#usually it’s fine but my patience is all used up from my shift today

[raddest-laddest]

how do u even communicate boundaries to a cat? by biting them?? what???

[luveline]

Heyyyy can you do a Hotch x reader where readers just kinda been down all day but doesn’t wanna tell Hotch because she’s kinda used to being the badass with all her walls up? And hotch kinda pulls her to the side and forces it out of her 😊😊

thank you for requesting!! fem, 1.2k

Hotch has dark hair. He’s an older guy but he’s yet to grey, hair like the strands are soaked with coal pitch, even darker under the office lights. He braces his hand on the desk and ducks toward Spencer’s computer screen, pointing at a corner with patience. 

“This one,” Hotch says. 

“Why would they organise it like this?” Spencer asks, his voice bordering incredulous. 

“I’m not sure. You’ll remember where this is?” 

“Do you usually have to tell me more than once?” Spencer says lightly. 

“Ask your licence to carry.” 

You’d laugh, his wit quick and poor Spencer a good sport, but your head feels heavy with a forming upset. Like your mind has turned to thick porridge. You woke up on the wrong side of the bed, but you don’t feel angry, more magnificently empty. Nothing is touching beyond your surface level. 

“Thank you, sir,” Spencer says. 

You ignore the weight of a gaze on you while you click through your emails, prioritising what needs to be answered before the end of the day, the end of the week, and the end of the month as Hotch taught you to. You double click an email chain from a consult you’d been assigned from out of state and reread your response, nervous that your lack of confidence today might have shone through blunt wording. Hotch is looped into the chain —he can correct any glaring errors should you have made them. 

“Hey,” Hotch says when you don’t look up. He doesn’t use your name, and he doesn’t need to. “I’d like to talk to you. Let’s go up to my office.” 

“Can I have a half hour to work through my emails?” you ask apologetically.

“I’d prefer we talk now. Any overdue reply can be blamed on me,” he says. 

The way he talks is natural to him but perhaps strange if it were another person, with another disposition. You know Hotch to be both gentle and stern at once. His tone leaves little room for debate, but it reassures you to hear the measured cadence of each word without rush. The openness of his expression is similarly comforting, and though he doesn’t know it —you would never own up to feeling this way, verbally or physically— you’d quite like to be comforted by him. Even if he takes you to the office to reprimand you, you’ll at least have been near him for long enough to forget your odd aching. 

Hotch doesn’t walk until you do, taking each step by side until he gets to the office, where he opens the door to encourage you in. 

You drift a few feet inward, shoes soft on clean, crisp carpeting. Hotch closes the door, where he stands momentarily, silence held.

“Everything okay?” you ask. 

Hotch pulls out one of the two black chairs in front of his desk and gestures for you to sit. “Everything’s okay,” he says, standing back to give you space to sit, his hand moving to rest on the back of the chair as you sit. It whines as you shift to see him. “With me, everything’s okay. How about you?” 

“Everything’s fine with me.” 

You’d pad your explanation out if you didn’t think he was about to tell you what you’re in the brig for. No one likes a nervous Nelly. 

“Are you sure?” he asks. 

You glance at his hand behind you and he moves it swiftly. “Hotch?” you ask tentatively. 

“I’ve noticed you aren’t yourself today.” 

“I’m completely myself.” 

“It’s not like you to stare into space.” He frowns. “I want to sit down because I don’t like towering over you, but I don’t want you to internalise this as a meeting.” 

“You’re not towering over me, Hotch.

His frown doesn’t ebb. “…We each have our own unique levy to carry the weight of, I know that. But it’s not… nice, to see you like this. I’d like to know what’s wrong.” 

Again, no nonsense and reassuring at once. 

Maybe he is towering a little. You avert your gaze from his, feeling uncharacteristically meek for a weak moment. 

“I think I woke up mixed up,” you confess eventually, picking at a stray thread on your skirt until the tips of your fingers burn. “Like, nothing happened to upset me, but I…” 

“You do feel upset.” 

“Yeah, I guess so.” 

“You’re not sure why?” 

“Not really. I think that–” You lick your lips nervously, not finding the right words, wanting to be vulnerable and simultaneously reluctant to show him anything he might not like. “I think it’s lots of smaller things and they’re layering on top of each other. Do you get that?” 

“All the time. Though usually my way of dealing with it is less pleasant for others.” He looks down at you steadily. “And yours,” —he aims enough fondness at you to stop your heart— “is self-contained. But I don't want you to think you’re walking through life unseen.” 

“Unseen,” you repeat. 

He stands very still. “Can I touch your face?” he asks quietly. 

You don’t know why he’d ask, but you say, “Yes, please.” 

“Please,” he says. You’re repeating each other. The air in the room feels thicker as he lifts his hand to your cheek and cups it gently. “When you’re upset, I notice. I can’t help but notice.” Your face lists into his palm slowly, worried he’ll move, but he holds you and he watches you with care. “Is there anything I can do to make it all feel better?” 

“I don’t think so.” 

He rubs your cheek with his thumb. “No?” 

You close your eyes. “No,” you say, matching his volume. 

“I don’t know what to do now,” he murmurs. 

“Sorry, I’m okay,” you say, asking yourself to move away from his touch, but unable to force it, “I’m gonna…” 

It’s a boundary crossed, but you and Hotch are good at that. He’s constantly treating you with more sweetness than a boss should show toward his employee, and you eat it up despite every instinct in you that says you shouldn’t. So you won’t tell him you’ve had a bad day until he asks, and even then, you have nothing permanent to offer him for fixing, and still he’ll hold your face and make it feel ordinary. Like he’s touched you a hundred times, something about it feels right, and real. Your cheek feels softer under his tracing thumb. You could fall asleep in his hands. 

“How can I make you feel better?” he asks again. 

“It’s not that bad.” 

“But what can I do?” 

You want to ask for a hug, but even the idea of it is too much to think about. Miss Independent admitting she needs more than this? When it’s already more than you should have? 

Profilers profile, and somehow you give yourself away. 

“Come on,” he says softly. 

He hugs you. His hand falls from your face to your shoulder, wrapping behind it, encompassing you in a strong arm as he bends down to embrace you fully. 

“I wish you’d ask for more,” he says, his free arm slinking between your arm and side, hand to your back, encouraging you to hug him back. 

You don’t know what to do with your arms. Each movement feels stilted, but Hotch makes up for it. He hugs you without inhibition, like he’s wanted to do it for a long, long time. 

[cheswirls]

short asl thing based on @where-does-the-heart-lie's modern au :) i started this over a year ago but the beginning is all dialogue and felt more like a script to me i suppose??? which deflated my desire to work on it. anyway i checked it over recently and it's completely fine lmfao, self-confidence restored here we go !

-

"Yo. Aren't you usually in the middle of your shift by now?"

"I've been banned from the hospital."

"Like, for life?"

"No. For the next, uh.. Twenty-two hours."

"That's oddly specific."

"It was twenty-four, but I fell asleep after leaving the building."

"That wouldn't have to do with why they kicked you out, at all?"

"Hmmm. I'm too sleep-deprived, apparently."

"Ah. And, um, you called me because...?"

"I pressed a random number in my call log after waking up. Lucky you, I guess."

"Yeah. Right. Lucky me. And your car keys are...?"

"Confiscated."

"Ah, right, of course."

A beat of silence. Two. Three, then "Look, if you're busy, then–"

"No, no.  You called me, so I'll be there. Give me twenty minutes."

"Alright. Thank–"

"Thank someone else. Also, if you fall asleep in my car, I'm taking it as express permission to drive you around wherever I want."

"Ugh, go die. I don't even know why I bothered."

"LUCKY YOU, I guess," sounds off way too loudly in his ear. "No take backs. See you in ten."

"I thought you said–" Sabo breaks off as the call ends, leaving him staring blankly at his phone's too-dim screen. He squints, turns the brightness all the way up, and still squints as the sunlight proves too strong for the display.

Ace shows up in more than ten but decidedly less than twenty minutes. Sabo doesn't waste much brain power on it, only climbing into the passenger seat and yawning into his palm while his other hand fixes the seatbelt into the buckle. Not a second too soon, too, as Ace roars the engine to life and peels away from the curb at record speed.

Ace fiddles with the radio. He turns the music up, then dial it back down to inaudible. They hit the expressway and he leans over the steering wheel, frowning with his eyes fixed on the road far ahead. Sabo yawns again and this appears to be the limit to his patience. 

"Hey, so, I had a thought after you hung up on me."

Sabo grimaces. "You mean you–"

"Today's Wednesday."

He doesn't elaborate. Sabo is too tired to process. "Yes," he follows, after a second. He glances at the sky out the front window. "What time is it?"

"Oh, uh." Ace fumbles with hand placement so he can lift his watch to his face. "Nine forty."

Sabo takes a couple beats to try and process this, moves his eyes away from the skyline, and sighs as he pulls his phone out. 2:47 is what the display reads, which sounds much more believable.

"How did the minute hand get off?" he mutters to himself, chancing a look at Ace's busted wristwatch. Ace raises a brow, taking his gaze off the road to scrutinize Sabo. "No, it doesn't matter," he mutters to himself once more, sliding his phone away back on his person and out of his hands.

"My point is," Ace continues, like he hasn't just been interrupted by a whole thing. "Your timeout will be done midday Thursday. Did they switch your days off?"

"No." Sabo sighs. "They technically gave me the next thirty-six hours. Technically closer to forty. Something like that. I go back in on Friday. Sometime.” He tries to smile and it turns out very lopsided, from that he can make out in the rearview mirror. “Can you tell I’m tired?”

“I don’t think ‘tired’ is an accurate description,” Ace quips. “When did you eat a proper meal last?”

“Uh, yesterday. Maybe.”

“Maybe??”

“A ‘proper meal’ means different things to the two of us,” Sabo huffs. “On my account it was yesterday. I’ve had food since then, of course.”

“Alright, so here’s the plan,” Ace announces before absolutely whipping it around a curve. Sabo is his passenger in the passenger seat and had fully prepared to be so when he got in the vehicle, but he’d been vastly underprepared for this sudden course of action, which is how he ends up halfway out of his seat with his cheek slammed into the cold window. Ace doesn’t quite notice his brother’s terminal velocity until the car is once again on the straight and narrow, and only then it’s because of the audible thunk Sabo’s face makes when it collides with the glass.

“Aw shit. You good bro?”

“Ow,” Sabo mutters. “If I have broken bones I’m suing your ass.”

“Well, if you’re good enough to make jokes, I think you’re better than you’re letting on.” Ace keeps the wheel steady with one knee while he takes both hands away to crack his fingers. When he glances over at Sabo again, he looks even more pathetic – like he’s becoming one with the glass. “Anyway, as I was saying.

“I’m taking your ass home. You’re going straight to sleep and while you crash, I’ll make you something decent to eat and stick it in the fridge for you to heat up later. I’ll even make you two servings to eat two different times, since you clearly can’t be trusted to take care of yourself correctly.”

“Ouch.”

“I want you to conk out for as long as your body allows. We can reset your sleep schedule tomorrow, alright? Put your phone on silent; do not answer any calls. In fact, you know what, just give it to me.

Sabo glances over to see Ace’s hand held out to him, palm up. Fingers wiggling expectantly. His lips pull up into a grimace. “I’m not doing that.”

“Fine.” Ace takes his hand back. “But you will comply with everything else.”

“Wow! It’s so funny, I didn’t realize you turned into my mother overnight! Really tapped into your mom potential, huh? Anything exciting happen in your life that would cause that? I guess I wouldn’t know, since I’ve been a zombie for the past two days.”

“There’s nothing wrong with acting like your older brother, you dipshit, especially if you keep putting yourself through the wringer like this. You go home. You sleep. You wake up and eat. You go back to sleep. Then we do laundry. Does that sound agreeable?”

“That’s negotiable, at the least,” Sabo mumbles. “I will accept good food as a form of bribery.”

“Oh, nice, because I’m flat broke at the moment.”

Sabo makes a mental note of that, and then they’re pulling into the driveway. Ace lets him exit the vehicle by himself and then promptly manhandles him all the way onto the couch where it will be easier to force his body to relax than in a real bed. Ace knows this, so he calls him weird before chucking a loose blanket at his head. Sabo is almost too tired to function at this point, so he lets Ace have the last laugh in favor of finally closing his eyes.

Coming to is a surreal experience, especially since the sun is still out. He must make a noise because Ace is suddenly within view. His limbs are tangled in the blanket and still so heavy that he doesn’t bother moving. “Thought you would be gone,” he half-groans, eyes slipping shut again for a moment.

“I did leave,” Ace confirms. “I had to go pilfer some stuff to make stew with. It’s almost done, so I’ll hang here until then.”

Pilfer. That could mean any number of things. Sabo chooses to believe in the option where Ace is an upstanding citizen, and then remembers Ace saying earlier that he had no money. He frowns and squirms on the cushions enough to where it looks like he’s checking his pockets. “Where’s my wallet, Ace?” he bluffs.

“Somewhere around here,” Ace pipes up. “Your stomach will thank you for your contributions to the Portgas Household’s pantry!”

“Ugh, I got robbed,” he complains. “This sucks. ‘m going back to sleep.” He rolls over so his back is to Ace.

“Yeah, you do you, bro. Stew will still be here later. I’ll see you when you’re back in the world of the living.”

—

Luffy comes in late that night and slams the front door shut as loud as humanly possible. When he appears in the main room, he doesn’t seem to be upset, so Ace writes it off as a Luffyism. Sabo hasn’t stirred at the noise, so it’s all good.

Realizing this, Luffy pads closer to Ace’s side and looks at Sabo’s unmoving body warily. “Why is Sabo passed out like a corpse? Is he sick?”

“No, he’s not sick, he just can’t take care of himself. Which is why we are going to let him sleep for as long as possible.”

Luffy just nods to this, but it’s the uncomprehending Luffy-nod that means he’s just going to end up doing whatever he wants to regardless. Ace sighs, then jerks his head towards the kitchen. “He ate a little earlier, but I want him to eat again when he wakes up. There’s stew in the fridge if you want it – just leave him a little. Got it, Monkey D. Luffy?”

Luffy throws him a salute and then runs off in his socks. “Yippee! Ace made stew!”

“Think of your brother, Luffy, and make good choices!” Ace calls after him. “He’s a pathetic man who needs food to feel better or he’ll end up sleeping through Laundry Day!”

—

Sabo does not sleep through laundry day, but he does sleep for sixteen whole hours, so it’s just around noon when he forces himself up off the couch and into a warm shower.

Ace is around, which is mildly unexpected. But he’s still half-asleep, so everything is at least a little unexpected. He glances up from playing video games with Luffy to see Sabo leaving the steam-filled bathroom with his hair hanging around his shoulders. “You look like a wet cat,” he calls.

“Sabo’s awake!” Luffy cheers. “Ace thought you died at one point.”

Ace elbows Luffy in the gut, making him hunch over. “I did not!”

“He totally checked to see if your heart was still beating!”

“I’m undead, actually,” Sabo says completely seriously.

“Does that mean you don’t need to eat anymore?” Luffy questions. “Because I ate all the stew last night.”

“I saw that coming and made extra.” Ace finger-guns in Sabo’s general direction. “That’s why I bought two sets of ingredients. With your money!”

“With my money,” Sabo echoes, because it’s such a wild statement to have to deal with this early in the day. Well, early for him. “Fuck you.”

“I mean, I can tell Luffy where I hid–”

“Thank you, Ace, for agreeing to share your quarters with both of your brothers so we can all do laundry today on your dime!” Sabo raises his pitch so his voice is mockingly squeaky when he says this. He starts moving down the hall before Ace can start to argue, letting his and Luffy’s voices bleed into the background.

When he comes back out, now dressed, it smells significantly better than before. “I reheated the stew,” Ace announces, gesturing for Sabo to take a seat at the kitchen counter. “Let’s all have lunch before we head out.”

“You have to drink this too,” Luffy tells Sabo, sliding a Gatorade across the counter so it sets in front of him when he finally does take a seat. “Ace’s orders.”

“Gotta get those nutrients back somehow.”

“Aren’t we so considerate, Sabo?”

“Do you even know what ‘considerate’ means?” Sabo asks, lips quirking up into a half-smile. At Luffy’s shrug, it turns into a real smile. “Well, thanks anyway. Both of you.”

“No sweat. And look!” Ace brandishes a five dollar bill for both to see. “I found this baby for us to use on coins! It’s all on me today–”

“Where’s my wallet, Ace?!”

[niallerspayno]

Same Mistakes (Niall Horan x reader) - Fic Request

Anonymous request: Hello love!! I really really love your writing!! Can i ask you to write an angst with niall !! The plot being:the reader as a sixth member and 1D being on tour! And the both of them argue about something and they don’t talk to each other on stage. Thank you very much!!!

Tags: a whole lot of angst, arguing, fluff at the end

Masterlist

The day has been a blur—interviews, meet-and-greets, and endless smiles for the cameras. By the time you all return to the hotel, your cheeks ache from grinning, and you’re desperate for some peace. The energy among the group is lighter now, though, and Harry’s quick-witted jokes have been the perfect distraction from the chaos. You’ve been sticking close to him all day, laughing at his antics and letting him pull you into his playful banter.

What you don’t notice is Niall, sitting a few feet away, watching the two of you with his jaw clenched.

Later, when you step into the lounge to grab a drink, you hear the door click shut behind you. You turn to find Niall leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

“Didn’t realize Harry was your new best mate,” he says, his tone light but laced with something sharp.

You blink, caught off guard. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs, looking away, but his words don’t match his nonchalance. “Just seems like you couldn’t get enough of him today. Laughing at everything he says, hanging off his arm like you’re—”

“Like I’m what, Niall?” you cut him off, crossing your arms. The exhaustion of the day is catching up with you, and you don’t have the patience for his cryptic attitude.

He finally meets your gaze, his blue eyes stormy. “Like you’ve forgotten the rest of us exist.”

The comment hits a nerve. “Oh, so now I’m not allowed to talk to Harry without getting a lecture? Give me a break, Niall.”

“It’s not just Harry,” he snaps, stepping closer. “You’re always throwing yourself at people, trusting them, when half the time they don’t deserve it. I’m just saying you should be careful.”

You gape at him, anger bubbling in your chest. “Careful? You act like I’m some clueless kid who doesn’t know how to handle herself. Newsflash, Niall, I’m fine. I don’t need you playing the overprotective big brother.”

His face hardens. “Yeah, well, someone has to look out for you when you’re too busy letting people walk all over you.”

The words sting more than you want to admit, and your voice rises in defense. “Why do you even care, huh? What’s it to you who I spend time with or what I do? You’re not my keeper!”

For a second, he hesitates, his expression shifting like he wants to say something he’s been holding back. But then the wall is back up, and he shakes his head, letting out a bitter laugh. “You don’t get it. You never do.”

Your throat tightens, and you feel the heat of frustration behind your eyes. “Maybe I don’t because you’re too busy judging me to actually talk to me!”

The room is thick with tension, and neither of you moves. Finally, he steps back, running a hand through his hair. “Forget it,” he mutters, turning toward the door.

You watch him leave, the echo of the door closing behind him cutting through the silence. The unresolved anger twists in your chest, but underneath it, there’s something else—something you’re too afraid to name.

...

The next morning, the atmosphere is tense before you even step into the room. Niall is already there, seated at the far end of the dining table with a bowl of cereal, his head down and his attention fixed on his phone. You hover in the doorway for a moment, considering retreating entirely, but then Liam spots you and waves you over.

“Morning, love. Sleep okay?” Liam asks, his usual gentle tone breaking the awkward silence.

You nod, forcing a smile as you sit down, but you can feel Niall’s eyes flicker toward you before he quickly looks away. The tension presses down on you like a weight, and from the way Liam glances between the two of you, it’s obvious he notices.

Harry strolls in next, his hair a mess and a mug of tea in hand. “Alright, what’s with the faces? You two look like you’ve had a row.”

“We haven’t,” you snap, a little too quickly.

Harry raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Sure. And Louis doesn’t love striped shirts.”

Speak of the devil, Louis enters the room with Zayn trailing behind him. “What’s all this, then?” Louis asks, grabbing a piece of toast. His gaze lands on you and Niall, and his expression shifts into one of suspicion. “Why do you two look like you’ve just signed divorce papers?”

Zayn, ever the quiet observer, leans against the counter, sipping his coffee. “Something happen?” he asks, his tone neutral but curious.

You open your mouth to deny it again, but Niall beats you to it. “Nothing happened,” he says sharply, his voice cutting through the room.

The sudden edge in his tone silences everyone, and the awkwardness becomes almost unbearable.

Liam clears his throat, ever the peacemaker. “Alright, let’s all just calm down. We’ve got another busy day ahead, yeah? Let’s not start it on the wrong foot.”

But Louis isn’t one to let things go so easily. He slides into the seat next to you, nudging your shoulder. “Come on, something’s up. Spit it out.”

You shake your head, avoiding his gaze. “Drop it, Louis.”

His eyebrows shoot up, but he backs off, clearly realizing this isn’t a battle worth picking. Still, the concerned looks from the others don’t go unnoticed, and you’re certain this isn’t the last time they’ll bring it up.

Niall finishes his cereal in silence, stands, and mumbles, “I’m going for a walk.” He doesn’t look at you as he leaves the room, and the door closes behind him with a quiet thud.

For a moment, no one speaks. Then Harry leans forward, resting his chin on his hand. “Alright, so... are we taking bets on when you two are actually going to talk about whatever’s eating you?”

“Harry,” Liam scolds, but even he can’t completely hide the worry in his expression.

You sigh, pushing your plate away. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

But the way Zayn’s sharp eyes linger on you makes it clear that none of them believe you—not for a second.

...

The rest of the morning passes in an uncomfortable haze. You avoid Niall, and he avoids you, but the tension between you feels like it’s radiating across the entire room.

By the time you all arrive at the next interview location, you’re almost grateful for the cameras and the pretense of professionalism. At least on stage, you can fake it—right?

The six of you settle onto the couch in front of a bright backdrop plastered with the interviewer’s logo. The host, a chipper woman with a practiced smile, wastes no time diving into the questions.

“So, One Direction,” she starts, clasping her hands together. “It’s been a whirlwind few months for you lot! How do you all manage to keep your friendships so strong with such a hectic schedule?”

Liam answers first, his diplomatic charm on full display. “I think we’ve just learned how to communicate and support each other through it all. We’re like a family, really.”

The host’s eyes light up, clearly pleased with the answer. “That’s so lovely! But surely, you must have your little spats, right? Who’s most likely to start an argument?”

Louis jumps in with a grin. “Oh, that’s definitely me. I’m a pain in the ass, and I’m proud of it.”

Everyone laughs, but the sound feels forced to you. You glance at Niall out of the corner of your eye, but he’s staring at his hands, his knuckles white against his jeans.

“What about you, love?” the host asks, turning to you. “Any trouble keeping these lads in line?”

You manage a tight smile. “They’re... manageable. Most of the time.”

The host chuckles, then gestures toward Niall. “And Niall? He’s always seemed like the easygoing one, but does he ever give you grief?”

The question makes your stomach tighten. You can feel all eyes on you—some amused, some curious, but one pair in particular feels like it’s burning a hole into your side.

You force another laugh. “Niall? Nah, he’s harmless.” The words come out clipped, and the sharpness doesn’t go unnoticed.

The host’s brow furrows slightly. “Harmless? That’s an interesting choice of words.”

Niall looks up at that, his gaze locking onto yours. For a moment, you think he might let it slide, but then he leans forward, his voice cool. “She means I know when to stay out of things. Unlike some people.”

It’s subtle, but the jab lands. Your face flushes hot, and you’re not sure if it’s anger or embarrassment—or both.

“Sounds like there’s a story there,” the host says, leaning in with a grin.

Harry jumps in, his tone light but firm. “Oh, you know these two. Thick as thieves. Always bickering, but they’d be lost without each other.”

Liam nods quickly, adding, “Exactly. It’s just how they are. Keeps things interesting.”

The host chuckles, and the moment moves on, but the damage is done. The rest of the interview feels like an eternity, the tension between you and Niall a suffocating presence that even the others can’t completely hide.

When it finally ends and the cameras are off, you storm out of the room before anyone can say a word. You don’t see Niall’s expression as you leave, but you can feel the weight of his stare following you out the door.

...

The ride back to the hotel is deathly quiet, except for Louis occasionally humming under his breath, seemingly unbothered by the tension. You sit in the far corner of the van, scrolling through your phone to avoid looking at anyone, especially Niall.

But you can’t avoid the notifications.

A new hashtag has started trending—#NiallVsY/N—and your stomach churns as you tap on it. Clips from the interview are already circulating online, fans dissecting every glance, tone, and word exchanged.

“Did you see the way they looked at each other? Something’s definitely up.” “I swear, they used to be so close. What happened??” “Lowkey, I think Y/N was throwing shade. Niall looked pissed.”

You lock your phone and shove it into your pocket, the anxiety bubbling up in your chest. When you glance up, you see Harry looking at you, his brows knit with concern.

“You okay?” he mouths silently.

You nod stiffly, even though you’re anything but okay.

Back at the hotel, you barely make it to your room before Niall’s voice stops you in your tracks.

“What the hell was that?”

You turn slowly, finding him standing in the hallway, his expression dark. The others hang back awkwardly, pretending not to notice as they file into their rooms.

“What was what?” you reply, crossing your arms defensively.

“In the interview,” he says, stepping closer. “Harmless? Really? You had to say that?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Oh, give me a break, Niall. It was a joke.”

“A joke?” His voice rises, and you’re sure the others can hear through the thin walls. “You’ve seen what people are saying, yeah? They think we hate each other now.”

“Well, maybe if you didn’t act like such a—” You stop yourself, clenching your fists at your sides.

“Such a what?” he presses, his tone sharper than you’ve ever heard it.

“Such a... jerk!” you snap, your voice breaking. “You’ve been on my case for days, Niall. And for what? Because I spent some time with Harry? Because I didn’t sit next to you at breakfast? What’s your problem?”

“My problem,” he says, stepping closer, “is that you don’t see how you’re coming across. You think everything’s just fine, but you’re making me out to be the bad guy!”

You shake your head, laughing bitterly. “Oh, of course. Poor Niall, always the victim. God forbid anyone call you out on your crap.”

He flinches at that, but his stubbornness doesn’t waver. “You’re impossible, you know that? You act like you don’t care, but then you get mad at me for caring too much.”

“That’s because you don’t care,” you fire back. The words come out harsher than you intend, and for a split second, you see something flicker in his expression—hurt, maybe. But it’s gone as quickly as it came.

“I don’t care?” he repeats, his voice quieter now but no less intense. “Is that what you think?”

You don’t answer. You can’t. The lump in your throat is too big, and the weight of everything—his words, the rumors, the unspoken feelings—feels like it’s crushing you.

“Fine,” he says finally, stepping back. “Think whatever you want.”

He turns and walks away, leaving you standing there alone in the hallway, your heart pounding in your chest.

...

A few days after the fallout from the interview, you’re still reeling. The media frenzy hasn’t let up, and fans continue to speculate about what’s going on between you and Niall. The rumors have only grown, fueled by the tension and the awkwardness of your interactions. It’s exhausting, and each time you see Niall, it feels like you’re walking on eggshells.

Then, your manager pulls you aside before another interview.

“Alright, we’ve got a plan to help cool things off,” she says, her voice businesslike. “You two are going to do a joint Instagram live stream tomorrow. Talk to the fans, show them you’re still friends. It’ll help with the rumors.”

You blink, your stomach twisting. “You want me and Niall to... what? Fake it for the fans?”

She sighs, giving you an apologetic look. “Not fake it. Just... work together. A little public bonding, and the tension will settle.”

...

The next day, you find yourself in a small studio, sitting across from Niall, both of you nervously checking your phones as you wait for the stream to start. The other members of the band are nearby, but they’ve left you two to handle this alone.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” you mutter, trying to appear casual.

Niall gives you a tight smile. “Yeah. Fun times.”

The livestream starts, and for the first few minutes, it’s awkward. You both smile at the camera, answer a few basic questions from the fans, but the tension is undeniable. You keep your answers short, and Niall does the same, his usual easygoing nature replaced with a tightness you haven’t seen before.

“Tell us, Niall,” a fan types in the chat, “who’s the better cook—Reader or you?”

You glance at Niall, an uneasy silence stretching between you. “I mean, Niall’s pretty good in the kitchen,” you say, forcing a laugh. “But I think I’d take the crown.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly not amused. “Really? You’re gonna throw me under the bus like that?”

You bite your lip, trying to hide the frustration building. “I’m just being honest.”

The comment section explodes with laughing emojis, but the tension between you two doesn’t break.

“I think we’ve got a lot of work to do,” Niall says, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Maybe I should teach you a thing or two, huh?”

You shake your head. “No, I’m good.”

The tone of the conversation grows more clipped, your smiles growing more forced as the fans continue to bombard the chat with questions. At some point, a fan asks, “So, what’s really going on between you two? You don’t seem as close anymore.”

Your stomach tightens, and you see Niall glance at the screen, his jaw clenched.

He doesn’t look at you, but his voice comes out colder than you expected. “We’re just fine. Nothing’s changed.”

You swallow the sudden lump in your throat. “Yeah, we’re just fine,” you repeat, almost too quietly.

The words sound hollow even to your own ears. And then Niall speaks again, his tone sharp and quick.

“You know, this is ridiculous,” he mutters, clearly not realizing the mic is still picking up his voice. “It’s like the whole world is just looking for us to have problems.”

You freeze. The words hit too close to home. The media frenzy, the rumors—everything that’s been building between the two of you.

“I don’t need this,” you snap, cutting him off. “Maybe you don’t care what people think, but I can’t just ignore it.”

The air in the room shifts immediately, and the comments on the livestream go wild. Some fans are confused, some are concerned, others seem to relish the drama. But all you can feel is the burning anger in your chest, the pressure building with every word you and Niall exchange.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Niall says, his voice rising now. “You think I don’t care? I care more than you think.”

“Then why the hell are you acting like this?” you shoot back, rising from your seat. “Why are you so distant? So angry? All I did was talk to Harry, and now I’m the villain!”

“You’re not the villain!” Niall roars, standing up too. “But you’re acting like you don’t give a damn about how I feel!”

The room is too quiet now, and the tension is thick. The camera feed, still live, captures every second. You can hear your heartbeat thumping in your ears as you stand there, staring at him, both of you too angry and too hurt to say anything more.

Finally, Niall looks away, his face flushed. “This is a joke.” He storms out of the frame, slamming the door behind him.

The comments flood in faster than you can process, but you’re too numb to care. You stand there for a long moment, staring at the now-empty space where Niall had been, and suddenly the weight of everything—the rumors, the anger, the unresolved feelings—feels unbearable.

The livestream ends and you stand frozen for a few moments in the silence, the echoes of the last words hanging in the air. The door slamming behind Niall feels deafening, and all you can do is stare at the empty screen, your heart racing.

You barely hear the crew members calling out for you to wrap up or Harry’s voice asking if you're okay. Your mind is a mess, emotions swirling in every direction. Without a word, you storm out of the room, your breath coming quick and shallow. You can hear footsteps behind you, but you don’t stop—don’t care who’s following you.

You find Niall in the hallway, pacing, his hands running through his hair as if he’s trying to figure out how to untangle the mess the two of you have made.

“Are you seriously walking away again?” Niall calls out, his voice tight with frustration.

You spin on your heel, your own anger flaring up. “Oh, so now you care enough to follow me?”

His eyes flash with anger, but there’s something else there too—pain. “What the hell, Reader? We’re supposed to be making this better, and you just walk off the livestream like nothing happened.”

You take a step forward, your voice sharp. “I didn’t walk off, Niall. You walked off! You’re the one who started yelling! What did you expect me to do, just sit there and pretend everything’s fine?”

“I didn’t—” He cuts himself off, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “I don’t get it. Why are you acting like I’m the only one who’s messed this up?”

“Because you’re the one who keeps pushing me away!” Your words spill out before you can stop them. “You’ve been distant and cold, and I’m supposed to just keep pretending everything’s normal? Do you think I don’t notice? I’m not stupid, Niall.”

His face hardens. “You think I’ve been cold? What about you? You’re the one who keeps brushing me off, like I’m some kind of problem. I’m here, trying to fix this, and you’re just... running away every time.”

“I’m running away?!” you snap, your voice rising. “You’re the one who’s been avoiding me! I didn’t ask for any of this, Niall. I didn’t ask for you to suddenly turn into... this!” You wave your hand, gesturing between the two of you. “You think I wanted the rumors to start? Do you think I wanted any of this tension? I’m just trying to survive it, okay?”

He takes a deep breath, but it only seems to make things worse. His voice drops, but it’s thick with emotion. “I didn’t ask for this either. But it doesn’t change the fact that I care, and I’m... struggling with it. I’m struggling with you.”

You freeze. His words hit you like a punch to the gut. You want to say something, anything, but your throat is tight. “What do you mean, struggling with me?”

Niall doesn’t look at you, staring down at his feet. “You don’t get it, do you? Every time I try to help, every time I try to fix things... you shut me out. And I don’t know how much more of that I can take. Maybe you don’t need me, maybe you never did.”

The words cut deeper than anything he’s said to you before, and for a long moment, you don’t know what to say. The silence between you feels suffocating.

“Of course I need you,” you whisper, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to stay composed.

His head jerks up, surprise flashing across his face. “What?”

You can’t stop the flood of emotions anymore, the hurt and frustration spilling over. “I’ve always needed you, Niall. But I don’t know how to make you see that when you won’t even look at me. You keep pushing me away, like you’re... scared of something.”

His expression softens, but his eyes are still clouded with confusion and something else you can’t place. “I’m not scared of you.”

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “But you’re scared of what this is—of what we are. And that’s what I can’t deal with anymore. I need clarity. I can’t keep guessing.”

There’s a long silence, and for the first time in days, you both just stand there—no arguing, no walls between you.

“I never meant to hurt you,” Niall finally says, his voice low and rough. “I just... don’t know how to fix this. And I don’t know if I even can.”

Your heart aches as you watch him, the rawness in his voice making something shift inside you. “You don’t have to fix it, Niall. We just have to... be honest. With each other.”

He looks up at you then, and for the first time in what feels like forever, there’s no anger, no frustration in his eyes—just the same softness you’ve always seen, buried beneath the tension.

“I don’t know if I can be honest with you,” he admits quietly. “I don’t know if I can be honest with myself.”

Before you can respond, the sound of footsteps echoes down the hall, and the moment breaks. Louis appears, his eyebrows raised as he surveys the scene.

“Everything alright here?” he asks, glancing between the two of you.

You both stand in silence for a moment before you finally speak, your voice quieter now. “Yeah. I think so.”

Niall nods, but there’s still something unresolved between you two, hanging thick in the air.

Louis gives a small, understanding smile before he looks between you two again. “Well, you two better figure it out. I’m not in the mood for any more drama.”

With that, he walks away, leaving you and Niall alone again.

...

The tension in the room is thick after the heated argument between you and Niall, but the awkward silence doesn’t last long. Management swoops in soon after the fallout, and you all gather in the designated meeting room. You feel like you’re under a microscope as everyone takes their seats, but it’s Niall who’s practically radiating discomfort beside you. The rest of the band is unusually quiet, each of them exchanging knowing glances, but none of them speak up.

Your manager clears her throat and addresses the room. “We need to address the situation between you two.” She glances at you and Niall, her tone blunt. “The public is picking up on the tension, and it’s creating a media circus. You’re both going to do an interview together tomorrow, followed by a performance. This is the best way to get ahead of the rumors and calm things down.”

You can feel Niall’s jaw clench beside you. His gaze flicks toward you briefly before he looks down at his hands, clearly not thrilled with the idea.

“An interview and a performance?” Niall repeats, disbelief in his voice. “You want us to do this together?”

“Exactly,” your manager says. “You need to show the public that whatever happened between you two, it’s over. You’re still working together, still friends. No more silent treatment, no more tension on camera.”

Louis raises his hand in the back, always ready to be the voice of reason—or the voice of sarcasm. “Yeah, but have you seen the tension between them? You might need a whole team of therapists after this one.”

The rest of the band chuckles nervously, but the mood doesn’t lighten. Harry shifts in his seat, his expression more serious than usual. “You two really need to figure this out. This is getting out of hand.”

You nod slowly, feeling your chest tighten. You know they’re right, but the pressure of performing this public display of unity feels unbearable.

“You’ll both be fine,” management says, glancing at the rest of the band. “But you need to work through it before the interview. No more hiding. It’ll be the best way to show everyone that the rumors are nothing more than that—rumors.”

Niall lets out a breath through his nose, trying to appear calm, but his frustration is still palpable. “Yeah, sure. Just act like everything’s fine, like I’m not... whatever this is.” He waves a hand between you two. “No problem.”

Your manager doesn’t flinch. “Yes. That’s the plan.” She looks at you both seriously. “You’re both professionals, so act like it. The interview is tomorrow. Make it work.”

You don’t say anything. You can’t. All you can do is nod, your stomach twisting at the thought of faking your way through another public appearance with Niall, the way you both have been ever since this mess started.

After a few more tense moments, the meeting breaks up, but the weight of what’s ahead hangs heavy in the air. You catch Niall’s eye briefly as you both head in opposite directions, but neither of you says anything.

...

The next day, you and Niall stand side by side on stage in front of the cameras, the bright lights of the set almost blinding. The buzz of the crowd behind the stage is faint but still enough to make you both feel like you're in a pressure cooker. You glance at Niall, and for the first time in days, there’s a flicker of something that isn’t frustration—just a faint understanding that this is what’s necessary, even if it’s hard.

The interview begins smoothly enough, the hosts asking standard questions about the tour, the album, and the usual media curiosities. You and Niall both smile, answering in rehearsed tones, your bodies stiff but professional. The energy between you is polite, bordering on distant, but it’s enough to mask the tension.

“You two have been through quite a lot lately with all the rumors,” the female host says, her voice light but probing. “How are you handling it all?”

You feel Niall’s gaze shift to you for a brief moment, but it’s fleeting. You can feel his words hanging in the air, but he doesn’t speak them out loud. Instead, you answer, your voice steady. “We’ve been through a lot as a group. But we’re family, and we always work through things.” You look at Niall, offering him a smile, and he nods back at you, the motion small but meaningful.

“And what about the rumors about the tension between you two?” the male host asks, leaning forward slightly. “Any truth to that?”

There’s an almost imperceptible pause between the two of you, and for a moment, it feels like the whole room is holding its breath, waiting for the storm to break. But instead, Niall clears his throat, and the edge of a smile tugs at his lips. “It’s just... people like to talk. We’re both fine,” he says, glancing at you. The way he says it isn’t forced—it feels genuine. “We’re good.”

Your heart skips a beat, but you manage to hold it together. “Yeah,” you add, your tone firm but calm. “We’ve had a few bumps, but that’s normal. Nothing we can’t handle.”

The hosts nod, sensing the change in atmosphere, and quickly shift to less personal topics. The rest of the interview proceeds without incident, and by the end, the air between you and Niall has lightened just enough to make you both feel like you’ve accomplished something.

Once the interview wraps up, the crew moves swiftly to set up for the performance. The band huddles together for a quick pep talk, everyone checking in, but the focus shifts back to you and Niall. You can feel the weight of the moment pressing down on you as you both prepare for the song.

When the intro to Same Mistakes begins to play, the notes are familiar, and the lyrics settle into place in your mind. The stage is quieter now, the audience waiting in anticipation as you take your places with Niall. You glance at him, and for a moment, he’s not the angry person you’ve been avoiding for days. He’s just the guy you’ve known for so long. The guy who has always been there.

As the music swells, you start to sing, your voice steady despite the nerves still swirling in your stomach. Niall sings beside you, his voice matching the tone of the song, raw and full of emotion. It’s like the lyrics are meant for the two of you, the words feeling strangely personal as if the song is speaking directly to the rift between you.

“Or else we'll play, play, play all the same old games And we wait, wait, wait for the end to change And we take, take, take it for granted that we'll be the same But we're making all the same mistakes Yeah, yeah, that's what crazy is When it's broke and you say there's nothing to fix And you pray, pray, pray that everything will be okay While you're making all the same mistakes”

The song’s message about making mistakes, repeating them, and learning from them seems to hang in the air between you and Niall. You sing the lyrics as though they’re a confession, a shared truth, both of you acknowledging the mistake that’s created the distance between you.

The two of you exchange glances throughout the performance, small but telling. You can feel the healing starting, bit by bit, as the song carries you both through the emotion of the moment. The lyrics, the way you’re both standing there, so close yet so far—it feels like something is shifting, like the cracks between you are starting to mend.

The performance ends, and the last note fades out. The audience claps, but you’re lost in the aftermath of the song, the lingering connection between you and Niall. For a fleeting moment, you forget about the cameras, the audience, even the media. It’s just the two of you—quiet, composed, but something between you is undeniably different now.

As you exit the stage, Niall walks beside you. This time, the silence between you isn’t suffocating. It feels... hopeful.

“You alright?” he asks, his voice softer than it has been in days.

You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah. I think so.”

And for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel like maybe you’re starting to find your way back to each other.

...

The days after the performance feel like a constant battle between you and Niall. The air between you is thick with unspoken words, a tension that neither of you can seem to shake. You feel it every time your paths cross, in the way his eyes linger on you and then quickly dart away, like he’s afraid to let himself feel too much. You’re both hurting, but neither of you knows how to fix it.

And tonight, the band has had enough.

You’ve been pacing the hallway, your frustration building, when you hear the sound of the door clicking behind you. You turn sharply, and before you can process it, Louis shoves you toward a nearby room.

“What the hell are you doing?” you ask, your voice sharp.

“We’re not letting you two leave until you sort this out,” Harry says, a mischievous grin on his face.

You blink in surprise, realizing what’s happening. They’ve locked you in here with Niall. The door clicks shut behind you, and there’s no getting out until they see fit.

Niall’s standing at the window, his back to you. He doesn’t turn when the door slams shut. The tension in the room is suffocating, and your chest tightens, knowing the inevitable conversation is about to happen.

“I can’t believe they locked us in here,” you mutter, but Niall doesn’t respond. Instead, his shoulders are tense, and his gaze is still fixed on the dark outside. The silence between you is heavier than ever.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you speak up. “We need to talk.”

Niall spins around, his eyes flicking to you with a mixture of surprise and frustration. “Do we?” His tone is defensive, like he’s been avoiding this moment for far too long.

You step forward, trying to close the space between you, but he doesn’t move. “Yeah, we do,” you say, your voice more forceful than you intended. “You’ve been shutting me out, acting like everything’s fine when it’s not. You think I haven’t noticed?”

His jaw tightens, his fists clenching at his sides. You see the storm brewing in his eyes, and you know it’s coming.

“You think I wanted this?” he growls, his voice laced with raw emotion. “You think I wanted things to be like this between us?” He steps closer, and the air between you crackles. “You think it’s easy for me? Watching you with other people, seeing you... with him?”

His words strike deep, and for a moment, you freeze, completely taken off guard by the venom in his tone. You can feel the hurt radiating off him, and it stings just as much as it cuts through you.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he continues, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “It’s killing me. And I hate that I can’t do anything about it. It’s not just the media. It’s you. It’s always been you.”

Your heart pounds, your breath catching in your throat. This is it. He’s finally saying it, and it’s everything you’ve been afraid to hear and everything you’ve been dying to hear all at once.

“I feel the same way,” you whisper, your voice trembling with the weight of everything you’ve been holding back. “I’ve been trying to ignore it, trying to pretend it wasn’t there. But I can’t do it anymore, Niall. I can’t keep pretending like I don’t want you. Like this distance between us doesn’t tear me apart.”

You can see the fight draining from his expression. He steps forward, closing the gap between you, and before you can even react, his hands are cupping your face, his lips crashing into yours.

It’s everything. It’s urgent, desperate, and full of raw emotion. Every ounce of frustration, confusion, and longing flows into the kiss, and it’s like all the walls between you have finally crumbled. His hands slide to your back, pulling you closer, and you respond instantly, your hands finding their way to his neck, tangling in his hair, drawing him in deeper.

The kiss is a wild tangle of need and heat, a clash of mouths that speaks all the things you’ve never had the courage to say. Every second feels like it’s been years in the making, and when you break apart, you’re both gasping for air, your heart racing.

“I didn’t know how to say it,” Niall murmurs, his forehead resting against yours. “I’ve wanted this... wanted you, for so long. But I didn’t know how to make it right.”

“I know,” you whisper back, your hand resting on his chest. “I feel the same way.”

The world outside the room has faded. It’s just the two of you now, raw and vulnerable, finally being honest with each other.

And then the door flies open, and the band piles in, loud and laughing, clearly expecting this moment.

“Well, well, well,” Louis says, his grin wider than ever. “Took you two long enough.”

Harry laughs, crossing his arms. “Honestly, we were starting to think we might have to lock you in here for a whole week.”

Zayn smirks, leaning against the doorframe. “Nice to see you finally figured it out.”

Liam, arms crossed and grinning, leans back against the wall. “Told you it would happen eventually.”

You and Niall pull away from each other, both of you flushed, breathless, but the space between you feels different now—warmer, more certain. The band stands there, teasing but also clearly satisfied that you two finally got it right.

“You guys are ridiculous,” Niall mutters, still grinning.

Louis winks at both of you. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

You and Niall share a look, and despite the teasing, you both know this is the start of something real. Something that won’t be torn apart by distance or fear.

“I think we’ve had enough drama for one night,” you say, your voice light but full of affection.

“Agreed,” Niall says, his hand brushing yours as you all start to head for the door. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

And as you walk out of the room, hand in hand with Niall, you know that whatever comes next, you two will face it together.

[sttoru]

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐘 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄 !

ෆ sypnosis. you find yourself in a situation where a man is giving you unwanted attention / tries to flirt with you. your lover finds out about this and comes to your rescue; what will he do and how will he react?

ෆ note. uhmmm this draft was rottjng and i finally decided to finish it today oopssss . not entirely proof read !

ෆ tags. kaeya, ayato, cyno x female reader (seperately). fluff. all chara’s are protective / possessive however you want to see it, unwanted flirting / verbal harassment but nothing too bad, you’re ayato’s wife in his part. headcanons + drabbles.

KAEYA ALBERICH.

keeps his emotions in check. if kaeya sees a man openly flirting with you, he’ll definitely fake a smile when approaching the two of you. not his usual, soft smile; more of an empty one.

the type to give (not so) subtle hints to the person flirting with you that you’re taken; like, he will not say anything directly to the other person about their behaviour, however he will keep it lowkey (and maybe passive aggressive).

and best believe he’s trying his best not to cause a scene and fight anyone if they make you uncomfortable by overly flirting with you. any type of discomfort coming from his lover is a green light for him to use his position as the cavalry captain and the power that it comes with.

you awkwardly shift in your seat at the bar counter as a drunk man keeps on talking to you even when you’ve politely told him that you’re not interested.

your boyfriend, kaeya, had stepped out of the bar for just a second to talk to one of his colleagues. that’s when the random man—who introduced himself as bruce—decided to take his chance.

you fiddle with your clothes as you await your lover’s return. kaeya usually asks his brother to take care of you when he’s not around at the tavern, however diluc wasn’t there to prevent this situation from unfolding either.

“you seem to be getting a bit too drunk, lad.”

a familiar voice causes you to turn your body to the right. there he is: kaeya, standing behind you with his hand on bruce’s shoulder. if you looked closely, you’d notice how firm of a grip kaeya had on the drunken man—the fabric of his clothes wrinkled underneath kaeya’s palm.

“h-kaeya—that you, buddy?” bruce laughs wholeheartedly, his words slurring a little, “i gotta say, ya got quite a pretty thing with you!”

a breathy chuckle escaped kaeya’s lips. it wasn’t an amused or humorous chuckle, but rather one that sounded like his patience was running low.

“mhm, that so?” kaeya subtly gestures to the knight that had accompanied him inside the bar.

the young knight understands and nods at his captain. the knight walks towards bruce, holding the drunkard by his arm and forcing him to stand up straight.

“say, bruce,” kaeya starts, sighing softly as he put his hands in his pockets before bending his head down to whisper his next words into the man’s ear; “i may have been a bit too lenient with you. i’ll see you later in my office, yeah?”

kaeya says all of that with a smile as he straightens his back again. you (and probably many of the wrongdoers in mondstadt who were unlucky enough to experience kaeya’s hidden wrath) knew that empty smile all too well. one that you see when you know you’ve messed up.

bruce was too drunk to even realise what was implied as he was escorted out of the tavern by the knight.

kaeya sighs to himself before turning to you with a genuine, worried smile; “i’m extremely sorry, sweetheart. i should’ve stayed with you.”

you smile at your lover and shake your head, “it’s fine, kaeya. thank you for being there for me anyway.”

the cavalry captain frowns at his own ignorance; he should known some creep would hit on you while he was gone. it was a dangerous decision of him to leave you in a bar between all kinds of impolite, loud and drunk men.

“may i hug you?” kaeya adds quietly, eyes searching for yours as if asking for permission. his reason for asking for your consent, is because he thought you’d might be uncomfortable with any type of close proximity after that encounter with bruce.

“of course, babe.” you nod.

kaeya opens his arms as an invitation for you to get into his embrace. you instantly hug him back, laying your head against his chest. his heartbeat was steady and his dainty fingers were immediately caressing your back in a comforting manner.

“if anything like that ever happens again, you call out for me, alright? i’ll make sure to keep you safe. no matter where you might be.”

KAMISATO AYATO.

gets big mad, like.. mad mad, but like on the inside. he’s the head of his clan-of course he has dealt with rude people before- however none of those experiences included you being verbally harassed by a stranger.

ayato will probably not lash out at the man (especially not in front of you); he has his own ways of putting rude people in their place. many being.. torturous. to him it’s justified: whoever messes with his wife, messes with him.

will not show you how much he wishes he could act out of line. although, ayato knows well enough what his limits are. direct violence isn’t going to solve anything, but maybe threats will.

ayato was coming home soon from his business trip which is why you decided to wait on him outside of the kamisato estate. you were dressed up nicely and had proudly prepared him his favourite dishes for the first time in a while. all set to greet your dear husband.

what you didn’t expect to see, was a random adventurer climbing up the stairs near the estate. the man shamelessly looked you up and down before asking you for nearby directions. you didn’t think much about it and gave him the needed information.

thinking your duty there was done, you walked back to the entrance of the estate so you could await your husband’s arrival inside the building. it was getting a bit chilly anyway.

“oh, ma’am! can you at least tell me your name?” the voice echoes behind you. you felt a cold hand brush against yours and it almost made you freeze on spot. you flinched and took your hand away, frowning as you look back at the stranger.

there were maids cleaning around the courtyard and they noticed the scene unfolding in front of their eyes. they instantly sensed your uneasiness and rushed to your rescue—circling the man and telling him that this area is off limits for strangers. this causes a constant back and forth squabble between the man and the servants, who were simply trying to do their job: protecting the young master’s wife when he isn’t near.

“move.”

ayato’s sudden appearance and sharp voice shuts everyone up. his maids and servants immediately stand straight and then move to bow at their master— heads held low out of respect, yet also out of fear for his wrath. you might not have noticed it, but his servants have known him since he was a child and thus can easily spot the (hidden) dangerous aura ayato emitted.

“ah, ayato !” you smile in relief at your husband and give him a small wave. he, however, seemed rather tense as he walked over to you—eyes scanning your body for any signs of discomfort. ayato’s gloved hands immediately cup your face once he is close enough, “are you okay, sweetheart?”

“yes, i am. thank you.” you reply, his hands gently touching your cheeks were a complete opposite to the anger boiling up inside of him. ayato places a soft kiss to your forehead in hopes to calm your nerves, as if to say ‘you’re safe, i’m here now’.

“escort her to her room.” your husband orders the two maids standing next to you and they instantly do as told. before you got taken away from him, ayato flashes you his usual charming smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling, “i’ll be there with you soon, honey. i’ll just see this man out.”

once you were out of sight, that smile of ayato’s instantly vanished and got replaced by a cold, piercing expression. he turned towards the unknown man who was now cuffed by two guards;

“now then, shall we go talk outside of the estate for a bit? the maids have cleaned the garden rather thoroughly today and i do not wish to let their hard work go to waste by my… well, disciplining.”

CYNO.

appears out of thin air to defend you. you might even start to question if he’s secretly following you everywhere, because cyno does not fail to show up whenever you are in any kind of trouble.

probably also (temporarily) arrests whoever bothers you. he does that instead of literally beating them up to a pulp. it’s easier and avoids further trouble after all. though, cyno doesn’t arrest them without giving them a proper ‘punishment’ of his own.

has no time to beat around the bush— he’s direct when approaching the person who’s bothering you.

you were walking around the marketplace with only one goal in mind: getting the needed ingredients for the dish you wanted to prepare tonight. the streets were crowded, chatter and negotiations filling your ears as you stopped near a fruit and vegetables stall.

“can i get 2 kilograms of zaytun, please?” you ask the vendor, fishing your wallet from your pocket already. you exchanged the bag of food with a couple of mora and bid the owner of the stall farewell.

you were too busy inspecting the contents of the bag and therefore bumped into a tall guy. you excuse yourself, however that didn’t seem enough for the man, “hey, hold on there, pretty thing.”

a sigh escapes your lips as you know where the conversation would go; he’ll most likely ask you for compensation for bumping into him. you turned around to face the stranger again, a fake smile plastered on your face, “what is it, sir?”

the man hums as he studies your looks. he’s trying very hard to be very intimidating by staring down at you—hands in his pockets with a smirk tugging at his lips, “ya know, i think i’m gonna ask for another type of compensation from y… ou..”

you raise an eyebrow once you notice his voice trailing off until he’s completely silent; eyes wide and smirk wiped off his face like he’s seen a ghost. you decide to follow the way the man’s eyes were looking—that place being right behind you.

“cyno?!” you almost jump from surprise yourself the moment you come face to face with your lover whom had appeared from out of nowhere. there was a purple-ish glow surrounding his body, sparks from his electro vision making him seem even more terrifying—not to include the death stare the mahamatra was giving to the stranger.

there were no words coming out of your lover. he was silently glaring at the man who bothered you and his piercing gaze was no joke. cyno was finally about to open his mouth to talk, however the upcoming words were never uttered as the stranger interrupted him;

“i— uhh, i’m sorry.” the dark-haired man sheepishly apologises and takes a few steps back, clearly intimidated. cyno was not going to let him get away so easily. though, firsts things first: your lover had to check up on you.

“the bastard didn’t touch you or anything, right?” cyno asks you, brushing some strands of hair from your face, “if he did, make sure to tell me. i won’t show him any mercy.”

you shake your head and gulp a bit. even when you’ve seen cyno in action so many times before, his presence never fails to impress you. “he didn’t,” you answer quietly, to which cyno nods.

“good.” your lover hums before letting his arm fall to his side again. he gives you a small, reassuring smile and pats your back, “you can go ahead. i’ll see you at home.”

you were not about to argue with cyno when he was in that state and thus continue on with your little stroll.

little did you know that that stranger was in danger.

[fallenbutterfly-nemesis]

Ichigo Kurosaki

What do the cards have in-store

Ichigo x tarot card reader

Ichigo returned from another day of training, a little worn down but keeping his usual determined expression. Y/N was sitting cross-legged on the floor, her Tarot deck spread out before her.

She glanced up and smiled. "Rough day?"

Ichigo shrugged. "Same as usual. Just gotta keep pushing forward." He looked at the cards with a hint of skepticism. "Still doing your card stuff, huh?"

Y/N chuckled softly. "My card stuff has its own insights, you know. Besides, these cards called for you today."

Ichigo raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "Oh, really? What do they have to say about me, then?"

She carefully drew a card and revealed The Tower. The artwork depicted lightning striking a tall structure, sending people falling from the top.

Ichigo frowned. "That doesn’t look like good news."

"It's not always as bad as it seems," Y/N replied, meeting his gaze. "The Tower means a big change, something that might feel like everything is falling apart. But sometimes you need that shake-up to rebuild something stronger. You've been pushing yourself too hard. This could be a reminder to slow down, let things settle."

He sighed. "Easy for you to say. I don't exactly have the luxury of slowing down."

She looked at him with a knowing smile. "I know, but you don’t have to do everything alone. You have people who care about you. Lean on them a bit more, Ichigo."

Ichigo looked away, his cheeks tinged pink. "Yeah, yeah. I get it," he mumbled, feeling a little flustered.

Seeing his reaction, Y/N drew another card, revealing The Strength card. She held it up with a soft smile. "See this? This one’s all about inner strength and patience. That’s you, Ichigo. No matter what happens, remember you’re stronger than you think—not just because of your powers, but because of your heart."

Ichigo softened, nodding. "You always know just what to say, huh?"

Y/N laughed. "Not exactly. I just read the cards, and they tell me the rest. And maybe… I pay attention to you."

He couldn’t help but smile a little. "Fine. I’ll try to take it easy—for you, at least."

She laughed again, a sound that felt like home to him. "That's all I ask. And remember, if you ever want more insight, I’m always here."

With that, she tucked the cards back into her deck, looking up at him with a soft smile that Ichigo knew would stay in his mind long after the day’s battles were over.

Ichigo watched as Y/N carefully gathered her Tarot cards, her hands gentle and precise, as if each card held some kind of magic he couldn’t quite understand. He’d never been much of a believer in things he couldn’t see, but there was something about the way she treated those cards—and the way she looked at him—that made him believe, just a little, in the power she held.

“Thanks,” he murmured, the usual roughness in his voice softened. “For, you know… everything.”

Y/N paused, looking up at him with that warm, knowing smile she seemed to reserve just for him. "You don’t have to thank me, Ichigo. I’d be here for you no matter what."

He shifted awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Still, I… don’t know how I’d get through half of this without you.”

Y/N stepped closer, her fingers brushing his hand. “Then don’t try. I’m not going anywhere.”

Ichigo felt his heart beat a little faster. He was used to throwing himself into battle without hesitation, but here, with her this close, his usual confidence faltered. Slowly, he reached for her hand, his fingers intertwining with hers.

“I mean it,” he said softly, his voice just above a whisper. “You’re important to me. More than just… helping me with all this Soul Reaper stuff.”

She smiled, her cheeks flushing as she stepped even closer. “You’re important to me too, Ichigo.”

And then, without another word, Ichigo closed the small space between them, leaning in to press his lips softly to hers. The kiss was gentle, filled with a warmth and sweetness that neither of them needed to speak aloud. In that moment, all the battles and struggles faded away, leaving only the two of them, together in the quiet.

As they pulled back, Y/N’s eyes sparkled, her smile tender. “Looks like my cards were right,” she murmured with a soft laugh.

Ichigo chuckled, rolling his eyes but smiling. “Fine. Maybe they’re not all that bad.”

He wrapped an arm around her, holding her close, and in that rare, peaceful moment, Ichigo knew that as long as he had Y/N by his side, he could face anything the world—or the spirit realm—threw at him.

Thank you for reading! If you have any ideas throw them at me!

[tricks-tickles]

Birthday Gift

happy birthday to my favorite boy who i want all the best for <3

word count: 1163

pairing: Lee!Todoroki & Ler!Midoriya

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

January 11th was a completely normal day.

This is why Shoto woke up at his usual 6:30, had breakfast, went for a run, then got ready for class in peace.

It’s why he sat through English and Art quite happily without anyone talking to him, spare Yaoyorozu asking for a sharpener.

It’s why lunch was an uneventful affair, with Midoriya chatting to Uruaka about a new hero who'd just debuted, a conversation that Shoto listened to but did not contribute.

It’s why he was paired with Ojiro for close-range training and spent an hour dodging his tail and trying not to set his classmate on fire. 

And it’s why, finally, once they got back to the dorms he planned to retreat to his room to do his homework in peace. 

And of course, since this is a normal day, his plans got disrupted. This came in the form of Midoriya, who knocked at his door.

“Uh, Aizawa-sensei said this came for you.” He said, holding out a white envelope, with Shoto’s name written on it in familiar handwriting.

 Shit. 

See today was a normal day, or at least he wanted it to be, but it also happened to be the day he was born, 16 years ago. Nothing worth celebrating, in his eyes, but his sister disagreed. And so, a card. From Fuyumi. For his birthday.

Midoriya peered at the letter, clearly curious but unwilling to ask. Shoto considered shutting the door on him, but they were friends after all. Besides, the day was nearly done, what harm could telling him do?

So Shoto opened the envelope, took out the money, and skimmed the card inside.

Dear Shoto, it read, I hope you have an amazing birthday! I’m sorry I can’t celebrate with you, so I’m sending this card instead. Use the money to buy yourself something cool because I have no idea what you’re into.

Lots of Love, Fuyumi

Shoto smiled, a little, and then set the card on his bedside table. When his eyes came back to Midoriya, he was frowning.

“Wait, when’s your birthday?” He asked. Shoto glanced to the side, then responded,

“Today.”

At this, Midoriya gaped at him, outraged.

“And you never said? I didn’t get you anything!” He cried.

Shoto sighed. “Well, clearly I didn’t expect anything.”

Midoriya pouted, jutting out his lower lip in exaggerated dismay.

“What if I wanted to get you something?” He asked, “We could have had a little party.”

Shoto made a face. “I’m fine just… not doing anything, I don’t need a party.”

Clearly, Midoriya was running out of patience, as he punctuated his next sentence with several pokes to his chest.

“Yes, you do. Even if you don’t think so.” At each poke, Shoto twitched a little, a detail that did not go unmissed by Midoriya. 

“In fact, I’m quite upset that you didn’t tell me, your trusted friend.” Upset, but there was a sly grin spreading across his face, yeah right. “Maybe I should show you how upset I am.”

Shoto knew where this was going, and took an anticipatory step back, then another, until he was tripping over his futon and landing lightly on the mattress. Midoriya followed, his sly grin turning predatory as crouched next to him, his hands coming up to rest on Shoto’s sides.

“Midoriya.” He said, warningly. Midoriya just giggled, beginning to wiggle his fingers into Shoto’s sides.

“Todoroki.” Midoriya responded, mimicking Shoto’s tone. Shoto gasped, his hands flying up to cover his face as he fell backward onto the futon.

“Nooo,” Midoriya whined, moving to squeeze his sides, “Show me your cute smile!” 

Shoto just shook his head, pressing his hands against his mouth where he could feel giggles building up. Midoriya went back to scribbling, then, made a fatal move.

As his fingers gently teased Shoto’s sides, he moved to shift himself into a different position, putting pressure on Shoto’s right side, which caused a surprised yelp of laughter to come from him, slipping out from his fingers. Midoriya stilled. Shoto stilled. The whole room froze. Then, 

“What was that!” Midoriya said, laughing.

“I dohon’t kn- WAIT Midohorihihiyaha!” Midoriya’s fingers were now pressing down against his right side, scratching harshly. It tickled so bad. He’d always felt like his left side was more ticklish, but this was easily matching it. He tried to squirm, but his body felt limp, weakened by the laughter now pouring from his lips.

Curious, Midoryia shifted his hand to the other side, still tickling. Almost immediately, the sensations died down, leaving him giggling weakly. 

“Huh.” Midoriya said, then began tickling his right side the same way as before. He yelped again, flushing in embarrassment as he weakly kicked his legs, trying in vain to fight off the sensations. Experimentally, Midoriya stopped tickling him, then fluttered his fingers over his left side. Shoto squealed, wiggling away a little.

“Huh.” Midoriya said, again.

“Whahahat?” Shoto asked, still laughing. 

“It looks like you’re ticklish in different ways, on different sides. So if I do this,” He pinched roughly along Shoto’s right side, making his back arch a little as he laughed, “Or this,” He spidered his fingers along his left, giggling as Shoto’s knee jerked up to defend the spot, “Then you must have different sensitivity levels, it must be due to your quirk, maybe your ice side is worse for rougher tickling because the cold has made the skin thicker, or tougher? And the fire because the heat makes you more sensitive? That would mean maybe your body experiences pain differently too, which could have an impact on thewaythatyoufightthatyoumaynotevenreali-”

“Midoriya! Pleheahase!” He begged, still caught under Midoriya’s tickling hand, which had been crawling toward his stomach as he mumbled to himself.

“Oh! Sorry, Todoroki.” He said, sheepishly, removing his hand and letting Shoto breathe. 

“That would mean, though, that the most effective way to tickle you is- Where are you going?” He said teasingly, as Shoto had been making to roll onto his side. 

“Uh.” He said, intelligently. 

“I’m still upset, you know! Consider this your birthday gift.”

Shoto flushed, then cackled as Midoriya’s fingers descended on him again. One hand clawed at his ribs, the other scribbled gently. His long-forgotten hands sprung up to hold Midoriya’s wrists, his legs kicked weakly at the floor, and he laughed, high-pitched and desperate, at the sensations that were crawling along his body. 

“Maybe since you’re sixteen I should tickle you for sixteen minutes.” Midoriya mused.

“Nohoho, pleheahase dohohon’t!” He cried.

“Aw, but you love it, don’t you Todoroki-kun?” Just when Shoto thought his face couldn’t get any redder, he felt heat crawling to his ears and down his neck. Still, he didn’t deny Midoriya’s claims.

When his hands started pulling at Midoriya’s wrists, he took the hint and stopped, leaving Shoto to gasp for breath.

“Happy Birthday?” He tried, and Shoto huffed a laugh in response. 

“Sure, thank you.”

Maybe January 11th didn’t have to be a normal day after all.

[zoeykallus]

Hi there! I love all your writing sm! Like it's so good I can't even explain how much I love it ❤️‍🔥 anyways, I was wondering if you could do something where tbb reacts to their gf teasing them by riding them slowly? If you can't, that's totally fine! No pressure 😁

Aloha! Thanks! Love to read that! ❤️‍ Oooh, I see... ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 Well, let me do my thing 😁

The Bad Batch x F!Reader Spicy HC's - Slow Ride

Warnings: 18 + / Sexual Themes / Suggestive / Teasing / Filth

_______

Hunter

He enjoys your ride. Normally he is more the dominant part, but Hunter doesn't mind healthy variety. He also enjoys the sight of you sitting on him. As you slow down, he looks at you questioningly, but he can tell right away by the look on your face that you're up to something.

"Teasing me?"

Your smirk tells him he's right. Hunter lets you do your thing for quite a while, but eventually and finally, he starts to buck his hips up. His hands grab your hips as he thrusts upward into you.

"Come on, sweetheart, you've kept me waiting long enough," he teases you.

You can barely hold yourself back, and that he suddenly takes the lead again from his position actually pleases you.

"Even in this position, you're going to give it to me?"

Hunter grins at you, increasing his pace.

"You bet I am"

You shift your position, so he stimulates just the right spots. His hands are firmly on your hips as he fucks you until you collapse on top of him with a heavy moan, your pussy tightening around his cock.

Echo

He's fully focused on the sight of you, on how it feels to have you riding his cock. His hand plays with your breasts, his scomp link rubs gently over your clit. As you slow down, he looks at you in wonder.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just want to drag this out a bit, I like having you inside me".

He smiles.

"Is that so?" he asks, still smirking, "I have a feeling you just want to tease me".

You laugh softly, "That too."

Echo has the patience of an angel, he whimpers and moans under you, but he doesn't try to take the lead from you. He is at your mercy and even though he longs for relief, at the same time he enjoys this power you have over him right now.

He finally says, "Come on, darling, I've been a good boy, haven't I?"

You nod and bite your lower lip.

" Then give it to me, love."

His eyes widen as you pick up the pace again. When he comes it's intense, and he's louder than usual, his hand clamps onto your hip and his hips shoot up automatically as he comes inside you while your pussy clamps onto his cock.

Wrecker

The first few times, sitting on him was the only way to have sex with Wrecker. He's huge, so it took you a while to get used to it. Even today, the riding position is still a regular go to for you.

He smirks at you as he lies there beneath you, your hands propped on his massive chest. His hands are clasped behind his head. He loves it when you ride him, and he can look at you in peace while your little pussy massages his huge cock.

As you slow down, he knows you're teasing him. He holds back because he knows how strong he is, even though he's actually well in control, he's still afraid he might hurt you in the heat of the moment.

"Mesh'la, please don't tease me for too long, I don't know how long I can take it," he finally squeezes out, teeth half clenched, fighting the urge to grab you.

You praise him, "You've done a wonderful job for me, Wrecker. It's time I rewarded you."

He nods in agreement and stares at you expectantly. As you begin to ride faster, a deep, relieved sigh comes from his chest.

"Oh, yeah, that's good, Mesh'la, keep going."

His hands claw at the frame of the bed, which creaks and groans protestingly under his hard grip as your wet wicket tightens around his hard cock and you both climax.

Tech

He's under the console, you're alone on the ship. You haven't even undressed him properly. You came naked into the cockpit while he is busy with work. You haven't been alone for a while, and Tech is often impossible to get away from work, so you took the initiative. Codpiece and pants were quickly opened. And now you sit on his lap while he whimpers and moans beneath you.

He has long since dropped his tools, his long, slender fingers rest on your hips. At first, he may have been surprised and maybe even frightened, but he is glad that you surprised him. He has missed this very much, too.

However, as you slow down, so slow that you barely move on top of him, he looks up at you questioningly.

"Cy-Cyare?"

"I'm mad at you."

He blinks.

"Really? Now?"

Seeing your critical look, he quickly changes his tone.

"I mean, really? Why? What did I do?"

"It's more about what you didn't do. You've let way too many opportunities to be alone with me go by because of your work."

Tech moves a little nervously under you, his cock twitching in your pussy.

"But the work has to be done"

"Not all at once, Hunter already told you that too".

Tech nods, "Okay you're right, I'm sorry".

"You want me to keep going?"

Tech looks at you pleadingly, "Please."

You lean down to him, and he clasps his arms around you, kissing your face and neck.

"I'll make more time for you, I promise".

As you resume your ride, a shaky, relieved moan comes out of his mouth.

Crosshair

It is rare that he allows you to take the lead. Today is one of those days. Giving you the lead is one thing, but he won't let you dominate him. The critical look he gives you as you slow down speaks volumes.

"You don't tease me"

It's not a question but a statement, almost something like a threat. You know you're provoking him in a way, but that's exactly what you want. When you finally stop completely, he growls impatiently and rolls around with you so you're under him.

"What did I just tell you? No teasing."

You grin at him and he shakes his head.

"Naughty, kitten"

He pins you under him and begins to thrust, one hand on your neck, one on your hip. He's a little rougher than usual, more demanding, but that's what you'd wanted to tease out of him. It works every time. Clever as he is, he falls for it every time, but maybe he doesn't mind, maybe Crosshair just lets you play your little game.

His thrusts are getting faster and faster. The moment you come, you're both sweaty and panting. You cling to him, and he pushes his lap deep into yours one last time as your pussy twitches around his ejaculating cock.

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@puppetswithteeth

@palliateclaws

@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

[amakumos]

boomerang － five ; hangout gone wrong

SYNOPSIS you and jake sim have always been academic rivals. it was always you against him for top of the class, and jake is sure that you two were made to hate each other. a couple years later when you debut and become an idol, you find yourself talking to him again - but it’s in a group chat with other aussie idols, and perhaps you realise that he isn’t that insufferable.

Hanging out with Jake Sim is really testing your patience. 

Tthe little death glares that he sends you and how he rolls his eyes every time you talk is pissing you off, but you promised Lily that you wouldn’t argue with him today. 

You decide to retaliate by shooting Jake the same dirty looks that he shoots you instead of spitting out insults like you usually would. If your friends notice your passive-aggressive interactions with Jake, they surely make no comment on it, choosing to just munch on the snacks that you all brought.

You also make a mental note to yourself to cut out all the parts that you’ve filmed which includes you and Jake glaring at one another for your vlog. 

“Chan, what the hell? Stop eating all the Tim Tams, leave some for me as well!” Felix says, and you let out a small chuckle at him and Chan’s bickering. 

“Man, it’s kinda hot today,” you say, fanning yourself with your hands. “Yeah, it is.” Rosé responds, using her hand to shield her face from the sun. “Are there any drinks in the cooler?” 

Lily opens up the cooler, and she can’t help but let out a small laugh, which leaves you confused. 

“What’s in it?” you ask, and Lily stifles another laugh. 

“Uh... there’s iced tea, coke and... Fanta.” 

Jake struggles to hold back his laughter as you try to stop yourself from flipping him off. It’s stupid, really, because even two years after the famous ‘Fanta Incident’ you won’t shut up about it. 

It was fourth period, and you were heading to your Advanced Calculus class, and Jake had a bottle of Fanta in his hands. You swear he purposely stumbled into you, and had spilled his drink all over you, and your uniform was stained with orange. 

“Just give me the coke, Lily.” you say, and your best friend hands it over with a knowing smile on her face, and you sigh in frustration. 

“Hey, can you hand me the Fanta?” you hear Jake say, and you swear that you feel your eye twitch. You shift a little further away from Jake, not wanting to recreate the whole scene from two years ago - because if that happened, you knew you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from starting an argument. 

“It’s not like I’m going to spill it on you or anything,” Jake says, noticing how you’ve moved away from him. “Sure you won’t, Jake.” you say with a sarcastic tone, and Lily gives you a look in warning. 

“I’m not arguing with him!” 

“It sounds like you were about to,” Felix chimes in, and you let out a frustrated sigh. 

“I promised I wouldn’t argue with him! I never break my promises,” you say. “If he doesn’t start an argument, I won’t either. Okay?” you tell Lily, who blankly stares at you. 

“... Fine.” 

Maybe you’re too engrossed with your very short conversation with Lily, because you seem to not notice how Jake’s shaking the can of Fanta in his hands.

He opens it, and the orange flavoured drink practically flies everywhere.

“What the fuck, Jake?” 

Jake spilled Fanta on you once again. Just like what happened two years ago. His hand immediately flies to his mouth, and thank god you’re wearing a black shirt today, because if you were wearing white, you knew you’d have a giant orange stain on your sleeve.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, but from the way he’s trying his best not to laugh, you’re sure he’s not sincere. 

“Why would you shake a can of soda before opening it?” Felix asks, grabbing a few paper towels which he hands over to you. 

“Habit, I guess?” Jake responds, and you let out a frustrated groan.

“Jake Sim, I’m going to fucking kill you.”

Needless to say, that part was cut out from your vlog.

five － hangout gone wrong! previous ★ next ♡ masterlist

authors note: the fanta incident (part two)

BOOMERANG! a jake smau. genre: smau, angst, fluff, crack, enemies to lovers pairing: idol! jake x idol! fem! reader warnings: swearing, ignore timestamps, photos of yujin from ive will be used to visualise outfit / concepts for y/n! taglist is CLOSED!

[waka-chan-out]

Okay so I heard you were looking for requests for short stuff so do you have any headcanons for getting just. Absolutely railed by Haikyuu team captains, please and thank you. (I really love your stuff and I hope you take this!)

Rough Captain Headcanons

sub captains edition here.

you heard correctly!! (though this did not end up being very short lmaoo) i am a whore for the haikyuu captains so you’ve come to the right place. and thank you so much! i’ll take any opportunity to talk about my boys.

i included literally every single captain i could think of, including the karasuno captains after daichi and our timeskip kings. have fun.

post-timeskip, obviously.

content warnings: mostly gn! reader (but occasional fem!), lots of pet names, lots of teasing and degradation, hair pulling, spanking, three (3) creampies god i hate that word, hickies, handcuffs, etc. all of these are established relationship.

so i don’t know how to describe what exactly these headcanons are? i don’t think all of the captains are the “railing” type. however, these are basically just headcanons for when they go their hardest and either accidentally or purposefully get carried away.

Sawamura Daichi

likes to cage you under him and just lose it. will loop an arm around your waist and lift you up into him, so your back arches and he can hit the perfect angle.

will. not. let you look away. grabs your chin. pulls your hair. will move you however he needs to so he can look you in the eyes while he’s pounding into you.

“Shy now, princess?” Daichi said, tipping your chin to look at him. “Don’t hide. You look so pretty like this.” A sharp breath left your lips as he pressed his hips farther forward, grinding into you and sending a shock of pleasure through your body. “That’s it, sweetheart. Taking it so well. Let me give you what you deserve.”

Ennoshita Chikara

he’s a hair puller. like he doesn’t think much about it but he really likes pulling you by your hair back against his chest so he can whisper dirty shit in your ear. sometimes he gets a little too aggressive with it, so if you’re into that kind of thing, he’s your man.

possessive as all hell. you’re going out for drinks with coworkers? he’s leaving a hickie right at the collar of your top so everyone can see that you’re taken. coming out to dinner with his old teammates? he’s going to have an arm on you all night. loves to pull you in and remind you of things you did the night before to get you flustered.

very particular about how you’re positioned. will pin your arms above your head and readjust his grip several times. pushes your legs out of the way. grabs your jaw and moves your face where he wants you. somehow he doesn’t realize how hot that is until you tell him to his face. he’s still confused about it but has learned to love that you love it.

Chikara ran a hand up your side and let it rest in your hair for a moment before tugging hard. You gasped as he pulled it back and to the side, exposing your neck so he could leave marks as he pushed deeper inside you. You let out a whimper and tried to loop an arm around his neck but he grabbed your wrist and pinned it down.

“Patience, love. I want everyone to be able to tell I fucked you senseless.”

Yamaguchi Tadashi

he tries to dirty talk, but it always turns into praise and repeating how much he loves you.

aggressive and whiny, begging for more even though he’s the one giving it to you.

prefers when you ride him, but will do anything you ask of him. loves being told what to do. thinks you directing him to go faster or slower or a little to the left is the sexiest thing on the planet. he will fuck the life out of you if you just ask nicely.

“Harder, Tadashi,” you gasped. He grunted and snapped his hips as fast and as hard as it seems his body would let him.

“God, you’re gonna make me come. How do you feel so fucking good?” You smiled at the praise and pulled him in for a kiss. His breath hissed against your face as he continued pushing into you. You wrapped your legs tight around him and he let out a whine, pressing his face against yours. “I’m so fucking glad you’re mine.”

Oikawa Tooru

he’s a biter

likes to be lazy and dirty talks while you ride him usually, but every so often he shifts and will fuck you until tears are running out of your eyes.

will lay on top of you while you’re on your stomach, an arm looped around your neck, and just fuck you into the bedsheets. he’s wrapped up in his own little world, choking on high pitched moans and gasping for breath. like i said, he’s a biter, so you end up with marks all over your neck and shoulders. he’s just a fucking baby. the sounds he makes are so whiny and breathy it sounds like he’s the one getting destroyed instead of you.

“Ngh, fuck,” Tooru gasped. His breath was hot in your ear as you panted into the mattress. “Feel so good around me. You’re just begging for my cum, aren’t you?” You wanted to laugh and tell him you weren’t the one begging, but you couldn’t. Your breath was being torn from your lungs with every thrust. Tooru sunk his teeth into your shoulder as he pounded into you harder, letting out a soft whimper against your skin. His voice raised in pitch until he was practically whining. “Hah—gonna come soon. You feel so good.” His voice trailed off as it reached a whimper and he buried his face back against your neck, body shaking in anticipation.

Kuroo Tetsuro

spanking spanking spanking

seriously, hits it from the back and is not nice about it.

kuroo likes pulling you closer by your hips or ankles, turning you over whenever he feels like it, whatever. he just likes being able to toss you around and position you so he hits you just right every time.

“What? Trying to get away? That’s not how you take it, is it?” Kuroo grabbed your hips and yanked you flush against him. You cried out and buried your face against the bed. “There we go.” He laid a slap on your ass and laughed at the small sound you let out. “I’m not done with you yet. You’re not going anywhere.”

Bokuto Koutarou

he fucks himself dumb. accidentally goes so hard he’s whining and can barely hear you if you ask him to speed up or slow down.

likes missionary because he likes being as close to you as humanly possible and it gives him the best leverage to just.....lose it. gasping against your face and babbling about how good you feel. going off of that, he has a very hard time pulling out. lord have mercy. use a condom or get on a reliable birth control because as much as he tries, he’s never going to have any self-control in the moment.

he forgets just how strong he is sometimes, which results in bruises and weak limbs and occasionally trouble walking. he always apologizes profusely and offers many kisses to make up for it even after you insist that you’re fine.

“Baby, please let me come inside you. Please. Oh my god,” Koutarou whined, tightening his grip on your thigh and snapping his hips harder.

“Yes, Kou. Please.” You brought him down into a kiss. You were both panting and Koutarou was moaning, practically vibrating against you as he got closer. He began moving erratically, pounding harder into you and making you cry out.

“M’sorry. Fuck. I’m gonna come.” His chest heaved as he thrust into you hard once, twice, and let out a long groan. You could feel him twitching inside you, hands clutching your skin so hard it was almost painful. He mumbled praise and curses and nonsense against your lips, slowing his movement until he collapsed on top of you. He pressed a sloppy kiss to your forehead and tucked his face into your neck. “Thank you. I love you. Oh my god.”

Futakuchi Kenji

likes holding your legs and moving them around to see what gets the biggest reaction from you. doesn’t care what position you’re in but loves when your legs are closed and lifted so you’re extra tight around him.

his goal is to see you as desperate as possible. he’ll do whatever it takes to get your eyes rolling back, your hands clutching at anything they can grab, mindless pleading, all of it. he just wants to watch you fall apart because of him, and i gotta say, he’s good at getting his way.

“Oh, that’s it. Look at you,” Kenji cooed. He gently wiped a tear from your face as he readjusted your legs with his other hand, holding them tightly to his chest. “Coming apart already. I’m just getting started. Are you going to be good for me?”

Daishou Suguru

finger sucking finger sucking finger sucking. loves watching you gag so he’ll shove two fingers deep into your mouth and strokes them over your tongue. he also just does it to shut you up whenever he feels like it.

likes edging and teasing a little too much. will hold off from fucking you until you’re genuinely angry at him, so wet that he can push in with no resistance. then he makes it up to you by fucking you until you’re sobbing or your eyes are rolling back in your head. you’ve never had an orgasm with him that didn’t feel like you might not live to see the end of it.

“You like that, don’t you?” Suguru said, thumbing over your bottom lip as his cock slid between your legs, not pushing in like you desperately wanted him to. “Like when I use you like this? Should I just come like this? I don’t even have to fuck you to get myself off.” You let out a pathetic noise in protest and he laughed. “Maybe another time. Today I’ll be nice and give you my cock.” He dragged between your legs again and stopped at your entrance, slowly sinking in and pulling a relieved sigh from your throat. “There we go. That’s my fuckin’ girl.” He slid two long fingers between your lips, pressing on the back of your tongue and nearly making you gag. “Now stay quiet while I use you.”

Terushima Yuuji

i.......i gotta mention the tongue piercing. i’m sorry. i know he gives the most enthusiastic, sloppiest head and FOR SURE owns a vibrating tongue ring. what a whore. i love him.

i feel like he’s messy. like he’s into spitting and really sloppy kissing and cum play and everything. will come in your mouth and tell you to hold it there while he fucks you stupid. sometimes kisses it out of your mouth. he’s a freak and i like it.

“Yuuji, fuck.” You could practically hear your body vibrating, past orgasms still lingering under your skin.

“Yeah? Tell me where you want me to come,” he said. You groaned as he abused the perfect angle inside of you and smirked down at your strained expression. “Not gonna talk to me?” You stayed silent as your head tipped back against your pillow. He chuckled and grabbed your face. “Open.” You blinked up at him and did as you were told, sticking out your tongue. He leaned forward and spat into your mouth. “I’m gonna come inside of you. Yeah? That what you want?” You nodded and swallowed, eyes pinched shut and voice frozen in your throat. He laughed and snapped his hips harder. “That’s right. Anything for you, princess.”

Ushijima Wakatoshi

so we’ve all agreed: horse cock ushijima, however, he usually uses those powers for good. very gentle, very eager to please, exactly what you’d want in a man.

he’s not a hard dom, but sometimes he gets so overwhelmed with how much he loves you that he forgets how strong he is. pounding into you with his whole heart and whispering in your ear how much he adores you between groans. very vocal. a little too rough. definitely feels very guilty when you’re sore the next day but if you kiss him and tell him you liked it....he may be willing to throw caution to the wind again sometime.

Wakatoshi didn’t speak much, but the room was far from silent. He made the prettiest sounds when he was lost in you, grunts turning to long moans, made even sweeter when they were hummed against your lips. The groan of the bed mixed with the strike of skin against skin, white noise behind your already muddled thoughts. Wakatoshi pushed your legs farther toward your chest and leaned down, laying his face right against your ear.

“You’re so beautiful.” His voice seemed to rumble through your entire body. “You’re so good to me, darling. I love you.”

Kita Shinsuke

very soft. y’all are never gonna catch me writing hard dom kita shinsuke. HOWEVER. he is so eager that sometimes it’s a little too much for either of you. like he doesn’t realize how aggressive he’s been until you’re both literally unable to catch your breath and have to just lay in silence for a while. will ask you very nicely if you’re okay and get you water and anything else you need, but he will have this little grin on his face the whole time because he’s so happy to be able to put you both in that state.

Kita’s face scrunched up into a tight wince as he came, as his hips slowing into hard, deep thrusts that made your vision go white. Your grip in his hair was so tight you were sure it hurt, but you couldn’t help it when he was scrambling your brain with every touch. He stopped moving and you realized just how hard both of you were breathing. It felt like you couldn’t fill your lungs, body so spent that it couldn’t even do what it needed to do to survive. His braced arms on either side of your head were shaking, and his eyes were still shut tight.

“Shin,” you said, as steadily as you could through your gasping breaths. He didn’t answer. “Shin, baby, you okay?”

He exhaled hard and smiled, then let himself fall on top of you.

“Perfect. I’m—you’re perfect. I love you.” You laughed and combed your fingers through his hair, then pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“I love you too.”

Meian Shūgo

what to say about this man......

i feel like my opinions about what he likes and doesn’t like are kind of hot takes, because most of the stuff i see with him is hard dom. but. i raise you: overly excited switch meian shūgo.

captain meian shūgo likes to be teased and edged within an inch of his sanity. he likes when you talk shit and order him around and he’s DEFINITELY into handcuffs. however, he always pays you back for it. even if he’s still cuffed up and a little pink in the face from embarrassment, he will absolutely use you. very loud. loves when you leave scratch marks. loves leaving hickies everywhere.

You were almost shocked by the high moan that left Shūgo’s throat as he finally sunk into you. His face screwed up in pleasure and concentration as he withdrew his hips and drove them back against you.

“Fuck, I’ve been waiting for this. You tease me all that time but you can’t wait for me to fuck you like this, can you?”

“That’s some tough talk for someone whose wrists are still bound,” you said through a smile. He let out a breathy laugh and braced his hands on your stomach, still connected by leather and a short chain.

“Doesn’t keep me away from you.” He raised an eyebrow and pushed deeper inside you. “I can still use your body when I’m all tied up.”

Hirugami Fukurō

pulling a headcanon from his brother’s list and saying he likes getting his hair pulled, which means he loooooves going down on you.

will leave your legs feeling like jelly because he makes you come at least three times, and each one is hard. like, you forget where you are and can’t breathe for a few minutes afterward.

will cock warm you until you’re begging him to please, please move. proceeds to fuck you slowly, but so hard and so deep you’re feeling him between your legs the entire next day.

“Done already? That’s no fun,” Fukuro teased. You were still shaking from the last time he had pushed you over and he wasn’t helping the situation, thumb still circling your clit after already abusing it with his tongue.

“Come on. You know how to take me.” He continued easing his cock into you, dragging out all of the breath remaining in your body.

“Please,” you whispered. He smiled and leaned closer.

“Please what, love? Do you want me to stop? Use your words.”

“No.”

“Then tell me what you want.”

“Want you to—“ You gasped. “—fuck me. Please.” Fukuro grinned and positioned himself so he had more leverage over you.

“Good girl.”

[nemir]

“do you ever stop?”

✞——————❆——————✞

» pairing; xyx x mc

» word count: 1,107 words

» content; heavy angst, relationship problems

» an; an idea that just came to mind, and xyx seemed to fit the bill the most so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ enjoy. EDIT: Because it’s been asked multiple times now, there IS A PART TWO. It’s been out for just as long as this has. Sorry if this sounds rude, just a little frustrating that people don’t take a few seconds to look for it.

It felt like the call had been going on for ages. It seemed to feel that way most nights, as of late. Almost to the point of... not wanting to get in them, in the first place. This lingering, bitter feeling was just welling, constantly gnawing inside. Patience was beginning to shift and twist into apathy.

The night had started like any other night for the two of you; you got online more or less just as xyx was getting ready for his day. The timezone difference had taken some getting used to, but you managed somehow and things worked, mostly. You sat down with a drink and he with his coffee, and joined the private call.

He looked a little less than stellar today. Almost as if he had been up most of the night. Hair more dishevelled than usual, dark circles underneath those usually bright and sparkling sharp green eyes. Your head canted to the side, brows knitting together. "Hey? You okay?"

He shrugged a bit, "'m fine." He mumbled before taking a sip from his mug. "You alright?" He sounded a bit tense, as if anticipating a bad response.

"I mean, I'm alright I guess. Work was work." You chuckled and looked up at your monitor from over the rim of your cup. "But what else is new?"

"Tell me about it." xyx rolled his eyes, and leaned back in his chair with a sigh, thumping against the fabric.

"Oh, well-" and you started. You launched into your day at work; clients being next to impossible, unaware of how anything worked despite them being regulars, your supplier not working with the company in a way that was up to standard, co-workers being shitty for what you assumed to be no reason, your boss - UGH your boss! Promise after promise, broken. Time and time again. Near-daily reminders for things they shouldn't have to be reminded of, despite everyone making sure to remind them. It was never to any avail. "And then, to top it all off-"

"That wasn't an invitation." xyx's eyes were narrowed, a grimace tugging at his lips. He seemed - no, he was definitely annoyed. Almost frighteningly so. There was only one time you had seen him like this, and it was when he found out his client had been lying to him after nearly six months into a huge court case. You stared at the screen, one hand to your chest in shock. “I...” Your words failed you for a moment as you looked, unblinking, at xyx. “I’m.. I’m sorry. You said ‘tell me about it’, so I figured--” “Do you not listen to tone?” His words were coming off a bit more harsh than he had really intended, but he was too far gone to care anymore. He was already here. “It’s a figure of speech. I was agreeing with you, not asking you to open the bloody flood gates.” His arms crossed and his head tilted downward, but his eyes remained focused on the monitor - on you. “You didn’t even bother to ask if it was alright. Hell, you didn’t even ask me about my day.” “I ... didn’t know it bothered you that much. You usually hate it when I ask you anything like that, so I-” “Stopped asking? Stopped caring?” The words were like venom. “Doesn’t mean I never want, or need to vent.” He leaned forward onto his desk, holding his head in his hands. “I don’t give a shit about myself, you’re right. But christ, it’s annoying to hear you go on, and on, and on about yourself, all the bloody time.” You were stunned, to the point of not knowing what to say or do. You sat there, in your chair, staring at the screen - at your boyfriend who, up until now, seemed to be fine. Where did this even come from? It just happened, out of no where! “Xyx, really, if I had known, I would have asked. I wouldn’t have talked your ear off.” “But you didn’t know did you? Why’s that, I wonder?” His hand raked through his hair. “... Because I didn’t ask. I told you, I’m sorry! What can I do to make it up to you?” “For once in your life, shut the fuck up.” The words stung. They bit, and it was hard. Your blood felt like ice in your veins, and you could have sworn your heart had stopped completely. “... What?” “Just stop talking about yourself, for five fucking minutes! You’re absolutely insufferable, d’you know that? I can hardly hear myself think half the time when we talk! You just go on, and on, and on about you, and your job, and your friends and family, and your life, without ever bothering to ask other people what’s going on in their lives, with them! God, it’s infuriating!” He just wouldn’t stop. The words, the vitriol, came spewing forth like a volcano. “I never knew somebody so fucking selfish before, so ... so full of themselves before! I, of all people, should not be saying that.” Was that an attempt at humour to try and smooth things over? No, you highly doubted it. He was stating a fact. Yet still, you sat there in silence, completely frozen. You couldn’t speak, you hadn’t changed position or moved at all. You could feel the anxiety gathering in your feet, itching and urging you to flee from this situation, but you couldn’t. You were stuck right there, in that chair, at your desk, staring blankly at the man you had grown close to, and had come to love over the last few months. At least... You had thought so. Now, you weren’t so sure. All you could do was gape like a fish. “What? Finally out of things to say? There’s a fucking shocker. Seems there’s a first for everything, isn’t there?” He straightened back up, still staring at you through the screen. You could feel the hurt in his words, the way he held himself, the way he was looking at you. It was Cat, who broke the tension, with a muffled meow in the background. Xyx turned his attention away for a moment, before turning to glower back at the screen. “I’m going to work.”  --xyx has gone offline-- The call had ended so abruptly - he must have just alt-f4′d the messenger. After a pregnant pause, it hit you. Smacked you right in the face, and the tears welled in your eyes so fucking quick. You broke out into body-wracking sobs, falling forward onto your desk, burying your head into your arms. Fuck.

[ijustwant2write]

Reconnect-Finn Shelby x Reader

(GIF credit to @peakystitches​)

Masterlist

Tags: @captivatedbycillianmurphy​ @jenepleurepasbaby​ @amirahiddleston​ @bloodorangemoonlight @haphazardhufflepuff​ @mzcrazy2​

Requested by anonymous: ‘Hello! May i request an either tommy or finn shelby x reader? (Whicheverr one u think suits best) for this prompt i found: character A and B have been in a longterm relationship and nothing can get in between, until one day something does and they drift away. But then they reconnect emotionally and everything feels like the first time again (first kiss, first meal together etc) 🙏🏼💜 i love ur writing thank u’

Characters: Finn Shelby x Reader, Polly Gray x Reader (platonic)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Swearing, arguing, finance issues, drinking, fluff

                                    *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Finn, is that you?" I called out from our bedroom as I heard the front door open. I tensed up when I didn't hear a reply, only to let out a sigh when I heard him giggling.

He was drunk again, it happened almost every week now. Tommy would have given him something important to do for the gang, and whether or not Finn succeeded with that task, he would go out and celebrate with his mates. I would sometimes tag along if I wasn't tired from the week of working, but after seeing our finances, I realised we needed to stop acting like teenagers and start saving wisely.

"Hello my gorgeous girl." he slurred out as he entered the room.

"Hello Finn." I replied as I received a sloppy kiss to my forehead.

He flopped down beside me in bed, taking the book out of my hands and throwing it to the floor. Finn wrapped his arms around me, snuggling into my lap. I took off his hat, stroking back his hair. He was cold from the brisk walk home, causing me to shiver.

“You should have come out tonight." he said.

"I got off work late."

"He kept you again?"

"No, I decided to stay."

"Why? You always say you're tired."

"I'm tired because I'm picking up extra shifts and hours so that we can start saving up for a house."

"I've told you, we don't need to worry about that. Business is good."

"Finn, we're not going to be given the money. We have to earn it."

"Tommy will help us."

"He might help but he won't give us a lot. And even if he did hand us a house, we've got to have enough money for the bills, furniture-"

"It will be fine."

"Finn, we've not even had our wedding yet!"

We had been engaged for half a year. We were wanting to be married sooner, but problems arose with the Peaky Blinders it distracted us both from it, especially since our lives were in danger. I desperately wanted to have enough money for the wedding and house, though it looked like it was going to be one or the other at this point.

"What's wrong with the flat?" Finn now sat up.

"Did you seriously ask me that question? There's only so much I can do to this dump to make it look somewhat liveable. It just doesn't feel like home."

"We'll get the money. Don't worry. Look, look," he took my hands in his,"we will get a house. I promise. And believe me, I want to marry you as soon as I can, there needs to be another ring on that finger. And I need to see my name at the end of yours."

I stupidly believed him. Those adoring eyes I once trusted had lied to me. Finn kept his promise for a week at max, soon breaking it. I didn't mind him going out with friends, we both needed to socialise, I just disagreed with the amount of times he was out and the amount of drinks he was buying each night. He would always offer to get the next round, and although he was a Shelby, the discounts didn't make much difference at the end of the night. I decided I had to go with him to ensure that our money wasn't being poured away, struggling to stay awake for those long nights, and making work even harder every day. It was impossible to keep an eye on him like that.

Usually Finn would tell me if he was going out that night so I wouldn't worry. That stopped too. My mind was never at ease. How did I know he wasn't lying in a ditch somewhere after a job gone wrong? Or what if he was trapped somewhere by a rival gang? I could only rest when he returned, which he always luckily did. I pretended to be asleep, trying to not push him away as he slipped his arms around me, cuddling me for the rest of the night. My patience began to grow thin. I was too scared to speak up about it, worried that we would just end up having an argument. However, I knew we would have to bring it up soon, because our money was only disappearing instead of increasing.

One morning when I was leaving for work, I noticed that the drawer we locked our savings away in was slightly ajar, meaning someone had unlocked it and stupidly left it open. Of course it had to be Finn, no one had broken in during the night. My eyes widened when I saw how much he had taken, enraged that he would think me so foolish. Why would he take the money without asking? What was he using it for?

As I stormed towards the shop, I heard whooping from men in a car further up the street. My face turned into a deep frown when I recognised the car, managing to catch a glimpse of the people in it. They hadn't seen me, and I had to make sure my eyes were deceiving me.

I didn't care about the looks on me as I burst through into the shop, making a beeline for Polly's office. I harshly knocked on the door, entering when she called me.

"(Y/N)? What's wrong?" she asked, a lit cigarette in hand.

"Where's Finn?"

"Off out with his brothers, why?"

"Where are they going?"

"To the races."

I scoffed, placing a hand on my head in defeat.

"Why? What's wrong with that?"

"He told me he would be in the office all day today."

"So? Things change."

"No, he specifically told me that. I never even asked about it. He made a point meaning he didn't want to risk me waltzing in. That means he's hiding something."

"(Y/N), they're only going to bet on horses today. They're mingling."

"They're betting today?!"

She stood, putting a hand on her hip."What am I missing here?"

"Pol, he's using money that we don't have! I need a car, I need to get to him."

"Look, even if my nephew is being the biggest idiot, it's a bad idea to go there."

"Why?"

Her eyes widened."Don't snap at me young lady."

"I'm sorry, I just, I just know he's going to be stupid with what little money we have at the minute."

Polly was silent for a few seconds, and I didn't know if she was just staring me out, trying to make me leave. Perhaps she didn't think it was anything to worry over. But it was to me. She surprised me when she went into one of her drawers, pulling out a set of keys.

"Come on. I'll get one of the girls to call your work, say you're sick."

I tightly clasped my hands together as Polly drove. I was furious, trying to think of what to say to Finn when I got there. He stole our money. He went behind my back, gambling away the money we worked hard to earn. I had never said it, but Finn had it much easier than I did. For one, he worked with family, and although I liked my job, the boss could sometimes be an arsehole; second, he earned a lot more than me, so he was the bigger breadwinner between us, but I worked longer hours. Yes, he was in a gang meaning he had more days where his life was under threat, but he seemed to be having a jolly good time anyway. Really, it wouldn't have mattered who worked longer or harder, or who earned more, it was still our money to spend on our house.

As soon as Polly parked up, I was straight out of the car. She quickly followed grabbing my arm and warning me to not get lost in the crowds. I couldn't make a scene, especially since there could be potential business partners or enemies about. I refrained from rolling my eyes, knowing she was right but also knowing that I would find it extremely hard to not scream at Finn.

Polly guided me to where the men would be, ignoring the shoving and shouting. I wished for her to walk quicker. We swiftly entered the posher boxes, almost stopped by a doorman until his accomplice shut him up. I even heard him whisper 'That's Polly Gray you idiot.', the one time I was glad we had a reputation. She only paused to scan the room for the boys but I spotted them first. Quickly moving past her, I couldn't stop my fists from clenching, seeing Finn joyfully drinking and laughing with his brothers only added fire to my fury.

"Finn!" I snapped, quickly catching his attention.

"(Y/N)?" he exclaimed, struggling to stand and clattering the plates and glasses on the table."W-what are you doing here?"

"Stopping you from spending our money like a fucking idiot! Where is it?"

"Oh, Finn boy is in the doghouse." John chuckled.

"Shut up!" I fiercely pointed at him.

"Where's what?" Finn brought me back.

"Our money!"

"I told you, you do this outside." Polly warned, shoving Finn in that direction, and I knew I had to follow him.

Luckily, we were left alone. Finn continued on, finding someplace we would be alone. Once we were in the clear, the distant roar of the crowds covering our conversation, I saw him sigh quietly, running a hand down his face when he realised what was coming.

"Where's the money Finn?" I asked, calmer but with a mean tone.

"Let me explain first.”

"Explain how you took our money without asking? How you just waltzed out this morning without consulting me?"

"Tommy said that there was a good chance, a very good chance that this horse would win, and I thought it would help us if we put our money on it. Imagine how much we'll have if it wins!"

"If it wins Finn, if! You're gambling our money, why would you do something like that?"

"Because you went on about not having enough money! And here I am trying to help!"

My mouth dropped open in shock."You really don’t see the problem here."

"No, actually, I don't." he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Finn, you stole money from the drawer! You then go behind my back and bet it away. Have you thought about what we'll do if that horse loses?"

"But it won't, Tommy said."

"And what if Tommy is wrong this time? Also, don't pin this on your brother, I know he hasn't even suggested this idea."

"I'm not-urgh!" Finn groaned."Why don't you trust me?"

"I can't trust a gamble Finn. I don't think you realise how many nights I've spent lying awake, worried that we'll never have enough for our own home, and thinking that you don't even care anymore."

"Of course I care. This is why I've bet the money."

"How is this not getting in your head?"

"(Y/N)," he took my hands in his, but I couldn't even look at him,"in a few minutes we will hear them announce the winner, and we will start jumping for joy when we realise how much money we're going to get back, and we're going to be so much closer to getting our home."

"Finn, I desperately want to believe that. But even if we do win, you're in deep trouble." I took my hands away from him, turning around. I couldn't even look at my own fiance.

On queue, we heard a man come over the intercom, it was muffled to me but I knew Finn was listening intensely. Glancing over my shoulder, I watched for his reaction, turning around fully when I saw his expression. We had lost. We lost all that money.

"How could you be so fucking stupid?!" I screamed at him, throwing slaps onto his chest."Why couldn't you just listen to me? I don't understand why you had to lie to me Finn!"

I broke down crying, shoving him away from me. My sobs were loud but I didn't care. Finn could watch, see how much he upset me. My heart sank at the thought of it all gone, Finn had left scarcely any money in the drawer back at the flat.

"I'm sorry (Y/N)." Finn pathetically said.

"You know how you always go on about your family never trusting you enough for the big jobs? That you never get to go out with them and help? This is why. Because you do things like this, you fuck everything up Finn. Fuck!" I wiped away my tears, even though more spilled out."You know I've always stuck beside you, but this is the last straw Finn. I can't be with someone who doesn't want to put effort into their future."

"What are you saying? (Y/N), I can fix this. I promise I'll get the money back, I'll-"

"How? That took us so long to build that up. And you were spending our money almost every night on useless drinking. I can't Finn, I can't live like that anymore."

He ducked his head, and I almost wanted him to say something. When he didn't, I knew what I had to do.

I took a deep breath before speaking."I'm going home. I suggest you stay at Polly's tonight."

"Let me take you home-"

"No!"

"What's going on?" Tommy suddenly appeared, he, his brothers and Polly approaching.

"Your nephew, your brother, just gave away almost all of our money betting on a horse. Not only that, but he took the money without telling me. That was money for a house." I angrily explained.

"Is that true Finn?"

Finn shamefully nodded.

"We can get you your money back (Y/N)."

"It's not about that Tom. He's lied to me. He promised me he wouldn't spend our money every week, yet he did. And then he takes our money without asking me about it first."

"I'll fix it (Y/N), I promise I will." Finn was begging at this point.

"Another promise that you're bound to break. I've had enough today."

"Let's get you home love." Polly said, putting a stop to this argument as she stepped forward, taking me under her arm.

Finn didn't come home that night. I didn't sleep. I was sat at the tiny dining table, staring at the ring on my finger, wondering what to do. It broke my heart to think about leaving him, but it also broke my heart thinking about how reckless he had been. Did I really want to be marrying someone who acted like this? Would he mature? My heart wanted to believe he would, but my mind kept telling me that today confirmed he wouldn't. That was one of the worst nights of my life.

                                     *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I couldn't stand this job any longer. But it was the only thing keeping me alive. It was crappy work, the pay was just above minimum, enough for me to buy food, pay my rent and have the tiniest amount left over. Saving up money was hard when it was just you. Even after two years, I didn't have enough to consider looking at places of my own, or with less roommates. It was exhausting keeping up with these girls I lived with, there were 6 of us altogether. It was a big change when I moved away from Small Heath.

"You ready (Y/N)?" one of my roommates called out to me as I finished applying my lipstick.

"Just a second!" I replied, checking myself in the mirror.

It was the rare occasion that I was going out with them, the one time we could all go out together at all. I was looking forward to a few drinks, and although that sounded hypocritical, I realised that I had to have a night or two in at least a month to relieve myself of the stress I put upon myself.

We arrived at the small club we always went to, it had the cheapest drinks this side of town. We all shivered in the cold weather, walking as fast as we could to make it to the club. The warmth was very welcome, as well as the loud music that drew us further in. It was the usual routine, a few of us grab a table, the others get the drinks in, then we would all make our way to the dance floor. Hours passed, and I had to get away from the heat coming from the dancing, stepping back towards our table to get a drink. I saw my roommate stumbling in the direction of the bar, rolling my eyes as I went to help her, perhaps getting a drink whilst I was there. However, once I got closer, I stared at the man she was starting to flirt with.

"Isaiah?" I said as I got closer.

"(Y/N)!" he smiled, bringing me in for a hug.

"You two know each other?" my roommate asked, looking disappointed.

"He's an old friend. Just that, nothing else."

Isaiah let me go."How long has it been? Two years?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, two years. What are you doing here?"

"Business. Nothing dangerous though, you girls are still in for a good night. Especially you if you're good." he winked to my roommate.

"Is he...is he here?" my voice suddenly went shaky, and I felt almost completely sober.

Isaiah's playful nature dropped."Uh, he is. He's really misses you (Y/N). Hasn't even looked at another girl since you left. He's just not been the same." I wasn't sure how to reply.

"I can't not tell him I saw you. Imagine if he found out, he would be so upset with me."

"I know. I wouldn't want to hurt your friendship."

"Maybe you should see him. It might do you both some good."

"Or the opposite."

"He still loves you. Even if you don't feel the same, it could bring closure. But I know you (Y/N), I can tell what you're thinking."

"You were always annoying like that."

"He's out front, in the corridor. That's all I'm going to say."

I looked at him for a few seconds, trying to make my mind up."Well, this one is a handful, just so you know."

"I think I can handle her." Isaiah smirked.

"I was warning her about you."

I giggled at his reaction, walking away and leaving him in his natural habitat of flirting. But as soon as I turned around, my stomach dropped, nerves filling up my entire body. He was here. I hadn't seen him for two years, though I thought about him everyday. Would he look different? Did I look different? What was he going to say? What was I going to say? My brain didn't want to think of any words, maybe I was about to babble absolute nonsense to him.

Upon seeing him, my throat tightened, the cool air slapping me in the face; oh, now I was sober. He hadn't noticed yet, leaning up against a wall, hands in his pockets. Wow, he had changed. His boyish charm was still there, yet he had matured into a handsome young man. It was like I was seeing him for the first time all over again. I was just happy that he would be seeing me in my finer clothes rather than catching me after work.

Urging my feet to move, I almost sighed at how small my steps were. I really was scared. Isaiah had said reassuring things, yet I couldn't even walk up to him. It was too late to back out now, especially when he finally looked up at me. I froze on the spot, not knowing what to do. Finn seemed the same way.

"(Y/N)." he said, I only just heard it.

"Hello."

Hello? Really, that's all I could come up with?

He pushed himself off the wall, coming to stand in front of me, though not too close."I...I can't believe you're here."

"I could say the same about you."

"This is where you've been living then."

I nodded."It's not too bad. I mean, I'm on a night out."

"Who are you with?"

I knew he was wondering if I was with a man."My roommates, I live with five other girls."

"Oh, that's a lot."

"Yeah, it's the only place I could afford."

"I hope it's nice."

"I shouldn't complain. A lot better than other places."

We both knew we were making an awful attempt at small talk. I was sure he had so much to say like I did, we just didn't want to dump it on each other in case the other ran away. It was like we were teenagers again, awkwardly trying to think of something to fill the dreaded silence.

"I really want to talk about us (Y/N)." Finn said.

"You do?"

"I...I just have so much to say to you. I can't do it now, but what about tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow? Tomorrow, um, yes, yes tomorrow works for me. It's the weekend, so I'm not working."

He smiled slightly."OK, good. I'll come get you. Um, I need your address."

"Oh, here." I dug around in my purse, thankful there was a folded up tissue and a pen, it was good to be prepared. I wrote down my address, handing it to him.

"I'll pick you up at one. I would want it to be earlier, you just never know what time you'll be back with this sort of thing."

"I understand Finn, I did live this with you once."

I barely slept, even when we stumbled in at three in the morning. Luckily I hadn't seen Finn, Isaiah or any other Peaky Blinder that evening, no doubt settling business behind the scenes. Despite the lack of sleep, I was wide awake the next morning, up before everyone else who were nursing their hangovers, trying on multiple outfits in a desperate attempt to look nice, but not as if I put too much effort in. The clock was rolling onto one o'clock, and my heart was beating much faster than usual. I was about to make my way downstairs when something glistened on my small vanity. Should I take it? Yes, I would.

Finn knocked on the door, and I waited a few seconds before opening it. We smiled as we greeted each other, not going in for a hug or kiss on the cheek, something I was worried about. That was the first hurdle jumped over.

"How was your evening?" Finn struck up a conversation as we walked further into town.

"Much better than yours I presume?" I smirked. He chuckled."Yeah, didn't exactly get to enjoy the music. Small fight, nothing we couldn't handle."

It was strange hearing about Blinder business again."Well I'm glad you're all safe."

"I thought we could go out for lunch, saw a nice place round here."

"Oh, that would be lovely."

"We don't have to, if you don't feel comfortable."

"No, no, no, it's not that. It's just a lovely thing for you to do."

We both bashfully smiled, luckily the restaurant was just around the corner. I had expected nothing less when we walked into the fancy place, not because I thought I deserved it, but because Finn wouldn't be seen anywhere else. His clothes were even more tailored now than they had been the last I saw him, indicating that the gang had been doing well, more money was coming in. We both immediately picked up our menus as we sat, hoping someone would speak first. Our eyes glanced over the top of them, it was as if we were on our first date again, only this time in a better establishment.

"You look beautiful." he said, still hiding part of his face.

"Thank you." I blushed.

"I'll never forget what you wore when I picked you up for our first date. That blue dress you just bought, with a matching purse, and those heels that you hadn't practiced walking in. Well, you used that as an excuse to latch into my arm all night."

I smiled, placing down my menu."It was a good plan, wasn't it? And I did struggle in those heels, I just didn't want to embarrass myself."

He copied me."I liked holding your hand all night."

"What a sweet sentiment."

"I mean it. And I mean this date. That didn't sound right, but...what I'm trying to say is that I want to make it all up to you."

"You do?"

"Yes! I really didn't expect you to leave. I mean I did, but I didn't want to believe that. I didn't want to believe that I had been so selfish that I couldn't even see how much I had hurt you." 

“That was the hardest decision I ever made. Most days I battle with myself whether I made the right choice. All night I kept making deals with myself. If you came back, I would hear you out, and if it was good enough for me I would stay. But then you didn’t, so I said to myself ‘Give him another hour.’. An hour went by, and I said the same thing to myself. That went on for the whole evening until I found myself angrily packing my things. Even then, I sat by door on top of my suitcase for another hour or so.”

“I thought you just got up and left. I didn’t realise how long you waited for me.” he sighed into his hands.“I’m such a fucking idiot.”

I could tell he was full of regret. Although it sounded sadistic, I was glad that he was upset when reflecting on our past relationship, it meant he realised his mistake. On the other hand, I hated seeing him sad. I took his hands away from his face, hesitantly reaching into my handbag to pull out the engagement ring I kept.

His eyes widened.“You still have that? I looked everywhere for it when you left, guessed you took it to sell.”

“I won’t lie, that was my intention at first. But it meant too much to me. It was like selling a piece of my soul. I kept it hidden, I didn’t want to risk any of the girls seeing it, they would just ask too many questions.”

I kept my eye on the beautiful ring as I spoke, slowly twirling it around to catch it twinkling in the light.

"I had such a hard time picking that out. I knew what you wanted, but I had to get it right for you. I'm so glad you kept it."

"I did try to sell it. I was stood outside of a shop for ten minutes debating with myself. It would have helped a lot for the deposit on the room, but I couldn't do it."

We were silent, both staring at the ring. We used to do that a lot actually. Finn would take my hand and hold it up as we laid in bed together, both giggling as we watched it glisten like it was in present times, before squealing at the thought of us being married to each other. I constantly fiddled with it when he was off on business, a habit which never wore off, even now; whenever I was nervous or worried, I would automatically do the same action, just without the ring.

A waiter awkwardly interrupted us, and I hurriedly put the ring back in my bag, sharing an embarrassed smile with Finn as we ordered. Once he was gone, I quietly sighed, looking out of the window. We were in such a nice part of town, so many ladies in beautiful dresses and men in smart suits strolling around.

"Are you...are you OK for money?" Finn boldly asked.

I was a little shocked by that.

"I don't mean anything by it. I just want to make sure you're OK, I would hate for you to be struggling, if you were."

"Uh, no, no I'm fine actually. It's not as generous as my old wage but it keeps me alive, I can live with the bare necessities."

I could see him itching to say something else, to keep the conversation going. I wasn't sure if we could go back to the serious topic we had before. However, I also wanted to bring it back up, it felt like we needed to talk about us.

"How's the family?" That's all I could come up with.

"They're fine. Everyone is the same. Well, they're not, they're a bit more serious nowadays."

"They weren't in the first place?"

He smiled."I suppose they were. Tension is the right word, tensions have been rising. Tommy's taking on a lot more, Polly knows all these secrets that no one else does, Ada is rebelling against anything Tommy says, Linda is still annoying, Esme and John have been popping kids out left, right and centre. Arthur is still crazy."

"Sounds like business as usual to me."

"They miss you too."

"Do they?"

"Yeah. Almost as much as me."

I cast my eyes down as butterflies rose in my stomach.

"I heard nothing else for the next few weeks after you left. They all told me what an idiot I was, that I was an extremely reckless, stupid and immature boy, and that I had let the best thing in my life get away from me. And they were right. I knew all of that already."

"I...I don't really know what to say right now."

"You don't have to say anything, let's just enjoy this meal, no more of that talk."

The nerves making my stomach flip built at that. What if we had nothing else to talk about? What if it was too weird to dive into our separate lives? I didn't want to sit across my ex-fiance, painfully and politely smiling through forced conversation.

The spark was still there.

When the waiter had returned with our drinks, we were already deep in talk about what had been happening in our personal everyday life. We were non stop, even as we ate through dinner. The waiters had trouble catching our attention each time they checked on us. I was deep in those eyes again, the ones I always dreamed of seeing. We were laughing hysterically, not at all acting how we should have in that establishment (there were a few eye rolls from other patrons). As if time had gone by in a second, the bill was slipped towards Finn, though I still reached into my purse.

"Are you mad? No, put your money away, I'm not taking it." Finn stated as he carelessly threw down some notes, surprisingly taking my hand in his and guiding me out of the restaurant.

I was tense as we walked, and I saw a flash of realisation in Finn's eyes as we made it outside. Both looking down at our interlocked fingers, Finn broke away, clearing his throat.

"Sorry, force of habit."

Hesitating, I smiled up at him, lacing our hands together again."These are new heels I'm breaking in. Need help walking in them."

He chuckled, pulling me closer as we walked down the street. We were silent, feeling like kids in love again. I couldn't deny that my feelings were still strong for Finn, I missed him dearly. At first, part of me had been wary of all this, wondering if he really had good intentions, or just thought he could get a quick shag in from an ex before he left; but the effort he went through, the things we spoke about, trying to heal old wounds, Finn had matured and he was wanting to fix this. I wanted to fix this, my heart was aching for my old life with him. 

“We’re not done yet, are we?” I timidly asked.

“Not unless you want it to be.”

I instantly shook my head.“No, I’d like to stay out for longer.”

“Even though you’re struggling in your heels?”

I smirked.“I know a nice place we can sit down.”

I took him to the local park, it had a huge lake with benches dotted around, luckily it wasn’t busy, there was somehow a hint of privacy here. We sat down close to each other, hands still entwined. 

“You still hungry?” I asked.

“Hm?”

I dug into my purse, producing a bag of sweets I had bought the previous day. I laughed as his eyes lit up, taking one without even asking. I took one too, reminiscing on how we used to do the same thing as kids. It seemed he was thinking about it too.

“Just like the old days.” Finn said.

“We spent way too much money on sweets back then. It’s a wonder we still have our teeth.”

 “Wish I got out of that spending habit. We could be married and in our new house by now.”

“So you never wanted to move on? You didn’t give in to those girls wanting to be with a Peaky Blinder?”

“Never. I couldn’t. I couldn’t even fathom being with anyone else, it was always you (Y/N). Did you date?”

“No, I felt exactly the same. Which is why I was angry at myself for a long time. I was supposed to be upset with you, not still in love.”

His head whipped round to face me.“You still love me?”

My mouth was still open, unsure how to answer. It seemed I didn’t have to as Finn leaned in, placing on hand on my cheek as we kissed. Instinctively I kissed back, placing my hands on him where I could, hearing the bag of sweets fall to the ground and spill its contents. This kiss was needy, the type of kiss you gave your partner when you had missed them, when they had been away for a long time; and although we had our hands on each other, our touch was still gentle.

“Get the ring.” Finn breathed out, our lips still almost touching.

I carelessly got it for him, heart beating extremely fast. He took it from me, pecking me on the lips one last time before standing up. He straightened out his suit, took a deep breath and got down on one knee. I was just as emotional the first time he did it.

“(Y/N), I know I messed up everything in the past, I was careless when I should have been supportive and helped to build our future. I learnt from those mistakes, and I really, really want to go back to how we were. I need you (Y/N), I love you so much. There aren’t enough words to express how much love I have for you. Will you marry me?”

I didn’t need to think about my answer. I blurted out a yes, waiting for him to slide the ring back on my finger before throwing myself onto him. We stumbled back onto the ground, our arms around each other as we laughed and cried. I believed him this time, I truly believed him. He put in the effort to show me his changes, he wanted to fix everything. I wanted things back to the way they were with my man, and we were back to building our future and living the rest of our lives together.

[blessedlance]

pretty baby.

[r18+]

[wc:] 4k

[cw:] sub!atsumu, softdom!reader, femdom, oral (f. receiving), riding, pegging, mommy kink, puppy kink, minor dacryphilia, collar-play, restraints

! haikyuu manga timeskip spoilers. atsumu is 24. !

a/n: oh my god i haven’t written for leisure in literally 10 years i hope this is bearable LOL. @luvsicksubs​ wrote a lil tidbit about sub!atsumu a while ago and i have not known peace ever since so big thank you to ari for the inspo! pls enjoi :9

Atsumu’s been gone lately. A lot.

 Too much.

 You know it’s not his fault. The Jackals' practices have been brutal lately. So when Atsumu does eventually trudge his way back to your shared apartment every evening, he can only muster up enough energy to shower and collapse into bed. You’ve had to wake him more than once, chiding him to get up and at least dry his hair before bed.

“You can’t afford to get yourself sick by sleeping with wet hair, ‘Tsumu.” You’d whisper, shaking him gently awake. Usually he’d just groan in response and bury himself further against your body heat beneath the comforter--unwilling to give up even a second of precious, blissful sleep. You’d even gone so far as to physically pull his heavy, six foot athlete’s body out of the bed and into the bathroom to dry it for him once or twice.

It’s for his health, you reason. You can afford to pamper him a little--especially when he’s been working so hard. And the way his body slumps while he sits, his features softening--long eyelashes kissing the tops of his cheeks as he dozes off into half-sleep at the feel of your fingers tussling his hair with the gentle heat of the blow dryer… He becomes so soft in those moments, like putty in your hands.

It’s dangerous, because it makes you crave the sight of him like this--fragile and reliant on the comfort of your touch--even more.

You sigh. Reminding yourself again, for seemingly the millionth time since this excessive practicing for the championships started,

‘It’s not his fault.’

He’s been good. So, so good. Trying so hard to make sure you know he loves you and he’s sorry. Texting you to check in whenever he has the chance.

 > how are you today?

> how’s work going??

> what’s for lunch??? ლ(≧ڡ≦ლ)

 Sometimes sending videos of himself and Hinata hashing out new plays (only the ones they’ve mastered, though. You may be intimately familiar with every embarrassing piece of him, but he still wants to try to look cool in front of his girlfriend.)

And it helps. It really does. But you also know the texts are just as much for his own sake as they are for yours. You know how needy Atsumu gets when you two are apart.

 You remember the time he’d called you from his hotel room after an away game in Tokyo. How he whined into the phone at the sound of your voice when you whispered.

“Touch yourself for me.”

The way a soft cry escaped him at your command--your name leaving his lips with a breath.

 You want to feel him like that again. To see him beneath you, squirming and desperate--begging for you to just touch him, just sit on his face, his cock, anything you want just please--

 You abruptly stop your line of thinking--not daring to continue dwelling on this recurring fantasy. Atsumu doesn’t deserve the punishment you crave to dole out on him to relieve this frustration.

 … But he might want it.

 Championships are tomorrow. Just 24 hours stand between you and the feeling of Atsumu Miya’s taut muscles beneath your fingertips.

You take a breath, summoning the remnants of your willpower.

You could do this. You would make certain that the wait would be worth it.

For both of you.

 ---

 The Black Jackals win their first match because of course they do. Honestly, sometimes you feel a bit bad for the opposing teams. Their skill, their teamwork, their passion, their absolute willpower to win is stifling. Atsumu texts you that they’re going out for celebratory dinner and drinks. Bokuto’s idea. (Obviously). He promises he’ll be home as soon as he can. They’ve all got tomorrow morning off, and a whole day before the next round of matches. Some indulgence is well-deserved.

You type out your reply.

 > Take your time and enjoy yourself! You’ve earned it. 💕

 Knowing you’ve got at least two hours or more before the boys’ exhaustion ushers them all home, you decide to spend some time... preparing.

 You’re reclined on the couch, watching something you can comfortably give your half-assed attention to while scrolling on your phone. You hear the front door unlocking, the handle turning, and your heart leaps into your throat. The thought of finally, finally having Astumu all to yourself makes you absolutely giddy.

You turn expectantly, and can’t help the way your lips curl upward into a smile.

Atsumu pushes the door open and turns toward you, already smiling when he opens his mouth.

 “Hey.” You murmur.

 “Hey.” He breathes back, and you watch the way his features relax at the sight of you. The way the confident, assiduous Atsumu Miya--a man who wakes up every single day and strives for perfection in everything and every one---melts into something softer.

Something that’s silently begging for you to tear him apart and piece him back together again.

He slips off his shoes, drops his gym bag to the floor, and brings his long, heavy body to lay over yours on the couch.

His face--tinted pink (presumably from the drinks)--buries itself against your neck, lips pressed to your skin.

Your fingers assume their familiar position, nestled in the blonde locks atop his head.

 “Missed you…” You say lowly against his ear.

The small shiver that runs down his spine does not escape your notice.

 “I’ve been here every night!” He protests.

 “You know what I mean.” Your fingers press against his head, tugging on the strands the slightest bit.

 “Mmm…” He affirms softly--your skin keenly feeling the gentle hum against its surface. He knows what you mean. He’s been here, yes, but it’s felt more like the ghost of him--wisping into your bed for a few hours and gone again in the morning.

 “You were really in the zone today.” You comment. “I felt bad for the other team.”

 He huffs out a small laugh. “Don’t. They played fine. We were just better.”

 “Hmm…” You take your unoccupied hand and run a single finger up the curve of his spine.

 He exhales, and you listen for the tremble in his breath you know will be there.

Just a little more.

 “Either way, you were so good.” You can’t contain the coy lilt your voice takes on. You know damn well what you’re doing--using the very words that always make him quiver. He knows what you’re doing, too.

Atsumu thinks he doesn’t mind.

 It’s quiet for a beat. The two of you simply basking in the warmth of your bodies pressed against each other. You stretch beneath him, and… readjust yourself in a way that presses your breasts against him just a little bit more...

And Atsumu finally, finally breaks.

 He inhales sharply, and lets the subsequent exhale freely pass against your neck. A muffled word that sounds a lot like a plea leaves his throat.

 “What was that?” You ask, purposely grazing your lips against his reddening ear.

 “Please…” He begs.

 You consider being mean for a moment. Consider pushing him to his limit in desperation. The way those sharp brown eyes would turn glassy and tearful, his dark brows pulled together, pleading you to hurry up and take him--touch him--let him touch you--fucking anything. However you want, wherever you want. Make him vocalize that burning desire, and only concede when he well and truly begs.

 But that can always be arranged another time.

You’re far too heady with desire yourself to enact such cruelty on him right now. Not after he’s been so good.

 You shift your weight, moving to switch your positions by sitting up and pressing him beneath you. Your straddle his hips, purposely pressing your weight down against his pelvis ever-so-slightly.

 “You’ve been working so hard, ‘Tsumu…” You murmur, lowering the top half of your body to lean over his. Hands sliding under the hem of his shirt, running up along the taut muscles that tremble at your touch. “Such a good boy…”

Atsumu’s bites his lip in an effort to stifle the deep moan that leaves his chest. The way his body almost involuntarily reacts to that phrase every. single. time… It’s just too good to pass up.

You wet your lips.

 “Let me make you feel good.”

 And you press those lips ever-so-softly to the juncture between his jaw and neck. Soft touch turning to a light bite, and then back to a soothing kiss.

 Atsumu is crumbling--his hardening length pressing insistently against you.

 “I got everything ready. We can use whatever you want: rope,” and you press a slow open-mouth kiss to his neck,

“your collar,” then one to his collarbone,

“a toy,” traveling down to his pecs,

“the strap…” ending just beneath his belly button.

You look up at him from beneath your lashes, watching keenly for his expression to shift in interest at any certain one.

 Atsumu doesn’t give an immediate answer, his gaze unable to meet your own. Your hands trail back down his body, grazing a nipple with your fingernail just to see the way he twitches at the sensation. 

 “C’mon baby, how am I supposed to treat my good boy if he doesn’t tell me what he wants?” You purr, bringing your hands to the hem of the worn, oversized t-shirt covering your top half down to the juncture of your thighs. You’d snatched it from his dresser earlier to lounge in. Another carefully plotted detail. You knew just how riled up he got at the sight of you wearing his shirts. Even more so if he lifted it only to find those black and gold lacy panties underneath… Or if there was nothing…

Stretching your body, you pull the shirt up and off of your torso, tossing it aimlessly behind you. Atsumu’s gaze immediately returns to you--spotting that very set’s match: a black bra with intricate gold stitching around the lace adorning your skin. His hands are on you in an instant--palms sliding up your ribs to reach your breasts and gently squeezing around them.

Astumu had never been good with the concept of patience.

 Normally, you’d stop those big, calloused setter hands in their tracks--admonishing him for not asking permission, first. But this was about him. About fulfilling every whim his exhausted mind and body had the energy left to want. You could allow a little insubordination tonight.

 “You even wore my favorite.” He grins, that cheeky, self important tone of his sneaking back out. You smile coyly and tilt your hips downward, pressing your bare core against his still-restrained cock. He inhales sharply--dropping the attitude once more.

 “Part of the reward.” You grin. “Now, what does my good boy want?”

 His eyes drift upwards from their fixation on your breasts, meeting your gaze.

 “I want…” He bites his lip. “Wanna make you feel good.”

 Your eyes widen at the admission, but he’s speaking again before you can inquire.

 “You’re always so patient with me when practice gets like this. I just want to... To give you a reward, too.”

 You’re taken aback for a beat, pleasantly surprised at the acknowledgement. Atsumu still manages to surprise you with how observant he is. One of the more unexpected traits he shares with Osamu. Your eyes soften and you reach up to gently cup his face. He turns his head to kiss your hand and murmurs against your palm.

 "Let me taste you. Please."

 He knows how you get when he’s busy like this. How--despite your authority and confidence in the bedroom--you still long for his affection and crave his touch when he’s gone.

And this… This is the perfect way for him to express his gratitude while still pleasing both of you.

 “Okay.” You breathe, moving to kneel over his face. “Whatever you want,” you gently drop your weight toward his mouth. “my sweet boy.”

 He practically preens at the praise, moaning against your core. Again, Atsumu demonstrates his struggle with patience and savoring the moment. In an instant, he’s gripping your thighs and pulling them closer against the sides of his face. You know you could sit your entire weight atop him and he’d thank you, but tonight calls for something gentler. It’s enough to know you’re the only person who gets to see him like this. The only one who gets to watch the diligent, cocksure Astumu Miya, one of--if not the--best setters in Japan, become so vulnerable and desperate beneath you.

 He flattens his tongue and runs it slowly up from the start of your opening to the top of your clit.

 “Fuck, ‘Tsumu…” You moan, hands rushing to grasp at his hair. He groans, too, at the sensation of your fingers tugging--the hum sending a vibration through your body. You grind your hips, silently urging him on, and his tongue laves at your clit with small kitten licks. The feeling of those tiny, gentle laps against your most sensitive spot, so diligent and soft--it’s like electricity coursing through you, running up into every limb.

 “Mmhmm.” He hums against you. He knows just how you like it. When he services you like this--like the obedient puppy he is. “So wet… Y’taste s’good...” He says, hot breath fanning against you while he catches his breath for a moment.

 You press yourself back against him insistently. “Who said you could take a break? Use your fingers, too.”

 His mouth is back against you immediately, right hand sliding beneath your thigh to reach your opening. Carefully, he presses two fingers against it--testing the give, while his tongue continues to lick and suck at that sensitive nub. Spit has dribbled down from his mouth to where his fingers are pressed, and he slides his digits against the wetness, adding to the natural lubricant. Then, finally, he pushes those long middle and ring fingers up and into you. They slide in easily despite the way you feel yourself clench around the intrusion. He was right--you’re soaked. He finds a comfortable rhythm to compliment his tongue’s lashings easily and your head falls back, a deep moan escaping past your lips.

 “‘Tsumu… ‘Tsumu, fuck just like that--you do it so well for me, baby… Right there--”

 You’re cut off by the feeling of his fingers curling within you--searching, and then pressing against that spot so nicely.

Your thigh muscles twitch against his cheeks--breath fleeing from your lungs at the sudden rush.

 “Yes, ‘Tsumu--fuck yes.”

 You chance a look down at his face. Those long lashes closed, brows knit together in concentration while he pleasures you. Atsumu’s a pretty boy, but you think he’s prettiest like this.

 Fuck, you want more of that desperate expression. Want to edge him over and over until he’s drooling and can’t remember his own fucking name.

 You’re getting close. That climbing ecstasy rising dangerously high within you. You pull yourself off him before you can climb too high, and the release of suction from his mouth makes a small, wet pop.

 “You eat it so well, baby. So, so good for me, pretty boy.” You coo, caressing the sides of his face. His lips are pink and wet and you return your hips to their place atop his length. His lip wobbles with a whimper, back arching against you in search of more.

 “I think you’ve earned your reward now, don’t you?” Your eyelids fall, half-closed seductively while you lean your chest toward his face. You reach behind your back and release the clasp of your bra. His hands tighten themselves into fists, trying to restrain the urge to reach up and touch. The fingers of your left hand splay out against his chest, holding your weight, while the right moves down to pull off his boxer briefs. Then, your wet folds are sliding against his erect, bare, length. Slowly, up and down.

 “Mmm please can I--can I touch--”

 You interrupt him with a small lick against those still-wet lips and chuckle quietly to yourself.

 Oh, so now he’s ready to ask first?

 “You can.” You affirm, reaching down to line him up with your entrance. His breath is coming harder now, those hardened pecs rising and falling beneath you. The anticipation is rapidly unraveling him. Atsumu’s hands are on your back, tugging your chest back down towards him. As they slide forward around your ribcage to grasp your breasts, his gaze flits up to you.

 “Can I--?”

 “Mmhmm.” You nod--knowing what he wants. His mouth closes around your nipple, sucking with that perfect amount of harshness to tighten the coiling pressure in your lower body. His tip rests right against your opening. You can see the precum dribbling out of him--can feel the way he’s pushing himself slightly further up--desperate to get inside. Were this any other time,  you’d reprimand him for such impertinence. Tie his hands above his head and deny him completely. ‘And you were being so good, too, asking permission and everything. You wanna be inside that bad, maybe I should remind you how it feels to be on the receiving end, hmm?’

But, honestly, he’d nearly tipped you over the edge with just his mouth earlier. You were becoming impatient, yourself. 

 Finally, blessedly, you sink yourself down onto his cock, revelling in the way his mouth falls open and his head flings backward against the couch pillow with a cry.

 “Mmm.. ‘s it that good, baby?” You tease.

 “‘S been a while… So tight…” He hisses, almost like it’s too much.

 “Yeah?” You tease. Your hips are gradually picking up speed. Slowly rising up, up, up, as far as you can go before it feels like he might just fall out of you, and then your hip fall again, taking his full length deep inside.

 “‘Tsumu…” You say, rising back up again. “I wanted to pamper you tonight... “ and you slide back down. “Give my cute, sweet boy a reward for all his hard work.”

 Atsumu keens, whimpering beneath you.

 “But I think I wanna be a little selfish, too.” You breathe, leaning in close enough for your breath to fan against his face. “Is that ok baby?”

 A high pitched moan leaves Atsumu’s throat, and you clench around him.

 “Yes…” He sighs between ragged breaths. “Yes... Please, I--”

 “Please, what?” You interrupt him.

 “P-please…” You watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows. “Please, mommy…”

 “Ohhhhh, that’s my good boy.” You moan, restarting the rise and fall motion of your cunt around him. “Gonna make you feel so good. Just the way you deserve, ‘Tsumu. But you have to promise you won’t cum until I say so, mmk?” You’re holding his face, running your right index finger along the line of his jaw with a feather-light touch.

 And Astumu Miya shudders beneath you, staring up in reverence. The way those big brown watery eyes look at you… He’d look so cute with a collar clasped around his neck right now.

 He nods. “I--I won’t. I promise. Please.”

 Your hand moves up to stroke his hair softly. “Good boy.”

 You restraighten your back in your seated position atop him. Your hands come to rest against his chest for leverage, and you begin riding him in earnest. Atsumu’s eyelids fall closed again, head thrown back while his mouth hangs open in pleasure.

 “Is this what you wanted ‘Tsumu? Just want to feel me fuck myself on you until I’m satisfied?” You tease as you bounce. You slow to almost a halt and grind your hips in a circle, feeling the way his cock buries itself to the hilt. Atsumu’s hands are balled into tight fists against the couch. He’s moaning freely now--little cries escaping him as your cunt eagerly swallows him down over and over and over again.

“So good… You’re so good inside me, ‘Tsumu. Stretching me out so much every time. I know you know how good that feels.”

 “Ahnn--!” He keens at the memory. The way your soft hands had pressed his legs up against his chest. Wetness from the lube dripping down so tantalizingly slow between his ass cheeks. The cock of your strap buried within him. How utterly full he had felt, stretched around it while you softly cooed praises at him, stroking his cock.

 Fuck he wanted to cum like that again.

 More than that, he just wanted to cum. His hands clench and unclench--mouth hanging open while he revels in memory--in the feeling of your tight, wet, heat sliding up and down him just how he likes--how he needs.

 “I told you it was OK to touch, baby.” You reach down to grasp his hands with your own, bringing them to rest on your hips. “Hold onto me while I fuck myself on you.” You whisper.

 Atsumu’s eyes open at that, watching your body bounce on him. HIs left hand hastily comes up to grasp a breast, relishing the feel of the soft, pliable skin in his grasp.

 You gasp lightly at the sensation of his hand grazing your sensitive nipple. “Fuck yeah. So good for me baby--so good. Gonna make you cum in me like this--”

 Atsumu’s head falls back against the cushions again, his expression knotted in pleasure. “You feel so good. So good… Please… Please I’m-- Ahh!-- I’m getting close.”

 “Aww you’re close already? You wanna cum baby?” You shouldn’t tease. You know you’re close, too. That cresting peak getting closer and closer with every push of his cock into your deepest places. Your breath is ragged from the exertion of your body. You reach behind you blindly, refusing to miss an instant of Atsumu’s delicious expression. Eventually, you find the small bullet vibrator you’d stashed beneath the cushions earlier. You bring the toy to your clit and immediately feel it; that powerful wave looming just behind--threatening to take you over the edge. You steele yourself the best you can, inhaling deeply.

 Atsumu slides his eyes open at the sound and unleashes the mostly ungodly, moan. His voice trembles when he speaks.

 “Can I--can I come? Please--please baby let me come. Let me come.” His hands hold fast to your hips, grip growing steadily tighter as the sensations continue to climb. Faster now--exponentially faster. He’s not sure he could stop if he wanted to.

 “Mmmm hearing you beg like that… Good boy. You can cum, baby. I’ll even cum with you for being so good. Go ahead. Cum in this tight pussy.” Your words are rushed, breath catching here and there. “Give it to me.”

 And Atsumu shatters.

 The way his cry lilts up--high-pitched and unabashed. That wave crashing into him so hard and so completely it takes you down under with him. Atsumu’s mind is empty. Nothing but blinding white as he expends everything he has in him in an instant. His name spills past your lips over and over like a mantra while you ride out your high. The two of you so in-sync, it feels as though your cunt convulses in time with his every pulse. Everything feels so, astonishingly good and intimate.

 You’re both breathing heavily, eyes shut tight as that shared bliss slowly dissipates. You let yourself come down to rest on his chest. It’s suddenly very quiet save for your shared breaths. Eventually you rise onto your elbows, face directly over his.

 “I love you…” Atsumu murmurs, eyes slightly flitting about while he studies the intricacies of your face. He memorized them all long ago, but even in this he is never sated. Your eyes soften, chest fluttering at his tone: so tender and soft.

 “I love you, too.” You say, gently caressing his face. “So much.”

 Atsumu can’t help the smile spreading across his face. In one quick motion, his arms are around your neck and tugging your face down toward him. His head tilts, lips melding themselves against yours when they make contact. The kiss is unusually tender, his lips trying to convey what his words cannot: how he is so thankful and lucky to have you. You, who understands how dear his passion, his career, is to him yet helps him remain grounded so that it does not consume him entirely. You, who remains so, so patient when he is away. You, who is always there to help him take care of himself when he is too busy or exhausted. You, who holds him when he finally fractures under the stress of giving his everything all the time--and who helps him put his pieces back together again and get back at it.

 Your head returns to its resting place on his chest. His heartbeat steady beneath you, lulling you to sleep. You both need to get up, clean up, and get into your actual bed, but the bliss of finally feeling Atsumu’s hard body beneath you. Knowing it is completely yours, at least for a short while… You don’t want to relinquish it for even a second.

There’s another beat of silence before you speak.

 “Wanna go to ‘Samu’s and get tuna tomorrow?” You ask.

 Atsumu groans his approval loudly--so much so one would think he hadn’t just finished a massive meal with the Jackals. That signature cheeky grin returns to his face.

 “Oh my god I love you.”

[father-time-and-baby-new-year]

M-more armin vs eren drabbles please

WC: 3.2k

Title: Melted Candles

Warnings: possessive behavior, cheating, armin x reader x eren, obsession, unhealthy relationships. manipulator armin & toxic eren.

You’re fidgeting with the hem of your short dress that your loving boyfriend bought you, nursing a drink, and half-heartedly scrolling through your phone.

Sitting on the olive couch alone as the musings of a party transpire, you eye the big and colorful banner sporting the words “Happy 20th Birthday Eren!”.

“It’s like Eren to be late to his own birthday party huh?”

A smooth, gentle voice breaks you out of your trance. You turn sideways to face Armin Arlert, a pretty boy with short-cropped blond hair and wide oceanic eyes. He’s all dressed up in a deep grey turtleneck, navy dress pants, and an expensive Omega watch on his wrist.

You must have looked frightened because he chuckles as he takes a seat next to you, a respectful distance away, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you. Are you having fun?”

“Uh well it’s a surprise party, it’s not like Eren knows he’s supposed to be here.” You have an immediate desire to slap a hand over your mouth after the words spillover. You wince, not entirely in love with the fact that it was your first instinct to defend Eren.

If you had been more observant, you would have noticed the corners of his lips flick upwards in amusement. But Armin is observant enough for the both of you. He notes the color of embarrassment in your cheeks and continues the subject with ease.

“Ah, yeah. That’s right. Eren hates celebrating his birthday, but they're always a good excuse to get everyone together" He pauses before grinning so wide it doesn't look genuine, "-maybe this is more for us than him.”.

There’s an underlying tension in his words you can’t make heads and tails off. It reminds you of how truly little you knew of Eren's very own best friend.

You smile brightly, channeling all the optimism you could into changing the topic: “Everyone’s trying their best today! Sasha did all the catering and managed to leave the cake perfectly alone even though it’s her favorite flavor. She has the patience of a saint today.”

As if on cue, there’s a commotion in the background. Jean yells at Sasha, “Don’t finish all the lemon-pepper wings Potato Girl!”

Armin laughs and it's a pretty sound, a sound that reminds you of a bell chime. Unconsciously, he shifts closer to you, knees knocking into yours.

“Yeah, you’re right. Connie's even hosting it, and he let us decorate his man cave."

You look at the streamers and balloons, and Armin follows your eyes.

“You did a great job decorating.”

You blush, “It was honestly a team effort. Mikasa did way more, I promise.”

“So humble”, he teased. As he smooths his slacks, your eyes can’t help but fall on the shine of the silver band on his slender finger, an engagement ring.

“Annie couldn’t make it today?” There’s a flash of a grimace on his face but he schools his features right away.

“She doesn’t really like parties,” he laughs softly, “She’s like Eren in that way.”

“Oh,” you paused. He was clearly hiding something but it wasn’t in your place to pry. You didn’t know much about Annie. In fact, you were a little intimidated by her icy demeanor and arctic eyes. It amused you at first when you learned she was Armin’s partner.

Opposites must attract, because where Annie was the cold seeping into your bones, Armin was a furnace radiating warmth.

There wasn’t much more to say with the conversation heading to a peaceful silence, until his arms lightly touch yours, “I’m really glad you came.”

His fingertips graze the sleeve of your dress.

You flush, “Well, I wouldn’t be a very good girlfriend if I didn't come to his birthday party.”

The pretty blond clicks his tongue, “I suppose.” He inhales, thumbs swiping the rim of his glass, “You’re too good for him. Do you know that?”

To say you were surprised would be an understatement. You don’t have a response ready but Armin continues, “I love Eren of course. Been friends with him since we were children but-” Deep sigh, “I feel like I barely know him anymore. No one knows him anymore.”

In a small voice, you squeak “I do.” But the unsureness of your tone made your words seem like it was a question.

Armin smiles, one that’s filled with mirth.

Boldly, he squeezes your thigh, the flesh right below where your dress ends, “You deserve better.” His oceanic eyes seem darker under the dim lighting.

Why weren’t you moving away? Were you letting his hand itch closer to roaming the softness underneath silky fabric?

You swivel your head around, praying no one is seeing anything. Thankfully everyone was too swept up in their own conversations. As if to soothe you, his hands draw circles on the soft pliant skin, “Don’t worry, no one can see us.”

The ring glints harshly. Admittedly, Eren’s soft-spoken best friend is just a little attractive. You didn’t always think to see him this way, but Armin changed, and all the general anxiety he possessed matured into a quiet confidence.

He reminds you of Eren in that way. But still, you're at crossroads here. Is Armin making a move on you? Is he warning you? Should you even be here right n-

Your internal monologue is interrupted by Mikasa clapping her hands, and then putting a finger on her lips, “We’re going to turn off the lights, ok? They’ll be here in a few minutes. When Eren starts coming in, yell surprise.” Armin hand’s leave your legs, the warmth gone.

“Oy, oy, oy. Don’t we need a signal?” Connie asks, confusion apparent on his face.

“Jesus Connie, if you can’t even figure this out, what are we going to do with you?” quips Jean.

Mikasa shakes her head.

Sasha lightly punches her best friend, “It’s okay Coomer, just follow my lead.”

“How will that work since you’re stupider than me?” The hazel eyed boy asks, voice dripping in concern. “Eh?” Sasha replies with an equally concerned tone.

Mikasa pinches the bridge of her nose, “I’m going to turn the light off now.”

Eren would be here soon. You barely register Armin putting his arm around the couch, not around you per se, but the proximity was close enough to send your heart racing.

In the switch of a light, the room was engulfed in darkness and excited giggles that Mikasa promptly hushed. And then was just the sound of breathing. You could hear yours and you could hear Armin’s.

Softly, the blond uttered, “I’m going to do something I’ve always wanted to do.” You could feel featherlight fingers tilting your jaw, and capturing your pillowy lips.

The doorknob rattled. Soon after, light from the hallway trickled in. A still moment. As soon as the kiss started, it ended. A flash of light exploded before your eyes and a cacophony of people yelling Surprise! rang out.

At the center of attention was Eren Yeager, who...did not look surprised at all. His eyes were not even adjusting to the light the way yours was. A tall redhead accompanied him, someone who you vaguely recognize as Floch.

The birthday boy was clad in a white button-up, sleeves rolled to his elbows and the top button was unfastened. His dress pants were slim-fitting and black.

The green-eyed boy’s face was devoid of expression. In comparison to his stoic nature, you thought your heart was going to explode.

Wryly Armin says, “Oh look, your boyfriend has arrived.” As if on cue, Eren’s eyes locked with yours.

At that moment, there were too many things to process.

Luckily, Eren was surrounded by a small crowd of his closest friends. You could hear Jean cackle, “Come on! You’re not even surprised.”

You turned your head to face the boy who took advantage of the darkness, a scarlet blush staining your face, “Why did you-?!”

He gazed at you with shining eyes like he had found clarity, not even bothering to feign guilt. With agility only he had, he took your palm in his, “I know you used to like me.”

Blood rushing in your ears, you tear your hands “What are you doing? Eren’s right there. Don’t touch me.” You hissed, scooting away for good measure.

“You didn’t deny what I said.” The blond pointed out calmly, “Yeager is no good for you. He keeps you in the dark about his life and he’s certainly not loyal..”

“I-I can’t deal with this. I never expected this from you Armin.” You shot up from the couch, trepidation filling your nerves, “Now if you excuse me, I’m going to greet my boyfriend.” You uttered the last word with as much hostility you could muster.

Mikasa had her arms wrapped around Eren. Which was fine. They’re best friends. They’ve known each other far longer than you knew him. He thinks of her as a sister.

He thinks of her as a sister.

You walked over, looming behind them. Most of the crowd had dispersed, with only Eren and the Ackerman girl lost in their own world.

What is wrong with you? You scold yourself. You didn’t usually think like this.

“[Y/N]”

Eren noticed you right away, and Mikasa turned around to face you.

“Sorry [y/n], didn’t mean to take so much of his time from you.” The dark-haired girl smiled apologetically.

You could feel guilt gnaw at you, how could you ever suspect her? She waved to Eren, and warmly thanked you, “You did so much of the planning. Thank you.” And before you could reply, she left.

That left you alone with the man himself. “Hi.” You said shyly. He smirked, “Hi babe. Long time no see huh.”

His viridian eyes slowly roamed your appearance, head to toe. You blushed under his stare as they paused longer than necessary on the dip of your neckline, and the expanse of legs not covered by the silk dress.

“So you did all this?” He teased, vaguely gesturing to the string lights, and hanging paper flowers.

He steps closer to you until he’s just a breath away. “Hardly. Just helped out wherever I could.” You whisper.

He hugs you, his tall frame enveloping yours. You feel so safe, pressed against his chest, as his arms compass the slight of your back.

His cologne is your favorite. Subtle, and intoxicating with thick notes of spice. You sniff something else, something overpoweringly distinct.

Still enclosed in his arms, you look up to him, “Did you drink?”

He takes a step back, still wrapping an arm to your waist, “I met up with Zeke. He offered me a drink.”

“Zeke?” You questioned, “You visited your brother?”

Eren was privy to sharing details about his life and you knew virtually next to nothing about Zeke, his half-brother he came recently in contact with.

He kisses the top of your head, and you can feel the loose strands that escaped his bun tickle your face, “It’s nothing to worry your pretty little head about.”

He keeps you in the dark about his life.

“You were cozying up with Armin on that couch, weren’t you?” His tone is light, containing a thinly veiled accusation.

You laugh it off, hoping he wouldn’t notice how tense you suddenly got, “No, no. We were just talking. I was sure I was going to kill myself out of boredom just waiting for you.”

Snuggling closer to him, you stand on your tippy-toes to kiss his jawline, trying to distract him from wavering thoughts.

“Oh?” He asked, “Armin wasn’t entertaining you well enough? Well, he does have a tendency to babble about nothing.”

As he talked, you had a feeling he wasn’t really looking at you, but rather peering straight behind you.

An uneasy feeling fills your lungs, “Um Eren, let’s head to the kitchen. I can fix you a plate. Niccolo did the catering so you know it’ll be really good-”

The tall boy waved your suggestion away, “Not hungry. In fact, why don’t we head over to my best friend? I haven’t talked to him in a while.” You didn't appreciate the mocking lilt in his tone.

Before you could dissuade him, he was already pulling your wrist so you could turn, hand placed on the small of your back, leading you somewhere you definitely did not want to go.

The charming blond was still situated on the couch but this time joined by a woman who was talking rather animatedly. You vaguely recognized her by her chin-length wavy ash-colored locks. Hitch.

“-Annie is so lucky! Jesus, I can’t believe you guys are engaged! And Marlowe still hasn’t worked up the nerve to-”

Eren coughed, asserting his presence. Two pairs of eyes flitted upwards. Hitch sighed dramatically, “Well if it isn’t the birthday boy. The big 2-0. You’re not a teen anymore Yeager. Think you’re ready for the adult world?”

Your boyfriend, who was never one for false pretenses and small talk, ignored her question entirely, “Hello Hitch. If you don’t mind, I would like to catch up with Armin here.”

The woman rolled her eyes, “Guess that’s my cue to leave.” As she stood up, she looked back and forth between the boys, noting the animosity that seemed to permeate the air as they burned holes into each other.

“Why are the vibes so tense? The energies you two are radiating...is reminiscent of a pissing contest”

Without really intending to, you let out a chuckle, attracting the attention of the three people around you.

Hitch’s eyes softened, “[Y/n], I haven’t seen you in a minute. Let’s go do shots with Mina and Hanna.”

Eren’s grip on you tightened, “She’s staying right here Hitch. Enjoy yourself though”

“Funny, I don’t recall asking you. Your girlfriend can’t speak for herself?”

“Uhm, thanks for the offer Hitch but no thank you, I’m not really in the mood to drink right now.” You chuckle nervously, flashing a big enough smile that will ascertain that everything is okay.

Hitch shrugs, “Suit yourself”, and proceeds to walk away.

“Well, I suppose I have to thank you for driving her away. She’s quite...talkative.” Armin breaks the silence. He addresses you both but his eyes are trained on you, “Back already [y/n]?” An easy smile spreads across his face.

You don't look at Eren’s face to gauge his reaction, but you notice how the hand around your waist squeezes almost painfully. The boys stand up to shake hands. Armin gestures for the two of you to sit but the dark-haired boy waves it away, “We prefer to stand.”

The blond gazes between the two of you questioningly but seemingly accept Eren’s response, “Okay then. Guess I’ll stand too.”

“Where’s Annie? Trouble brewing in paradise?”

Armin’s smile hardens, “Don’t know how you’d assume that. She’s just not here.”

Unease pinpricks at you. You could feel trepidation in the air.

“What a shame. Doesn’t Annie like me?” Eren taunts before delivering a line you didn’t expect, “I recall a time where she liked me much more than you actually.”

Surprise is an understatement for how you feel. You didn’t even want to register the implication of his statement. Did Eren and Annie have a past? You lightly touch Eren’s arm in a hint of a warning, “Eren-”

The blond shakes his head, “You’re really something else, you know? Talking about another woman so brazenly in front of your girlfriend? Are you projecting your insecurity onto me since you know” he tilts his head in your direction, “[y/n] liked me first?”

You fluster immediately, jaw-dropping slightly. It was true. You did have a rather big crush on the intelligent blond boy who sat next to you in a class that bored you to sleep. But there was nothing between you two beyond a handful of platonic study dates from when you were freshmen!

Too many moving variables. He was dating Annie and not being the homewrecker type, tried to squash the interest you had. Besides, you were planning to drop that class anyways, and in a twist of fate, it was Armin who had inadvertently introduced you to Eren.

Also, how did that damn Arlert know and why was he bringing it up today of all days?!

Your boyfriend sneers, “Does that really matter when she’s with me? When she’s dating me. And. Not. You.” He punctures the last words out.

“Uhm, I’m right here-” You finally find your voice, “And I’m not really comfortable with being discussed like this.”

Armin’s eyes find yours, “Of course. Sorry [Y/n]. It’s super disrespectful of me-”

Eren cuts in with words heavier than bullets, “Shut the fuck up. Always desperate to play the white knight in shining armor aren’t you? Your duplicity makes me sick.”

As if sensing an oncoming attack, Eren pivots away from you, creating some distance.

Armin closes the gap between himself and the dark-haired boy and bunches Eren’s collar in his fist, “You don’t know how to treat people, you know that? So full of yourself that you think basic decency has an ulterior motive.”

Eren’s eyes dance with mirth, “There’s always an ulterior motive with you, isn’t there though?”. He forcefully shoves his friend, sending Armin stumbling a few steps backward, “You really like pretending you’re one of the good guys when your hands are blood-stained like the rest of us.

You can hear the blood rushing in your ear and you attempt to get in the middle of the impending conflict but Eren grabs your arm with a painful force. He growls,“Step back”. You obey.

“Don’t touch her touch like that.” Armin snarls.

“She’s my fucking girlfriend. I’ll touch her however I want. By the way, just because your little fiance is giving you a hard time doesn’t give you the right to leer at what’s mine.”

At this point you realize you come to your senses, and you leave the area quickly to get help. You scan the area around looking for Mikasa. She’s reliable and always knows what to do. You try to calm your panicked heart.

Gaining speed, you nearly fall by running into someone in the long hallway. Thankfully, the good samaritan is able to catch you in time, holding your shoulders in a firm but comforting grip.

You look up, eager to thank the man who caught you. Mullet. Tall. Slight scruff at the chin. You recognize him right away.

“Woah y/n, what are you running for?” He asks in amusement but one look at your teary eyes has him instantly concerned, “Hey, hey. Are you okay?”

“I-uh,” You’re blubbering, “Armin and Eren are acting kinda strange--I think Mikasa should calm them down.”

Jean’s eyebrows are furrowed, “Strange how? She stepped out so she’s not here right now.” You bite your lips, wondering how you were going to explain the situation.

Jean grabs your shoulder, “Hey, don’t worry. I’ll settle this. Can you take me to them?”

You nod, supremely grateful to have Jean in your corner. As you guys take a turn to the living room, you hear the excruciating sound of glass breaking. “Shit!” Jean curses.

In the middle of the living room stood Eren and Armin like centerpieces, beating the ever-living shit out of each other. You couldn’t see much beyond the fact Armin was throwing punches left and right, landing some but Eren was able to dodge most.

As you move to run forward, Jean grabs you, “No. Stop. There’s glass everywhere. You’re going to get hurt.”

You’re incredulous, “I can’t just let them hurt each other!”

Jean merely looks at you with a look of pity,

[buckys-black-dress]

all the signs i don't read

a/n: guys!!! I'M OFFICIALLY DONE WITH MY FIRST YEAR OF UNI! i'm sooo happy to finally be done, i can focus on writing more for you guys this summer :) here's a lil somethin' i whipped up after my last final today. enjoy! xoxo, ali <3

wc: 2.5k words

[bucky barnes x fem!reader]

read part two here!

-

You never thought anything of it.

You never thought anything of it when every time someone would come into the room, Bucky would act like he couldn't stand being touched by you.

It was little things, at first.

You would be in the kitchen in the morning, making coffee for him and you. He would be holding you from behind, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. And then Steve, or someone else, would walk into the room.

And he would shake off your touch, like you were poison.

It never hurt less.

But it's not like you could ever make a scene out of it, or anything. Because nobody even knew you and Bucky had been dating for the past two months.

You had no one to turn to in this situation. No one knew you two were together, and you kind of messed this up for yourself when you agreed to all of this at the beginning of your relationship. Bucky had told you he wasn't really ready for PDA, and you had told him, in a haste, that it was fine.

But after two months of extremely close calls, your patience was wearing thin, and you know it sounds bad. But you've been extremely careful with him, always asking asking him if everything was okay before going further with anything involving physical touch. You always made sure you weren't crossing any boundaries, but it was starting to get frustrating.

You couldn't understand why Bucky could get all touchy-feely with Steve and Natasha when he felt like it, but was practically gagging at your touch.

You were currently cuddled up on his bed, watching a movie. You were on cloud nine, basking in the warmth of your boyfriend's touch. This was one of the rare instances where he would let you get this close. It was nice, and you made sure to always take advantage of it if the situation presented.

You could feel Bucky's gaze fixed upon you as the colors of the TV screen reflected onto your skin. Your eyes dip down to his, and a warm smile graces your face as your eyes meet.

You couldn't ever put into words how happy Bucky made you. You had liked him for so long before he even asked you out, and you were over the moon the day he had brought up wanting to take you out.

It was another night of dinner with just the two of you. Everyone else was on a mission, and since you two were the only ones left, you had decided to make the decision to make food for the both of you.

"James?" Your voice resounded through the empty kitchen and dining room.

"Yeah, honey?" He answered, painting your face red in a blush.

"Do you... just- nevermind." You shake your head, looking back down at your plate.

"Hey, look at me." He says, putting his hand over yours. "I was actually tryin' to figure out how to ask you this..."

Your brows are pulled together, wondering what he was talking about.

"Whatever it is, you can tell me, James." You reassure him. You were grateful that he was such a good friend to you, and that he trusted you enough to open up to you.

"I was wonderin'... would you like to... go out on a date with me sometime?" He asks, holding your gaze.

You're sure you look like a fish out of water right now, your mouth opening and closing in shock. He wanted to ask you out?

"I just... I like spending time with you, I like how you call me James, I like how you don't judge me and how long it's taken me to get comfortable here. I like how kind you are, and how you've always asked the others to be patient with me, so... would you like to go out on a date with me?" He held such hope in his eyes.

"I... I would love to, James." You reply after a moment of silence.

"I'm so happy you said yes." He smiles warmly. "But just... don't mention it to anyone? I don't want Steve or Sam on my case. You know how they can be sometimes." He smiles, and you nod at his request.

"Of course, James. I don't ever want to make you feel uncomfortable, we can go at your pace." Your tone was soft and understanding.

"Thanks, doll. You don't understand how much it means to me." Bucky returns your soft smile, and scoots his seat closer to yours.

His gaze was fixed on you, and while you were playing over the time in your head, Bucky leans in and pecks your lips gently.

"Hm, what're ya thinkin' of, honey?" He questions, sensing your mind was elsewhere.

"I was just thinking of that night when... when you first asked me on a date. How sweet you were." You smile coyly, leaning back in for another kiss.

Your stomach fluttered at Bucky's hum of approval at your actions. He deepened the kiss, motioning for you to fully sit on his lap. Bucky gently placed each of your legs on the sides of his thighs, his hands grasping your hips.

As he stared from your eyes to your lips, back up to your eyes, you felt lightheaded. This was the most intimate the two of you have gotten so far, and you feel the butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

Soon enough, your lips are back on his, moulding onto his like you two were made for each other. Although you two loved watching movies together in each others' rooms, (to avoid prying eyes, of course) you have never been so close to him before like this.

You felt yourself getting high on his affection, and once you had it, you didn't think you could ever go without it.

As Bucky's grip on you tightens, your hands move up to his shoulders, also moving to grasp them. Your hips move with a mind of their own, grinding against his lap.

You didn't think anything of it, but Bucky freezes at the action. His hands stop their gentle strokes along your sides. His lips pause their actions, and you feel him pulling away.

Both physically and emotionally.

"James, is everything alright?" You ask wearily, truly perplexed. Everything was going so well...

"I just... I can't do this, Y/N. I- I'm so sorry... I can't do this with you." He leans back, and limply moves his hands to flop onto the bed at his sides.

"O-Oh," Your voice breaks as you process his words. He didn't want you. This has all been a joke to him. Even in private, your touch made him uncomfortable.

"I... I have to go." You slide off Bucky's lap, gathering your belongings from the end of his bed and rushing out the door.

Without even a glance behind you, the door slams, and Bucky is sat dumbfounded on his bed. Why did I do that? He thinks to himself. Why did I say that to her?

As tears filled your eyes, you just pray that no one will see you. Unfortunately, your room was on another floor, and you think the stairwell would be the best option to avoid people at this point in time.

But of course, as fate has it, Steve is taking the stairs up. You can tell he's probably just returned from his nightly run, as he's sweating through his shirt.

You quickly wipe your eyes, hoping they look too puffy. Your nose was probably red, too, but just sniffle to clear it.

At the sound of your nose, Steve's head shoots up. Your eyes meet, and you plaster on possibly the fakest smile you've ever produced.

"Steve! How was your run?" You ask enthusiastically, trying to make it seem like you were just fine.

"Yeah, it was good. Took a bit of a longer route today. What are you doing here? You never take the stairs." He asks with a raised brow.

"I uh... I was watching a movie, and I had some snacks that were sitting a little heavy on my stomach. I thought a flight of stairs or two could do me some good." You shrug, trying to look as unsuspecting as possible.

"Are you sure you're alright? Your eyes seem a little red." Steve counters. He could feel that something was off.

"Y-Yup, I was watching a sad movie, you know how I get." You give a fake laugh, turning back around. "I have to head back, but good talk, Steve. Enjoy the rest of your night!" You practically yell while walking away from him.

The door of the stairs close behind you in a haste, and you take a moment to take a deep breath. You hated lying, but it's not like you could've said anything to Steve. He had no clue about anything having to do with you and Bucky.

While you locked yourself away to your room for the rest of the night, Bucky was still trying to process the events. How in the matter of a minute, he managed to shift your entire relationship. He was kicking himself, trying to figure out how to fix this. He couldn't seek out advice from Steve like he normally would in situation like this, or ask Natasha. Usually, she was the one to help him when it came to women these days.

But now, he was on his own.

And he was fucked.

So, he had two options.

One, go to Steve. Confess everything; dating you for the past two months, admit he was an idiot and didn't want anyone to know. Realize it would've been fine if everyone knew because everyone loved you. Try to win you back.

Or two, try to get you back on his own. And let's be honest, that option was not looking too good. Clearly, Bucky was clueless in this topic.

So now, he was left to stew.

That night, you drifted into a dreamless sleep with a heavy heart and a tear-soaked pillow.

-

The next few days were... rough, to say the least.

You could barely drag yourself out of bed. You would leave your warm blankets and pillows around eleven each day, which was unheard of for you. Natasha and Wanda would stop you on your way to the kitchen, and try to pry the problem out of you.

Sweetie, this isn't healthy for you.

Honey, just tell us what's wrong. We're here for you.

Y/N, we're worried about you. We love you, but you look horrible.

That last on made you crack a smile, but shook your head and headed in to make yourself a coffee.

For the first time in two months, you were only making coffee for you.

And fuck, was it killing you.

You so badly wanted someone to wrap you up in a hug, rub your back, and tell you it was okay. To tell you your touch was comforting, that they wanted to be close to you.

But of course, fairytales weren't real. You were alone again, and it seemed that it would stay that way for a long time.

No matter what you did, all you could hear in your head was James' words. I'm sorry, I can't do this with you. With you. With you. With you.

And you couldn't help but wonder. What was it about you that was so repulsive to him? You were understanding from the beginning. You just thought he wasn't ready for PDA, that he just wanted his privacy, you understood.

But what you didn't get was how James could have asked you out on a date, how he could've kissed you, for fuck's sake, and yet be so ashamed to be seen with you.

So you allowed yourself to only wallow for five days. You only gave yourself these next five days to feel sorry for yourself, whatever you needed to be pathetic for a few days, but that's it. After that, no more.

You were tired of feeling like you weren't good enough for anyone, like you were a burden. You were an amazing person, and if some people couldn't see that, it wasn't your problem.

You were done.

-

During your five days, you hadn't seen Bucky once. And of course, as your luck would have it, day two brought you your ex-boyfriend.

All in his glory, in the kitchen.

With not one, but two mugs of coffee.

His eyes meet yours, and you see a light in his. But you made sure you were quick to put that out.

"Do you need something, Bucky?" You all but sneer, and his soft smile drops.

"I just... I was about to bring you some coffee. Just how you like it, iced and black." He tries the smile again.

"No thank you, I'd rather make it myself." You turn your stare to the coffee machine, grabbing a capsule and sticking it in the machine before sliding it shut.

Bucky just stands there, dumbfounded. Again.

This seems to be a trend with you.

"Y/N, come on. Let's just sit down and talk about this. Let's go to your room, or maybe mine-" He begins, but you couldn't be bothered with him anymore.

"You know what, Bucky? No. If you want to talk, we can do it out here, for anyone to see. What are you afraid of? Me? Scared that someone will see you with me? God forbid, someone sees that you like me, right? God fucking forbid someone actually is proud-" your voice cracks in an ugly way, and even though you don't want to seem weak in front of him, you continue, "proud to be with me. I gave myself time. Time to understand why on Earth you seemed so... so disgusted to be with me. So ashamed.

And I got over. I am not going to let you make me feel like I'm anything less of a great person, and anyone would be lucky to have me. So screw you, and your secret relationships. I'm done."

By the end of your speech, tears had definitely made it down your cheeks, and your coffee was long forgotten as you turned to move out of the kitchen.

Bucky's eyes had widened at your words, realizing the weight of his mistake. He had made you feel so small, so repulsive and you thought all those things about yourself were true.

But they couldn't have been further from it.

Bucky loved you. He had only had you for two months, but in that short time, he was so hellbent on keeping you a secret. On showing the others that he wasn't weak, that he was still a big, tough guy. That he didn't need a girl to comfort him, or to help him through the nightmares.

But you were the best thing he ever had, and now you were slipping away.

But if Bucky is anything, he's a determined man. And he's determined on getting you back.

-

a/n: aw shit, what's gonna happen?? don't worry, i would never leave y'all hanging like this. part 2 will be coming shortly :) in the meantime, enjoy whatever this is. love, ali <3

read part two here!

[9tzuyu]

who you are

note: mostly made this for my own comfort, but i do hope it helps and/or comforts any fellow lesbians :]. i normally wouldn’t specify sexualities on any characters because obviously everyones going to feel differently about different characters, but like i said this started off for my own comfort bcs i was hashtag goin through it.

prompt: basically just reader struggling to accept themselves as a lesbian. sorry non lesbians :(

warnings: heavy heavy heavy on internalized lesbophobia. talks about comphet (trying to force oneself to like men) and wanting to be ‘normal’

thank u ally for proofreading <3

not tagging anyone just because i don’t want to trigger :[

. . .

you were wrestling with something, natasha could tell that much. your eyebrows were drawn together, eyes lost in a gaze. it wasn’t until the third time tony called your name when you snapped out of it.

“sorry,” you mumbled.

“well are you going to answer the question?”

natasha noted the tapping of your foot, knuckles cracking beneath the table. it was obvious you weren’t in the right state of mind to be answering any kind of question. foolishly, no one else picked up on that except for the redhead.

“what was the question?”

tony sighed, his patience growing thinner by the second.

“i asked if your report was done. it was supposed to be handed in three days ago, remember?”

your foot tapped faster.

“yeah- yeah, i’m almost finished.”

it wasn’t like you to be so late on things like this, you were usually on top of everything.

“you told me you would have it ready by today. this is the fourth time this month that you’ve done this. you’re dragging your ass and the rest of us are getting pretty tired of it.” a collective agreement could be heard from the team. all eyes were on you waiting for a reply.

if you hadn’t felt anxious before, you most definitely did now.

“it won’t happen again.” tony blew off your statement and rolled his eyes. you shifted uncomfortably, nauseous from all the negative attention.

you couldn’t help but wonder if they knew. maybe that’s why they were being so short. it made sense after all.

natasha tried making her way towards you, but she was stopped by steve’s hand on her shoulder. you were well past gone by the time she managed to scramble away from him.

your back pressed flatly against the wall, tears steadily falling down your face. hatred was all you felt. hatred towards yourself. 

why couldn’t you be like the rest of them? why didn’t you belong? 

whywhywhywhywhywhy

granted, you knew there was absolutely nothing wrong with being gay. that was never the issue. the issue was the fact that it was yourself, that there was no possibility for you to ever be attracted to men. 

you were sure it would be a phase, that it would pass, that you would forget about it and never think about it again. you tried to go on dates, tried to form a relationship, tried to enjoy having sex with them. none of it worked, no matter how much you forced yourself to believe it would. 

all you could think about was how sick and disgusting you felt. and the shit representation didn’t help your case at all. the media hardly ever portrayed a good, well-rounded lesbian character that wasn’t problematic, over-sexualized or dead. 

the media only reiterated the fact that you were supposed to want men. you were supposed to find the right guy and fall in love with him, call him your husband and start a family. 

a knock on your door pulled you away from your thoughts. you shuffled your way back to your feet, drying your eyes for good measurement. 

natasha stood patiently, eyes drilled on your doorknob. if it were up to her she’d be picking your lock, but she knew that would be crossing a boundary. she went to knock again when your door swung open. 

“hi nat.”

“hey,” her voice was soft. “you’ve been crying...” she pressed her hand against your face, thumb rubbing the top of your cheekbone. 

you shrugged. it wasn’t like you could deny her, your red eyes had already given away the truth. “yeah.” 

she hummed, “may i come in?”

you hesitantly moved out of the way to let her through, cursing at yourself for finding her so attractive. 

“you know you can talk to me, you always do. why haven’t you said anything?” natasha moved to sit on the edge of your bed. “you’ve grown quiet these past few days, it’s not like you.”

“i’m just tired, worn out from work i suppose.”

she nodded, though she knew better than to believe such a lie. natasha could always tell when you were lying, something you both hated and loved at the same time. 

you sat next to her after a friendly tap on the bed. her gaze made you feel like a little kid in trouble. it was as if she already knew and was prepared to say the worse.

“i don’t believe you.” 

“well, i don’t know what you want me to tell you, nat.”

“how about the truth?” you scoffed purely out of defense. “and what good would that do?” 

“it might relieve whatever you’ve got on your heart.” you met natasha’s eyes and your lip immediately began to quiver.

“i’m afraid you won’t be able to look at me the same.” 

she softened, taking your hand in hers. “there’s nothing in the world that would change the way i see you.”

“you say that now, nat, but-”

“i wouldn’t say it if i didn’t mean it.” 

you thought about it further. natasha had never been one to judge someone based on the things they’ve been through, the things they’ve done or the things that make them who they are. she saw people the way they were, nothing more, nothing less. 

but what if she didn’t like you or see you the way you were? you weren’t sure you could handle the aftermath if that were to be the case. it was bad enough you struggled to accept yourself, natasha’s disapproval would only break you. 

“i’m a lesbian.” a lump in your throat began to form and you found yourself crying once more. “i tried so hard, i tried everything i could think of, but i can’t, i don’t like men.”

you coughed, choking on your words. 

“i don’t understand, nat! i don’t understand why i can’t be normal. why can’t i do it? if i just liked men i would be okay, i would be fine, i would be fucking accepted.” you paused for a breath of air. “i just want to be normal.” 

natasha was taken back by your confession. it was nothing near what she thought it would be. she expected you to tell her you’d been stressed or that you were scared for the next mission. 

“i’m sorry, i-”

the spy quickly cupped your face, tilting your chin upwards as a hint to meet her eyes again.

“look at me, c’mon, hey. you have nothing to be sorry for, don’t ever think that you do. i love you for who you are. there’s nothing wrong with being a lesbian. you’re normal, you’re who you are, who you’re supposed to be. you are real. i promise you are.” 

without thinking you leaned into natasha, clinging on to her for dear life. her arms found their way around your body, hands rubbing your back up and down. 

“you should be proud to be who you are, not ashamed. and if you’re not proud of yourself then please know that i am. i am so, so, incredibly proud of you, sweetheart.” she finger brushed your hair as you continued to cry. “shhh, you’re alright baby. i’m sorry you’ve been dealing with this alone.”

“it’s okay nat.” she gave your body a small squeeze, frowning at your response. “you shouldn’t have to feel like you need to force yourself to be someone or something you’re not. you don’t deserve to struggle so much for your own acceptance as a lesbian.” 

you nodded, though she could tell you weren’t fully convinced. “the only opinions you should care about are your own and the people you love and cherish. i know that’s easier said than done, but it’s true. besides, what you told me just gives me something more to love about you.” natasha finished off with a delicate kiss to your forehead. 

“this means a lot to me, nat. thank you, for everything really.” 

“oh sweetheart i should be thanking you for trusting me with such an important part of you are.” you shied away, a growing smile forming on your face as you leaned into her shoulder.

natahsa smirked, clearly aware of the effect she had on you. “who knew you could be so cute?” 

“nattttt.” 

she rose her hands up in surrender, “alright, alright. i’ll stop on one condition.” 

“what’s that?” you mumbled. 

“would you let me take you out for dinner tonight? i’ll show you just how beautiful it is to be with a woman.” 

“yeah, yes- yes please, that’s fine.” natasha could’ve sworn she heard your heartbeat quicken and she had to refrain from letting out a small laugh at your flustered state. 

“we need to clear that little mind of yours. i’ll be back here at seven on the dot, okay?” a pat on the leg caught your senses as you watched her stand. the last thing natasha heard was the soft “okay” fall from your lips as she walked out the door.

you’d never been happier to be a lesbian in your life by the end of the night.