. and now what's left of them, really? out of the founders, erets doing the best and even shes doing awful, forever trying to make up for what he did. tubbos paranoia led him to developing nukes in a desperate attempt to stay safe, because he was taught to stay quiet and keep his emotions to himself, because his death was "justified", because nukes and walls and weapons are the only way he can feel safe anymore.

tommy went through months of abuse, lost all of his lives and suffered upon coming back, suicidal but unable to bring himself to do it because limbo is worse, feeling lost and like he has no family anymore other than wilbur, who he knows is hurting him but cant bring himself to leave, who loved lmanburg so so dearly and only wanted a home, still doesnt have one (tommy from everywhere, tommy from nowhere at all). niki who loved lmanburg and wilbur so much that it hollowed her out and made her bitter and shes so used to being spoken over that all she can think to do is raise her voice and get pissed, who cant see wilbur as a good person anymore because shes hurt and hasnt truly recovered and she doesnt know how to cope without being angry.

jack manifold feels forgotten, hes lost all his lives and crawled out of hell and no one truly noticed, he doesnt even believe that niki really cares, hes desperate and has made his purpose to be spiteful and angry because he cant deal with the emptiness that comes when he realizes theres no point. fundys desperate to have friends, family, a partner, anyone thatll love him, anyone thatll keep him safe, slowly killing himself with cigarettes and disowned because of giving too little too late, because he was too little too late.

and wilburs lost himself. spiraling, paranoid. a young, naïve man who wanted to fight swords with words, who wanted to impress his father, who wanted a nation of his own to feel safe, who was so effected by erets betrayal that he cant trust anyone but himself, whose possessive nature eats him from the inside out, desperate for control and unable to let go of the only person he knows loves him unconditionally

all because outside forces kept pushing, kept destroying, kept ruining them and hurting them and traumatizing them and taking away their homes and pets and loved ones. and i just. cant feel happy for the ones that hurt them, i cant feel victorius, triumphant, any of that. i just feel bad that the l'manburgians never got to be a family. i know they arent the best people but shit, i love them anyways, love them because theyre flawed and because theyre *people*, people who tried so so hard and got pushed so so much and. fuck, i cant be happy that the people who loved nature and play fought and laughed by campfires and read poetry and re-enacted theatre and loved each other and wanted to *live* (even if they were willing to die, if it meant giving everyone else a chance).. lost. they lost.

canonical years of work down the drain in one day. records of history gone, now only remembered in full by a traumatized teenager who was taught not to talk about his negative emotions, and even he misremembers some parts. they didnt even lose fairly. they had no chance. they couldnt have prepared for withers, for tnt rain, for the hounds. they were poor, weaker than their opponents, sabotaged by one of their own. thats.. tragic.

doomsday was a tragedy. i cant agree that it was deserved. i cant agree that they had it coming, that they deserved to lose homes and pets and limbs and lives and land because they werent the greatest people around.

a small country of less than 10 people (at both creation and destruction) now a giant crater in the ground, remnants of a parisitic egg taking over the land. and it wasnt even lost fairly. three people were stronger than an entire nation, even with all of its allies. two anarchists working with an abusive tyrant. so, no. doomsday wasnt deserved. people dont deserve tragedy. there were better ways, i truly cant be happy that the way chosen was violence. i cant.

l'manburg's citizens deserved better. they really did. the ends dont justify the means. and god, am i fucking tired of "justice". if justice means choosing violence over love and respect and caring about those less strong than you, i dont wanna hear about it. fuck that man, id rather love and be loved than constantly give a shit about making up for hurting others by getting hurt, thats stupid and cruel and i cant see it as okay on a moral level. not when the people that got hurt deserved to be loved and cared about and protected and *talked to* instead of constantly shot down.

of course for the narrative i can enjoy violence and characters getting hurt and i do like how "real" it all is, the despair and dissonance in tone and how terrifyingly messy it all is. out of story perspective- honestly rather cool even if it makes me feel bad. in story perspective- holy fucking shit no that wasnt deserved and god i hope everyone hurt will be able to heal and learn to love and be loved again because thats such a terrifying thing to go through. from a detached pov i can appreciate the insight into everyone involved and i like the plotlines that came from it, but from a compassionate pov i just wish the l'manburgians were allowed to be happy and treated as equals so they didnt have to go through all of this

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heyyyharry · 4 years

Text

Till Death (a Halloween one shot)

…in which Y/N and Harry share a flat but he cannot see her.

Warning: DEATH, MENTAL ILLNESS, MENTION OF SU1C1DE AND SELF-HARM (inexplicit). There's a happy ending tho 😬

Inspired by Tim Burton’s Corpse Bride and this song.

Word count: 3.9k

“Oh, you’re home!” she said as he shut the door and kicked off his shoes. His hair was a mess, his eyes dark and weary. He leaned against the wall and released a long heavy sigh.

“Trouble at work?” she asked. He didn’t answer. He never did. But it was okay. She was used to it.

She watched him trudge toward the couch and slump into it with his head buried in his hands. It was so quiet. It was always quiet here, and most of the time, she enjoyed the silence. After all, it was all she ever knew. But she also liked his laugh and his voice when he talked on the phone. He never talked to her. He was a great listener though, and she liked to talk anyway, so she had nothing to complain about. He never interrupted her, never commented; he only listened.

He rested his head on the couch with an arm over his closed eyes. She sat down beside him, her legs together, her hands on her knees.

“Guess what I did today,” she said.

He let go another long breath.

Silence.

“Alright, alright, I’ll tell ya.” She rolled her eyes, suppressing a grin. “I made a new friend. A bird. I saw him on our balcony this morning. I named him Steve. Can you imagine? A bird named Steve. I think Steve likes me as much as a bird could like someone–”

“Oh, shit!”

She flinched as he jumped to his feet.

“Where are you going?” she asked, slightly worried.

“Shit, I forgot,” he murmured, shoving his fingers into his already unruly hair as he reached for his phone on the coffee table. He sat back down and unlocked the screen. His handsome face was illuminated as he typed something into the chat. She rested her head on his shoulder and stole a glance at the screen, just enough to see who he was texting.

It was that name again.

She’d seen him text this person every day for the last couple of weeks. She didn’t know who they were or what they looked like or if they were male or female. All she knew was that they always got Harry’s full attention.

She thought it’d be rude to read other people’s texts, so she never did even though he would never stop her. Still, it didn’t mean she wasn’t dying to know what they said to each other. She would watch Harry as he talked to the person either on the phone or through texts. And he would always look so happy whenever a notification came and he saw the person’s name.

She bet they talked about more interesting topics, not just birds with human names. That thought alone gave a throbbing feeling in her hollow chest.

Sometimes, when she was with him, she forgot about its absence, which was good, because she wanted to forget.

But whenever she saw his eyes sparkle as he talked to this person, she would remember that there was somebody else out there with that thing in their chest, somebody he could feel and see and hear…

...and love.

Then she would remember what he was, what she was, and what they could never be.

After all, she was dead.

She didn’t remember how long she’d been dead. She only knew that she’d been alone for too long. Time didn’t really matter when you stopped growing older. She was stuck like this. Forever 21, as she would joke to herself. She didn’t know how old Harry was, but he had a job that stressed him out every day, so she assumed he was older than she’d been when she’d died.

She’d been trapped in this flat ever since. She’d watched people move her stuff out and other people move their stuff in. She’d forgotten about her loved ones or if she’d ever had them in the first place. She didn’t have any recollection of the life she’d had. She couldn’t even attend her own funeral. If she’d known that she’d be stuck in the place where she’d died, she would have probably not chosen to die here. She missed being outdoors, seeing new people. She wondered if she’d still be in love with Harry if he weren’t the only person she knew.

Honestly, she had never been in love when she’d been alive. She knew that, because even though the memories ceased to exist, she still would have remembered what being in love had felt like. It was funny, actually. When she’d had a heart, she hadn’t been able to use it, and now that she didn’t, she could feel it every day. Could someone love without having a heart? She didn’t know what love felt like to be sure that this was love, yet she knew that she’d rather spend an eternity with this man than to reincarnate into someone else.

They’d been living together for two years. Before him, there had been an elderly couple and a family of four. They’d been fun and lovely. But Harry was...different.

He was alone like her. She felt a deep connection with him in that way, as it was rare to find a person who appreciated isolation and not let it drive them insane. Almost everyone was terrified of being alone. Harry, however, found comfort in being alone. He always knew how to entertain himself. He read books. He sang in the shower. He cooked dinner for himself. He’d call his family to tell them about his day.

Sometimes, as she watched him talk to his mum and sister, she wished she remembered her own family. Would she still want to be alone if she remembered them? Well, she didn’t want to be alone now that she had him. It scared her sometimes. An attachment was a scary thing when you knew that you’d forever be temporary to the people around you. Like the elderly couple and the family, one day, Harry would leave, and she’d have to get used to new flatmates who would most likely leave again.

But that was for the future. Right now, what they had was enough.

“I’m seeing someone,” Harry said one day.

Y/N didn’t want to eavesdrop, but she was sitting by the window talking to Steve while Harry was on the phone with his sister. It was the first time Y/N heard him say the person’s name. He was smiling the entire time as he talked about her. Y/N loved seeing Harry smile, so it didn’t matter what made him smile. She just wanted to see him happy.

He told his sister that the woman he was seeing was coming over tonight. He seemed excited. Harry had only ever looked this excited except for when his favourite show came on. That was how she knew he loved this woman as much as he loved that show, which was a lot.

“Can I join you guys tonight?” Y/N asked him when he ended the phone call.

He put his phone back down and looked right at her. If she had a heart, it would combust right then and there. But what she didn’t expect was him marching towards her, thrusting his hand right through her chest and shutting the window. Steve flew away. Harry turned and left.

The place where his hand had been burned with its absence, leaving her frozen as she watched the bedroom door fall shut. He couldn’t feel her, but she could feel much more than a dead person was allowed to feel.

Dinner was nice.

And so was the other woman.

It was funny how Y/N would refer to her as ‘the other woman’ when she’d been the one getting all Harry’s attention. She was sweet, blond-haired, great smile. She sat at Y/N’s spot at dinner. Y/N didn’t mind as she wasn’t eating anyway, yet it saddened her that she didn’t get to tell Harry her boring stories; the other woman was doing most of the talking.

Harry listened to her and laughed at her jokes. He never responded to Y/N that way. She’d been fine with it before, but seeing how he interacted with someone else made her want to vanish into thin air.

It was the first time in two years that she’d seen another living person beside Harry, and yet she had never felt lonelier.

After dinner, Harry asked if the woman wanted to spend the night and she said yes, so Y/N retreated to her spot – the bathroom. For some strange reason, she found comfort there. She would just get into the empty tub and lie there until morning.

Before Harry had moved in, she’d stayed in the bathroom at night while the living were asleep. Since Harry, she would usually spend the night outside his room. He’d always sleep with the door open and a lot of pillows. She didn’t want to be intrusive, but she’d heard him crying one night. His stepdad had just passed away and she’d stayed with him to keep him company, even though he hadn’t been aware of her presence.

She’d sat beside him on the bed as he’d cried. She’d told him that dead didn’t mean gone, that his stepdad might still be around, or have gone to heaven to get a new better life.

To be honest, she didn’t know if heaven existed for she didn’t get to leave this place, but maybe heaven only existed for the ones who deserved it. She was too good for hell, not good enough for heaven, so she was still here.

That night, as she was lying in the tub, gazing at the shadows of objects cast on the ceiling, she couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d seen at dinner. A happy Harry. A truly happy Harry.

She’d always wondered what he looked like when someone made him laugh so hard he forgot about everything else, or when he blushed because of the things someone said to him, or when he looked at someone like they were the only person that mattered. Now that she’d seen it, it felt like torture.

She would never make him laugh. She would never get to hear him call her beautiful or tell her jokes just because he wanted to see her smile. He’d never get to know her. That was the worst part. It hadn’t bothered her before, and now it was too late to undo her feelings for him.

She didn’t have a heart, but as she lay her palms on top of her chest and shut her eyes, she could feel it breaking.

Ever since that night, the other woman would come over very often. It had hurt at first, then Y/N learned to get used to it. It didn’t mean it stopped hurting. She’d still feel invisible tears rolling down her cheeks every time they kissed in front of her. She’d spend most of the day avoiding them. It was hard to do so when she couldn’t leave the flat. She’d tried before. She’d tried to follow Harry outside, but the second she stepped through that door, she was back in the tub.

She was imprisoned in her own home where she felt like a guest. She had no one to talk to, and it had never been a problem before but now it was driving her insane.

Sometimes, she even wished that the other woman was dead. It was bad that love made her blind and envy made her cruel. Whenever that malicious thought crossed her mind, though, she’d think about Harry and instantly felt bad about wanting his girlfriend dead. It wasn’t a nice thing to wish onto anyone, especially when Y/N herself knew how overrated death was.

It wasn’t a solution. Just more problems.

And at the end of the day, it shouldn’t matter if she was hurt. After all, she was dead. Dead people couldn’t feel pain. This was just an illusion. Her pain wasn’t real. If Harry lost someone he loved, that would be real. And she’d take all the hurt just to keep him happy. Always.

Tonight, Harry came home alone.

She asked him what was wrong, knowing he wouldn’t answer. He went straight to the couch and buried his face into his hands. She wondered if he’d forgotten to take his pills again. She’d call them his happy pills. He’d been taking them for a couple of months now. He was always so sad and numb without them. Lately, it seemed like he hadn’t been taking them.

“I wish you’d tell me what’s on your mind,” she whispered, resting her head on his shoulder.

Silence sank in. The heaviness in her hollow chest became too much to bear.

Then, his shoulders began to shake.

He started crying.

She’d seen him cry before, but this time she could feel everything he was feeling. And it was even worse for her because she could not do anything about it. When a person cried, they’d feel better afterwards. There was no better for the dead. Just forever numbness. Forever pain. Maybe she hadn’t gone to hell because this was her hell. What had she done to deserve this?

Whatever. This wasn’t about her.

She wished she could wipe away Harry’s tears and tell him things that’d make him feel better. She felt powerless. There was nothing she could do to help.

She sat and watched him cry for what seemed like forever. When he finally stopped, he took out his phone and texted the other woman.

This time, Y/N read.

They’d broken up. The messages didn’t say why. All Y/N knew was that Harry was madly in love with the other woman. He’d sent so many messages asking her to stay, telling her he couldn’t live without her. And she never responded to a single one.

“Harry…” Y/N murmured.

Harry shook his head gently as if he’d heard it. Then, he got to his feet and padded to the bedroom. The door fell shut, leaving Y/N with the uncomfortable silence that could smother her.

She started pacing back and forth outside his bedroom. Her head swam with half-formed regrets. She wished she’d done something to stop him from getting to know the other woman and falling in love with her. But what could she have possibly done? She was dead. She was a ghost, floating around, haunting this place. She couldn’t keep two living people from falling in love. She couldn’t stop the woman from breaking Harry’s heart.

But that was one thing about not having a heart, you’d hurt twice as much trying to protect a heart that wasn’t your own.

Something crashed.

Glass shattered.

The world stilled for a second as Y/N burst into the bedroom.

There he was. Staring right back at her.

But there was also him. On the floor. The real him.

Those weren’t his happy pills.

“Harry!” she screamed and rushed towards the Harry on the floor. His ghost stood there watching in silence as she tried to wake him. She couldn’t touch him. She could only scream and if he’d never listened before, he wasn’t listening now. “Harry, please wake up...Please wake up…”

She lay her palm on his chest. He wasn’t dead. She could still feel his heart beating. His skin pale and his breathing slowed. Half of him was still fighting to live and as long as the other half didn’t overpower him, he might be saved.

“Who are you?” asked the ghost standing beside her.

She looked up. The other Harry was looking right at her, not through her. This one could see her.

“I’m Y/N,” she said, still in shock.

“Y/N,” he echoed.

She’d heard him tell the other woman that he would repeat a person’s name so he wouldn’t forget it. He could hear Y/N, see her and now he knew her name. Her invisible heart swelled for a second, but then she could feel it, the beating of that living thing under his chest. He was still half-alive. But he wouldn’t be for too long.

“You must hold on,” she told his ghost, panting heavily as she started freaking out. “You can’t...you can’t die...you must...I don’t know....get back into your body before it’s too late.”

“I don’t know how, and I don’t want to,” he said, staring at himself, and then at her. She didn’t like the look he was giving her. It was as if she was an exotic animal and he was a curious child going to the zoo for the first time. “Are you a ghost?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, rising to her feet, trying to avoid his gaze. “I-I died here…”

Silence.

“How long have you been here?”

She shook her head. “I don’t remember. When you’re dead, your memories start to fade. Now I don’t remember anything from when I was alive.”

“So there’s no afterlife?” Harry asked, his voice breaking a little. She looked up and saw him staring at his own body with a pained expression that could be regret. “You just...stay here?”

“I don’t know about the other ghosts, but that’s what it is for me,” she said, rubbing her arms.

“Aren’t you lonely?” he asked.

“Well, not really. I’ve got you.”

Her answer seemed to surprise him. He blinked. “But I couldn’t see you or talk to you.”

She raised a soft smile. “But I could see you and talk to you. That was enough.” Harry was giving her an expression she could not interpret, so she hurriedly went on, “Believe me. Death is overrated. You don’t want it.”

“But what if I do? I lost my job and someone I loved. I have struggled every day for the past few months, so why bother?”

“So you think it’s easy for me?” she asked. “I don’t have a heart, yet I still feel things and I can’t cry and the feelings won’t go away. They’ll still be here when everyone else leaves. Dead doesn’t mean gone but it’s the end of second chances. I’ll never get to celebrate my twenty-second birthday. I’ll never get to graduate. I don’t remember my family or if I ever had one. I don’t get to make friends. I don’t...don’t get to be loved…

“And if that doesn’t sound bad to you, just think about all the people you’d leave behind. Your mum, your sister. You won’t remember them but they’ll remember you. And they’ll have to carry the pain of losing you until it happens to them. I didn’t get to see them one last time because...if I tried to leave this flat, I’d just...just keep coming back here. I’d never get to apologise to them for abandoning them. I regret it every single day. And I don’t want it to happen to you.”

The Harry in front of her was quiet for a moment. The Harry on the floor was struggling to breathe.

“If I die,” he spoke, his eyes meeting hers, “you won’t be lonely anymore. Why are you trying to talk me out of it?”

She took a moment to think. Then, “Because I love you.”

His eyes widened as he parted his lips. He didn’t believe it. For the first time, Y/N could see herself in him. She wouldn’t believe it if someone told her they loved her, either. She thought she couldn’t be loved. That was why she’d chosen the easier way out. It wasn’t easy; she knew that now. So she wasn’t going to let him make the same mistake.

“You think no one cares, but I do,” she said, reaching for his hand. She held it, lacing her fingers with his. “So please hold on. If you fully give up, you cannot be saved.”

He looked at himself and then back at her. “Where did you die?”

A pause.

“The bathroom.”

Sadness set over his features. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she said, smiling. “I’ve never been better than I am now.”

“Harry!” shouted a female voice as the front door burst open suddenly and frantic footsteps rushed into the room.

The moment Harry saw the woman he loved, hope lit up his entire face. The woman screamed as she collapsed by his body and pulled out her phone to call an ambulance. She kissed his face and told him how much she loved him, that she was sorry, that she’d take back all the things she’d said, that she wanted to spend many more years with him.

Y/N felt herself losing grip of the other Harry. He started to fade. She tried to hold onto him, but it was no use.

And before he was completely gone, he smiled at her and said, “Thank you.” And she thanked him, too. For seeing her. And not giving up.

Harry didn’t remember anything when he came back from the hospital. He got back together with his girlfriend, who finally moved in with him. They lasted for two years and their relationship ended on good terms. After that, Harry, now with the job that he loved, started seeing other people and stopped taking his happy pills. He’d got better. He was happy all the time. He didn’t remember his conversation with Y/N, but sometimes she’d catch him staring at the bathtub. She’d pretend that he could see her and she’d smile and wave. Maybe he could, but he didn’t want to freak her out. Who knew?

He moved out of the flat after a few more years. The last night he was there, she’d lay on the floor beside his bed as he slept.

The ones after him were fun. Y/N liked meeting new people. One couple even had a pet and she finally had someone to talk to. Still, sometimes she would think about Harry and wondered what he might be doing now.

One night, while lying in the tub, she discovered a tiny word someone had written on the bathroom wall.

Hello.

She’d been here long enough to know that it hadn’t always been there. She recognised that handwriting. Though she wished she’d found it sooner, it made her happy as she traced her fingers over it and imagined him thinking of her.

Y/N didn’t know how much time had passed.

But Harry did return.

When he came in, she almost didn’t recognise him. He was an old man in a wheelchair. She’d overheard him talking to his caretaker that he wanted to spend his last days in this flat. He stayed in bed for that whole first week and she’d lie beside his bed and talk to him each night.

He died of old age.

One night, he went to the bathroom and lay down in the tub and fell asleep and never woke up.

She stood in the doorway, watching him.

Then, she felt a tap on her shoulder. When she turned, she saw the same Harry who was young and handsome and wearing the same clothes as the day he’d first seen her.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hi,” she said.

Apparently, when you died, you got to choose the age you wanted to be. She’d chosen to be twenty-one, the age she’d died. Harry had chosen to be twenty-four, the age he’d met the ghost girl who had saved his life.

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles one shots #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfics #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #alliengn

734 notes · View notes

parkers-gal · 4 years

Note

OMG!!! for angst you should do one where Harry finally gets a girl and everyone’s used to choosing tom over him and the reader is just naturally close to tom and he accuses her of cheating on him w T and it’s really angsty

requests are open

wc: 1.8k

—

It was a force of habit. Everybody knew, but nobody mentioned. Nobody knew the full extent of it, nobody cared to ask how much it bothered him. In hindsight, it probably isn't even that obvious. Not unless you open your eyes, not unless somebody confides in you, plants the idea in your head so you can’t see it differently

You had been going out with Harry for a good two months by the time you’d finally met the rest of his family. You and Tom had met previously before, having been introduced and together for only a day before both of your jobs drove you in opposite directions. When you rejoiced, you were naturally close, reconnecting that bond that was cut off too shortly.

Harry didn’t mind at first. He liked that you got along with his family. It made him happy to know you fit so well into his lifestyle. But it wasn’t until people started whispering around, joking that they always thought you and Tom would end up together. It was all fun and games, you knew that, of course. You’d never thought of Tom that way, despite everyone forcing the idea onto you. It was a mutual agreement, that the two of you would never cause problems between your relationship with Harry. And that your relationship with Harry would never splinter your friendship with Tom.

It was just after a dinner with Harry’s family. You were talking with Tom while Harry talked to Sam, when somebody made another joke about how you should be with Tom instead. You laughed it off, as you always did, but Harry couldn’t do the same. He excused himself as Nikki brought a few dishes out. You noticed his hostile and closed off walk, so you, too, excused yourself before following him out of the dining room and all the way upstairs to where he’d hid off to.

You knocked with the knuckles of your right hand. “Har?” The door creaked open as you nudged it slightly, stepping into the room. “You okay?” He grumbled something inaudible and you stepped closer. “What was that?”

“I said no, I’m not.” “What’s wrong, hun?” You carefully sat yourself next to him, naturally leaning into his side.

“It seems like everyone just thinks you’re dating my brother! I mean, at this point, I’m starting to wonder if there’s something else going on.” You back track, sitting up and separating from his side with furrowed brows. “What?” He didn’t answer, merely turning to look the other way, leaning his elbows on his knees as he sighed. “Harry you know that’s not true.”

“Do I?” He’s angry, and you finally notice just how much.

“Harry… you know we’re just friends. We’ve always been this close.”

“Yeah well maybe you’re too close.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not like that with anyone else.” “I’m like that with everyone else! Everyone except you.” You huff, defending yourself but keeping your voice calm.

“What makes me so damn different, then, huh?”

“You’re my boyfriend, Harry! Of course you’re different!”

“Yeah well I can’t see the difference between how you treat boyfriends and how you treat best friends, anymore.”

“What?” You sit back a bit, shock running through your veins at his confession.

“Really, though! It’s a bit fishy, if you ask me.” He’s still speaking sternly, angrily. He’s frustrated, but now so are you.

“I hope you’re not suggesting what I think you are, Harry.” You’re just as angry now. You’re warning him, hoping he won’t jump off that ledge into the irreversible.

“I think you know exactly what I’m suggesting.” He takes the leap.

“You know I’m not that kind of person. You know your brother, Harry. He’d never do something like that to you.” You’re trying to reach an empathetic approach, not quite ready to burst unless he’s absolute about this.

“No but I know that everyone else is.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” “That means everyone else chooses my brother over me. I’m used to it.”

“You’re not implying that I’m one of those people, are you?” You gaze into his eyes, tongue clicking against the roof of your mouth. He swallows thickly.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. I’m not angry if you are with him. I just wish you’d told me before cheating.”

“What the fuck, Harry,” You mutter it, exhaling angrily. “I’m not cheating!”

“I’m telling you I’m not angry that you are!”

“If you weren’t angry, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“So you admit you’re cheating on me? That I should be angry?”

“Fuck you, Harry.” You jab a finger in his direction. “You know that’s not what I said or what I meant.”

“I mean, you don’t even need to say it.” He chuckles bitterly.

“What does that mean?” You’re raising your voice, anger thickening the tension in the room.

“I mean, take one look at you and Tom together in a room and you already look like you’re in love.”

“Fuck that, Harry. He’s my friend. I’m allowed to have friends, y’know.”

“I never said otherwise!”

“What are you even on, right now?” You stand angrily, looking at him. He looks at you with a mirrored expression.

“I’m just asking for the truth, here!”

“No, you’re jealous.” He swallows, nostrils flaring. You know you’ve hit a weak spot, a sensitive area. He’s angry as ever, now. He stands. “Harry, I’m s-”

“You’re in love with someone else.”

Tears fall from your eyes as you try to compose yourself. You’re just as angry. You’ve taken the blow, fired your own canons. You’re not sure how much longer you can battle in the field.

“Fuck you, Harry.”

“No, fuck you!”

“You’re jealous and have the audacity to say I’m ‘in love with someone else!’” You spit out your words bitterly.

“I’m not fucking jealous! I’m fucking hurt! You’re cheating!”

You scoff, rolling your eyes at the pettiness of the argument. You know there's a reason behind his unreasonableness, but he doesn’t have the right to hurt you with his words.

He’s blinded by anger, though. He doesn’t have boundaries when something takes what he loves. He’s hurt, obviously, but he was too insecure to truly confide in the real reason for his distress. Now he’s angered the both of you, now he’s crumbled the foundation. He’s pulled the relationship apart at the seams, breaking the promise and splintering one relationship after another. He knows, in some way, though, that he’s right. He knows because if he weren’t then he wouldn’t be as hurt as he is.

“You’re a fucking child, Harry.” You cross your arms, grabbing your bag that was sitting on the chair in the corner. “Find me when you grow the fuck up.” You open the door of the bedroom, slamming it and marching down the stairs angrily.

You’ve caught the attention of the rest of his family. The two of you were up there for a good twenty minutes; you’d left Tom wondering what was happening and if things were okay. He could see now that things weren’t. He could also see that you were crying and he moved over to comfort you but you shoved him off, declining his embrace, knowing it would only make you feel worse because of what Harry had said.

You put your free hand up, gesturing for him to stop and back off. You’re gripping your bag tightly as you pull out your keys. You hold yourself back from slamming the front door, knowing you didn’t want to make an entire scene at Nikki’s house.

They watch from the doorway. They watch you slam your car door, burst into tears once you start the car. They watch as you drive off. The minute your car is out of view, Tom marches upstairs, ready to get to the bottom of what happened and why you’re so hurt. He doesn’t bother knocking on Harry’s door.

“What the fuck, man?” Harry exasperates, looking to his brother with wild eyes.

“I should be asking you that,” He slams the door. “What did you do to Y/N?” Harry scoffs, rolling his eyes in irritation. “Of course that’s why you’re here.”

“I’m here because she just ran out crying and I deserve to know why!” “You don’t deserve anything from me, Tom.” Harry spits out. They’re yelling at each other. He wishes things were different.

“Fuck that, Harry. You know I’m her best friend. I deserve to know.”

“Why are you her best friend?” He screams out. Tom goes quiet at the question, wanting to hear more, wanting to understand where he was coming from. “My entire life, I spent in your shadow. I had to normalize girls automatically wanting you more than me. An-and the minute I get something that’s finally mine- some thing that actually wanted me for once, you question why I’m angry about her also wanting you? No, fuck you, Tom.” His words are clear and crisp and his eyes are drowning in salty tears. He wants to swallow his feelings, push them away and blink his tears gone. But he can’t. “I thought finding someone was about falling in love and growing into soulmates or some shit. That’s all she ever talked about when we first started dating! It was always ‘best friends to lovers makes for the best couple’ and ‘falling in love with your best friend is the best thing in the world.’ And at first, I actually had the nerve to think she was talking about me. But now I know I’m just her boyfriend- I’m not her best friend, because that position is already filled.”

He eyes Tom up and down as his face loses its tense expression. He struggles to get a breath, gasping as more tears come out. Tom is silent and Harry assumes the conversation is over. He shoves past Tom, knocking into his shoulder as he runs out, slamming the door and trapping himself into the bathroom. He can barely breathe, barely see clearly through the waterworks.

Tom realizes why Harry lashed out, why he grew insecure. But he can’t place who’s in the wrong, who should make the first move and apologize first. He also realizes Harry is so upset about this because he loves you so much. He’d never seen his brother feel so strongly for someone. He realizes he might’ve taken that away from him.

And suddenly, he realizes neither of you are in the wrong. You’re both right in your own ways. He realizes he’s been in the wrong this whole time. He realizes he’s making this love story about himself. He’s torn his beloved brother up, questioned what was supposed to be set in stone.

Maybe Harry was right; maybe he didn’t deserve anything from Harry. Maybe Harry was the one who deserved the explanation.

Why did you get what’s his?

#harry holland #harry holland x reader #harry holland x you #harry holland angst #harry holland fluff #harry holland fic #harry holland imagine #harry holland fanfic #tom holland x reader #jealous!harry #tom holland fic #tom holland angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland oneshot

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justcourttee · 4 years

Note

could you do one where dami and mari are dating but they havent told the waynes yet and they keep seeing hints of their relationship (like clothes around the place, dami talking to on the phone and smiling, stuff like that) but they cant figure out whats happening!!!! the ice prince is softening and theyre like wtf!!!

I’m sorry, it’s a little different. I got carried away! I hope you still like it!

Tim is Like a Genius or Something..

It was official. Tim had lost it.

At least that was the sentiment the family shared as they watched him tumble down the rabbit hole that he had sprawled out across the dining room table.

“-and then he smiled at me. At me! That has never happened before, at least not a genuine one.” He paused to catch his breath, allowing his theory to sink in.

“Timmy, don’t you think you’re giving the boy too much credit?” Jason was the only one able to voice what they all were thinking, at least the one with the best chance of not getting their head torn off. “I mean, he has trouble communicating with his own gender and now you’re telling me he’s been able to woo his female lab partner?”

Tim slammed his hands on the table in frustration before sinking back into the chair he had started in. For weeks now he had been gathering evidence of his brother’s oddities and for weeks he had been haunted by a softer and friendlier Damian.

“Think about it guys, please!”

His pleads seemed to fall on deaf ears as one by one they left the table, each offering their own look of sympathy until he was the only one in the room. It wasn’t long until he himself had given up, collecting his pictures from the table, tearing them in half one by one.

Maybe Dick was right. His hallucinations were getting the better of him. After all, even if Damian was changing, it couldn’t be because of one girl, right?

Absolutely nobody in the world could wield enough power to reign in a demon such as him. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Tim had survived another week of hallucinations. He had tried sleeping more, laying off his coffee, and even cutting his hours back from Wayne Enterprises. But as he sat in the kitchen, going through his emails, his mind remained drowning in thoughts of his replacement.

“Timmy, do you know who this jacket belongs to? The ladies say it’s not theirs and if it’s one of Brucie’s night friends, I bet it’s worth thousands.”

Tim spared a glance from his laptop to where Jason stood in front of him, his fist clenched around a small black pullover. He had half the mind to wave him off when something pink flashed from the corner of his eye.

“Jason, let me see the jacket.”

Jason tossed it, his face cautious as if Tim were about to dart with his next paycheck, but it was the furthest thought in the younger Wayne’s mind.

“The girl that Damian is always bringing over, it belongs to her. His lab partner.”

“You mean Marinette? Damn, then I probably won’t make much off of it. Guess I’ll probably give it back next time I see her.”

Tim waited, his face showcasing the perplexion he felt as Jason seemed to walk away thoughtlessly. How he could come to the same conclusion that he did? How? It felt like it was so obvious.

“No.” His voice was firm, barely above a whisper as he shook off the thought, returning to his laptop. He agreed that he would drop it and that’s what he was going to do. “Marinette was just a nice girl trying to help out Damian and he probably views as some intriguing toy, yeah, that’s all.”

Besides, it was just one jacket and why would he want to damn the girl over one jacket.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . He should have damned her. That was the only thought that plagued his mind as he listened to the conversation at breakfast.

“Did you guys know that the Demon uses his phone during patrol?”

Bruce looked up from his paper, his face a mixture of disappointment and interest.

“Can you elaborate Dick? What do you mean by uses his phone?”

“Exactly that! We took a break on a roof in our sector and right as I was about to turn around to ask him where we should check next, he was answering a phone call! We sat on that roof for an hour because he said ‘he couldn’t hang up yet’.”

Tim nearly choked on his coffee as he slammed his mug into the table earning a glance from both the men.

“Richard, who was calling him?”

“Hmm? You know, I tried asking him but he waved me off instead.”

“You mean he didn’t try to tear your head off?” Tim watched in horror as Dick shook his head in denial, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Maybe he finally has a friend other than Jon!”

Bruce nodded as if the notion weren’t completely insane, his eyes returning the newspaper in his hands. Dick smiled, returning to his crossword as if there was nothing wrong with the world as if he didn’t drop the largest bombshell in history.

“This is so wrong, why can’t any of you see how wrong this is?”

Neither spared him a glance as they continued their morning routines with thoughtless giddy expressions.

At this point, Tim wasn’t sure he could drop it anymore. There was so much evidence piling up, so much pointing that Damian obviously liked the girl at least. Why was he the only one who could see that?

It was decided. The next time Marinette came over, he was confronting this once and for all.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Tim waited and waited. Weeks passed between her last visit to the manor. Damian had left several times and random hours of the day, always giving him vague answers as to where he was going. It was as if the little demon read his mind and decided it was safer to meet her outside the manor.

He was so close to giving up when a truly diabolical thought crossed his mind. His smile was sinister as he approached Bruce’s office, his plan foolproof. He gave a slight knock on the door, two voices asking him to enter.

“Hey Bruce, Dick. I was just thinking the other day, we haven’t seen Marinette around lately. You both know that Damian is terrible at keeping up with his acquaintances. Maybe we should invite her for dinner one night! I mean, we all adore her, right? She is such a good influence for Damian too.”

It was like clockwork. Both Dick and Bruce jumped on the opportunity each pulling out their phones to let both kids know the details of when this dinner party would occur. As Tim left out the room, he couldn’t help the hysterical giggle that escaped from his lips. For good measure, he made sure to linger by Damian’s room, awaiting the reaction he was longing to hear. Surely enough, a soft ‘shit’ could be heard followed by heavy footsteps echoing as if he was pacing his room. It was the best sound Tim had heard in weeks.

Three agonizing days passed before Tim found himself waiting at the manor door to welcome Marinette into the manor. Damian had volunteered to bring her to the dining room himself, but Tim argued that it would be rude if not a single one of them were also there to greet her. In the end, Tim and Dick were volunteered to accompany one angry demon to see Marinette to the dining hall.

“Thank you so much for having me! I was surprised when I received a call from not just Damian, but you too Dick. I was under the impression that Damian hadn’t said anything yet.”

Damian’s face paled as his eyes darted to Dick’s as if Marinette said something damning. Tim caught onto immediately, his eyes also watching Dick’s face for any indication that he had realized the weight in her statement.

“Said anything? You mean about your friendship? Well, it’s impossible to pry anything from him, but we couldn’t let him keep you all to himself!”

In all of his blissful ignorance, he turned on his heel, dragging Marinette with him, chatting idly about whatever came to mind. Damian raced after him, his face a mixture of panic and hatred. It was a sight that warmed Tim to his core.

All dinner he watched as Damian stirred the conversation off Marinette only for someone to inevitably bring it right back. He relished in Damian nearly pulling his own hair out to ensure no one asked the question that Tim had been pressing for weeks now.

As the night drew to an end, Damian couldn’t rush her out of the manor fast enough. The doors slammed shut with a loud thud ricocheting through everyone’s ears.

“So, we’re in agreeance right?”

Tim turned his attention to where Jason leaned against the entryway, his lazy smirk building hope in the younger boy’s chest.

“Very much. They are definitely courting, or what is the phrase you call it now? Dating? Hangin’?” Bruce chuckled at his own joke before his gaze dropped to meet Tim’s. “It looks like we owe you an apology.”

Words never sounded more beautiful to Tim, he honestly felt like he might shed a tear. A heavy weight caused him to stumble as Dick threw himself onto Tim’s back.

“Tim is like a genius or something, right guys? I mean who would have ever guessed that Damian had a girlfriend! Hey, do you think they’ll get married? Does that mean at this point Damian is your best chance at getting grandkids?”

Tim dealt with the picking and jokes and the onslaught of fake apologies as they remained crowded in the entrance, waiting for Damian’s return. To him, none of it mattered as much as seeing his replacement’s face the minute they walked through the door.

After all, it was a large reward for a small price to pay. It all comes with being a genius.

Permanent Tag List:

@ash-amg @rebecarojas07 @heaven428 @long-lost-peace @thequeenofpotatoeunicornss @moongoddesskiana @nach0ava @iamablinkmarvelarmy @seraphkitty @clumsy-owl-4178 @pawsitivelymiraculous @mialuvscats @leagrey @smolplantmum @animegirlweeb @glitterflowercat @ladybug-182 @maskedpainter @remy-289 @redbullgivescaswings

#maribat #daminette

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peter-parcoeur · 4 years

Text

Good girl gone bad | (frat!tom)

request: How about frat cocky Tom at a Christmas party, wearing something that shows off his muscles, and he keeps flirting with y/n, who hates him. Throughout the night, he slowly wins her over, and once he has her in the palm of his hand, he makes her compliment him and then worship his muscles and then get on her knees and suck on him through his boxer briefs and then finally he f*cks her face and he's dirty talking and boasting all the way through :)

disclaimer: Hiii, so this was a request (sadly anonymous but if you’re out there reading this, I hope you enjoy and this lives up to your expectations...) this is my first attempt at fratboy!tom so I apologize in advance if that’s not exactly what you expected from it or whatever. Also I’m french so, some unfortunate spelling mistakes may occur and for this I apologize too! (damn I do really know how to sell myself, don’t I?) Anyway, enjoy your reading and please give it a ♥ if you liked it and a comment if you either really liked or hated it. Annnnd I’m talking too much.

warnings: smut smut smutty smut is to be expected, obviously. includes: brat!tom, braggy!tom, boasting!tom and some serious potty mouth / enemies to lovers (well, more like enemies to fuckbuddies idk) / oral-sex / face-fuck / dirtyDIRTY talk/ fingering / brief mentions of self luuuuvin (that’s masturbation, for you) / dom!tom + sub!reader / I guess a little bit of humiliation and praise kink idk if that’s triggering so just in case... / roughness... I guess that’s it? probably enough already.

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« Come on, it’ll be fun! God knows you could really use some fun… » your friend’s voice almost begged over the phone as you safely locked it between your cheek and your shoulder to open the door to your dorm room, your keyrings grazing the piece of metal surrounding the lock with a soft, clicking noise.

“Yeah cause hanging out with complete morons as they get shit-faced on cheap vodka is totally my idea of a good night...”

“ Urghhhh, Y/N please, are you really gonna be a Grinch about it?”

“ Well, it’s a Christmas party so I guess that’s convenient?”

You could tell your friend was getting frustrated by now, the slight change of tone in her voice making her sound desperate. Kicking off your shoes and dropping your books above the mess on your desk, you immediately crashed onto your bed with a loud, exhausted groan as this never-ending day had managed to push every single one of your buttons. You felt completely drained and yet, your best-friend wanted you to join her to some frat-house where, apparently, the “most incredible” Christmas party was about to be held? Uh-uh. No way. Your actual plan for a Friday night (= eating take-out food in front of some true crime documentary on Netflix) seemed much more appealing than the effort your friend seemed to require from you.

“You’re really gonna bail on me? What if something happens to me?”

“Now this is guilt pressure and you’re so much better than this! “ You laughed, “plus… I know you wanna go just so you can make out with Harrison… You really don’t need me for this and truth be told, I really don’t need to see that guy shove his tongue down your throat!”

“Maybe YOU need someone to shove his tongue down your throat “

“I’ll pass, thanks “

“Come on, how long has it been since you’ve got laid? “

“That’s… way beside the point?””

Still, you thought about it.

How long has it been, really?

Well. As far as you could remember, there were a couple (disastrous) tinder dates at the beginning of the semester. Nothing major even though the sex was still okay. Then you had decided to delete the app so you could focus on your studies, thinking that, eventually, life would grant you with an actual IRL, cute boy who could actually work a little harder to get into your pants whereas it had taken a single swipe on a screen for the previous contestants.

But for now, as the semester had come to an end and Christmas break was around the corner, it only occurred to you just how busy you had been, studying all night long and running on fumes and gallons of coffee. Maybe your friend was right. Maybe you truly needed to blow off some steam. Sometimes you wished you were more like her, carefree and less picky when it came to boys and random flings. Like her current crush, Harrison.

Harrison was a typical heartthrob with the face of a Greek God, so it was only natural for him to act like a brat and play with girls as he wished. With his piercing blue eyes and dreamy smile, girls could only wish he would look at them twice. But still, he wasn’t the worst part of Team Jackass, as you liked to call them. Their captain was actually Tom Holland. Football Quarterback, Tom collected girls’ hearts like trophies and held his pride within his questionable reputation. Party animal, heavy drinker and confirmed exhibitionist since he’d been caught fucking a cheerleader in the middle of the football field right after a game, his name was on everyone’s lips, whether they whispered gossips down the faculty’s corridor or muffled into a pillow as he dived into another naïve, besotted girl with the promise of an encore. To this day, all of the girls he had laid his eyes on were still waiting for a call-back.

You pulled a disgusted face at the thought of witnessing his little hunting game one more time. Tom was actually one of the main reasons why you usually skipped any frat party now. There were just so much time you could waste, sipping on some funky tasting “home-made” punch as “Football superstar” Tom Holland bragged about his athletic skills or how many girls he had fucked over the last couple days. Sometimes, it felt like a competition between him and his brain-dead friends. Somehow, you just knew he kept score of his one-night stands. Maybe he’d give you five stars for trying anal, a deep throat would give you another six and god forbid if you flattered his enormous, gigantic cock, well then, by all means, the throne would be yours. There was just something about him that screamed and irradiated praise kink.

“Y/N? Have I lost you?”

Your friend’s voice brought you back to reality as you seemed to have blacked out for a while.

Then, out of nowhere and unexpectedly, the words came out of your mouth.

“What time is the party then?”

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For every party, there’s a dress code.

Surely, a “Christmas” party just couldn’t be, without a fair splash of colorful jumpers or any subtle hints at Santa Clause as an excuse for a last-minute theme. Still, standing in front of what could only be Wednesday Addams’ wardrobe, you were suddenly hit by your lack of interest for any piece of clothes that wasn’t a shade between black and white. Was beige even a color anyway?

For a brief second, you considered wearing your infamous Christmas onesie, basically a fluffy one piece with a zipper, an oversized hood and covered with snowflakes and candy canes. The jokes would never end but no one could blame you for being ‘off theme’, then.

In the end, you settled for a rare “colorful” top which, luckily, happened to be whatever shade of green Christmas trees actually were. It was also skin tight and you knew for a fact it made your chest looks twice its size because of the way the velvet fabric enhanced your waistline. It was nowhere near provocative with its long sleeves and turtle-neck so you figured you could be a little bit more risky with the bottom part of your outfit, grabbing the black mini-skirt you’d bought a week before on a splurge, even though you didn’t know if you’d ever find the confidence to pull it off. It was short, there was no denying that as you turned around in the shop’s fitting room to catch a glimpse at your backside, knowing your whole ass would be exposed if you ever dared to bend down even so slightly.

Still, you felt sexy in it and as a girl who happily traded a sexy dress for yoga pants and an oversized hoodie, any piece of clothes that made you feel good about yourself was an instant buy.

Looking down at your final outfit as it laid down on your bed, a pair of nice ankle boots at the bottom of it, you patted yourself on the back for making the extra effort and walked to the bathroom for a well-deserved boiling shower. Staring at your reflection in the mirror above the sink, you sighed to yourself as the aftermath of a sleep deprived week and lack of skin care routine or basic maintenance whatsoever hit you like a truck on the highway. Your hair had been wrapped into the same messy bun for days and it would definitely take some professional skills to cover up the bags under your eyes.

Maybe this party was the wake-up call you needed, the equivalent of a Judging look from your mother every time you visited her after a while. You could almost hear her complain about how unhealthy you looked and how you should wear more “flattering” clothes. Ironically, you also knew she would never approve the skirt you intended to wear that night. You remembered just too well that frown she’d given you at your father’s 60th birthday and how you had to gulp an entire bottle of red wine to forget about the fact the woman who gave birth to you had called you a prostitute for wearing a dress above the knees. Sometimes it’d be like that. Family gathering were like a plague, somehow, you just couldn’t escape it and it would either scar you for life or make you wish you were dead.

As you entered the cubicle, the coldness of the tiles hit you, covering your skin with goosebumps and sending shivers down your spine. It took you a couple minutes to adjust as you waited for the water to turn hot enough to coat the mirror with a thick foggy layer. Only then did you relax, letting go of this week’s emotionally charged weight upon your shoulders and focusing on yourself, at last.

It was a fairly long shower as you decided to go through your entire haircare routine instead of a brief, one minute shampoo. Not to mention the fact you also had to shave entirely as it felt like it would be a good way to get rid of this nightmare of a semester, like stepping out of your old skin and into a new one. Usually, body hair was probably too far down the list of your preoccupations to even be noticed but you figured, as you felt surprisingly motivated, now was the right time to make your body smooth as a baby. You actually loved the feeling of a soft, freshly shaved skin.

As you rinsed off the soap, your hands fondling the body parts water failed to reach, your mind unexpectedly wandered through some steamy thoughts as soon as your fingertips grazed your slit, taking some shy dip between your folds. It was no surprise that a simple, barely there stroke would instantly strike your arousal, after all, it had been a while. You shamelessly admitted that your studies had taken over your life, up to the point you’d even find yourself too exhausted for some self-love. Somewhere in your chest of drawers, the small collection of adult toys you owned were probably collecting dust in the middle of your socks and panties, wondering when they’d get to take a swim and make you squirm into your sheets as you hold on to the headboard, biting your lip until it turns white so you don’t scream through climax.

What struck you the most was the fact TomfuckingHolland came to your mind the very second your middle finger met your clit, circling it softly as you felt electricity spark through your legs, making it jolt. Why the hell was his stupid smug splattered all over your unspeakable thoughts when he was, by far, the last man on Earth you’d let come close to your naked self? Let alone in a shower cubicle the size of a shoe-box where you’d have no space whatsoever to escape his heavy, muscular chest.

His body looked ridiculously built for a man with the face of a 13 year-old. Sometimes you’d catch him randomly flex throughout the day, showing off his enormous biceps to anyone willing to praise his impeccable shape. There would be no room for these guns in there, you thought as a brief image of these massive arms shielding you from both side, fists tight against the tiles, came immediately to your mind. What took you by surprise wasn’t to actually picture Tom standing in there with you, naked and definitely willing to make that room a lot steamier, but the fact you slipped a finger into your surprisingly dripping core as soon as you imagined him stepping closer so your bare, sticky chests would meet, his obvious arousal poking at your inner thigh, begging to make an entrance.

You stopped before you inevitably came, even though your body craved for that well-deserved relief. You may have been hornier than you thought, but not nearly horny enough to hand your first orgasm in months on a silver plate to a boy who probably stroked himself in front of a mirror on a daily basis. Your thighs squeezed together where your fingers had left a desperate void, rinsing your entire body with a much colder water, hoping it would bring your sanity back.

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You looked incredible.

It wasn’t just you boosting your ego through a pep talk in front of your mirror back in your dorm this time, and even if you loved to give yourself an encouraging speech, praising whatever features you thought made the cut in the top three of your best assets as you gathered the strength to go out in public in an outfit pretty far from your comfort zone, nothing could ever beat the look people gave you as you walked into the frat house looking like a three courses meal. There was just something about that short time slot where you caught a gaze and knew what that look was all about.

You knew Liza, the head student with a soft spot for athletes so obvious she probably had the entire football team’s handprints tattooed on her skin, just hated to see you get the attention she usually caught. Athletes loved nerdy, smart-ass girls like her, but to her own despair, you actually happened to be one of those, only with a shorter skirt and thicker thighs.

You knew half of Team Jackass was already staring at you, wishing they’d catch a glimpse of whatever you had to offer underneath that impeccable outfit as the soft fabric of your skirt kept rising up, every step bringing you closer to an unfortunate peek at the plain, white cotton undies you had chosen to wear that night.

But above anything, you could most definitely feel someone’s gaze upon you, burning up your skin like lasers trying to scan through your clothes. Suddenly, you felt exposed and with a simple smirk, Tom-Holland came out, strong as ever, just so he could pop out the comforting bubble you had built around you. Of course, he had chosen to wear the tightest white tee-shirt so everyone could distinctively see each of his six, rock-hard abs. Of course, his sleeves were slightly rolled up to enhance his biceps and if you weren’t familiar with his despicable behavior, seeing him flex just so he could kiss the pumped-up mount irrupting from his upper arm like a fresh batch of popcorn on a stove, you could have barfed immediately at the disgusting sight of a man with an ego the size of a fucking comet.

For now, you simply rolled your eyes all the way to the back of your head and watched as he smiled cockily, his hand reaching out for a redhead girl’s cheek even though his eyes were most definitely undressing you from afar. You could tell the girl had dressed to impress as she was tightly wrapped into the just-slutty-enough version of Santa’s outfit. Basically a velvet red dress with a fluffy white strap on top of her bustier. The way she laughed and twirled her long curly strand of hair as she gazed lovingly at Tom was enough for you to know she would soon join the never-ending list of names on his score board.

Shaking your head at how easy it seemed for him to get laid within the first hour of a party, you made your way to the kitchen where the alcohol seemed to be. As expected, most students were already sipping at some questionable cocktail right from the bowl with a straw and since you didn’t feel like going straight for the strong stuff, you settled for a beer, fiddling with the bottle cap for a solid minute before you heard a voice coming from behind your back.

“Need some hand with that, sweetheart?”

The cocky tone and thick accent immediately sent you off as a long, single shiver ran down your spine from the disgusting thoughts it brought along. It had come to the point you couldn’t even stand his stupid voice.

“I’m fine, thanks” you lied, your first still tightly gripped on your sealed beverage.

“You look like you could use some strength…”

Of course, he had to bring up his impressive, spectacular strength within seconds. Maybe he expected you to slow clap, bow down or throw confetti’s all over him for being strong enough to open a beer bottle. What on Earth would you do without his strong, manly hands?

Grinding your teeth as your tongue clicked against your palate out of pure annoyance, you gave him the most unimpressed look as he grabbed the bottle from your hand, popping out the cap hard enough to make it fly off and hit the table with a soft, metallic thump. Smirking to himself, Tom handed you the bottle back, tilting his head as he obviously expected some enthusiastic reaction.

“Do you want a medal or something?”

“A simple ‘thank you’ would be a good start? “He mocked, raising his eyebrows in a way that made your consider throwing the entire bottle at his face to wash away his stupid cockiness.

“Thanks” you simply blurted out, raising your beer slightly before walking away as you took a couple sips. It wasn’t even that cold or remotely good.

Tom watched as you walked away in silence, his eyes inevitably drawn to the way your hips and that glorious ass of yours seemed to wiggle into that daunting skirt. Grazing his thumb over his bottom lip with a smirk, the eager flame in his eyes made his will to take you to a quiet place grow bigger with each step you took.

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The music was getting considerably louder as people were now dancing all over the place, from the staircase to whatever was left of furniture after too many parties hosted in this house. The constant buzzing sound of chit-chats and laughter was slowly making your head spin as you gulped on your third (or was it the fourth?) Shot of tequila. As expected, Y/BFF/N had wasted no time as she was already clinging to Harrison’s neck, feasting on his mouth like an open buffet. His hands were on her bum, holding on to it for dear life with a strong grip. At least, she was having fun.

Out of boredom and to your own surprise, you had agreed on doing shots with a couple people you knew from class. Not technically what you’d call reliable friends but you always bumped into them at parties where you’d basically chat, and drink. From afar, you could see some people had gathered around a table where Team Jackass had started the inevitable beer pong contest. Nibbling at a piece of lime, hoping it would wash away the burning haze of the tequila, you winced at the sourness as your eyes suddenly locked with Tom’s. He was now holding his arms up on both side, raising one fist through the air as he had clearly won that first round. There was something pathetic about a man in his twenties begging for attention and acting like he was about to claim the gold medal at the Olympics when all he did was throw a feather-weighted plastic ball into a red cup.

All the alcohol in the world would never get you drunk enough to tolerate this guy.

Sometimes, you couldn’t help but think it was a shame to see him act so pitiful when he face was actually okay. Well. He was definitely cute as long as his mouth was shut and his stupid, pretentious smug out of the way. With his soft, chocolate brown eyes, his tousled eyebrows and thin pink lips, he could’ve been a guy you’d be interested in. His brown hair was somehow, always tucked into a snapback or a beanie but you had caught a glimpse of his natural curls once and though it killed you on the inside to admit it, he did look great when he didn’t try too hard to be a complete asshole.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t see him walk towards you.

“We’re doing shots now? “

“Impressive” you frowned, “did you figure it out all by yourself?” you chuckled, swallowing what’s left of lime, basically pulp, in one soft gulp.

“You like to act all smart ass around me, don’t you?”

“Correction: I am, in fact, smart… Not that it’s something you’re familiar with so, pardon me if it’s all too confusing for you… “

“Are you calling me dumb, then?” he was frowning now, his enormous self-centered head deflating under the unexpected pressure of your witty come-back.

“Did you hear the word ‘dumb’ coming out of my mouth?”

“No – but I sure know what I would like to see come in that sweet mouth of yours, darling”

The fact he had the nerves to say that kind of stuff right to your face was enough to piss you off but what caught you off guard was his hand reaching for your face as his thumb delicately grazed your bottom lip, pulling at it just enough for you to taste his fingertip.

“Surely, lime isn’t the only thing you like to suck on?” he smiled, cocky as ever as you could feel actual rage building up from your core and all the way to the back of your throat.

“I suggest you keep your hands off me” you snapped, pushing his hand off your face as he laughed to himself, the raspy sound caught in his throat making you throb against all odds.

“Or what? What you gonna do about it, uh?” he teased, confident as ever, his words coming out of his mouth halfway between a threat and a challenge. His arms were crossed against his chest now, making every inch of muscle he owned just pop out. There was nothing sweet about the way his body was built, and was he ever given the occasion, you knew he could break your spine in half with his one hand. You just wished you’d never thought about it as the filthiest images came to your mind, starting with Tom spinning you around over the sink in the bathroom and pinning you down with his palm pressed between your shoulder blades as he pounded hard and fast into you.

Maybe Tequila had gotten to your head faster than you expected.

“I know girls like you” he started, walking backwards until your back hit the wall and you were completely trapped between his arms, one of his leg parting yours so his knee would slowly graze that spot where your thighs met, claiming his access to that precious part of your body you could definitely feel getting damper against your will.

“What about it?” you asked, slightly more provocative than you had intended.

“You like to act all innocent, pretending you have higher standards…” His breath was warm, wrapped into the thickness of alcohol, curving a ball at the back of his throat so his voice would come out raspier and lower than usual, “… but secretly you just want guys like me to fuck the back of your throat until you choke”.

You felt it. Your pussy throb at the single thought of it. You didn’t want to physically react to these obscene images, words coming out of his mouth filthier than anything you’d ever heard, but still, as hard as you wanted to remain cold and unbothered, there was no denying for the dampness between your thighs. You just hoped he wouldn’t get a chance to notice it.

“You disgust me” it took you all the strength you had to spat back at him, and even then, all he did was smile then chuckle softly to himself as his hand slid up your throat, wrapping it slowly until his thumb pressed itself into the crook under your chin, nesting as it was made to be there.

“Please—are you really going to pretend you’ve never thought about my cock filling up your pretty mouth?” his fingers found your lips again, tracing it slowly as your heartbeat increased with each word, “like you’ve never thought about me when you finger yourself at night” he paused, pinching his bottom lip between his teeth as he tilted his head, his mouth coming closer to your hear with a dark whisper “I know you do, baby… I know you touch yourself thinking of me, wishing those fingers were mine, diving into your dripping cunt… Touching spots you could only wish you’d reach… how I would spread those lips open and run my tongue all over your slit….” A warm breeze brushed your neck as a cursed laugh escaped his lips, making you squirm unexpectedly, “I bet you taste so sweet, I would never get enough of that glorious pussy…”

By now, you were wrapped into the intoxicating scent of his cologne. It was strong and manly as expected, yet comforting in a way you didn’t want to think about. You didn’t want to picture yourself wearing that grey hoodie he loved to wear after a game, his perfume raining over your bare chest as you’d lazily ride him on his dorm bed after you’d get bored of whatever movie you’d settled for, pushing your panties to the side as he couldn’t be bothered taking it off completely. You didn’t want to picture him unzipping that same hoodie, palming your boob with one of his strong hands as his mouth sucked on your nipple until your soft, delicate skin turned red from all the biting marks. You didn’t want to feel yourself stretch around his rock-hard cock as he’d lift your legs up to wrap it around his neck, because he’s that kind of jerk who likes to show off even when he’s completely buried inside of you, that kind of complete asshole who loves to remind you just how deep he can go, smirking to himself as he hits your special spot over and over and over…. until you beg for him to stop. That kind of utterly disgusting dickhead who’d never stop, because he knows that, deep down, you just want him to keep going.

“Now you can tell me you’re not already wet… But we both know that’s a lie” he smiled again and as you felt his hand going down, palming you through your top and all the way down to the front of your skirt, you finally decided to come to your senses and grabbed his wrist into your tight fist, stopping him just in time before he’s reached the only approval he truly needed.

“Go to hell, Holland” you snapped, using all of your strength to push him off and walk away.

You didn’t turn back to see him chuckle at the sight of your flushed face.

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The coldness of water came as a shock as you bent over the sink in the bathroom, splashing your face until it didn’t feel like your skin was on fire. Grabbing a towel, you patted your cheeks and forehead, staring at the reflection in front of you. You definitely looked flustered, like you had just run a marathon when all you really did was to suffer through your archenemy’s evil little game.

Usually, you would have just brushed it off and that’d be it. But tonight, for some reason, you just couldn’t seem to shake him off your thoughts, his voice still echoing through your head like a curse without a cure. Outside the bathroom, you could hear the muffled sound of music and screams coming from the living room as beer-pong had turned into strip-pong with everyone removing a piece of clothes every time the ball missed the cup. Typical, drunken behavior. Soon enough these parties would turn into a massive orgy and it wouldn’t even come out as a big surprise.

Freshen up a little had helped you settle your thoughts back into place but still, your body didn’t seem to catch a break as the build-up tension and frustration Tom had caused within your core was yet to be released. There was no denying that your toys would have come handy if you were back to your dorm room as it felt like your pussy kept clenching for no reason, like the gaping mouth of the thirstiest man in the middle of a drought. You knew how bad you needed to put it out of its misery but if you thought undressing for a ping pong game was bad, what would happen if anyone walked on you literally fingering yourself in the bathroom of a frat-house? No one would shut up about it.

Tom would certainly not. Shut. Up. About. It. Ever.

You pressed your thighs together, hoping for some sort of relief as his words came back haunting you, thinking about how your hand had found its way between your legs earlier in the shower, the very second you had thought about his body pushing you up against the tiles. Is that what he was to you, now? A fantasy? Would you become another disgusting cliché of a girl begging for the typical frat boy to fuck her at a party because she couldn’t handle his dirty mouth?

Then you thought about your best-friend and how the last time you’d seen her, she was heading upstairs with Harrison, giggling, her lipstick smudged all over her chin after making out heavily on the couch up to the point everyone was starting to wonder whether they should be charged for that kind of peep-show or just roll with it. How she was probably getting fucked in his bedroom while you were standing alone in a bathroom, dripping wet for a man you hated down to the very bottom of your guts.

The door swung open abruptly, making you jump.

“So that’s where you’ve been hiding!” Tom smiled, walking in.

“Can’t a girl have some privacy?”

“I need to take a piss, you’re the one standing out there doing nothing” he joked, walking to the toilets with his hands already fiddling with the zipper of his pants.

“Hum, excuse me?” you spat, widening your eyes as you realized he was genuinely about to use the toilets with you still standing a few meters away.

“I said I needed to take a piss… So either you just stand there watching, which I don’t mind really… or you can get out?” he pointed his chin towards the door, unbothered as he casually pulled his dick out of his boxers.

Both infuriated and shocked, you turned around as there was no point leaving the room now that his whole junk was out and already halfway through it.

“Do you have to be that disgusting? Really you’re such a pig!” you complained as you heard him sigh with relief before the toilet flush broke the most awkward silence of your entire existence.

“Don’t worry darling, I’ll clean it up real nice just for you…” he smiled even though you still had your back turned to him. You heard him use the tap, washing his hands for a considerably long amount of time. At least he wasn’t one of those filthy rats who thought basic hygiene was optional.

“What were you doing by the way?” he finally asked, grabbing the towel to your left, “touching yourself thinking about me?”

You turned around to face his cocky face once more, this time with a furious need to slap it. Hard.

“You know I’ve seen you walking around campus a couple times, Y/N… Those big jumpers and yoga pants you like to wear don’t do that body any justice, but this?” he circled his finger in the air, pointing out her entire outfit “this, I like to see… and if you weren’t being a little brat I would gladly pull up that skirt up to your waist and have you there, above the sink…”

“I’m being a brat?” you scoffed. That was rich, coming from the ultimate king of bratty assholes.

“Well you call it whatever you like but denying yourself something you truly need just to prove a point seems a little childish…” he shrugged, shoving his hands into this jeans pocket and giving you a perfect glimpse at the veins running up his arms and disappearing underneath his rolled up sleeves.

“You think all girls are begging for you to fuck them? Really?”

“Probably, yeah, and who could blame them really? I have a great cock and I’ve never had a single bad review about the way I use it…” he smiled, with the arrogance of a king sitting on a throne of indecency.

“You’re so full of yourself… it’s insane” you shook your head with pure disgust.

“Then go ahead and prove it”

“Prove what, exactly?”

“That you’re not dripping wet as we speak…”

Point taken.

You were, indeed, dripping wet and soon enough, you’d have some serious explaining to do as the thin cotton fabric of your underwear was now soaked with your unsolicited arousal. Even though your head was filled with hateful thoughts and resentment for Tom, it felt like your body would not stop begging for his touch, dragging him closer like two pieces of magnets on a fridge. Unconsciously, you were now standing a couple inch away from his face, so close you could actually smell the soft mixt of menthol and alcohol from his breath. There was no point denying the obvious tension between you two as you looked like you were about to break into a passionate kiss but now it was just a fight between your will for self-preservation and your body, aching to be touched.

And so you heard yourself say these words you never thought you’d say, like you were standing in the audience as your other self was performing on stage, making some questionable decisions you weren’t 100% okay with.

“Which one’s your bedroom?”

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You could have fought longer, for the sake of your personal values, but as your feet were swiped off the ground, your back hitting the door as it closed behind you with a loud slam, all of your good sense and respectable choices just vanished as much filthier thoughts buried them for good.

Your legs were wrapped around his waist as his hands had wasted no time and found their way under your top, fondling your breast with the hunger of a wolf. Your lips attached to his, you moaned louder than expected as he pushed himself a little harder against you, the obvious stiffness of his crotch pressing against your aching core. Your skirt had risen up to your waist from spreading your legs a little too wide, flashing your white panties as it was now so soaked you could definitely see the outline of your lips, the thin fabric sticking to your slit. Catching your breath, heavy pants breaking your kiss, you looked into Tom’s eyes only to see nothing but pure, absolute lust in them. As you tugged at his brown locks, a couple strand curling slightly at the back of his neck, you watched as his snapback fell to the floor with a thump, unleashing his brown untamed mane.

Suddenly, he didn’t seem so bad, groaning slightly as your fingers scrapped the back of his neck, your lips sucking on his throat for good measures. With his head tilted back slightly, it felt like Tom was getting soft for a while, caving in so you could take control over him. Unfortunately, that didn’t last long as he suddenly traced a hand all the way down to your inner thigh, immediately pushing your panties to the side with his middle finger.

“I knew it…” he smiled, sliding his finger along your slit as you wrapped it up with a glistening coat of arousal. You knew he had won the minute he felt just how wet you were for him, but when it should have been upsetting, you just didn’t care. All you needed now was to feel his cock filling you up in any way he wanted, “who made you this wet, darling?” he smiled, pulling at your bottom lip with his teeth.

“Don’t be a brat…” you complained as you could see some mischief in the way he looked at you.

“Just say it” he insisted “I want to hear you say out loud just how wet I make you” this wasn’t a request, but an order. And for some obscure reason you didn’t want to figure out, it somehow turned you on even more.

“You…” you started, biting your lip out of nerves, or out of excitement, you weren’t sure quite yet. “You make me so wet, Tom” you almost moaned, pushing yourself a little harder against his hand when he failed to give you exactly what you needed. His fingers. Buried deep inside of you.

“Hmm” Tom groaned, two of his digits spreading your lips apart at a torturing slow pace, “I like the sound of that…” his knuckles were barely halfway when you buckled your hips off the door, begging for more, “what’s that darling? Tell me what you want…” he was whispering by now, slowly pushing his fingers into your desperate slit, “I want to hear you beg for it…”

You felt him push deeper, curving his fingers into a hook every time he reached your g-spot. By now you were so aroused you just knew it would take you more than a couple stroke to cum heavily into his awaiting palm. You could hear the sloppy sound of your own wetness every time he slammed his slick, extremely skilled digits back into your throbbing pussy. His lips curved into a hasty smile as he could feel you literally drip all over his palm and wrist.

“I want you… I want you so much” you barely managed to whimper as he increased the pace, his wrist working its magic between your thighs.

“Hmm hmm? I’m gonna need you to be more specific baby… what exactly do you want?” his thumb grazed your clit for a brief second and that was enough for you to squeal under his touch, making you clench suddenly around his fingers, “say you want my cock” he almost growled as you felt his hard-on twitch against your thigh, begging to be freed.

“I want your cock” you immediately wimped, your own words sending shivers down your spine as you twitched with anticipation, “I want it so, so bad…”

“Good girl…” he hummed, slowing down the pace so he could add a third finger, stretching you out slightly this time, “d’you think you can take it though? It’s pretty big…” he smiled, twisting his hand just enough so he could dig himself a path.

You simply nodded, unable to speak anymore, but as you were about to beg for more, Tom removed his hand, leaving you frustrated and hornier than ever. His face changed suddenly as he watched you pout, his hand reaching up for your lips.

“What about that pretty mouth, then? You think it may fit?” he smiled, spreading your lips apart so you could taste yourself on his soaked fingers. You immediately obliged, sucking at it, one by one, never keeping your eyes off him. When he shoved three of his digits, watching as your tongue twirled around it, cleaning it off completely, you could definitely tell his eyes had gotten darker, filled with unspeakable thoughts you would be begging to hear soon.

“You’re gonna let me fuck that pretty face?” he added, removing his fingers from your mouth so he could give you a soft, cheeky slap on the cheek. You nodded, obedient as ever. “Say it” he commanded, louder this time, “say you want my cock inside your mouth”.

“I want it… I want your cock inside my mouth” you pouted, only because you knew he loved to see you beg like a spoiled little princess. You’d seen it in his eyes, the way he looked at you every time you tilted your head to fake an innocence that was long gone.

Tom stepped back, walking away slowly as he watched you standing there, flustered, your hair all over the place, panting out of lust and frustration. Pulling his shirt off, you watched as his impressive chest unveiled in front of you. Abs like rocks, a thin strand of hair tracing a path from his navel to his crotch, disappearing under his jeans, his impeccable V-line bringing images you never thought you had within yourself. As he pushed his hair back, daunting you with his a look half way between arrogance and disdain, it felt like all signs of dignity had left your brain as all you could think about was to crawl to the floor and beg for his cock.

“What you’re waiting for then, Darling?” he smiled, unzipping his flies as he watched you walk towards him and get on your knees within seconds.

Your hands pulled at his jeans until it finally pooled around his ankles. Looking up to stare into his eyes, you felt both small and powerful, submissive but in control as you were now responsible for this man pleasure. It was up to you whether he’ll get to cum or not. But as you considered edging him as an option, Tom wasted no time in remembering you who was actually in charge.

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me?” he sighed, grabbing your hair into a fist as his other hand stroked his cock through the cotton fabric of his boxers. You could tell he was just horny as you were as a couple pre-cum had already stained his briefs, turning it into a darker shade of grey.

Again, you nodded, removing his hand so you could replace it with yours, palming him through his briefs as he growled against your touch. He was big. Actually much bigger than you expected but somehow, you were up for a challenge. Tracing the outline of his cock with your fingers tips, you felt him push his hands on the back of your head, forcing you to come closer to his crotch.

“I want to fuck your pretty little mouth so, so bad” he groaned as you unexpectedly ran your tongue all over his stiff through the fabric, feeling it twitch as you palmed his balls. By now he was so hard you could feel the veins tracing a dirty road up to his leaking head as Tom started grinding slowly against your mouth, messing up your hair with his desperate fists.

When you pulled down his boxers, you took a couple seconds to stare at his glorious manhood, hard and pressed against his abdomen where it curved slightly, your mouth watering with a thirst you could have never pictured, especially when standing in Tom Holland’s bedroom. And yet, you couldn’t wait to have this magnificent piece of flesh filling up your mouth.

“Like what you see?” Tom smirked, boasting as ever but immediately squinting his eyes with a deep growl the minute he felt your tongue licking at the base, slowly going up until you finally bobbed on his creaming head.

You had always been good at this, giving head. Not that all of your partners would give you a proper review in the morning, pointing out your highs and lows, but there were just things men couldn’t do, like hiding the fact they were just having the time of their lives. And right now, Tom actually looked like there was nowhere else in the world he would rather be than standing here, with his cock in your mouth.

Twirling your hand at the base where you mouth couldn’t go just yet, you started bobbing up and down his shaft, sucking your cheeks in so your mouth would pop every time his dick came out. You had quickly figured out a couple things about Tom, including the fact he just seemed to love it dirty and noisy. You could actually hear him growl louder, his fist tightening its grip into your hair every time he slipped off your lips, only for him to shove it back a little harder and definitely deeper with each thrust.

“That’s it baby… Just like that… you’re such a good girl…”

You were a good girl, indeed. Always had been. Straight-A’s student from day one, the pride and joy of your parents, spending most of your week-ends doing some volunteer work whenever it was needed while being a caring, polite girl who never did anything wrong. Right choices only.

Or so you thought. Obviously, tonight would be always marked as the only questionable decision on your impeccable path to perfection. But still, as Tom grabbed your face with both hands to push himself deeper and all the way down your throat, making you gasp for air slightly, you had no regrets.

You stayed still for as long as your lungs could handle it, holding on to his firm, muscular buttocks as you swallowed him all. Looking down on you, Tom was left speechless as his cock stretched your cheeks out, his balls resting into your palm as you twitched them slowly, making it jolt with both pain and pleasure. When you felt like you were about to gag, you pushed yourself back, gasping for air as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. Your cheeks felt numb and yet it missed the feeling of being stretched out already.

“Hmmm baby look at you…. you think you’re ready for it?”

“Yeah” was all you could blurt out. Yes to anything he wanted. You were prepared. You longed for it.

Looking around as Tom started pumping himself, getting ready for you, spitting into his palm to lube himself up so your lips wouldn’t drag along his shaft too much, you just couldn’t believe you were there, kneeling on the navy carpet of Tom Holland’s bedroom, the epitome of the ultimate frat boy. A huge flag from his favorite sports team was hanging above his bed, his never-ending hats collection sitting on wooden shelves by the wall like it was some kind of “frat boy starter pack” Art exhibition. In the corner of the room, you caught an unexpected glimpse at a guitar. It looked fairly new, but never in a million years would you have pictured Tom playing guitar. On his desk, his laptop was still open on a Spotify tab where you’d probably find a playlist based on some typical white boy rap music but against all odds, the room looked neat compared to what you had in mind.

“You look so beautiful” he sighed, out of nowhere, and to be completely honest, had your mouth not been filled with his dick, you would have probably picked up your jaw from the floor. Taking him all in once more, you just pretended you couldn’t hear, sparing you some awkward misunderstanding. Maybe those words were actually directed to his dick. After all, the boy loved himself just that much.

His hands were all over your face, wiping tears from your eyes every time he hit the back of your throat a little too hard, stroking your cheeks, massaging the back of your neck, roaming through your tangled hair as your kept up with his reckless pace, his hips swinging back and forth while you remained completely still so you could take him like a champ.

“God, I love to see you choke on my cock….” He gritted through his teeth “so…so hot…” you could tell he was getting sloppier now, pumping in and out of your mouth abruptly then a lot more slower as a couple twitch from his cock gave you a hint of his upcoming grand finale.

By now, you were a slippery mess, the taste of pre-cum hitting your throat as you dribbled all over his shaft, obscene sounds of suction coming out of your mouth every time he pushed himself out and back in all over again.

“F----uuuuck….fuck baby I’m gonna come!” he grunted, the sudden high-pitch of his broken voice driving you insane as you pushed yourself up a little so you could open your mouth wider, expecting him to fill it up soon enough. “D’you want me to cum in your mouth? Uh?” again, he gave you a little slap on the cheek, not quite hard enough for you to feel any pain. You nodded, moaning whatever came close to a “yes” as every single inch of your mouth was filled with Tom.

You heard him whimper, twitching a couple times, harder with his thrust as his hand fisted into your hair abruptly throughout his climax. Looking up to see his face, your eyes locked with his as he came all over your tongue, raining down your throat with a couple last, sloppy thrusts.

“Oh fuck! Fuck fuck fuck fuuu------“

Your eyes immediately teared up as you tried your best to swallow every drop of cum he had to give, the corner of your lips dripping like an overflowing sink.

Then there was a complete silence.

As you wiped your mouth off the thick, warmness of his cum, you felt him kneel to your side, then sit. Both of you looked completely exhausted, drained from every ounce of energy you had left.

“Well, that wasn’t half bad… for a little brat” he spoke again, and you just couldn’t believe he had gathered the energy to say this when he could have chosen silence.

Laughing quietly to yourself so you wouldn’t slap him across the face, you decided not to fuel him up and remained quiet instead. His hair had gone curlier than heaver, his glistening red face making him look like any cute boy you could easily fall for.

“I’ve got a feeling we’re gonna see a lot more of you at frat parties now?” he spoke again, and though it truly pissed you off to admit it, you just knew this wasn’t a one-time thing. For all you knew, this, was barely a prequel to a long, bumpy story of a good girl gone bad.

All because of Tom-fucking-Holland.

#tom holland #tom holland smut #frat boy tom holland #frat!tom #enemies to lover #tom holland x reader

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softtransbf · 3 years

Text

Fresh Blood, Old Scars Part 1

You'd disappeared 15 years ago without a trace- what's Yancy supposed to do when you walk into Happy Trails Penitentiary and don't recognize him, because he's transitioned? canon compliant trans!yancy/reader

Reader: he/him trans man, no physical description

Rating: T

Warnings: mentions of violence, canonical and parental. deadnaming and misgendering before either of you came out (none by anyone who knows the correct name/pronouns)

Word Count: 2,690

“Hey Yancy, I heard there’s fresh blood comin’ in today for some sorta museum heist.”

“Oh? Know anything else about these guys, so we can give ‘em a proper welcome, Bambam?”

“I know some. The first guy, Mark Iplier, claimed to have been in charge of the whole thing, but from what my sources said, it’s the partner that ran the show- just real quiet-like. I’ve been told that he don’t say a word.”

“Got a name for this, uh, silent partner?” He chuckled at his joke.

“Y/N L/N.” Yancy’s stomach dropped the way it always did when he heard that last name, your last name. Get your shit together. Wrong first name, and Bambam said he and his. Bambam don’t use pronouns other than they/them unless they’re sure. It’s just some guy with the same last name.

“Yance, you okay?” Tiny waved his hand in front of Yancy’s face.

“Yeah, yeah, just, uh, thinkin about how best to greet dese guys. The usual, wit Don’t Wanna Be Free ready just in case?”

“Right off the bat? You really think they’re that high of a flight risk?” Sparkles finally spoke up.

“I, uh, I don’t trust dem silent-types. They’s always schemin’, got somethin goin ahn in their heads.” And if he's anything like- yeah. Gone before you know it.

“Okay, if you say so. I’ll go let the others know.” Yancy didn’t even register who was speaking; he was too lost in memories.

- 15 years earlier-

Yancy knew it wasn’t cool to be excited for the first day of school when you’re a senior in high school, but he didn’t care. He didn’t need or even want to be cool- all he needed was to be your friend. Well, maybe not just friend. You’d been gone for almost the entire summer, and he’d spent the whole time figuring out how to both ask you out and tell you that he’s a guy.

He practically skipped across the street to your house so you can walk to school together, like you had every day since middle school. He knocked- nothing. Rang the doorbell- still nothing. He checked the back door and the spots where you had hidden spare keys over the years- nothing. All the curtains were drawn, too, so he couldn’t see inside. He kept trying as long as he possibly could before he had to sprint to make it to class just barely in time. All day, he kept an eye on the door, waiting for you- the two of you made sure to sign up for the exact same schedule before you went on your vacation. At lunch, he went to the office to see what he could find out.

“Y/DN isn’t a student here anymore- Mr L/N just told us last week.”

“What? Do you know where they went?”

“I’m sorry, hon, I don’t. All I know is that Y/DN is no longer a student here.”

He’d never ditched a class in his life, but that was the last thing on his mind as he ran home, crying. He didn’t stop crying for weeks.

-Present -

He’d never wanted to be wrong more in his life, but there you were. Looking better than he’d ever dreamed, following Mark around silently as he blabbered on about wanting to rally the other inmates to try to break out. No. I lost you once, and it cost me everything. I’m not about to lose you again. He quickly spread the word to skip pleasantries with the new guys and prepare for the song. As he was, you made eye contact with him from across the room. His heart dropped; you didn’t recognize him. You looked right through him, with the same calculating expression you gave everyone else. Of course he wasn’t gonna recognize you, dumbass. You’ve been on hormones for years and have had top surgery. Usually Yancy loved that he couldn’t see anything of the person he used to be in the mirror, but today he hated it more than anything in the world. Stick to the plan, Yance. He doesn’t recognize me, but it might be better this way. This way, I can get him to stay and get to know me as I am now, and he won’t be disappointed that I haven’t become anything like what we dreamed of so long ago.

Yancy couldn’t have planned it better, Mark practically begging Jimmy to punch him through the wall right before the show started, leaving you alone.

The number went great, as always, but then you showed him a picture of your parents. He knew that picture; you took it when the four of you went on a vacation together before you started your freshman year of high school. He also knew that he had once been in the picture, but you’d cut him out. The tape and staples that had been holding his heart together since you left fell away.

He stuck with his usual response to people citing family for wanting to leave, for the most part. No one at Happy Trails knew about you, and he’d killed his parents before they could leave him, so he’d kept his true abandonment issues to himself. Face to face with you after all these years, though, he couldn’t stop himself from adding “they’re always just gonna leave you behind” and a warning about trifling with the past. You flinched a little at both of those, and a spark of hope ignited in his chest- maybe you hadn’t forgotten about him, even if you didn’t recognize him now.

Then you still chose to leave. The rest of the rather single-sided conversation was a blur to him. Later, as he was tending to his injuries in solitary, he remembered calling you handsome and/or beautiful and your blush when he did. And, of course, you knocking him flat on his ass. He’d challenged you to a fight, because he’d always been able to beat you before. The part that truly left him confused, though, was why he offered to help you break out.

All he’d wanted for the last fifteen years was to go back to the day you left and beg you to stay. He’d told himself dozens, maybe hundreds, of times that if he ever saw you again, he’d do everything in his power to keep you with him. On his darker and angrier days, he truly meant everything. But here you are, and he offered to help you leave. This is what you get for even hoping someone might stick around. Let’s just do this. I gotta stop in with the warden first, though…

“Me? Out there? With you?” He chuckled. You had no idea that, with that simple gesture, you offered him everything he’d wanted for so long. Fuck, I don’t deserve him. I still love him, but he deserves someone better than the angry, selfish man I am. The fragments of his heart splintered even more. “I, um. I done a lotta bad things. And, uh.” He made himself brighten up. “This is home! For now, anyway. Maybe next time parole comes up, I’ll, uh” take it and go find you like I should have fifteen years ago. And I’ll spend every minute until then trying to become the kind of man you deserve. “Anyway, I gotta get back to it. You take care now, you hear? And, hey, visitation! Every third Sunday!” You looked down at the box you’d brought with you, and he ran. When he got back to his cell, he cried genuine tears for the first time since that August day when his world turned upside down.

- 2 weeks later, visitation day -

He knew hoping you’d come was a waste of time, and that he was just setting himself up for more pain. He’d learned the hard way that when you were gone, that was that. But still, there he was, looking up every time a guard walked into the room. As expected, they never called his name. The rest of the inmates gave him a wide berth as he went back to his cell for the night, and they were right to. He was itching for an excuse to fight. No one gave him one, though, so he told himself he’d find one tomorrow and got ready for bed.

When he got to his cell, it took him just one second to realize there was someone on his bed, pull them off, and shove them against the wall. It took him three more to process that it was you, and then another five to step back and let you go.

“Sorry for scaring you, Yancy. I didn’t mean to. It’s just… it’s visitation day, but I’m still wanted for the escape you helped me pull off, and I haven’t decided if I want to come back for good or not.” He stood there, frozen. You chuckled nervously. “I get it, your turn to be the quiet one. I’m sorry about that, by the way. There was a lot to process all at once, and I just kinda shut down when I get overwhelmed.”

I know. I remember that you didn’t say a single word our first day of high school, Yancy wanted to say. He wanted to say something, anything, but you being there and so close was just too much.

“Okay, so, honesty time; there’s a specific reason I came back.” You took a deep breath. “I haven’t been able to shake this feeling that I know you, somehow. But I know I’d remember meeting you- no way I’d forget someone like you. Anyway, I'm probably way off base and ridiculous. I guess I just wanted to tell you?” You ran your hand through your hair. “God, that sounds even flimsier than it felt in my head. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It, uh. It means a lot that you came back to say that.”

“Uh, Yancy? What happened to your accent?”

“Shit. Um. C’mere.” He muttered, as he sat down on his bed and pulled you down next to him. He prayed that you couldn’t hear how his heart started racing when he noticed your knees were touching. “No one here knows that the accent isn’t how I always speak. Not even the warden. I’ve been here five years and haven’t dropped it once. Anyone learns about this, and you’re dead, understand?” He knew that the threat was empty, but you seemed to believe it.

“Yeah, yeah, I do, don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me. I gotta ask, though- why fake it? It seems like a lot of effort. You don’t owe me an explanation, of course, but since you’re heart-on-your-sleeve about your parents, it must be one hell of a reason. I bet it’d feel good to let it off your chest. I can promise to leave and never come back if you do- a burden shared is a burden halved, and if I’m gone, you can be 100% sure no one here will know.”

He took a deep breath. “Something flipped my world on its head, and I needed to distance myself from who I was before. That’s an odd phrase, though- ‘a burden shared is a burden halved’. Where’d you pick that up?”

“Oh, um. The mom of someone I loved a long time ago used to say it a lot. It just kinda stuck, I guess.”

“Loved, huh? You break their heart, or did they break yours?” Yancy was surprised he got the words out without his voice shaking or cracking. You were silent for a long time, and Yancy was sure he’d pushed too hard and you would completely shut down or, worse, leave altogether.

“Sorry, I haven’t talked about this… ever." Your voice shook. "I’ve never talked to anyone about this. I don’t know if I was loved back, but if so, I was the heartbreaker. I didn’t mean to be- I couldn’t control having to leave, and I didn’t know I wasn’t coming back until it was too late. I couldn’t say goodbye. I’ve hoped every day for the last fifteen years that my feelings were unrequited, though. I’m happy to have the pain of an unrequited first love if it means she wasn’t heartbroken.” The incorrect pronoun stung a bit, but you didn’t know, and you’d loved him back all those years ago. He was invincible.

“Have you tried reaching out? Even if your feelings were one-sided, I think you owe it to both of you to say them, at least once.” He reached out and took your hands without thinking. You didn't stop him, and he felt like he could fly.

“I tried, actually. About eight years ago, I'd, uh, escaped and was finally an actual person again after everything that was done to and taken from me, so I started looking for her. But it’s like she vanished off the face of the earth five years to the day after we were separated. It’s actually how I met Mark- I got into some deep and shady shit looking. I only gave up last year. Nothing turned up in seven years of searching, so I have to figure that she did something incredibly stupid a decade ago and got herself killed.”

“I didn’t die. Just the name did.” Yancy breathed. A half second later, he realized he’d said it out loud, and his heart stopped. You took your hands out of his and scooted away.

“Yancy. Are you trying to tell me that you’re- that we- oh my god. It is you. I knew I knew you. Everything else is different, but I should have recognized your eyes. I guess some part of me did. But you- I- I thought you were dead.”

“As you can see, I’m not dead, Brain. And for the record, your feelings were definitely not one-sided.” He reached out and cupped your cheek with one hand.

“Shit, Pinky, it really is you.”

Yancy had dreamed about how seeing you again would go in a million different ways. Not a single one of those included you practically jumping into his lap and kissing him with a lifetime's worth of love and want.

He let out an undignified whine when you broke the kiss. “Wait, wait. You knew from the second I walked in here who I was, didn’t you? You tried so hard to stop me from leaving… but then you helped me do just that. You chose to stay here when I asked you to come with me. Then I came back, and you got me to say all those things… And we’re both trans and wound up here? This is all just. So much. I can’t- I can’t do this.” You got off his lap and scooted to the far end of the bed.

“What are you saying, Y/N? That you’re leaving? Again?” He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice.

You stood up and faced him. “You do not get to play that card. You don’t know how much I went through trying to find a way to tell you I was sorry, that I didn’t know that the trip was a permanent one until we were on the other side of the country. Dad said that I'd never see mom again, and he’d kill me if I tried to get in touch with you or anyone else from back home. He broke my arm to prove he meant it. I can’t stay here to unpack all of this. I have to go. But you can come with me. I mean it even more now than I did last time. I’m not leaving you, I’m leaving here.”

You walked to the cell door and looked back at him with a sigh. “But I know you, and you have a family here. I’ll get you my address- it’s your turn to come to me, when you’re ready. I’ve waited 15 years to be with you again, what’s a little bit longer?” Without giving him a chance to respond, you kissed him again and were gone.

#yancy x yn #yancy x reader #yancy x male reader #yancy x trans male reader #yancy ahwm #ahwm fanfiction #otp: don't want to be free #self ship fanfic #self shipping fanfiction #self shipping fic

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