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#like you can tell he tries to keep up with the franchises he's apart of for his fans and its sweet

bradshawsbitch · 1 year

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‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎↠ 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 - ⅳ ↞

⁘ bradley bradshaw, the notoriously ill mannered head chef at the small franchise pub down the street, is quite content with his fast paced job. no commitments or obligations outside of his kingdom of sharp knives, pots, pans, prep work and a shot of jäger after a double. that is until a new waitress is hired, and suddenly his strict and rigid rules of no obligations or commitments starts to waver. . .

› pairing; bradley bradshaw x f!reader

word count; ~ 2.1K

× chapter warnings; swearing, flirting, somewhat forced close proximity

disclaimer; I am basing most of the chefs/waitresses on people I have worked with/encountered. Most of their traits will be as realistic as possible.

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“Can you work pastry today?”

A deep, raspy voice echoed from far away. The morning light had barely made it into your apartment windows, and you were just sitting up on the edge of the bed to start your morning. You’d answered without checking your caller ID - you’d just figured it was your mother.

But the deep tenor that sounded after your swift ‘hello?’ had a shiver running down your spine. Inhaling deeply with surprise from the realization, the phone escaped its spot against your ear. Fumbling fingers tried to save it, only making it fly more erratically through the air, before it inevitably landed with a final thud on your carpet.

“Shit, shit, shit!” scrambling to your knees, you reached for the phone before putting it back against your awaiting ear.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” the reply was slightly breathless, from the slight heart attack and scramble to save your phone. On the other end of the line, someone cleared their throat before speaking again.

“We’re kind of in the shit in the kitchens today. Mickey’s down with a stomach bug, Jake’s out of town, and Nathaniel, who would be my next bet, is visiting his sick mother.” Bradley sounded like he was battling a headache, and you could almost see the way he rubbed his furrowed brows so clearly in your mind's eye it made you smile softly.

“Alright, and you want me on pastry? Wouldn’t it be better to grab John, or Angie?” you weren’t exactly afraid to voice your opinions to Bradley, even if he’d ignored you mostly ever since the night you’d been crying in his office. He’d speak to you if you asked him anything work-related, but his answers were always short.

“I’ll be honest, that was my first thought. But there’s that large booking tonight, and they’re both needed. The restaurant owner said they were important people or whatever, so he wanted them served by his best - no offense." He added the last part on the fly, it seemed.

“None taken.” you let out a soft laugh, now he wanted to offer you no offense?

“So, I figured if I’m there, manning the grill and you manage the cold shit, we could make it work. I’ll prep most of it before you arrive, and then I’ll show you how to work it before service starts. Besides that large booking, it looks like it’ll be a slow day.”

Worrying your lower lip between your teeth, you nodded to yourself before telling Bradley you’d do it. He sounded relieved when he told you when to arrive and where to find chef’s robes. By now anxious butterflies were swirling in your stomach, and you cursed yourself as you braided your hair into two neat plaits to keep it out of your face as you made your way out of your flat and into your small car.

Arriving at work, you trekked up the stairs to the changing rooms. You remembered Bradley had told you the chef’s robes were at the racks by the men’s changing rooms, and you slowly made your way there. The door was wide open, as it usually was seeing as it wasn’t a room you generally passed if you weren’t looking for a new uniform.

As you approached, you saw Bradley’s chef’s robe completely open as he fumbled while buttoning his trousers. Eyes widening, you swiftly grabbed the first top and bottom you could find, letting out a small squeak as you booked it to the women's changing rooms.

Collapsing onto the closed door of your locker, you mouth out ‘oh my god’ as the visual of Bradley’s bare abs circulated wildly within your mind's eye. Taking a shaky breath, you swiftly got dressed in too large robes as you made your way downstairs.

Fiddling with your too long sleeves, you stumbled into the kitchen where Bradley was finishing up the prep work for your station, his was already fixed. At the sound of your footfalls, Bradley’s beautiful brown eyes snapped to look at you, a peculiar emotion swirling in them.

“Hi chef!” you smiled softly, glancing up at him before continuing to fiddle with your sleeve. “Thanks for helping out today, Bambi” Bradley rumbled out, pausing for a moment before telling you what dishes were pre-ordered for the large booked table this evening. He noticed, however, that your attention was more focused on getting the sleeve to stay up your forearm than his words, and he sighed wearily before stepping closer to you.

His calloused fingertips graced your inner forearm as he slid the fabric upwards, folding it a couple of times before securing it above your elbow. Blinking, you stared dumbfounded at Bradley’s face, his hair that peaked out under his hat, his neatly trimmed mustache, and that shapely cupid's bow…

He repeated the process on your other sleeve, before leaving the close proximity between the two of you. Biting your lip, you had to keep from letting out a noise as he started dancing around the small pastry space, rambling on about food. His scent had been overwhelming, and the body heat he radiated had you slightly dizzy.

As service begins, you find your nerves dissipating more and more as time goes on. Bradley even gently encourages you when he can tell you’re freezing up with insecurity over plating or timing. After a few hours, you’ve not only relaxed and managed to make most of the entrees and desserts on your own, you’ve made Bradley smile five times, and laugh twice. When you’ve sent out the large tables first course, you slink over to Bradley’s side at his request to help him plate.

“Alright, Bambs, remember - terrine first, meat, and then sauce - alright? And when I move behind you you stay still, okay?” Bradley’s voice was level, and he held your eyes with his own to see you copied. “Mhm!” you squeaked out, putting on plastic gloves as you put up as many plates on the counter as it could hold.

“Alright then, start plating the terrines then,” he offered you another rare side smile, moving towards the grill to start putting the finished steaks on a warmed up skillet. Moving swiftly, you accidentally dropped the first terrine on the floor. You cursed softly under your breath - it had been hotter than you realized. Looking over your shoulder, worriedly, you saw Bradley shake his head “No worries, Bambi - I made more than we needed. Keep going.”

Letting out a sigh of relief you started over, starting to work up a routine as Bradley moved behind you to put meat on the plates you’d already put terrines on. As you finished with the terrines, you were about to move to fetch the sauce-pan, as Bradley had instructed earlier.

“Hey, hey, behind, sweetheart” eyes widened as they almost came in contact with Rooster’s broad chest, and you giggled somewhat nervously before lowering your gaze and slinking past Bradley’s broad form as he chuckled. You’d heard Bradley call Mir and Angie sweetheart sometimes - but never you. It felt pathetic the way it made your chest feel tight and those damn butterflies appeared in the pit of your stomach again.

Finishing off the plates, the two of you wiped the sides of them before ringing the little bell that would usually have you scrambling to reach the kitchens from the dining hall.

“I have to admit, that bell makes me react very strangely when I’m in here,” you smiled at Bradley as you fixed a strand of your hair that had fallen before your eyes, back into your cap.

He smirked softly at you “And yet, it always takes you so long to get in here…” he teased. Opening your mouth in mock surprise, you swatted at Bradley with the cloth you had slung over your shoulder, he only laughed, grabbing a hold of the other end of the cloth, pulling it into his own hands as it slipped out of your fingers. Rolling your eyes, you exited Bradley’s side to resume your duties on pastry, looking at the two new tickets that had come in.

A small smile was still apparent on your lips as you made the two ice cream desserts, taking extra care with the whipped cream - spending time fixing the strawberries and chocolate sauce to your liking, before ringing the bell with a happy grin.

Looking up, you frowned. The warm plates that Bradley and you had fixed were still there.

“Bradley… it’s been almost four minutes! Those will get cold! Where is everyone?” you looked worriedly towards the door that led to the dining hall. Bradley glanced at you and chuckled before looking at the plates “Yup, they’re almost dead,” he frowned slightly before slamming his large palm down on the bell, making it ring out angrily in rapid succession - something you hated when you were in the front of the restaurant. You understood the urgency now though.

“Those look real good, by the way,” Bradley commented, nodding towards your desserts. “Way better than Mickey,” he winked jokingly, and you felt heat spread slowly across your cheeks. Swallowing hard, you looked at your creations, a feeling of pride filling you at Bradley’s praise.

“They’re starting to melt now though…” you pouted, furrowing your brows, considering for only a moment before you too let your palm slam down on your own bell harshly.

Bradley let out the loudest laugh of the night at that before he howled “Atta girl!” you grinned at him, leveling him with a look. And it seemed as if understanding passed before the two of you as you simultaneously slammed your hands down on your bells - making them ring in tandem at different pitches.

Bradley’s low chuckles mingled with your giggles as a flustered John and Angie came running into the kitchens. Bradley’s face immediately fell and turned sour as they approached, and his tone took the all too familiar tone it usually did when it reprimanded you. He chewed them out before telling them to hurry the fuck up.

“... and Bambi’s desserts are melting! Get a fucking move on!” he added at the end, sending you a conspiratorial wink, before turning back to his ovens and grill. In spite of the warmth that spread in your stomach and the grin on your face, you took pity on Ange and John, and swiftly grabbed the ice creams and went out into the front of the restaurant to deliver them to the table.

The rest of the shift is spent joking around with Bradley, getting to know him just a smidge more, and slowly letting yourself act the way you usually do around your other co-workers with him. As he riles you up with jibes at the wait staff, you give as good as he does, and he balks at some of your more risque jokes and comebacks. Those times make you smirk to yourself as you clean up your station at the end of the shift.

Waving goodbye to Bradley, you let out a giddy squeak as you sat in your car, letting out a long sigh of happiness as sparks flew through you at rapid speed. You couldn’t wait to come back to work tomorrow, having ended this shift on such a good note with Bradley.

As you fell asleep that night, you envision that Bradley might treat you as he treated Mir and Angie now, maybe even how he treated Mickey. You saw before you greeting him with a smile and getting one of those gorgeous ones back. Imagined making him laugh and making a point of hurrying into the kitchen, maybe slamming the bell jokingly if he wasn't at his station. The smile that tugged at the corners of your lips didn’t wane as sleep overtook you.

The next day you giddily fixed your hair and makeup a little extra, spent a little extra time picking out jeans that hugged your curves and made your ass look just that little bit more juicy, and a black tight top that complimented your figure, before taking care to leave a little extra early to work.

Dancing into the kitchen, you saw Jake was back behind the kitchen counters, and he greeted you happily as your sunny grin spread sunshine around the otherwise silent room.

“Hiya Chef!” you sang happily to Bradley, leaning on the counter to let your starry eyes meet his. You saw his jaw clench, his brown eyes that had been alight with mirth and kindness yesterday was once again cold and stand-offish. Blinking in confusion as Bradley swallowed hard, you tilted your head slightly at his reaction. You reached out, looking to see if anything had happened to him, when he uttered one dismissing word in greeting;

“Flounder.”

It felt like a punch in the gut. He had looked away from you, disinterested as he continued to work. As if you weren’t there. As if yesterday had never happened at all. As if he hadn’t promised not to call you that anymore.

Drawing in a sharp breath, you turned swiftly to walk back to the front of the restaurant, a leaden weight sinking deep into the pit of your stomach as you ignored the way tears burned behind your lids.

next chapter

ahhh rooster what the fuck?? ugh I love him. stupid man! sorry for the wait for this! how are we feeling???

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw au #mise en place series #my writing #bradley bradshaw series

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thequeendesi · 2 years

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A Promise

Title: A promise

Alt Title: I will ruin your fucking life

Warnings: swearing, Nate Jacobs, sexual innuendo, drug alluding, stress

Disclaimer: I don’t own you or the euphoria franchise

Rating: MA-16

Word Count : 1.9k

A/N: hi! I don’t think y’all exited five out so soon, but here it is!

@ellyskey , @minaxcarter , @leslienjazzy y , @write-from-the-heart t , @local-bxbby y , @twdbaddie1090 , @multiharlot , @lovesanimals0000 0

Flynn looked behind you and Elliot, his eyes meeting something’s. “Dada?” He asked, arms stretching out for Dada. Your gaze broke from Elliot’s as you began to look up. Your eyes meeting Nate’s.

“Nate, what’re you doing here?” You asked, pushing Elliot behind you as you acted as a barrier between the two men.

“I just wanted to see my son. Tomorrow’s his birthday. I know you got the Facebook notification.” Nate shrugged, a half smile on his lips as he looked towards Flynn. “Look at him (Name). He’s reachin’ for his Dada. You really wanna tell him no?” Nate asked, almost degrading you in a sense… just without words.

You turned your head a little to look at Flynn. Who kept his arms outstretched, eyes welling up with tears as he began to fuss. “You’re fuckin’ evil for using Flynn like that, bro. You ain’t even here for him.” Elliot injected himself into the conversation.

“El.” You said, eyebrows narrowing towards him. “Five minutes, Nate. You can sit on the couch with him.” You moved from the doorway, pushing Elliot as well a little.

“How nice of you (Name). You think you can get a picture of my son and I?” Nate asked the two of you, sitting on the couch next to Flynn. You watched as your son crawled onto that monster’s lap. You weren’t even sure Nate was human at this point, because there wasn’t any possible way that any human could be as evil as Nate. You knew if you would’ve caught him on the wrong day, there’d be a first degree murder charge.

“A picture?” Elliot whispered to himself, almost astonished at his request. But if you knew anyone, you knew Nate Jacobs.

“This is killing you, ain’t it princess? To see our son love his father.” Nate asked you. “He would’ve loved me more if you wouldn’t have broken up our family.” You felt a pit in your stomach as he blamed you. “Nate, I didn’t break up shit. You fucked Cassie when I was in the hospital having Flynn!” You shouted at him.

“Who put you into labor though?” Nate asked, looking at Flynn, covering his ears. “You’ll scare Flynn, (Name), come on.” Nate chastised you like a child. “It’s been five minutes, Nate.” You said.

“Been 4 minutes.” He said, shaking the timer on iis phone. “I got… 52 seconds left.” He put the phone down, adjusting Flynn on his lap. “Aren’t you glad I’m one of those nice and rich baby daddy’s?” He asked. “Never took you to court, I could have Flynn with me in two seconds.” He threatened.

“You couldn’t. And if you tried everything I know about your family goes public. Even your dad.” You said. “And that ain’t a threat, Jacobs. It’s a promise.” You said. Nate’s expression darkened.

A year ago, you would’ve cowered. But, you knew in front of people, he’d never lay a hand on you.

The timer rang as Nate took a deep breath, his charming smile returning to his face. “Dada has to go now, buddy.” Nate said to Flynn, walking over to you. He placed Flynn back in your arms as you hugged the confused baby tightly.

“(Name).” He said to you, exiting your apartment.

“What Nate?” You said, rubbing Flynn’s back.

“You ever threaten my family again, and I can promise you I’ll ruin your fucking life. And we don’t want that, do we?” He looked at you. “I’m sure Flynn needs one consistent parent to keep him from having issues like you.”

You took a deep breath. “Keep my parents out of your mouth. They fixed themselves.” You said. “And I’m sure they did. Which is why they’ll pass the search warrant and when their P.O’s will test them, they’ll pass. Right?” He closed the door behind him.

You took a deep breath and walked straight to the couch, reaching under it. “Fucking typical bastard.” You whispered to yourself. “What’d you find?” Elliot asked, trying to break the silence between the three of you.

“Recorder.” You responded, checking under the table, pillow, and behind your door. Finding three more tiny spyware type cameras.

“You think there’s anymore?” He asked you as you tossed them out of your window.

“He only sat on the couch.” You answered, sitting on the couch with Flynn on your lap.

“You ok?” Elliot asked, sitting next to you. “I’m fine.” You said, focusing on fixing Flynn’s hair. “(Name). Don’t push me away because you’re upset with someone else. You have to communicate with me. I didn’t do anything wrong.” Elliot reminded you.

And you hated hearing it, but you knew he was right. “I’m sorry.” You sighed. “I just hate that he does this… he wasn’t always like this.” Flynn leaned into your touch. You knew if Elliot wasn’t there in that moment what would’ve happened would’ve been way worse.

“I’m sorry.” Elliot said, placing his arm over your shoulders. You shook your head and leaned into his touch. “Not your fault.” Flynn looked at Elliot.

“Hi buddy. I’m Elliot. Or El.” Elliot greeted Flynn, reaching his hand out.

And Flynn touched his finger. You smiled a little at the sight. “So you still ain’t planning on running?” You asked him, looking up at him.

“Nah.” Elliot shook his head. “I think I’m where I need to be.” Elliot kissed your forehead. “My girl and her son.” He said.

“Aren’t you worried about the police going to your parents house?” Elliot finally asked, the question finally being asked after he built the confidence. “No. They’re clean.” You said simply.

“Clean?”

“My parents did some things. I did some things. My grandmother did some things. We’ve all done some things.”

“When’d you get clean?”

“Nate put me through detox when he said we were gonna have a family.”

“That’s crazy. You were 16 when you got pregnant though.” You nodded. “Mhm. We planned Flynn. It wasn’t ‘til after I was clean he started his shit. Was high on anything since 11, started dating him at 14, he put me through detox three days before my 16th birthday. I didn’t get pregnant for another three months.” You explained.

“Jesus.”

“Almost 4 years later and we’re still going through this shit. He went through dozens of girls. I went on one date two weeks after we broke up with a guy who’d liked me since middle school.”

“How’d it go?”

“Nate cussed me out.” You half-laughed. “Called me a whore for going out so soon. That I was already planning for another baby.”

“What was your drug of choice?” Elliot asked, his brain starting to understand why his sobriety was so important to you now. “Anything. I’ve pretty much done it all once. When Fezco found out I thought I was done for.”

“Where were your parents for all this?”

“High themselves. When you’re 12, you don’t think you’d be doing coke with mom while dad cooked dinner, but c’est la vie I guess.” You shrugged. “Why’d Nate beat you up earlier?”

“He saw the hickey you left.” He answered. “He thinks we had sex.” You sighed, pinching your nose’s bridge.

“Are you ace?” Elliot blurted out.

“No!” You sighed. “No, I’m not ace.” You know what he’s thinking though. You two haven’t had sex, but make out any time you have. “I just… haven’t had sex in a while.” You explained a little. “It’s not off the table though. I’ve been tempted. I was really tempted the other night and if I didn’t need to come home at a certain time…” you trailed off. “You get where I’m going.”

“Oh so I’m tempting?” Elliot teased.

You pushed him a little, noticing how Flynn was sleeping on your lap. “It was time for his nap anyhow.” You stood up, walking over to his room. You placed him in his crib, then closed the door behind you.

Elliot’s arms wrapped around your waist as he kissed your neck. “What’s stopping us now?” He asked, kissing down more. Your hand gripped the doorknob as you leaned into his touch, head leaning back against his shoulder.

You whispered a swear under your breath as he found the spot. “Do you want to?” He asked, hands going under your shirt to place themselves on his hips.

“I don’t do anything more if you don’t want to.” He kissed your jaw. “I want it.” You said, turning to face him. “You want it, baby girl?” He asked. “Yea.” You said.

***

Elliot ran his fingers up and down your back, clothes thrown all over the room. “You alright?” You asked, looking up at him. “Yea. You?” He asked, pushing some hair from your face.

“I’m okay.” You looked over at the baby monitor, Flynn still sound asleep. “What time is it?” You asked him. “My phone’s in the living room.” He answered, shrugging. You nodded and kissed him softly.

Elliot’s arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled you on top. “Again?” You half joked. “Nah. Just prefer you on top.” He said. You stood up, and put on a pair of shorts and a crop top. “I’m gonna check my phone. Do you want yours?” You asked, looking over at him.

“Nah.” He answered, both hands going behind his head. You nodded and walked into the living room. You picked up your phone. “Oh fuck.” You whispered.

You continued to repeat it as you called your mother’s parole officer back.

“Don’t tell me Shannon.” You pleaded.

“Your parents were arrested due to breaching their parole conditions.”

“How did they breach it?” You asked. “They tested positive for methamphetamines, marijuana, cocaine and opiates.” She answered. “Are you serious? Test them again! Watch them pee. Watch the tests show up!” You shouted into the phone.

“Ms. (Last Name), we watched them urinate. We watched the tests develop. And we watched your parents' reactions during the whole process.” She paused. “They’re guilty.”

“What’s about to happen now?” You asked, sitting on the couch. “They have to serve 430 days behind bars. They could be out with good behavior sooner, but they’re going to need to detox, because their levels were high. From what it looks like with our numbers, they indulged in cocaine this morning.”

“This morning? No, that's impossible. They had Flynn until 10 this morning.” You said. “The numbers aren’t lying, (Name).” Shannon responded. “Oh my god. They watch my son when I’m at work. They’ve been doing drugs around Flynn. They did fucking drugs around my baby Shannon!” You shouted a little, falling to your knees.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” She said, “I gotta go. I gotta find out what I’m doing next.” You said, hanging up the phone promptly and tossing your phone at the couch.

You just wanted to scream. They were clean! They’d been clean for months. You cupped your face in your hands and sobbed.

Two arms wrapped around you as you turned into his chest. “They were doing drugs around Flynn, El. I was so busy with work and Flynn… I ain’t even noticed.” You whispered.

Elliot hugged your shoulders as he kissed your forehead. “What am I gonna do? I need someone to watch Flynn while I work. I can only do the night shifts because he sleeps through the night.” You sniffed, rubbing your face. “This is ridiculous.” You sobbed.

“We’ll figure something out.” He shushed you.

#des’ writing #des’ series : angel #des’ original series #des’ oneshot #euphoria elliot x reader #euphoria elliot #euphoria fez #euphoria series #euphoria imagine

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averagewriter-inthedark · 2 years

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Leah’s College Roomate | Twilight headcanon

Link to my Twilight Masterlist

Being Leah Clearwaters college roommate would look like:

She was a little standoffish in the beginning. Literally whenever you tried to make conversation she wasn’t really interested and would give short answers or not speak at all. But you still were friendly and eventually Leah started to break down those walls of hers. “I’m..sorry. I-I don’t have many friends back home.”

Whether you two were the same major or studying different things, you two would have study nights either in the living room of y’all’s dorm/apartment or hang out in the school library. It was often the latter since you’d get distracted in your place. Luckily if one of y’all already had the class before you could lend each other notes or help with assignments. “I don’t understand this—it’s making my brain hurt.” “Here let me take a look”

It would be awhile before Leah would tell you about her life back home on the reservation. She’d tell you about her parents, her brother, her ex (which you wanted to beat up after she said he broke up with her and got with her cousin), and the few ‘friends’ she had. Of course Leah would never tell you her nature or the pack, that secret would remain forever.

When you two are not in class or doing schoolwork, you two like to have movie/tv show nights where you order take out, put on comfy Pjs, and chill in the living room watching whatever you two decide. Sometimes you guys will spend a whole weekend binge watching a show or movie franchise. Oh and much to Leah’s surprise, she enjoys tuning in every Monday night to watch the Bachelor/Bachelorette. “She better not choose him—he’s a walking red flag.” “Yeah, but who knows maybe red is her favorite color.”

While your room is very chaotic or straight from a Pinterest board, Leah’s is very simple and has a lot of her native heritage spread along the walls and keeps it clean. The living room/kitchen has elements that reflect the both of you so it is a nice blend. There’s a little plant area on the balcony if you have one or there’s fake ones inside.

If you end up going home for winter/spring break, you invite Leah to come with you back home if she is willing or has no plans. At first she was hesitant, but it turned out to be the best trip of her life. She enjoyed traveling and exploring since she never got to do it back home. The next break you have Leah ends up inviting you to come visit her, which you whole heartedly agree and she shows you everything there is about her culture.

You two love to share each other your favorite hobbies, books, movies, art, etc. It took a lot of convincing to get Leah to read your favorite book series, her excuse being she had a lot of schoolwork to get done first, but eventually she gives in and it becomes her whole personality. You two end up staying up a whole night just to talk about the series, its plot, the characters, and watch the adaptation if she hadn’t seen it.

Let’s remember, you two are college students so cooking can be a rare occurance. After a days long of classes, clubs, work if you have job, and any other thing in your daily life, cooking is brushed aside for Uber eats or the dining hall because lets be honest…your lazy to do dishes. However, on weekends you and Leah take turns cooking lunch/dinner. You will Friday nights, Leah Saturday and then both of you will work together on Sunday. “How’s paella sound for Friday?” “Fantastic. I’m thinking pasta or stir fry for Saturday.”

If either of you are in a relationship, you best believe the other is getting the tea. Even if its the ‘talking’ phase or casual dating, you guys will gather in ones room with a bottle of wine and chocolate to discuss the weeks events with whoever your boo thang is. Leah isn’t focused on a relationship and honestly neither are you, but that doesn’t stop you two from flirting or trying to get on someone’s tab when you go out for some fun. “Ugh I swear, Leah, if he just had a sense of rhythm in him when dancing, I would’ve folded.” “mmmh yeah don’t settle for less.”

#leah clearwater #Leah Clearwater headcanon #Leah Clearwater x reader #Leah Clearwater imagine #Julia jones #twilight #twilight saga #twilight headcanon #twilight imagine #twilight x reader #Leah Clearwater au

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originalwinnercheesecake · 1 year

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My thoughts on the 4 new sequels Disney Sequels coming out.

Well for one thing I am glad that they are at least all CGI. 3 of those 4 franchises I do not ever want to see live action versions of, and a live action frozen only has the potential to possibly be a little bit cool. ( rule one: do not let M Knight Shamaulon direct it).

But here are my thoughts on them in defending order.

Zootopia 2: Yes please, make a Zootopia 2 and a 3 after that! Judy and Nick are two cutely designed characters, with fun personalities, who at the end of the first one both become investigative cops, who live in a huge metropolises with all different types of animal and multiple different climates and terrains. There so much sequel potential in that set up, and hundreds of years worth of crime history that can be adapted into it.

Here's a thought, since Judy was the POV character in the last one, can Zootopia two be primarily told from Nick's point of view. Maybe a string of crimes starts happening in his old neighborhood and Nick and Judy go to investigate it, and being there stirs up a bunch of old memories for him. Or the the original concept for Zootopia was going to be about Nick opening up a special theme park for predators where they would be able to safely let loose some (originally predators were going to have to wear "taming collars" around prey animals, that shocked them when they got to excited). Maybe the theme park still gets opened by an old friend of Nick's and he and Judy are charged with keeping it safe from Merryweather supporters. Like I said the possibilities are endless.

Inside Out 2. This one has the potentially to be really good, but could also blow. Inside is a really colorful, cute, and thoughtful look at what it's like to be a preteen child struggling with changes. In it Riley moves from her childhood home to a new apartment in a city far away. Riley has a really hard adjustment to her knew area in the beginning. The movers screw up and lose track of her stuff so she cannot make her new room look like home. Her Dad’s forced to start his new job early and mom is swamped trying to sort out the move, so they do no have as much time to spend with her as hey did before. Last she very quickly becomes homesick for her old friends and favorite places. Mom tells Riley that everything will be better once they get things sorted out, so Riley tries to do her parents a favor by burying her feelings and just smiling until everything gets better but that just makes things worse for her and everyone. The movies climax is when she finally admits how hard a time she is having to her parents and asks for comfort.

The imagery in the movie is cool to. with the core memory islands, the shelf of memories that look like brain matter, train of thought, Riley’s imagination, How Joy and Sadness are consistently thwarted for getting back to HQ until the end, because Riley is still suppressing those emotions. Even right down to that annoying gum jingle that keeps getting sent up to HQ, a.k.a stuck in Riley’s head...Basically a lot of time and care; research into stress, depression, and preteen psychology; as well as different animation techniques and metaphors went into showing you as apposed to telling you what Riley was feeling on the inside and the out... This movie went on to be used as an reference for teaching a lot of kids and some older people how to put their feelings into words: ‘Which emotion do you think is at the center of your control panel right now jimmy? Okay what is that emotion concerned with now?”. I also swear remember a college professor/counselor telling me and a group of people once that the reasons Riley’s core emotions were Disgust, Anger, Fear, Sadness, and Joy was that the first four are all the stages you go through before you feel happy again.

Riley was 11 during Inside out and turned 12 at the end... A sequel will probably take place when she is in High school, so like 14-17 years old. So that means she will be dealing with tests, acne, definitely boys, school dances, maybe learning to drive if she is old enough, possibly health class, Unfortunately maybe people making fun of her for liking a traditionally male sport (Hockey). I do not think the movie would age her as far a 18 and going off to college, not in a second movie at least. It probably will not be as cute as 1 because Teenagers are not as cute as kids. Riley aging into a high school student concerns me for another reason. High school is one of the most cliche settings yo can put a movie/show/media piece in. There is very little an audience hasn’t seen 100 times before. Inside Out 2 will work only if Riley and her emotions are able to maintain and expand the level of character they all had in Inside out 1. It will work only if the writers and story board artists can once again show the audience something new and fun, while also being serious when it needs to, heartfelt, and clever. IF it fails at all of that the movie will bomb. If it only does a passably job it will probably still get low ratings and reviews because people are of course going to compare it against the success of the first one. That’s really what makes sequels controversial. Sequels are good when their aim is to raise the bar from the first movie, not just cost on the first’s popularity. We will see which one Inside Out 2 does.

Frozen 3. Speaking of Movie franchises with a really good first movie, then a sequel that just rode the popularity of the first. Frozen one was a really good movie. It was. Ignoring the over saturation of the market afterwards, ignoring how overplayed “Let It Go” and other songs were, Frozen is actually a great movie. The actors are great, the characters funny and likable. The scenery is beautiful, the story is a classic with what was at the time a modern twist (that got repeated in many movies after), and the plot suspenseful. I remember my one critic of it when I saw it in theaters with friends was that I wished they had spaced the songs out a little bit more, because I had noticed that there were a bunch of them in the first half then none in the second half. Then there was Frozen 2. Frozen two’s plot was confusing. It tried to make the audience not want Arendelle to be saved, when the goal of the group setting out was to protect their Kingdom. It could not managed its cast size and just dropped characters midway through the movie until the very end (Hey where did Kristoff go?). Lastly at its core Frozen was about a pair of sisters growing up together and trying to help each other out. The second movie had both girls as adults and ended with them separating. Elsa can control her powers now and for some poorly explained reason decided she would rather live by herself in the woods. Anna and Kristoff got married and were crowned the King and Queen, which means their story is effectively finished and they probably will not be going on adventures anymore. They do have a Kingdom to run. What’s left to do during a third movie?

I know a lot of people would like Elsa to meet a nice women and enter into a queer relationship. While that would be wonderful a.) Pixar’s censors may not be there yet by the time the movie comes out. b.) Writing a women would have chemistry with Elsa, be patient enough to allow her to open up on her own time (she is so shy and introverted), tough enough to handle life in the woods and the occasional flash blizzard, and has the social skills to win over Anna (most defiantly a requirement for dating Elsa) is a really tall order for a character who comes in so late in the franchise. c.) lets say the censors allow it and the writers put in the work to create this absolutely amazing women. That’s still not really enough to fill the 2 hour time slot for the movie, and what would the other characters be doing at this time?

Toy Story 5. Why? WHY??? It’s finished! That Movie Line is Finished! It’s been finished twice now? There is room for little kitty books and more 2-8 minute shorts on Disney+. IF done right then maybe a season or two long cartoon of Woody an Bo’s gang touring the parks of he world to be played with by kids and helping carnival toys that want to go home with needy children. Buzz and Jessie could show up from time to time when Bonnie’s family vacation in specials. But the movie Franchise is absolutely finished!

From what I saw Toy story 5 is hinted to be about Buzz. Okay Buzz’s arc was finished after Toy story 2. Movies 3 and 4 were super hard-pressed to find ways to include him. While 3′s focus on his crush on Jessie was sweet and his “Spanish mode switch” was really funny; 4′s subplot of him being confused as to what Woody meant by “your inner voice” only served to anger his fans, who all pointed out how he was never THAT stupid. Is he supposed to be a lead toy now that Woody is gone? Lead toys are a child’s favorite toys right? Bonnie’s favorite toys are Forky, Dolly, and Buttercup (her unicorn). She loves toys that are simple, whimsical, and she gets to decide what roles they take on in her games. While Buzz held her interest longer than Woody (she doesn’t have a female Space Ranger to play with instead) he has never been one of her favorite toys.

The only thing I still want for Buzz is one more 8 minute short similar to Bo’s Lamp life. Show a montase of him with Andy, Bonnie, and a coupleother owners before he becomes an “old, toy” that no longer holds the lasting intrest of small children, so he joins Woody’s band of “lost” or retired toys.

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theonewiththefanfics · 3 years

Text

Don’t Worry, Darling (one-shot)

Synopsis: Falling in love with a co-star is something that can hurt, especially when it seems like they’re talking to other people behind your back, but falling in love with a co-star and being unable to help when they’re sick, is even worse.

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff, SMUT

Warnings: COVID-19, sickness, swearing, SMUT (fingering, m going down on f, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it))

Word count: 11 968 (yoikes)

Please note I’m not trying to make light of the pandemic or the virus and those impacted by it. It’s a very real and serious thing, which is why I decided to use it. Please stay safe and healthy, follow the local health guidelines and if you have the ability please get vaccinated. Let’s keep ourselves and one another safe, frens :)

When Y/N got the call she’d gotten the role of Jack’s ex-wife who’d disappeared in mysterious circumstances, she was over the moon. As a Marvel alumnus, she was excited to work with Florence, as she’d loved Midsommar, and knowing she was going to be one of the new faces carrying the next Marvel chapter, she wanted to get to know her. Having played Tony Stark’s adopted daughter since the age of six, she was very protective of the franchise but was excited to see where it’d go.

Then Shia LaBeouf, Chris Pine as well with Dakota Johnson’s announcements coming soon after, Y/N got even more stoked, and with Olivia Wilde leading all of them, she was sure the movie would be a hit.

Shia and Dakota had to drop out due to scheduling issues (which Y/N couldn’t lie – she was kind of happy Shia couldn’t do it), and that's where Harry Styles took over the role of Jack with Kiki Layne Dakota’s Margaret.

Now, when Y/N had seen Harry’s picture next to the re-cast e-mail the whole production had been sent out, she might’ve had a little (a massive, like a ginormous) freak-out. As much as she’d grown up listening to classic rock, due to Robert Downey Jr. and Iron Man, she’d been an avid One Direction fan. Like to the point, it might even seem a bit creepy. Y/N had sort of grown out of the obsessive phase of it all, but most definitely admired the solo albums they’d been able to produce, and when Dunkirk came out, she was excited to see Harry join the acting world, with the amount of talent he had.

The first table read was sort of awkward, and definitely the weirdest one, given how a pandemic had started, and everyone was at their respective homes using Zoom.

Y/N and Florence had been the first to join the conversation about half an hour before the official beginning, and by the time everyone else did, they were crying from laughter and had to excuse themselves from their computers to collect whatever remaining composure they had.

“You two alright?” Oliva Wilde had raised her eyebrow, as the women re-joined, still chuckling. “Will we have to use body doubles for the scenes you two are in?”

“No!

“Nohooo!” both of them yelled through laughter. “We’ll be as professional as professionals are. Which is very professional.”

Then Y/N made the mistake of glancing at Florence’s square, and the two busted out laughing again, spewing apologies in between, but no one seemed to really mind. In fact, it looked like they appreciated how casual and open everyone was being, hoping the set wouldn’t be stiff either when they moved onto filming.

And for the two women, it wasn’t really. Actually, they grew closer than ever. The amount of time Florence spent in Y/N’s trailer was to the point that the two started to talk about just moving in together. After scouring the nearby apartments for rent, they settled on a three-bedroom apartment, as two-bedroom ones were non-existent.

When Harry grew closer to them as well, given how he spent quite some time with both women, they suggested he move in as well.

“You know, what? I changed my mind. You’re taking away our closet, and I don't like that,” Y/N pouted, watching as Florence lifted a pile of her clothes and moved it to her room. “That’s not very ‘treat people with kindness’ of you.”

All he did was flick a finger at her forehead, which Y/N swatted away with a smile. When he’d double-checked about moving in with them (which, mind you was the seventh time, and half his stuff was already there), the two women were ecstatic. They got along amazingly on set and basically having a sleepover with friends every night suited all of them quite well.

At that moment, Y/N was sitting on the edge of her bed, knitting while Harry painted all of their toes and Florence put on facemasks.

“Wine!” Y/N suddenly exclaimed, almost knocking over the light blue nail polish bottle as she jumped up, throwing her needles back on the bed. “We need wine!”

“Do not ruin my masterpiece!” Harry hollered after her, as she waddled away on her heels, toes separated by foam and hight up in the air. She even had to manoeuvre around the carpet to avoid any hairs and fibres that could get stuck inside the still wet lacquer.

It took her a second to find a bottle all three of them could enjoy, given their tastes were so different – Y/N preferred sweet and red, and didn’t care if it was a three-dollar bottle from Target, Harry had a bit more of an expensive pallet, giving preference to something with a more of a lingering aftertaste and in the higher ranges of price point, while Florence liked rosé and white wines.

Taking two glasses in one hand and the bottle with a third glass between her fingers, she shuffled back to her room when she heard the two muttering something in low voices before Harry whispered harshly, “I’m not telling Y/N that!”

“Won’t me what?” Y/N’s question made him and Florence spring back where they’d been engaged in a heated conversation when she re-entered the room, putting the wine bottle and glasses on the nightstand.

Florence waved her off, giving her a smile, she didn’t believe in. “Nothing. Now come on, Harry will do your fingernails now, and I think it’s about time the mask came off.”

And that’s when Y/N’s heart dropped. She’d been in the industry long enough to know how fake people could be, how they could put on smiles so inviting and friendly while hiding their true intentions behind them. She just didn’t think two people she’d found so genuine and sweet would be like that.

And the thing was – it wasn’t the first time she’d heard the two whispering like that and hushing up when they saw her enter the room or even come somewhere near to them.

In the beginning, Y/N had chalked it up to the two being closer, given they had to spend more time together, so they knew one another better, but this time sort of solidified it wasn’t the fact the two were closer, it had to deal with Y/N specifically.

So, she started to distance herself. She’d had enough users in her life to last her for the rest of it. Y/N excused herself from the movie nights they had on most Fridays, she no longer joined in on the cooking sessions and mostly spent time in her room, or on work calls.

When she re-entered the flat, four weeks after their falling out, they watched as she nodded to them, and went inside her room, closing the door, much like she’d been doing for the past thirty days.

“Do you think she knows?” Harry asked, brows furrowed and bottom lip between his teeth as he hoped the doors would open, yet, obviously, they didn’t.

“Well, I haven’t told her, and unless you did, then I doubt it…”

Harry stood up, running a hand through his hair. “I’m gonna talk to her.”

“You think it’s a good idea?”

“No, but if she’s upset maybe she needs to talk to someone.”

“Or maybe she wants to be alone.”

Harry bit his lip thinking over Florence’s words. When he was upset about something, he himself did like to kind of retreat and become a little bit of a recluse, to sort out his emotions before anyone else tried to jump in and help with it, but the thing was – Y/N’s distancing started the night when she’d walked in on the two of them arguing, and it’d been about the girl in question herself, so he shook his head. “I’ll just ask if she’s alright.”

He took a deep breath and went to enter the room he hadn’t seen in almost a month. “Hey.” Harry poked his head through Y/N’s door, making her swirl around in her chair. She looked adorable to him. She’d changed into a big fluffy nightgown, the hood up, a headband pushing hair away from her face with a green facemask covering her skin. The domestic life flashed through Harry’s head like a freight train, as it was something he craved, but pushed it away. There was no daydreaming before figuring out what was in front of him in reality. “You okay?”

“ 'M fine.” She shot him a quick smile. “Why? Did Olivia send something new for the script?”

“Um, no, ‘s just you’ve been, I dunno – detached a bit?”

“Look, Harry… I may be younger than you, but I’ve been in this industry longer than you or Florence.” Y/N stood and shrugged before crossing her arms. “And the thing is – I don’t care for shit like that. So, you two can gossip and whisper and talk whatever you want about me behind my back. Everyone else is doing that so, you’re not that special. But’ I’d prefer if you did it somewhere else besides my room, my space, and I’ll say this once, but very clearly – we’re not friends. I don’t need friends like you. We’ll be civil and we’ll do our jobs, but…” Harry’s heart broke at her eyes, seeing the pain in them as she nodded and made sure he understood where she stood. “We’re not friends.”

She didn’t leave any room for argument. When Harry left, Y/N didn’t even look over her shoulder to see him exit.

The next couple of mornings she didn’t see them leave nor come back, seeing as Y/N had the week off from filming, but the morning of the seventh day was awkward as hell, given how all of them had to go and get tested, and well, they had their allocated time slots one after the other. Usually, they’d take one car together, but this time, Y/N drove off on her own, while Harry and Florence carpooled on their own.

The tests were always nerve-wracking. If one person went down, the whole production did for at least two weeks. And as much as she hated going in alone, she was glad no one was with her in the car, because as she stepped out, a certain notion swept over her that this would be a lot different than usual.

A doctor dressed head to toe in protective gear motioned for her to sit down, as another processed her ID and work ID. Her leg was bouncing up and down the whole time, and he eyed her. If she could see his lips, she was sure they’d be pursed. “Anything wrong?” He handed her back the IDs before moving to the table where a set of large q-tips seemed to lay in sterile packs.

Y/N sighed, biting her lip and nodded. “Woke up with a sore throat and a small cough appeared on my way here as well. I wiped and cleaned everything down at the apartment I’m staying at and wore gloves and a mask the whole time.”

“Anything else?” the doctor asked, writing down each word as Y/N said. “The feeling of breaking bones, fever, muscle pain, eyes hurting when you look up, lost sense of smell or taste?”

“No, nothing like that. Just a sore throat and a small cough.”

The doctor let out a large sigh, probably from having to wear a full-on hazmat suit. “Alright. Just for safety reasons, so we know who’s a potential contact person, who are you staying with?”

“Florence Pugh and Harry Styles. We’re renting an apartment together.”

“Do you know if they’ve had any symptoms?”

“No,” Y/N shook her head honestly. “And I haven’t really interacted with them this past week, as they’ve been on set, and I didn’t have any scenes to film, and by the time they get back, I’m already asleep, and I’m still asleep when they leave so there’s been no direct contact. We have our own kitchenware, so there shouldn’t be any direct contact. I think.”

That last bit was half-true, seeing as she hadn’t been asleep when they came back, but she might as well have been. The second Y/N heard the door click, she’d place her headphones on or leave the room, only glimpsing the two faces falling as she did that.

The doctor clearing his throat and motioning for Y/N to open her mouth so he could take a swab and then to do the same for both her nostrils, was what brought her out of it. She was so used to it, it was like nothing at that point. “Okay. We’ll need you to stay in the car while the test is being run, and if it comes back positive, you’ll be placed in a separate flat, as to not endanger the rest.”

Her ‘alright’ was barely audible. Fuck. It just felt like the universe was against her. First, the two people she’d gotten closest to were whispering behind her back and being fake to her face, now she might have a super contagious virus to which there was no medicine really, nor was there a vaccine, let alone the thought she’d have to miss filming for potentially more than two weeks.

The thirty minutes of wait were agonizing, her leg bouncing up and down. Y/N’s eyes kept watching the line of cars slowly move forward through the tent and then settle behind hers. She knew Harry was about five cars away, and she was glad he wasn’t closer. They weren’t really allowed to get out of their vehicles while the tests were being run, and Y/N didn’t think she’d be able to not look back at him through her review mirror.

Two more minutes passed when finally, one of the med students in the full hazmat suit came up and knocked on her car window.

“Miss Y/L/N?”

“Yes?”

“ID please.” It was standard so that no med info got leaked. The only reason she had to rummage through her stuff was, because she’d bite the little plastic card in half if she didn’t throw it somewhere deep inside her bag.

“So.” The man sighed, and he didn’t need to elaborate. Y/N understood, but still, he had to confirm it to her. “Your test came back positive for COVID-19. The production has been informed, and for safety reasons, everyone will have to self-isolate for two weeks.”

Y/N’s head slammed against the back of the seat. “Fuck. Okay.”

“Because so far, you’re the only positive case, you’ll be placed into quarantine. We’ll need the address you’re staying at, and if you need anything from your apartment, we can send someone over to grab a few things. You’ll have to follow the black SUV right there.” He pointed further down the lot where indeed a black SUV stood. “They’ll take you to where the quarantine apartments are. Is there anything immediate you’ll need?”

“I – uh – I need my pills, my birth control that is. I take it every evening. Computer, chargers. That’s the most immediate I can think of. Maybe some food? I didn’t get the chance to eat breakfast.”

Even through the mask, Y/N could see the man smile. “Well arrange that. In the meantime, here’s the number for the coordinators who’ll get you the rest of your things and deliver them to you.”

“Thank you. I’ll call my assistant, and she’ll drive down to the apartment. She knows where everything is.”

“Have you been in close contact with her?”

“Just through the phone. She hasn’t been on set in almost a month, as I told her only to come when it’s an emergency… Guess this is it.” Y/N let out an awkward chuckle.

And truly that was it. With one last motion as to where the SUV stood, she started back up the engine, reversed out of the spot and followed the car to where the ‘Don’t Worry Darling’ production had set up a few quarantine apartments, specifically for actors and crew, speed-dialling her assistant Anna and letting her know of the situation.

“Shit, girl,” she’d cursed. “That sucks.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Okay,” Anna huffed. “Do you have a spare key for the apartment by any case or do I need to go down to the lot and ask Harry or Florence?”

“Both of them will be at the apartment, given how everything’s shut down, so they should be able to open the door for you. Hopefully, if both of them are negative. If not, call me, I’ll tell you where we hide the spare. Thank you, Anna.”

“Of course.”

As Y/N pulled up behind the SUV, a man and a woman in face guards and masks stepped out. She ended the call and stepped out as well, pulling on a cloth face mask, an envelope in their hands, which they handed to her.

“Your flat’s on the third floor, 367. When you have the list of things you need, forward them to us, and we’ll gather your things.”

Y/N nodded and gave them a tight smile. “Thank you. I’ll be as quick as I can.”

With a sigh, she took her bag and entered the complex. As much as she’d only had a small cough in the morning and a sore throat, walking up those flights of stairs made her winded more than it usually would. Maybe it was the knowledge she had a sickness, or maybe it was stress about missing work and putting everyone on lockdown, or maybe it was the combination of it all with her falling out with Harry and Florence on top.

She placed the key in the lock and twisted, revealing a studio type apartment, and it was so bare it made her heart clench. As much as she felt awkward being around Florence and Harry, their flat was a bit messy, had little pieces of clothing thrown around, giant knitted blankets on the sofas, a candle always lit whenever someone was home. Harry’s shoes were typically all over the place while Y/N’s make up was scattered around everywhere. Literally. Florence and Harry had gotten back early one morning from a night shoot and found her looking under the sofas for one of her lash glues as she started to get ready for the day. They’d made that flat their home for the time being. This… this was nothing like that.

She threw the keys on the small kitchen counter and shrugged off her jacket. They was going to be a long two weeks. At best.

***

Back at their place, Florence and Harry were pacing around, having heard the news that someone was positive, and everything had to shut down for the time being, yet Y/N was nowhere to be seen when a knock at the door disrupted them.

Harry was there and flinging it open in a matter of a second, only to be stopped by Anna instead of Y/N.

“Hey.” His brows furrowed as she and two people all wearing masks and gloves entered. “What’s going on? Is Y/N alright?”

Anna sighed, nodding her head for the two strangers to go towards the woman’s room. “She was the one who tested positive for the virus. Gave me a list of the things she’d need while in quarantine. We’re here to pick ‘em up and get them to her.”

“And she’s not doing that here?”

“Per the safety instructions, she’s been placed in a separate flat in self-isolation.”

“She could’ve done that here. We’d be fine with it,” Florence butted in, arms crossed over her chest. “We’re more than willing to take care of her. She’ll need someone to help her.”

“You both tested negative.” One of the people piped up, carrying a box of books and yarn. “I’m sorry, but she’ll have to quarantine separately until she’s no longer infected. She’s under the supervision of doctors, and she knows if an emergency happens, they’ll be there in ten minutes tops. I’m sorry, but this is how it has to be.”

Harry sighed, nodding as the people exited their place, but before Anna could leave, he took hold of her bicep. “Hey, can you please tell her to call me? I just wanna talk.”

“I uh – ” Anna furrowed her brows, showing Harry that Y/N hadn’t said anything to her about the falling out they’d had. “I’ll uh, yeah. I’ll do that.”

With that he was left to close the door and just wait for… anything.

***

In the two hours Y/N had spent in the apartment, she already felt like going insane, having been left alone with her thoughts, so how she was going to do another two weeks after finally getting back into the rhythm of work was beyond her. She didn’t have any of her knitting supplies, didn’t have any of her books (yet), and most likely there was no reason to look at her script anymore, as she’d made up her mind about a lot of things.

There was a knock at the door, and Y/N instantly had a mask on her face and gloves on her hands. She peeped through the peephole and when she saw boxes lined in the hallway, three people in masks and faceguards at least six feet away, only then did she open the door and give them a wave.

“Everything should be here, but if you need anything else just pop me a message.” Anna then pointed at a bag that sat atop everything. “There are the most important things, so you don’t have to rummage through everything and a pizza is on the way while I do some grocery shopping for you. And umm, there’s a paper you need to sing that you know you need to be in self-isolation and that you understand what happens if you’re not.”

Y/N hoped all of them understood she was smiling underneath the mask, grateful for having them help her out like that. “Thank you. So much.”

She rushed inside found a pen and signed it, moving between the boxes to place the papers on the stairs so that they could be safely retrieved. With that, the two assigned people left, leaving Anna to say goodbye.

“Call me.” She pointed at Y/N. “No matter what, even if you just wanna talk for five seconds.”

“Will do.” Y/N nodded and gave her a thumbs up. “If I could, I’d hug you.”

Anna sighed, cocking her head. “Same. And umm, Harry told me to ask you to call him.”

“Yeah, uh thank you.” She knew he probably wanted to talk, so it wasn’t that big of a surprise, but it still made her stumble on her words. “Take care, Anna.”

“You too.”

***

The next two days Y/N spent worrying as to how to present her decisions to the cast and crew. She felt worse with every hour, and with that had come her thought process, but as much as everyone was going to be impacted by what she was going to do, Olivia would be the one dealing with it most, so later that night she hopped on a Zoom call with her director.

“Hey, girl.” Olivia gave her a warm smile, and Y/N almost melted. God, she loved that woman. She was like the older sister she never had. “How are you doing?”

“I’m alright. Feelin’ kind of woozy from time to time, throat’s killing me, and I’m fairly certain I’m getting abs from how much I’m coughing.” That made both of them chuckle before Y/N bit her lip and ran a hand through her hair. “Look,” she sighed, looking at Olivia. “The reason I called you is that umm… well, I think it’d be a lot more cost-effective for you to re-cast me. We’ve barely shot one scene with me. I’ll be out of commission for two weeks, as a minimum. It could get worse. And I’m definitely not going to be back before I get two negative consecutive tests.”

Olivia shook her head, running down her hands over her face and then through her hair. “Y/N, I really don’t want to do this. There’s a reason we cast you. You’re amazing, and yours and Harry’s chemistry is off the charts. We’re all quarantining for two weeks, and I’m sure you’ll be fine in no time, back on set and killing it like you always do.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Of course, I do! Nothing’s gonna happen to you.”

“All I’m saying it could take up to a month to get those two negative tests. By that point, you could’ve shot at least a fourth of my scenes. Olivia…” Y/N gave her a small, sad smile. “I know you know I’m right. I hate to pass on this, but I won’t hinder the production. If you want my input, I’ll help with the re-casting, if it takes the guilt away.”

“I still feel like shit this is an option we even have to consider.”

“’S not your fault. You didn’t get me sick. We should be happy it’s just me, not someone else or more than one person.”

***

For two more days, it was radio silence from Y/N, and Harry and Florence were anxious messes. If they could distract themselves from the falling out while on set, then now, having to be cooped up inside the apartment with pretty much nothing to do, was so much worse, not to mention Y/N declined all of their calls and left their messages on read, leaving the only option for checking in either through Anna or what she decided to share on her social media, which wasn’t a lot. But the thing was, Harry knew his best bet was to call Y/N in the middle of the night. Disorientated and barely awake, she probably wouldn’t look at the caller ID once. And he was right.

A bleary face appeared on his screen, eyes squinting as she tried to block out as much of the light as possible. “Hello?” Her voice was scratchy, and Harry’s heart clenched at just how much pain her throat must be in, let alone how she was feeling as a whole.

“Hey, there, lovie.”

It took her a second to comprehend the person who was speaking, and she’d be lying if she said hearing Harry’s voice didn’t bring her some sort of joy. “Hey, H. Are you alright? Why are you still up?”

“I couldn’t sleep. Kept thinking about you.”

Y/N hummed, rolling on her side, and immediately regretting it as the action elicited a coughing fit. “Yeah?” she asked hoarsely. “ ’Nd what about me?”

‘How shitty I feel about everything’, ‘I miss you’, ‘I’m so fucking terrified’, but instead he asked, “How are you doing?”

“Alright,” Y/N croaked out before her body was racked with coughs once more. Harry’s own chest hurt just hearing them. “Fever’s finally down, so I’m getting some sort of sleep. Throat’s killing me though, and they’ve hooked me up to an IV. They’ll be coming in two hours or so to change the bag. How are you?” she asked quietly. “How’s Florence?”

“She’s alright. Upset. Just like I am.”

Y/N’s brows furrowed. “Why’re you upset?”

“Are you kidding me? You’re sick, alone in quarantine and… and we can’t help you. I can’t help you.”

A genuine chuckle escaped her. “Didn’t know you had a medical degree, Styles. Could be my personal nurse. Fetch me my water and shit.”

“No, but at least I’d like to be there for you.”

“Harry…”

“I like you,” he said after taking a deep breath, hoping that the break he’d heard in Y/N’s voice as she’d said his name wasn’t just because of the sickness, but because her heart thudded just as fast as his when he thought of them together, that her mind reeled with the possibilities of where their futures could take them and that whenever they touched, she could feel the electricity that ran through his fingertips, igniting his whole body. “That’s what Florence and I were whispering about all the time. Is that I’m madly crushing on you, and I couldn’t gather the courage to say it to you.”

A strong coughing fit made her drop the phone on the bed and lean over, as she gasped for breath, and through it all, all Harry wanted was to be there. Fuck him possibly getting the virus, as long as he could make it easier for her in some way.

“ ’M sorry,” Y/N whispered, trying to keep her voice as low as possible as to not aggravate her throat. “Harry, I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, there’s nothing to apologise. You’re sick, you can’t help –”

“No,” she shook her head. “I’m sorry I assumed you and Florence were talking bad behind my back. I never should’ve done that. And this is not an excuse, I’m not trying to shift the blame from being in the wrong, but I like you too.” She gave him a shy grin that he thought was as bright as the sun. “I really like you too, Harry. I think that’s why it hurt so much to hear you two whispering ‘bout something. And thinking it was about me, and it was something bad, hurt even more, ‘cause I really connected with Flo, and I kinda, well I kind of fell for you. Hard.”

“You did?” His tone was like he didn’t believe what his ears were hearing.

“Yeah. A lot actually… I – I really like you, Harry.”

He couldn’t explain how his heart expanded in his chest while simultaneously was being crushed by his inability to help, by the distance between them, while the hope that glimmered in his eyes at Y/N’s words made her heart break as much as his was, when he asked, “So you won’t resign?”

“Harry,” Y/N made her voice as tough as it could sound with her condition. “I told them to re-cast me not because of you. I’ve been on enough sets and worked with enough pricks, and still gotten the job done. Genuinely, this is not because of you or Florence. I just – I just don’t want to hold up production. You’ll all be out in what – twelve days or something? I’ll be here for at least twice that, if everything goes the way it’s going right now.”

“I don’t want anyone else to play Larie. You are my Larie,” he muttered, which made Y/N smile, but in a true Y/N fashion she just wanted to make others feel better.

“You do know Jack murders Larie in the middle of the night.”

Harry’s mouth opened like a fishes’ while Y/N’s mouth pulled up in a grin. “That’s – that’s not what I mean, and you know it!”

Both of them were laughing now, all tension having evaporated.

“I know.” She bit on her lower lip. “But um… we’ve gotta be practical. I sent Olivia my resignation letter already, and she signed.”

She saw Harry sigh and throw back his head at her words.

“ ’M sorry, Haz. I didn’t want to but –”

“I know.” His smile was gentle, understanding. “You always put everyone before yourself. God, this just sucks major ass.”

“Trust me,” Y/N started before being interrupted by another major coughing fit. “I –,” she took in a breath. “I know.”

Her heart cracked seeing Harry’s face and his green eyes, the eyes she’d gotten lost in more times than she’d ever admitted being lined by tears. “I wish I could help you.”

“But you are. Just by – by talking to me, by keeping my mind off things. You’re helping me more than you’ll ever know.”

“When you get out, I’m taking you on a date.”

Y/N couldn’t help the smile that bloomed on her face. For the first time in a while, she felt good, despite being sick. “Is that a threat, Styles?”

“It’s a fucking promise.”

That night she fell asleep listening to Harry talking, seeing as it became harder and harder for her to do so, so he just took over, telling her stories that lulled her to dreamland where he was there, and she could touch him.

The following days she also had calls with Florence and the rest of her cast to explain the situation, but she wasn’t doing much talking anymore, and one night they’d even seen her almost throw up from coughing so much, which broke everyone’s hearts. They were lucky the only Covid case before Y/N had been a light one, so witnessing just how brutal it could be, made everyone appreciate what they had, but at the same time, feel as helpless as ever.

A week and a half in, that was when shit really hit the fan. Despite her feeling shitty the previous days, now Y/N woke up from the feeling as if she was drowning. She’d fallen asleep while talking with Harry on FaceTime, his features illuminated on her phone. At first, she thought it was just her dream still lingering and causing that effect, but when after a minute or so her lungs still remained on fire, she knew she had to dial the doctors.

In five minutes’ time, an ambulance was at her door, and it was a miracle she’d been able to get out of bed to open it because the second she did, her whole body pretty much collapsed into the arms of one of the nurses.

***

“Come on,” Harry muttered into the phone, pulling on a pair of trousers as quickly as possible and a knitted sweater he took from the floor as he immediately tried to redial her, having heard the call drop. “Come on! Pick up, Y/N!” Her voicemail answered instead.

“Damn it!”

It took Harry seven minutes with the way he was driving to get to her assigned isolation place, only to be greeted by red and blue flashing lights, an ambulance right in front of the entrance, and it took Harry five seconds to feel his heart drop as a team of three doctors wheeled out a gurney on which lay Y/N, face covered in a mask, an IV stuck inside her arm while a huge plastic cover domed over her body.

Without even thinking about himself or his safety, Harry jumped out of his car, rushing towards the ambulance.

“Sir.” One of the doctors extended a palm towards him, keeping him back as Harry tried to get towards the inside of the car. “Sir, you can’t be here.”

“Is that Y/N?” Harry felt like he was spinning out of control, and his mind was dizzy from not being able to take in a proper breath. “Is – is that Y/N?”

“Are you family?”

“I –,” Harry so desperately wanted to say yes, to say he was her boyfriend at least, but he couldn’t lie. “No, I’m just her collegue – friend! I’m her friend. Is she alright?”

“Okay, well is there anyone we can contact from her family?”

Harry nodded, knowing that her mum and dad were on her emergency contact lists. “But her family is out of the country, and they won’t be able to fly out with all the restrictions in place.”

“Alright.” The doctor sighed before looking back inside the car. In a way, Harry was happy he couldn’t see Y/N because he was sure if he did, he’d completely break down and crumble to the ground. “We’ll contact her parents, but if you could leave us your number as an emergency contact on place that’d be a lot of help.”

“Okay, uh…” Harry took in a deep breath, held it for five seconds and then let it out before reciting the number he used while in the USA and his permanent UK number as well, so he could be reachable anywhere and at any point in day or night, no matter the time.

“Well keep you up to date.”

And with that, the ambulance doors shut, and they rushed away, the vailing of sirens echoing in the dark night, leaving Harry with a hand in his hair, tears streaming down his cheeks and without a clue as to what to do.

***

In the end, Harry had gone back to his car and cried for what felt like ages, but instead, it was just twenty minutes. He pulled himself together but was still shaking as he made his way back to the flat where Florence basically ripped open the door. Seeing his face told her everything she needed to know.

“She’ll be alright,” the woman muttered as she soothed Harry by rubbing a palm up and down his back, letting him hide his face in her shoulder. “It’s Y/N. She’d pull through an atomic bomb.”

They spent the rest of the night and the following day on the couch, glued to Harry’s phone waiting for any sort of updates. From time to time a text message came from the hospital letting them know what procedures were being done on Y/N, that her parents have been informed, and if necessary, they’d allowed Harry to be the main contact person because of his proximity to their daughter.

Three days later and the quarantine for the rest of the cast and crew ended, yet when they returned to the set, everyone was in low spirits. Especially, Harry – he was miserable. Every moment spent not reciting lines or acting was occupied with the thoughts of Y/N, how she was doing, was she improving, was she still breathing, how he wanted to just ditch everything and run to her, to help in whatever way he could.

“This sucks,” Florence grumbled, arms crossed over her chest as they took a break while re-setting already in for the fifth day of filming, eight since Y/N’d been in the hospital. “Can’t believe they won’t allow a phone in with her.”

“It’s the same policy for everyone, but trust me,” Harry sighed and looked up at the bright blue sunny sky above. “The number of times I got out of my bed in the middle of the night and had the car keys in hand is ridiculous. And the number of times I’ve thought about breaking into that hospital is even more concerning.”

Florence let out a small chuckle and nudged his shoulder. “I’d cover for you if you did. As long as she doesn’t have to be there alone.” She hung her head, blond strands falling down to curtain her face. “Can’t imagine how scared she must be.”

Harry just sighed. There really wasn’t anything he could say.

Something vibrated in his pocket, but he no longer furrowed his brows when unknown numbers called, knowing it was from the hospital. It was nerve-wracking though to pick up the call each time because he had to mentally prepare himself for the possibility of bad news, even though he always hoped for good ones.

“Yes, hi. Hello. I – oh,” he put a hand over his mouth and sagged down onto a chair. “Oh, thank god, thank you, doctor. Yeah. Yes, I’ll let her know, and someone will be there to open the flat. Thank you again. For everything.”

He took away the phone from his ear and stared at the ground for a minute before leaping up and hugging Florence, laughter escaping his mouth.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong, it’s the opposite. Y/N’s out of the hospital.”

“Oh thank god!” Her hands flew to hug him back.

“She’ll have to stay in self-isolation until the two negative tests and will be monitored by the doctors, but she’s out.”

Immediately he was dialling her, and Harry had never been as happy for the invention of a video call, because when he saw Y/N’s face light up the screen, as tired as she looked, it was the most beautiful sight that graced his eyes.

“Hey, lovie.” His voice was soft and low as if anything louder would worsen her state.

Her ‘hey’ was barely audible, but he heard it, and it made the weight of a boulder drop off his shoulders.

“I’m so – I mean we all are so happy you’re back home.”

Y/N smiled, shaking her head. “I’m happy too,” she whispered. “I missed you. Missed everyone, but most of all I missed you.”

Harry was happy they were separated by a screen because if she was anywhere in a five-mile radius, he was sure she would be able to hear his heart beat out of his ribcage at her words. “How are you feeling?”

“ ‘M alright,” Y/N tried to let him know. “Very tired.”

“Then get back to sleep, lovie.”

Y/N shook her head. “Wanna talk to you.”

“I’ll keep talking,” Harry promised. “Like we did before, okay.”

“Okay…”

And so, he did. He kept talking as Y/N listened, and he watched as her eyes slowly closed before she drifted off to sleep. Even though Harry had to go back to filming, he didn’t dare end the call. He’d never end the call.

***

It took a month and a half for Y/N to get those two consecutive negative tests, to feel somewhat human again and when she did, she probably garnered at least seven speeding tickets with how fast she was driving down to the set.

It was the most inconspicuous outfit she could scramble together, consisting of a hoodie and baseball cap, as she watched Harry as Jack lean down to peck the actress’s lips, then step into the vintage car and rev out in the driveway, while a dishevelled Florence started the scene from the side, eyes racking over Jack’s first wife, who was dressed the exact same way, hair styled like hers and even nails painted the same, her character putting all the puzzle pieces together.

“And cut!” Olivia yelled across the lot, nudging Y/N’s side and giving her a smirk. “He’s gonna freak. You’re all he’s been talking about on set. We almost had to put a ban on you as a topic,” she muttered that part so only the woman could hear while telling everyone to re-set, so they could do the scene from another angle, but not before asking the three actors to come and look at the monitors so they could understand how to move in order to keep the continuity.

Y/N moved to the side, ducking her head down as Harry, Florence and Mandy, the actress that took over her role, all leaned closer to watch the monitors. Y/N had to bite on her lip to keep the grin away, as all of them analysed their movements and the scene, nodding along to what Olivia was saying.

“Y/L/N, what do you think?” Olivia asked, grinning.

Y/N stepped forward a bit, seeing all of their shocked faces through her peripheral, as she pointed to the screen, lifting her head so that everyone could see her face fully. “I think it’s great, you might want to step to the side a bit more, Harry, when –” but she was unable to finish the sentence as he swooped her in his arms, lifting her basically off the ground, and burying his face in her neck.

“Watch the hair! Daniele will have a fit if you ruin her masterpiece!” Y/N laughed, holding one of her hands on the base of his neck, the other tightly wrapped around his shoulders, but he just shook his head, and she could feel tears splash her skin.

“Fuck the hair!” He let out a small chuckle, and she could hear the lump in his throat. “I’ve missed you so much. I was so scared.”

“Same,” Y/N whispered. “Missed you like crazy. And your stupid, unfunny dad jokes.”

“ ‘M hilarious, lovie, what are you talking about?”

He finally set her down but didn’t let go of her waist, and she smiled cupping his cheeks. “A true comedian, that’s what you are.”

“I know. Why’dya think I got that SNL slot?”

But his eyes, as he gazed into hers once more glassed over.

“Hey,” Y/N cooed wiping away the tears running down his cheeks. “Don’t cry. Please don’t cry, cause then I’ll cry, and we’re both gonna be crying messes, and then these guys will have to deal with that.”

Harry sighed, leaning into her touch. “Happy tears, lovie. All happy tears.”

The two looked at one another as if there was no one else in the universe. And for the two of them, there really wasn’t. Neither had to say what was on their minds, they already knew.

His face was inching closer to Y/N’s, and heart started to beat erratically, not that Harry minded, as his palm rested in the middle of her back. In fact, his own heart mimicked the rhythm, but it stuttered when someone behind him cleared their throat and interrupted their moment.

Y/N hid her face in Harry’s chest as he sighed at Olivia’s raised eyebrow.

“You’ll be able to smooch as much as you want, but we need him in hair and make-up.”

“Oli-“

“Now,” she let out a small laugh. “Before Daniele removes my head from my shoulders.”

“Go,” Y/N patted his side. “I’ll still be here.”

“Is that a threat?”

She grinned up at him. “A fucking promise.”

Harry dashed away like lightning, hoping that the quicker he was done, the sooner he could have Y/N back in his arms even if it was for a second, but her attention was taken by a woman with long blond curls, a flowing green slip on her figure; her steps unsure as was the wave she gave her, but Y/N’s heart melted at the sight of her.

“Hey, Flo,” she whispered and brought the girl in a bone-crushing hug, holding onto her, trying to convey how much she regretted her words and actions, especially because they were unwarranted.

“I’m so sorry,” Y/N said, and she nodded.

“Me too.”

Y/N shook her head. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry about. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“And I should’ve made sure Harry pulled his head out of his ass.”

That made both of them laugh, and it was nice to do it not only without having to cough up her insides, but to do it with someone she’d connected with and had become great friends with.

“He did that. I just hope if he wants to make another move, it won’t take me dying to push him to.”

Florence pointed at her, a serious look on her face. “I’ll kill him with my bare hands if he does.”

A small noise of someone clearing their throat from behind Y/N took both of their attentions for them to go onto the actress who’d been cast as her replacement, the woman coming forward and extending her hand for a handshake with a nervous smile. “Hi. I’m Mandy.”

“ ‘S very nice to meet you.” Y/N tried to give off as open and accepting of a vibe as much as possible, because she genuinely wanted Mandy to feel respected and that she wasn’t a threat. “Before you think anything if you’re worried about me taking the role, don’t. It’s all yours, so don’t worry about that. I just stopped by ‘cause I hadn’t seen anyone in almost two months. Never thought I’d say this, but fuck did I missed people.”

Mandy shook her head, her smile a lot lighter and brighter now. “I – uh thank you for that actually. I’m a huge fan of yours, and well, can only try and live up to what you would’ve portrayed.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll absolutely kill it, and I can’t wait for the movie.”

It was great to see Mandy’s shoulders drop in relief. “Would it be too much if I asked for advice on the role?”

“No,” Y/N laughed. “But I would say that you should make this role your own. It is yours. You are Larie now. And Harry’s Jack. Make it yours.”

As she said that, she turned to watch Harry who was practically bouncing on his feet, green eyes flitting back to where she was standing, and when their gazes met, neither could help the smiles blooming on their faces.

“You know he messed up a scene once and said your name?”

Y/N’s brows furrowed as she looked over at Mandy. “What do you mean ‘said my name’?”

“It was a kissing scene. The wedding bit, actually. As Jack and Larie recited their vows, and he leans down to kiss her, he was supposed to say, ‘I’ll love you Larie, until the very end’. He said your name instead.”

That hit Y/N more than a semi-truck wheeling a ton of bricks would. Yes, she knew Harry liked her, and he knew she liked him, but love was a big word, and for him to admit that, whether it was a flub or not, was even bigger.

Harry was a private person. While he openly talked about what he felt, he guarded heart at the same time, much like Y/N did. But she had to wait until Olivia yelled cut for the day, and had to watch him make a mad dash for hair and make-up before running to the dressing trailer as he didn’t want to miss out on a second he could spend with her. Even as they walked up to their shared flat and he opened the door, his fingers stayed intertwined with hers.

“How does it feel to be back?”

“Kinda shitty, honestly,” Y/N laughed throwing the keys to the table and shrugging out of the jacket and taking off the cap, Harry immediately helping her and putting it on one of the racks. “I’ll have to move out, now that I’m not part of the movie.”

“Why? ‘S not like the production is paying our rent, we’re doing it out of our own pocket.”

“Yes, but now that I don’t have a job, I kinda need to look for one.”

“And what says that you can’t live here while you do that?”

“I –,” Y/N’s brows furrowed. “I mean nothing, really… I just… kinda thought because I’m not part of the movie anymore it’d be safer if I found my own place. But um… I think I have something else I’d like to talk about. Mandy,” Y/N dragged out her name a bit, a sly smirk appearing on her face, “told me you had a flub on set.”

Harry’s heart was pounding underneath her palm where she’d grabbed onto the lapels of his dress shirt, so he couldn’t run away.

“I’ve uh,” he let out a nervous laugh. “I’ve had a couple of flubs on set. Who hasn’t?”

“I don’t doubt that. But she said you misspoke a name.”

She made him look into her eyes and wouldn’t dare let their gaze break. “You said my name during the wedding scene. You said Y/N. Not Larie.”

Harry looked like a cross between a deer in headlights and a fish out of the water, eyes wide with his mouth opening and closing, no sound coming out, which made Y/N worry a bit.

She placed a palm against his cheek. “Harry? You alright?”

“I – I meant it.” He let out a deep sigh and leaned down to press his forehead to hers. “And when I thought back on it, I don’t remember seeing her face or Larie’s face. It was yours. And the lips I was kissing belonged to you too. I was holding your hand, and you were holding mine. And I know it’s way too quick, for a wedding -”

“Unless you threaten me with it –”

“I –,” Harry stuttered before laughing, all tension evaporating from his body. “No, that I don’t want to be a threat. That will be a question asked with love and hopefully an answer given to it the same way.”

Y/N nudged his nose with hers. “Well, we’ll see. I mean if you don’t kiss me what makes you th–,”

But she didn’t get a chance to finish the sentence before his lips were on hers, pressing with such gentleness, it made her weak at the knees, and she would’ve crumbled if Harry’s arms handn’t woven around her middle, fingers pressing into the sides, the pressure increasing with each second their mouths were connected.

Harry’s hand drifted up Y/N’s back and settled on her neck as if he could pull her any closer, her own palms slipping over his stomach, pecks and grabbing onto his jaw, fingers lightly scratching at the stubble that’d grown throughout the day. He had to shave every morning for the role of Jack, but each evening she’d see a small, darkened shadow across his skin, and Y/N would be lying that when she’d realised her attraction to him, she hadn’t thought about how delicious it would feel to have it leave small burn marks on the inside of her thighs.

Unconsciously, she clenched her thighs, trying to create some sort of friction which became more and more unbearable as she felt Harry moan into her mouth, tongue sweeping against her lower lip, asking for permission without words, which Y/N granted without a second to spare.

It was heavenly to have him so close to her. She did wonder if the sensation was intensified by the fact, she hadn’t been able to touch anyone properly for almost two months, but that thought vanished when his fingers skimmed underneath her hoodie, brushing against her heated skin. No. It was because it was Harry.

“I –,” he was breathless as he pulled away, but Y/N didn’t let him get too far, her lips attaching themselves to his neck, making him groan in pleasure. “I don’t want to push this too far.”

Her brows scrunched up, as she took a look at him. “What do you mean? If you think I don’t want this, then let me be perfectly clear – I do. A lot.”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m so fucking glad you do, but… Y/N you just got out of the hospital, where you were on a ventilator. I don’t want to make anything worse.”

“Not your choice to make.” A devious smile appeared on her face, as she stepped a few feet away and lifted her hoodie over her head, making Harry inhale sharply. “So here are your two options.” Her hands went behind her back, unclasping her bra and letting it slowly drop to the floor, the green eyes that hadn’t left her now wide as saucers. “Number one.” She toed off her boots and popped open the button of her jeans. “We can stop this, obviously, just say the word, and I get to my room, start packing and looking for a new place. We can have some dinner and just chill. Or number two.” Y/N hooked her jeans behind her thumbs and slowly dragged them down her legs, revealing more and more of herself to Harry. “We can go inside your room and make up for the lost time. In every position imaginable, for as long as you want. But.” Y/N’s eyes glimmered with mischief as she made her way to Harry’s room. “I don’t think you wanna take the first option.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair, turning it from the meticulously gelled hairstyle into a mop of messy strands. “You know you’re making it really hard for me to be a gentleman.”

Y/N swayed her hips a bit more as she took another step closer to his room, the door meeting her back, and one of her hands went to the doorknob, pressing down on it. “Well, a gentleman doesn’t kiss before the first date, and definitely not like that.”

He stood there, hands on his hips, eyes not leaving her body, as she cocked her head. “So, what’s it gonna be?”

They were ten torturous seconds for both, hearts beating out of their chests, but it only took three steps for Harry to cross the hallway, his hand sneaking behind Y/N’s back and pressing down on the doorknob as well, revealing the inside of his room. It was messy, much like her own, but it wouldn’t take too much to rip all off the tossed around bedding leaving a whole bed to themselves.

“You. Are. The. Devil.”

Her smile was nothing short of wicked. “I mean you can listen to the angel on your shoulder.”

“I’d rather listen to you.”

Together they stepped inside, and Y/N nodded. “Making good choices already.”

“Can’t get on your bad side, can I now?”

“I mean you can.” Her legs hit the back of his bed and she fell down on it, Harry leaning over, resting his elbows next to her head. “But bad boys get punished.”

His nose skimmed over hers. Now he was the one smiling like a devil. “I’ll hold you to your word. For future reference, that is.”

That kiss was nothing like their first. This was messy, and passionate, all tongue and teeth, hands grabbing everywhere possible to get the other unclothed. Or at least that’s what Y/N was trying to do, seeing as she was pretty much naked already, and Harry was the one still wearing too much.

Her hands pretty much ripped open the shirt. It one of his expensive Gucci ones, she was quite certain of it, but it didn’t seem like he cared, as he shrugged it off, throwing it to land somewhere on the floor.

Y/N sighed into his mouth as her hands were now freely allowed to run over his chest, over the ink embedded into his skin, over taut muscles that relaxed under her touch, and dig into his sides in an attempt to leave her own marks on him, much like he was going to do to her.

“Think you can take your pants off? It’s only fair.” Y/N muttered into his mouth and his own travelled down to her cheek, then neck and to her chest.

“You mean my trousers?”

Her lips quirked up and she shrugged her shoulders. “No, in this case, I meant pants the British way.”

“And if I’m going commando?”

Y/N pressed her hand against his chest and pushed him away from her. “You had nothing underneath all day on set?”

“No! I wouldn’t subject the dressing department to that. But underneath this.” He looked down at his jeans and smiled at her. “I do have nothing.”

“Well then? Get on with it!”

Both of them were giggling, as Y/N tried to unbuckle Harry’s belt, his own fingers mixing with hers as he went for the zipper and the button. He nudged his head towards her. “Your socks and pants come off as well. Or we’ll be unevenly matched.”

Y/N lifted her eyebrow, as she went for her own remaining pieces of clothing. “No socks during sex?”

“No, what kind of a weirdo do you think I am?”

“And if my feet get cold?” She threw them away somewhere.

“We have a blanket.”

As Harry removed his jeans and his own socks, Y/N slipped off the dampened piece of clothing that’d been on her, now both of them completely naked.

“Alright.” He leaned over her again, her arms wrapping around his shoulders and pulling them chest to chest. “Happy now?”

Y/N deeply kissed him. “Very. But I think we can make each other even happier.”

“Agreed,” Harry hummed. “Wanna get a taste first.” He attached his lips to her collarbones sucking a bruise there. “Can I?”

She groaned at the feeling, knowing there be a pleasant ache that accompanied mark. “You can. Don’t have to, if you don’t want. No need to do this for me.”

“And if it’s for me?” Harry was moving lower and lower with each word, wet tongue flicking against a perked bud, and making Y/N gasp. “What if I wanna feel you cum on my tongue, and what if I wanna do something I’ve dreamed about for months now?”

His hands were kneading her breasts, mouth having left a trail of kisses down the middle of her stomach as it was moving towards where an ache that’d been left untreated made itself more and more prominent.

“Then please, please, please do something, Harry.”

“With pleasure.”

Luckily for Y/N, she didn’t have to beg any more, as his mouth attached itself to where she wanted him most, tongue sweeping past her lower lips and licking up a broad, steady stripe.

One of her hands went to fist into her hair and the other into Harry’s. “Shit,” she moaned. “Fuck, that feels good.”

“Guide me.” He licked a circle around her clit. “Tell me how you like it.”

“Mhgm, fuck, okay,” Y/N breathed out. “I – I mean you’re doing great on your own.” Her chest was heaving as if she was running a marathon, and Harry shifted her legs so that they lay over his shoulders. “But umm, like if you lick around my clit, but like really press down li – oh, fuuuuck, just like that.”

The coil in her stomach tightened with each pass he did, just like Y/N had instructed, small tight circles just how she did with her fingers, only what took her sometimes half an hour, Harry managed to do in less than ten minutes, to have her toes curling and hands grasping anywhere they could find purchase to just keep onto something real.

The vibrations from Harry humming sent shivers straight to her core. “What else, lovie? What else, do you like?”

“If – if –,” Y/N panted, “if you suck on it, but like – fuck – shit! If you kinda keep a seal around my clit, that fuck! Yes!”

The way Harry was eating her out was almost sensational, but what made it even better wasn’t that he just decided to do something and assumed, she’d like it, he asked, he wanted to learn and discover what made her tick and turn, or in this case – cum.

“Harry, ‘m close,” Y/N warned him, feeling the warmth slowly start to spread all throughout her body.

“I’ll get you there.”

He let his lips go for a moment before slipping two of his fingers so that they pinched her clit and moved them slowly but tightly up and down it, while his tongue went to slip inside her hole, and that did it for her.

With a gasp of air, Y/N’s eyes rolled to be back of her head, hips lifting up as euphoria exploded through her veins. Her mind went completely dizzy, and she was quite sure some drool also dribbled down the side of her mouth because she’d lost all ability to function.

“ -o me, love,” Y/N heard as if through a fog, and then felt two soothing palms running up and down her legs. “Come back, love. There you go.”

A drunken smile bloomed on her face, and she ran a hand down it, the same hand that’d grabbed Harry’s hair like a vice. “Fuck. You’re good, you know what you’re doing.”

“Well, I’m certainly glad you enjoyed yourself because I thoroughly enjoyed myself.”

She watched as he straightened out to sit on his knees, her legs still over his shoulders, cock slapping against his stomach, and when she looked down there was a wet patch on his side of the sheets, a sly grin morphing on her face. “You liked eating me out so much you came yourself?”

“What can I say – bringing pleasure, gives me pleasure. And your cunt’s probably the sweetest I’ve ever eaten. But… do you think you’re ready for me?” Harry asked, kissing the inside of Y/N’s thighs and watching as she vigorously nodded her head, but he just smirked. “I think I need to test it out. Just to make sure.”

“Harry,” Y/N whined as she felt his fingers skim the apex of her thighs, teasing her.

“Don’t wanna hurt you.”

With that, he used one of his hands to open up her lips, his thumb pressing down on her already sensitive clit, eliciting a gasp before he allowed two fingers to skim her entrance and then slipped in.

“Still so tight,” he said, watching as Y/N sighed and her mouth fell open, his fingers curling in a come-hither motion. “Told you needed to check if you were ready. What kind of a gentleman would I be now, if I didn’t make sure you could take it?”

Y/N gritted her teeth. “I can take you.”

“Don’t doubt it.” Harry left kisses along her leg, as he continued on with his movements, noting how her hips slowly started to grind down on his palm, so he pushed his fingers in deeper so that the heel of his hand could rest against her clit, making the pleasure intensify. “But I’d never forgive myself if I hurt you when all I wanna do is give you pleasure. And you weren’t stretched out enough. Not yet at least.”

“Oh, god, Harry,” Y/N groaned, one arm thrown over her eyes as his fingers hit just the right spot.

“That’s it? Right there?”

“Yes, right there,” she moaned. “Just. Fuck! Just don’t stop, please, don’t stop.”

“Gonna cum again?”

“Yes, just – just curl your fingers and twist them a bit more.”

And much like the first time, a couple more times was all it took. Her orgasm was even more powerful than the previous and fully knocked her breath out of her lungs. Her legs fell open around his shoulders, stomach and chest spasming from the intensity.

Gentle fingers skimmed up and down Y/N’s arms and featherlight kisses fluttered over her breasts, then chest, neck and finally were peppered across her cheeks.

“Kinda spaced out on me there. You alright? Not too much?”

“ ’M – I’m good. But I’m pretty sure you’ve killed me.”

Harry chuckled, and Y/N leaned her head to the side so she could press a kiss against the closest of the swallow tattoos. “Hopefully not. I still wanna take you out on that date.”

Her eyes landed on Harry’s left hand’s ring finger, where a golden band still laid.

“Oh, yeah.” He lifted the digits, still covered in her cum before pushing them past his lips and licking them clean. “Forgot to remove it. Hope the prop guys don’t kill me.”

She hated how his eyes sparkled, absolutely knowing what that sight did to her, how it made her stomach flutter and heart thunder against her ribs. Y/N was sure with the force it was pounding, they’d crack.

“Well, if they don’t, I will.” She pulled him down, nails raking on his skin, dragging to rest on his ass as they bit into it. “Now get inside me.”

“Condom.”

“No, ‘m on the pill.”

“I’m clean, I swear, but it’s still not a hundred per cent safe.”

Y/N shook her head. “I’ll buy the morning-after pill. Just need you inside.”

“You sure?” Harry placed a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Yeah. I mean I’m clean, and uh… I just wanna feel you.”

He’d cum once already, and Harry would be dammed if he did it again before having the chance to know how heaven feels like. As gently as possible, he took himself, giving a few strokes before nudging the tip against Y/N’s clit, her sharp inhale stalling him until she nodded.

Her nails dug into his biceps, as he finally slipped inside her, making both of them moan at the feeling. Even with all of the stretching out he’d done with his fingers, and the two orgasms he’d drawn from her, the slickness helping everything to be easy and smooth, Y/N still felt a little sting.

Harry’s head dropped to Y/N’s shoulders and even from under him, she could feel his thighs and stomach shaking, as he tried to hold his composure and give her a little bit of time to adjust.

A couple of deep breaths later, she tapped his ribs. “You can move now.”

“ ‘ya sure?”

“Mhm,” Y/N nodded her head and pecked his lips reassuringly. “Please.”

His dishevelled and sweaty hair shook as he nodded and slowly drew back his hips so that just the tip of his cock remained in her before gliding back inside. The sight alone was more than enough to make both of them explode, but they wanted to last longer than thirty seconds, especially for their first time together. There’d be quickies for later, now they wanted to have a proper shag.

Bit by bit, Harry’s pace quickened, pearls of sweat gliding down his skin and dampening the sheets below them, much like it was with Y/N. Her leg slid up to rest around his hips, giving him a better angle and more leverage for him to strike the right spot, as he pushed her knee to rest against her chest, Y/N’s head falling back to the pillow.

Her insides were shaking from the pleasure, and it was like an invisible force was pushing down on her chest, as she struggled for a proper breath. “Harry,” she dragged out his name, the word turning into a high-pitched whine.

“I know,” he responded in the same breathless voice. He could feel her tighten around him and wasn’t sure just how much longer he’d be able to keep up the pace. “Touch yourself ‘f me, lovie. C’mon, use those fingers.”

Y/N did as she was told. It didn’t give her that butterfly feeling like it’d happened when they’d been Harry’s, but it did make her cum faster, and the sensation of her gushing around his cock made him lose all self-control and he spilled inside.

It wasn’t enough for Y/N, but she guessed she needed to settle for it. She knew that nothing really ever touched in the universe, that the closest atoms ever come to touching one another is when their wave packets overlap, much like she and Harry were now overlapping, his body lying on top of hers, skin sweaty and frame trembling as he came down from his own high.

“I uh,” Y/N cleared her throat, finger tracing the outline of one of the butterfly in the middle of Harry’s chest. “When the people came to get my stuff, I umm, asked them to take your rainbow cardigan. Wanted something that smelled like you, so I didn’t feel so alone. Was the first thing I put on when I got out of my hospital gown.”

She felt his body rumble with laughter and a kiss being pressed to her forehead. “I know. Saw Anna stash it inside the suitcase. I uh, I was the one who also put in one of my sweaters. Know how cold you always get.”

She hid her smile against his collarbones. “Thank you. For thinking of me.”

“ 'M always thinking of you… Will you knit me one though?”

Y/N raised her eyebrow. “Knit you one?”

“Yes. I know you knit –“

“Everyone knits nowadays.”

Harry drew himself back a bit, and she pushed away the matted down strands from his forehead, wiping away the sweat from underneath his green eyes as well. “Yes, but the point is – there’ll be a million other Gucci shirts and sweaters and cardigans. But I’d like to have one-of-a-kind made by you. So, I have something to sleep next to when you’re not next to me.”

Y/N ran a finger along his jawline, biting away her grin. “It’ll probably have mistakes. I’m not that good at it. ‘M not a professional.”

“Exactly.” Harry tilted her head up with a finger and their eyes met. “Which is why it’ll be perfect.”

“The arms will most likely be different lengths in the end.”

“Don’t worry, darling.” He pecked her lips before hugging her and not letting go. “It’s flawless for me.”

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Harry Styles tags: @sarcasticallywitty15 @breezykpop @girlboss99 @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist @alliyjane @sirtommyholland

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue @im-squished

A/N: My tags are always open :)

P.S. please don’t repost my work without specific written permission onto other platforms :)

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addictofsupernatural · 3 years

Text

Domestic Bucky Headcannons

You guys own so many blankets. Don't ask me why, there's just no such thing as too much blankets to have with him

He cannot cook for the life of him, but he will devote himself for rinsing and cutting anything you ask him to

You will stand in doorways and act like you won't let him through, and he'll just kiss your cheek and hug you to spin you out of the way

It is impossible for him to not kiss your neck when he sees you on your laptop

You lean on his metal arm on a hot day cause it's so cool feeling, and he just soaks up the cling to him

Baths together are a must, at least twice a month

Sometimes when you guys are lazing around on the couch, he starts to massage your feet

It touched you so much that you bought a massage book and would occasionally massage his shoulders and back

Very touchy with you in your shared apartment

Literally cannot keep his hands off of you for no longer than 30 minutes if you're home

Chuckled out loud when you say that you had bought a blow up mattress for him

He brought you into a hug when you pouted out of embarrassment of the gift for him

It was to ease him into sleeping more comfortably and work his way onto the bed

Refused to let you sleep on the floor with him

You have an addiction to buying boardgames for the two of you

You can't help it, playing boardgames with him is one of your most favorite things ever

He becomes a little serious in the games but tries to cover it up and you love it

You buy him 40s music vinyls and put them up on the wall

He wanted to return the favor by making a CD collection for you of all the music you like

You bring him along to any shopping you have to do

You offer to just go alone with grocery shopping, but he prefers to go with you

Sometimes he even pushes you in the cart

Loves it when you ask him for his opinion, whether it be about clothing or buying house items

His opinion matters to you and the reminder of that melts his heart

You told him to loosen up when inside your apartment, so the next day he went up to you in his briefs and pretended not to see you on the couch and sat on you

"Oh, sorry about that. I was just loosely behaving inside my apartment."

You teased him back and said it was a good look for him

He finds it cute that you find every outfit of his nice, no matter if it's just a regular fitted shirt

You always come up with unique compliments to give him and it makes him feel so loved

He struggles with giving you compliments face to face that isn't just the typical "you look good"

He writes them down in his little journal and one day nervously asks if you can read them

You were so happy with them that you were showering him with affection the rest of the day and next

You sometimes wear his dog tags and words cannot describe how much he loves it

Relies on you to catch him up on the world

Whenever you sit on the couch you usually have your legs on his lap, which he rubs up and down

Other times you guys are just snuggled up chest to chest

You'll fall asleep on either arm, and it makes him feel special and trusted

You can't help it ^^ either his body heat is intoxicatingly comfortable or the metal is nice and cool

He once asked you why you would fall asleep on his arm, being that it's an extremely high tech weapon

You chuckled sleepily "You say that like I'm supposed to be afraid of it. There's no reason for me to be when it's attached to you."

He enjoys doing little things for you cause he feels lucky to be with someone like you

Opening jars is such a pleasure, you look so impressed and grateful

This man will suck up his pride for you any time of day I swear—

Need period products? Done

The very first time you asked him to get you pads the poor baby was so confused

People were giving him weird looks at his concentrated stares in the pad isle

That was when he remembered that it was for you, and you deserved the right kind

So he called Sam and only told him that he needed him at the store asap, so Sam flew over there to find him in this predicament

After a worthy amount of teasing, Sam showed Bucky the right brand and told him to buy size 4 just in case you have a heavier flow, and then panty liners too in case you have a smaller flow or to just use for the aftermath of your period

Okay story end cause I'm getting sidetracked oops–

He watches almost everything you want since he doesn't know really anything

You love to watch movie franchises with him just to see which of them will stick for him

He requires that you send him pictures of yourself on the couch or of your dinner while he's out on missions

Self conscious about taking pictures? Psh not possible

He will constantly tell you about how beautiful you are and how he loves having pictures to think of you by

He loves loves loves changing his screen savor and lock screen every so often, all pictures of you

The first few times you had to show him how to change the pictures, being embarrassed by him asking you to scroll through a whole ass album of you

You only really like taking pictures if it's with him, just as an excuse to have pictures of him

He rarely budges when you ask for a picture of just him T-T

Also, mans is like the worst picture taker

Blurry af

He'll feel bad if you ask him to take a picture of something and you were excited about it, it makes you fell so bad ^^;;

You will definitely be the picture taker

Does not matter how bad you are at taking photos, you are better than him

Sometimes he just stares at you because this man is head over heals, and it results in one or two things :

The first thing being that you smile at each other when you catch him and softly just "hi :)" "hi :)" and kiss him

The second thing would be that you get a little embarrassed because this man of perfection is looking so intensely at you, causing you to laugh and put your hand over his eyes "haha whattt?" "nothing ^^" and you kiss

Either way you give kithhh

#bucky barns imagine #bucky fic #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james barnes x you #james barnes x reader #james barnes #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barns fluff #bucky barnes x reader

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titan-fodder · 3 years

Text

Prima Vista Part VIII

[ previous ]

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~13.2k

Warnings: this one fucking hurts, pining, stupid decisions, miscommunications, explicit sexual content (it’s time for something we’ve been waiting for), yet another party, angst A/N: Read this, but before you murder me remember there’s one more after this. Also, this isn’t the big thing you’ve been waiting for, but I know it’s something a lot of people have wanted to see. Enjoy this ouchie.

Mike doesn’t feel human when he wakes up. He’s nearly positive he no longer is—body taken over by some creature of the bog with toxic breath. Jesus, what the fuck happened last night?

Blinking hurts. Shifting his leg hurts. His chest is fucking killing him, feels like he bruised his god damn sternum, and when he moves to sit up in a bed that is not his, overwhelming nausea has Mike groaning and covering his mouth with one hand.

“He has risen,” a vaguely familiar baritone voice rings through the air, loud enough to make Mike wave his other hand in an attempt to mute it. Erwin chuckles, paying him no attention apparently as he speaks again, “Good timing, too. I just came to drop this off.”

Mike tries to focus his bleary eyes on the nightstand where his friend sets down a bottle of water, a bigger bottle of Gatorade, and several liquid gel pills.

“Chill here for as long as you need. I’m just watching the pledges clean downstairs. Want me to bring the trash can over?” Erwin’s concern can’t entirely hide the amusement in his voice. It’s irritating, but also… Mike needs that trash can.

“Yeah,” he croaks through his palm. “Thanks.”

Erwin nods and grabs the little plastic bin, setting it down next to the bed. Mike considers just picking it up and sitting with it in his lap, but he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to stay upright for long enough.

“I’ll be downstairs. If you need anything, you’ll just have to yell because your phone is definitely sitting in a bag of rice in the kitchen right now.”

“What?” Mike frowns. How even…

“It got wet,” Erwin states, like that clarifies anything. “Probably in the shower.”

“Why was I—”

“We can talk about it when you’re less…” Erwin gestures to Mike’s face with one finger and grimaces as he finishes, “Green. You didn’t do anything too terrible, though, so you can rest easy.”

He leaves, and Mike chokes down the pills and a few gulps of water before gently laying back down. He has to retrace metaphorical footsteps to get to the last thing he remembers from the night before, and it’s body shots off some blonde clone. His order of events goes: hanging out with Rhi, talking with you and Erwin, Zeke showing up, catching Eren mid-roofie attempt and throwing him out, getting mad at Nile, and then just a lot of drinking. Too much. Of different kinds. That had been dumb.

He thinks he spent a little while in the bathroom. Erwin was there. And, Nile came and went. He thinks he may have heard your voice a few times but can’t be sure, and honestly, trying to recall anything from the period of time his brain was literally incapable of processing new memories is a pretty big waste of time.

Mike spends most of the day in Erwin’s room. He drifts in and out of restless sleep, waking up to drink his water and Gatorade. At some point, one of the kids, Jean, knocks on the door and drops a bowl of soup off, mumbles, “Erwin told me to bring this up here.” Mike hasn’t spent a ton of time around the current pledge class, but Erwin must like Jean if he trusted the kid enough to give him his room code.

The soup settles his stomach enough to move around a little more. His headache ebbs into a dull throb, and the sharp ache in his chest fades into that of a bruise. By around five o'clock, Mike is finally able to amble downstairs, give everyone a tired wave, mumble his thanks to Erwin, then drive himself to his apartment.

He's still trying to piece together what happened the night before, but he just ends up more confused than before, so he decides to put it behind him and move on. Everyone deserves a wild night every once in a while.

Thanksgiving nears. Mike has already made plans to go home to his parents which means he has to turn down the Pike house Friendsgiving offer that Erwin extends to him.

He tells Mike that Nile and Hitch will be there, but Marie might show her face, "So, that will be interesting."

Some of the brothers who can't make it home will attend. Erwin is bringing Maddie who Mike hasn't heard about in several months, but he's pretty sure that's just to throw him off the scent of whatever Erwin has going on with you. You, who will also be in attendance because apparently your mom opted to go on a girls trip instead of face the family. Mike can't blame her.

He thinks maybe he should reach out to you, to ask about the night he blacked out because he has a feeling you can give him some details that others can't, but Erwin assures Mike that you were only in the bathroom with him for a short time. "Just long enough to see you rip your shirt which she seemed a little too happy about."

Mike doesn't know what he'd say to you anyway. Even after learning that Zeke had blocked his number in your phone. He's still mad that you let the fucker get close enough to do that in the first place, that you had chosen him. It's a wound that just won't heal. Any time he sees you or hears your name, all Mike can think about is why he wasn't good enough.

So, he keeps distancing himself. It seems like the most appropriate thing he can do until he decides he'll be able to have a conversation with you without blowing up.

Mike's parents are happy to see him when he walks in the door. Scout jumps on him until he picks her up and holds her like the puppy she is not. He isn't surprised when his mom asks about you, if you and Mike sorted things out. The question hurts even if he was expecting it, seems like yesterday you were walking around the house like you'd always been a part of it.

Lying is the easiest path to take. He tells his parents that you had to go home for the break, that you couldn't split up your time between two families in just four days, and, of course, they buy it.

Thanksgiving day is nice enough. The family travels a couple cities over to Mike's aunt and uncle's house. It's much bigger, has room for the relatives that are able to make it. There are traditional Greek dishes as well as the usual turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, etc. A few pictures here and there, entertaining his younger cousins—it's a good time.

Until Mike checks his various social media apps and sees the pictures from Friendsgiving.

They're tame, nothing wildly inappropriate, but they still make Mike scowl as he thumbs through them.

One of Nile cutting into the turkey, of Reiner ripping into a drumstick, Connie hoarding all of the cranberry sauce while his best friend, a girl named Sasha, does the same with the deviled eggs. Gelgar looks to be crying with a dot of potato salad in his hair. Marie is indeed there, glaring in the background of a photo where Nile and Hitch are tapping beer bottles together with silly smiles. She looks much happier in the shot of her and Maddie sitting together, laughing over glasses of wine.

Mike's heart stutters when he gets to a photo of you aiming to toss food into Reiner's mouth, then of you and Erwin both holding beers in one hand and pointing matching finger guns with the other.

Thick as fucking thieves. Two peas in a god damn pod. Mike wants to throw his phone out the window of his dad's suburban.

There are several more pictures that Mike doesn't bother to look at. He'd like to have a good time with his parents for the remainder of his break, and there's no way he'll be able to do that if he's pissed off.

So, he distracts himself. He goes on walks with Scout and plays with her for hours, watches old movies with his mom and dad, calls a couple relatives from overseas to catch up. But, those pictures are seared into the back of his mind, surfacing whenever he has down time.

He doesn't have any desire to go back to campus, not if he's gonna see you and Erwin together. His friend can deny it all he wants, but Mike knows something is going on between the two of you, and as he drives back to the college, he finally has the realization that… you might just be a shitty person.

Yeah, you have issues, but so does everyone. It doesn't excuse you from—from fucking toying with people, from using them as puppets whenever you need to. Mike wishes he'd never even tempted you to sleep with him that last time. It had felt too good and too right, but apparently you don't feel the same way. You went right back to Zeke once you'd gotten what you wanted, and Mike should have seen that coming. He should have been prepared for it. On some level he knew that's what you'd do, but that never stopped him from hoping that maybe… maybe it would have opened your eyes.

Plus, it ruined the entire Jurassic Park franchise for him, so that sucks.

He picks up where he left off both in his classes and in his social life. He stays away from PKA as much as he can but still attends meetings when necessary. The lacrosse season is coming to an end, so he tries to make the most of it. Rhi ends up in his bed again, both of them taking what they can from each other. Erwin jokes that he's gonna fall in love with her— "You know what happened the last time you tried to keep it casual," —and Mike nearly decks him in the face.

You don't try to talk to him, no texts or calls. When you see each other on campus, you don't spare him more than a sad glance as you pass him.

Mike is fine with it. He isn't about to be the one to make the move to talk things out. Honestly, he doesn't know if there's anything to talk out. You dated Zeke, and now you're dating Mike's best friend and trying to hide it.

He's mad at both of you, but it's easier to channel that blistering anger toward you rather than Erwin who he has to see on a regular basis. Besides, Erwin has always gotten around. Mike isn't especially surprised that he'd try his hand with you especially after what happened at the ranch house, but fuck, couldn't he have waited until after he and Mike graduated or something? Just disrespectful. That's what it is.

"Bro, I do not wanna go to another party," Mike's voice rises in frustration. "Consider me partied the fuck out, okay? I'm tired of 'em."

"It's not even a party," Erwin tells him. "It's more like a gathering of… like-minded individuals."

Mike snorts. "Yeah, okay."

"I'm not kidding! Like, twelve people at the most. All we're doing is hanging out at the ranch house."

"Will there be drinking?" Mike questions, moving his head back and forth in a mocking way.

Erwin shrugs his shoulders where he sits. "Of course there'll be drinking, but you don't have to partake. I just want you there to chill. Come on, man."

"Who's going?"

The blond lists off some of the Friendsgiving group, but he doesn't get to finish because once Erwin utters your name, Mike cuts him off with a loud, "Nope!"

"Duuuude," Erwin sounds like the frustrated one now, not that he has any right to be.

"Don't dude me! Why the fuck would you think I'd have any interest in watching you two giggle and cuddle n' shit."

"Mike," Erwin groans, rubbing his forehead. "How many times do I have to tell you…"

"You don't have to tell me anything. I already know what I need to know."

Standing up, Erwin seems like he's at his wit's end when he barks, "You don't know shit! You're seeing what you want to see without asking either of us! She misses you, dude. I'm just the next best thing."

"Nice to know your dick game isn't better than mine at least," Mike grumbles.

"Jesus Christ, you know what? I don't care. Come to the house, or don't come. Whatever."

Erwin takes long strides to get to Mike's front door, obviously ready to get away from him. He slams it hard enough to make Mike flinch.

He doesn't care how annoyed Erwin is with him. It's partially his fault that Mike doesn't want to go to the gathering, and he should know that. He'll come to understand eventually, and that thought makes it easier for Mike to make his decision. He's not gonna go. He refuses. There's no way. He won't—

Mike ends up going.

After powering through finals and visiting his parents for another few days. He has a mental debate the entire way to the ranch house, swearing to himself, going over the pros and cons. He comes close to turning around more than a few times, but after a couple hours, Mike finally pulls into the large circle drive right behind Levi's black Prius.

Erwin is extremely surprised to see him but keeps his mouth closed about it, just tells him, "Room upstairs on the far right is still open."

Mike drops his stuff off then greets the others—Nile, Gelgar, Reiner, Jean, Marco, and Levi.

"Wasn't expecting to see you here," the last states, focused on burning the loose string of his hoodie with a lighter. "Erwin told me you guys had some bullshit argument."

"Happens sometimes," Mike dismisses as he takes a place on the couch.

"I guess. This is why I don't have a lot of friends. Can't put up with stupid shit like that."

"Oh, is that why?" Mike rolls his eyes.

Levi snickers, shaking his head. "Aw man, he was right. You are in a bad mood, aren't ya'?

"Man, fuck off."

They sit in silence for a few minutes. Mike is bouncing his foot where it's thrown over his opposite leg—anxious or angry or some other negative emotion he needs to get rid of.

"Party's gonna be a fucking sausage fest," Levi mumbles.

Nile passes behind the couch just in time to hear and informs the smaller man, "Not entirely. Maddie, Marie, Hitch, and Mike's little heartbreaker should be getting here soon."

Mike groans internally but speaks out loud, "This was a mistake. I can't fucking be here if you guys keep talking about her."

"If you can't handle us talking about her, how're you gonna handle seeing her?" Levi scoffs.

Erwin has stocked the bar with craft beer and various wines. Mike considers going ahead and breaking a few bottles open, but he resists—doesn't want a repeat of the forgotten party.

They set up a horror video game upstairs and an animated adult series downstairs. Erwin wasn't lying about it being a more relaxed environment than usual, but that doesn't stop Mike's neck from prickling when you arrive with Hitch at around five. Maddie and Marie show up a couple hours later, and Mike can feel the tension that surrounds all four of you. Amusing as it can be, he really doesn't have the patience for cattiness tonight.

High quality Chinese food is provided courtesy of Erwin's father's credit card as well as dipped strawberries that Nile keeps feeding Hitch. It gets Marie very heated very quickly, and Maddie has to talk her down in another room.

It makes Mike wonder if you would ever let him feed you like that or if you would snort and bat his hand away. What the fuck do you think you're doing, Zacharias? That's couples shit.

It makes him sigh and slouch on the couch, thankful you're upstairs watching Connie play the most recent Resident Evil.

He knows you're not a fan of horror, so the only reason you'd be up there is to avoid Mike.

Good.

Erwin is the first to open the wine. Maddie won't leave his side, stuck to him like a magnet. The fact that he has to get a drink only furthers Mike's theory that Erwin didn't invite her as a real date.

He spends a fair amount of time shooting the shit with Levi. It isn't necessarily the most enjoyable conversation considering Levi's constant smartass comments, but it's better than trudging up to the second floor.

Nile fucks Hitch in the bathroom for everyone to hear. Marie starts crying and runs to the porch. This gathering is about as insufferable as Mike assumed it would be.

Eventually, you journey downstairs. It was inevitable. You spare Mike a glance and sigh as you make your way to the kitchen to grab a beer—you don't even like beer, so why—

"Hey, can you grab me one too?" Erwin calls out, and when you hand it to him, he gives you that hundred watt grin Mike knows brings girls to their knees, but while Maddie stares at him with that dreamy look in her eyes, you just snort and gently shove him.

"Don't fuckin' look at me like that, Smith."

Ah, the last name card, the one that you pull to act like you're all aloof when really you're just reeling them in.

"Like what?" Erwin asks before taking a sip, still smiling around the rim of the bottle.

"You know what."

Mike chooses then to go upstairs, knowing he steals your attention as he stomps like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

Why did he even come here? Was it just to give himself more reason to brood? Solidify that he's valid in being angry?

Connie is trembling as his character makes his way through a decrepit house. Jean laughs every few minutes, but he also startles at every jump scare, leaving Reiner to call both of them pussies as he bites into strawberry after strawberry, throwing the stems into a little bowl in his lap. Mike supposes the first years are entertaining enough. He can see why Erwin invited them here.

It's close to nine o'clock. Mike is bored out of his mind, can't help venturing back downstairs mostly because he's tired of watching the pledges swear and shout at the video game (including Reiner now) but also out of morbid curiosity.

Marie has returned and is sitting in the kitchen with Maddie, both of whom are glaring into the den where you, Erwin, Nile, and Hitch share the couch. Hitch may as well be in Nile's lap, but you're sitting on the back ridge, feet planted on the cushions as you hunch forward and nurse a beer. Your knee is against Erwin's arm, but that's the only point of contact. Still, whenever something funny is said on the TV show, he looks up at you, as if to check that you're laughing, taking it in. Mike can't blame him. You have one of the cutest laughs he's ever heard.

Levi and Gelgar are both on plush loveseats on opposite sides of the room, either scrolling or typing on their phones.

Again, Mike has to think about how laid back the party is—even if he's a mess. It's so different from the raucous scenes he's used to—blasting music and keg stands and dancing on tables. This would be infinitely preferable if it weren't for the open pit in Mike's stomach.

If he could just chill the fuck out, pay absolutely no attention to you and Erwin and the way his fingers slowly wrap around your ankle when you won't stop bouncing your leg.

Not together his ass.

When Mike gets a text from Rhi, he basically sighs in relief—the perfect opportunity to forget about you for a while.

He doesn't bother asking to make sure it's okay with the host, just messages back, what are you doing rn? and immediately asks her to come over, knowing she only lives about an hour away.

Naturally, she agrees. One of the only great things about Rhi is that she’s always, always down to fuck. Mike doesn’t know if it has something to do with his size or if she just has a high sex drive. Either way, he’s glad for it..

He meets her on the porch after waiting for what feels like an eternity, just having to sit and watch you kick Erwin’s thigh whenever he says something dumb. He always retaliates by pulling on your little toes which makes you squeak and almost fall off the couch. It’s fucking maddening, makes Mike want to pull his hair out or throw something, just trash the fucking house because Erwin deserves it.

But, then Rhi arrives in all her Ugg boot glory, wearing the old, green hoodie that you had given back to Mike a few months ago.

They walk in, Mike’s hands on her shoulders like he’s pushing her over the threshold. You look up, take the other girl in, then very quickly step off the couch and prance into the kitchen without saying a word.

Erwin, however, makes up for your silence, wide eyed as he stares at Rhi and utters, “Fuck.”

* You didn’t want to be like Maddie and Marie, jogging to a private place to cry over a fucking boy, but god, you are definitely locked in the bathroom, hunched over the sink sobbing as quietly as you can. Your nose is running, and your eyes are burning, leaking god damn rivers

It wouldn’t have been so bad if she was just in her normal winter sorority get-up. But the hoodie? The one you wore for months on end, the one Mike would sniff whenever he would lay his head on your stomach, mumbling something about, “Smells good. Might have to take it back.” He didn’t have to say it out loud, but you knew he always felt a little jolt of pride when you’d wear it, like you were advertising how close you were to him.

So, to see another girl wearing it—to see Rhi wearing it—it fucking hurts. Your throat is sore from holding back those loud, pained cries. Your stomach is rolling like you ate something spoiled. Your fingers ache from digging into the fancy, granite sink. Everything hurts.

It makes you wonder if Mike felt like this when you first told him about Zeke, if he feels like this now that he thinks you’re with Erwin—stupid, stupid, stupid. You shouldn’t have waited so long to talk to him. You should have cleared things up right after the party. Now, it’s too late.

There’s a knock on the door that makes you sniff and wipe your nose, but you still tell whoever is on the other side (most likely Hitch or Erwin), “Go away.”

“It’s me.” Erwin. "Let me in."

"Literally what did I just say?"

"If you don't unlock the door, I'll kick it in. It's my house, so I won't get in trouble for it."

"Oh my god," you grumble before turning the lock on the knob. "Spoiled fucking brat."

Erwin steps in and closes the door then takes a good look at your puffy face and red eyes. Sighing, he leans against the wall. "For the record, I didn't invite her. Mike must have—"

"That doesn't make me feel any better," you say, grabbing some toilet paper to blow your nose. "Actually, it makes me feel even worse."

"I just wanted to make sure you knew."

"What, d'you want brownie points or something?" You ask sarcastically, making sure the toilet lid is down before sitting on it, bracing your arms on your knees and looking up at Erwin to find him frowning. "Sorry. I'm being a bitch, I know."

He waves it off. "It's understandable. I'm not very happy with him either. The perpetual shitty mood is driving me crazy."

You don't know much about that other than it being entirely your fault, so you apologize, "Yeah, sorry about that."

"If you guys would have just talked it out like adults—"

"Well, we didn't, Erwin. And, it seems like it's not even an option any more, so…" you hold your hands out in a clueless fashion, like you're at a loss. "I don't know what you want me to do."

Your voice is thick, straining against the lump in your throat. Vision going blurry again, you shove your palms against your eyes, repeating, no more crying, no more crying, no more crying.

"I'm sorry he's doing this to you," Erwin says quietly.

You sniffle, almost laugh when you reply, "Not really different from what I did to him. Like," you have to blow your nose again so it doesn't start running, toss the toilet paper into the waste basket next to you. "I don't know if he's trying to get back at me or legitimately moving on, but I can't exactly hold it against him."

"Still," Erwin takes a couple steps toward you. "Pulling this kind of shit is fucked up. He had to have known it would hurt you on some level."

"You don't have to, like, take my side or whatever," you state. "I know we're friends and all, but you don't have to coddle me like this."

"I'm not trying to coddle you. I'm sympathizing. There's a difference."

"Whatever it is, it's unnecessary," you mumble.

"Yeah?" Another step closer so that he's right in front of you. "So, you weren't planning on crying in here for the rest of the night?"

"No," you're quick to deny, but your lips quirk upward when you correct, "I was gonna go up to my room and cry in there for the rest of the night."

Erwin shakes his head then pulls you into a strange embrace, pressing your face to his stomach with one hand while the other settles between your shoulder blades.

Your first instinct is to shove him away, but his shirt is soft and smells like detergent, and his stomach is firm and grounding against your cheek, and the knuckles rubbing up and down the top of your spine are warm and soothing.

So, you stay in the slightly awkward position, shutting your eyes and trying to relax, but all you can think about is Mike walking in with his hands on Rhi and the way she looked in his hoodie. Is she cuter than you? Does she smell better than you? Does she treat him better than you did?

Tears well up in your eyes once again, dampening Erwin's shirt as they slip over your waterline, and before you know it, you're clutching the material covering the small of his back and crying against him.

And, he lets you—just keeps stroking between your shoulders and shushing you with a quiet, "I know, I know. It'll be okay."

Erwin is cocky and bold, takes things a little too far sometimes, but, just as you thought last year after he stole that kiss, he is good. Even if he's broken too many hearts to count and completely disregarded people's feelings, he's a good guy. At the very least, he's good to you, and that's what you need at the moment.

"What time is it?" You speak into his shirt.

"About eleven thirty."

You hum and turn so that your forehead is resting just above his hips. It could be a suggestive position, but—

But nothing.

You blink a few times, weighing the situation, everything that unfolded tonight—everything that's unfolded over the past semester and… it would make sense. It's not like you've never thought about it before. You're worked up and need to unwind, need to clear your head, and besides, Mike already believes there's something between you and Erwin, so why not take advantage of that?

Sucking on your bottom lip, you go through a list of pros and cons. The biggest downside is that Mike will be upset with you. He already is, though, so there’s isn’t much to lose on that front. The upside is that you'll be able to forget about him for a while and possibly get an orgasm out of it.

"Hey, Erwin…" You're not entirely sure how to bring it up, but it turns out you don't have to.

"Don't fucking ask," he huffs. Perceptive bastard.

You push away from his stomach and look up at him. "Okay, why, though?"

His head is hanging back, gaze trained on the ceiling as he admits, "Because if you ask, I won't say no, and it'll only make things worse."

Something about that gives you butterflies. That's a good sign, means you might be invested enough to finally let your mind wander from Mike.

"Mike already thinks we're fucking, though, so unless you don't actually want to fuck me, I don't see why we shouldn't."

Erwin walks backward until he hits the cabinets. His full lips are pressed into a tight line, and his blue eyes look like a warning. Don't push me.

"Do you honestly think you won't walk away from that feeling guilty?" He questions. "We know we aren't sleeping together, that we aren't actually doing anything wrong even if Mike doesn't believe it. But, to actually go through with it?" Erwin lets out a little chuckle and crosses his arms over his chest. "I probably won't feel bad 'cause I'm kind of an asshole, but you? You will feel awful."

"I already feel awful," you remind him as you stand. "I already feel guilty. If you think I could feel any fucking worse than I already do, you might be overestimating my—my—I don't know—emotional capacity?"

Moving forward, you nudge Erwin out of the way to get to the sink, splashing cold water on your face to clean it of dried tears. You cup a hand under the faucet, then toss some water into your mouth, swishing, and spitting, and turning back around.

Erwin's gaze is dark and not at all subtle when he eyes you up and down.

"I might hurt you, you know," he states in a voice that's considerably deeper than before.

You raise your eyebrows, unconvinced. "You don't have to worry about me catching feelings, Smith. Relax."

Mouth tugging up on one side, Erwin smirks in a way that makes you squirm where you stand.

"That's not what I meant."

It takes you a moment to decipher what he's trying to say, but you breathe an, "Oh," when you realize, then another as it truly sinks in. "Oh."

That's okay, you want to tell him. I want to be hurt tonight. You only want it if it will hurt. If you confess to that desire, though, Erwin might back out—a disappointment considering the way you're starting to get a little excited.

"If I can handle Mike, I can handle you," you say, fully aware that he'll take it as a challenge. If there's one thing you know about men, it's that they thrive off competition.

Erwin is no different as he slides in front of you, hands finding your hips and pulling them to his. He's already half hard in his khakis, and you stand on your tip-toes, brushing against him as you do, to tilt your head back and hover just under his mouth as you tease, "Don't tell me you haven't thought about it before."

"You have no idea how often I've thought about it—how often I think about it."

You nip at his bottom lip, enjoying the way he licks it afterward. "Have you been holding back since we started hanging out—just the two of us?"

His fingers dig into your back, just above the curve of your ass, and you already know there will be small bruises left behind.

"Do you want me to paint a picture?" He rumbles, and you nod, pressing a kiss to his throat. "Any time I have you in my room I think about fucking you. On the bed. Over my desk. Up against a wall…" A little gasp makes its way out of him as you bite down on the skin you've been sucking on, and Erwin ruts against you a couple times before continuing, voice a little more strangled than before.

"Thought about fucking you downstairs on the couch for the whole frat to see, all spread out, moaning like a porn star. I know what you sound like," he whispers, catching you off guard when he suddenly lifts you to set you on the counter. "I've heard the way you scream for Mike."

There's a pang in your chest at the mention of him, but it's gone just as quickly.

"And, you'd like it, wouldn't you? Being watched." Erwin trails his lips from your temple to your ear, making you shiver when he speaks into it, "You can pretend all you want, but I know you liked it when I walked in on you and him. You liked being on display."

He isn't wrong. You replay that instance in your head a little more than you probably should.

Hearing the fact stated now, though, right to your face has your body heating, arousal flooding you and making warmth pool between your legs.

"You can admit it, it's okay. I've known for a while now."

One of his hands moves to the inside of your thigh then further up, fingers dancing over your covered pussy. It's your turn to gasp. You clutch his shoulders and spread your legs despite knowing there's no way you'll be satisfied with this, not when thick denim is separating you from his touch.

"Don't get too cocky, Smith." You try to sound confident, but it's hard to when your breath keeps hitching.

"Why?" He grazes his teeth over the sensitive space below your ear, and it makes you twitch in his grasp. "I have every reason to be."

He goes on to list every other place he's thought about fucking you—apparently just about every setting you've ever been in with him. Each and every Pike party, the locker room before or after a lacrosse game, his Mustang, Mike's Wrangler.

"That's fucked up," you somehow manage.

Erwin shrugs his shoulders, mumbles, "Can't help it," then slots his lips against yours for the first time (or, the first consensual time).

You're reminded of Zeke, the way all you did was compare him, only now with Erwin, you have two men who flash through your mind. He's softer than Zeke but just as bold as he cradles your head and slips his tongue into your mouth—tastes sweeter than Mike (probably from the strawberries), but it's not necessarily a good thing. It isn't bad either. It's just Erwin… Different.

His hair doesn't brush your cheeks like Mike's does. He doesn't have glasses to dig into your skin. Clean shaven, no coarse hairs to tickle against you, and he's smack in the middle in terms of height. You have to crane your neck more than you did with Zeke but less than you had to with Mike.

It's all a little jarring, but you feel this was always sort of an inevitability, at least once you started spending time with Erwin one on one. You never would have let this happen if you had stayed with Mike—if you had actually taken the next step with him—but that's why you started hanging out with Erwin in the first place.

You never noticed the way your back and forth was flirty, mostly just you giving him shit about one thing or another, but apparently others read further into it. And, you've had as good a time as you can. The heartache has put a damper on things, kept Erwin mostly off your radar save for the days you woke up frustrated and desperate, but that's what your vibrator is for.

Apparently, while you were busy making sure things stayed friendly between the two of you, Erwin's mind was getting away from him. Every god damn time you hung out, he told you, whether it was at the house or out to lunch, walking with you to classes or out to your car.

He did make it a habit of touching you, you can admit, but none of it was inappropriate—a nudge to knock you off balance that would result in you hitting him, a prod in the ribs that would result in you squeaking and hitting him. Sticking a foot out to trip you that would result in you…

Dude obviously likes to be slapped around.

There's also the hugs. Up in his room when you feel extra gloomy, he'd wrap his arms around you and sway back and forth. Sometimes he'd sit and pull you with him, turn on a movie and keep a tight hold around your shoulders. There were afternoons you'd walk into his room while he was studying and just pass out in his bed, up too late the night before from worrying and obsessing, in need of a nap before your evening lecture. He'd set an alarm for you, stay up for a while longer before allowing himself to take a break and crawl under the blankets beside to—

Oh, god, you've been dating Erwin Smith.

You have to break away from him to laugh, lightly hitting your head against his chest so that he chuckles and asks, "What?"

"I—" You look back up at him, shaking your head to yourself. "I can't believe I didn't fucking see it."

"See what?"

"You and me—"

"You and I," he corrects, and you shove him.

"You and I have just been doing what Mike and I were doing."

"Uh, excuse me," he holds a finger up. "We have not been having endless sex, thank you."

"That's not—" You roll your eyes. "I'm saying we've been dating without actually dating. Like, I get why everyone thinks we're a thing."

"Oh," Erwin nods, sucking his teeth for a second then adding, "Yeah, I was wondering when you would figure that out."

"Fucker. Did you do it on purpose? Like, just to prove you could?"

He frowns, looking genuinely offended. "Christ, what kind of person do you think I am?"

"Not twenty minutes ago you confessed to being an asshole."

His face softens when he snickers. "Okay, true. But, no. I'm not trying to manipulate Mike or you for that matter. You've been upset, and you've put up with a lot of shit over the last few months, and I just figured you could use a friend."

Staring up at him, you notice the way his face is turning a little red, and you hold your tongue between your teeth as you smile knowingly.

"You caaare about meee."

He scoffs and looks away

"Heartbreaker Smith cares about a girl," you tease. "How embarrassing."

"Laugh it up. You would've been miserable without me."

"I mean, yeah, but still. What's it like having a platonic girlfriend?"

He tilts his head to the side then reaches forward to squeeze your thighs. "Is it really platonic if we're about to have sex?"

"Absolutely. Hundred percent."

"You're not even a little worried that it'll become a regular thing and you'll fall in love?" The arrogance is both astounding and amusing.

Cocking your head, you take a deep breath, expression one of false sympathy as you pat his stomach. "I'm positive. Unfortunately, my heart belongs to another."

Erwin clicks his tongue before moving forward and sliding his hands between the counter and your ass. "I'm a little hurt, honestly. I'm used to fucking a girl and having to hide out for a while afterward—always so clingy."

You squint, can't tell if he's being serious or overdramatizing to annoy you.

"You know what? Nevermind. I don't even want your little playboy ass anymore—"

Naturally, he turns the charm back on right then, getting too close to your face, blue eyes flicking to your lips before he breathes, "Don't lie," and presses a tiny peck to them. "The tough girl act is only believable for so long."

"Wow, fuck you."

"That's the idea," he smirks.

"Har fucking har. You're so funny."

Erwin pulls you closer to the edge of the counter and grinds his hips against yours then prompts, "Your room or mine?"

"Mine," you reply. "I'd rather you have to do the walk of shame later."

"Probably a good idea since you won't be able to once I'm finished with you."

You actually laugh out loud. It would have worked on you a few minutes ago, but all the joking has you a little giggly at this point.

Fuck, he is going to make a great distraction.

"Okay, calm down. Don't make promises you can't keep."

"Sounds like a challenge to me."

"Men," you sigh. "So predictable."

After minutes more of unnecessary banter, Erwin finally coaxes you out of the bathroom you've both spent far too much time in. Your face has cleared up, the urge to cry subsiding, though your heart still drops in your chest when you pass behind Mike and Rhi on the couch, green eyes tracking you as you walk up the stairs in front of Erwin.

This is not the right way to solve a problem, but it'll probably be fun for a while. It's already fun as Erwin kicks the door closed and walks you back to the bed. He isn't even touching you, just watching you with a hazy blue gaze. He isn't smiling, looks like a predator, and honestly, it's ridiculously attractive.

"Stop making that face."

"What face?"

"That—that—"

You run into the bed, wave your arms to keep your balance, but Erwin presses his fingertips to your chest and just barely pushes to knock you back.

"What face, hm?"

The hair on your arms and neck is standing on end, anticipation bubbling in your gut as you try to crawl higher on the mattress only for Erwin to grab you by the ankle and tug you back down.

Damn. He's good at this.

"Stay," he commands, straightening up to take his shirt off.

He's tan and toned, light blonde hair sprinkled over his chest and above the waistband of his pants.

You're reminded of the very first Pike party you went to, the first time you slept with Mike (and can't remember), walking downstairs the following morning to find Erwin in the kitchen wearing sweats and drinking his coffee and smirking at you like he could tell the future.

Maddening. He's maddening.

You rid yourself of your own top then shimmy out of your jeans. Erwin eyes you hungrily, causing your whole body to tingle. It simultaneously makes you want to cover yourself and spread yourself open for him.

"I have been waiting way too fucking long for this," Erwin mumbles, raking fingernails down your torso so that you take in a shuddering breath.

"It's been, like, a y-year and a half." Your back arches on its own volition, hips bucking as Erwin scratches over the bones before catching your thong and pulling it down. He kneels at the end of the bed, a familiar scene save for the head of shiny, golden hair.

"A year and a half of having to look but not touch."

"Poor little—" you gasp when he parts your folds with his thumbs, staring at your pussy then blowing a stream of air over it.

"Do you know how many times I've jacked off to the thought of you? How many times I've slept with other girls while imagining it was you?"

You want to make another smartass comment, tease him about being a pervert or in his feelings or something, but you can't find your voice as he licks a long, slow stripe up your slit. You stare at the ceiling, not even blinking as too many signals fire in your brain all at once.

Erwin is good with his mouth. Like, stupid good. He has a teasing rhythm, flicks your clit with the tip of his tongue until your muscles are coiled then moves to trace the ring of your entrance, taking his time as you turn from human to puddle.

He’s better at this than Zeke who would purposely graze his teeth over your sensitive little bud a little too hard on purpose, would suck on it until it hurt. He liked when you whimpered for him, liked leaving raised welts on your ribs and back from where he’d scratched. The intermixed pain and pleasure never failed to make you come, but the climb up to that precipice was usually precarious for lack of a better term.

Then, there’s Mike (because of course there is). His mood usually determined how he would take you, hard and fast before a game or slow and lazy as you both relaxed in his room. One thing always stayed the same no matter his disposition, and it’s that he fucking worshiped your pussy—even said it on multiple occasions. He would eat you out like a starving man, lapping at your juices like it would quench his thirst. Some days he would overstimulate you to the point of tears, neverending licks lavished over your clit as he pumped thick fingers in and out of your cunt. Other days he would go down on you like it was a fucking hobby—turn on a movie, spread you out on the foot of his bed, and eat you out while only halfway paying attention to the TV. He could pull multiple orgasms from you that way, letting you come around a finger or two before returning to your pulsing clit. Fuck, you used to make such a mess. He’d spend minutes trying to lick you clean, but you always ended up in the shower afterward.

You shouldn’t be thinking of that right now, though. You should be thinking about Erwin’s clever tongue and the fingertips just barely brushing over sensitive skin. You want them inside of you, want something to clamp down on, but no matter how much you pull his hair or utter a breathy, “Please,” he keeps the same pace, only moving on when he feels like it.

He’s doing it on purpose, trying to break you before even getting to the point of fucking you, and if you’re being honest, it just might work. He’s gonna make you lose your god damn mind tonight. Exactly like you want to.

“Fuck, how much p-practice have you had with th-this?”

Erwin laughs, stilling your wriggling by curling his arms around your thighs. “Too much, probably.”

You whine when he continues, but when he starts softly sucking on your clit, you’re surprised at how close you suddenly feel, your legs naturally trying to spread further but remaining immobilized in Erwin’s grip. The threat of not being able to move only intensifies the building sensation in your gut, and soon you’re gasping his name, eyes rolling as you try in vain to buck further into his face.

You feel more than hear Erwin groan, a deep vibration that pours over your clit and makes you twitch. He gives you a few more long licks, then pulls back and stands, exposing the way his mouth and chin are covered in a glossy sheen.

“Feel better yet?” He smirks.

You wave a lazy hand, don’t want to fluff his ego too much, so you allow him to witness your borderline stoned state while still jeering, “I’ll feel better when I have your cock inside me.”

Erwin laughs to himself, mutters, “Eager,” then takes his pants off.

Pushing yourself up on your elbows, you give his cock a cursory glance and stop. “Hold on,” then slide off the bed and to your knees.

If you’re gonna fuck Erwin Smith, you’re at least gonna appreciate it.

He inhales sharply as you place your hands on his thighs, eyes traveling over his length. It’s pretty, above average in size, smooth, with a flared tip that’s currently flushing a dark pink.

“I really hate to admit this, but you could be, like, a dick model.”

He chokes on some kind of snort, and you swear his entire chest turns red. “I—thank you?”

“You’re welcome,” you tell him, promptly taking hold of his cock and guiding it into your mouth.

“Oh, fuck, fuck—”

His skin is soft against your tongue, warm as you take him deeper. His girth stretches your jaw, but you’re still pretty used to the feeling, had to get used to it with Mike because he’s a little bigger than—

That’s not important.

Erwin breathes through his teeth as he places a hand on the top of your head, and when you look up at him through your eyelashes, he lets out a disbelieving little laugh. That confident fucking tease is nowhere to be found as you swipe your tongue over the tiny hole leaking pre then surge forward, almost pressing your nose to his pelvis as you run the muscle back and forth under the base of his cock.

“Shit, let me—let me lean against the bed,” he says, pulling you off him and chuckling, “Gonna make my fucking knees buckle.”

You turn where you’re kneeling, waiting for him to get better stabilized before resuming your efforts to ruin this annoying, charming frat boy who is always put together. You suck and slurp and trigger your gag reflex a couple times. Erwin’s fingers scratch against your scalp like he’s looking for purchase. He’s careful not to be too brutal as he pushes you down on his cock, raising his hips to meet your rhythm. His head is thrown back, thighs tensing under your hands as his chest rises and falls with short breaths.

You have to work up to it, but once you feel loose enough, you press forward and let Erwin slip further into your throat. His voice sounds like honey when he groans a low, “Hoooly fuck,” letting his head hang down as he attempts to stare at you with unfocused eyes.

“Okay, okay, okay,” he huffs. “Keep going and we won’t get to the main event.”

You pull off of him with a lewd pop then raise to your feet. Your knees are a little sore, but it’s nothing some exercise won’t work out.

“Want me to wear a condom?”

“I don’t care. I’m clean and on birth control,” you tell him. “What about you?”

“Well, I’m clean, but I haven’t gotten my birth control prescription refilled in a wh—”

You flick his chest, and Erwin laughs as he bats you away.

“Alright. Up on the bed with you then,” he motions to the mattress. “Lay on the edge.”

You do as you're told, spreading your legs for Erwin to stand between, and you bite your lip when you feel him rub the head of his cock between your folds. You’re still wet with slick—probably dripped onto the carpet when you were giving him head—which makes the glide easier as he teases you.

“Ready?” He asks, wriggling thick eyebrows until you smile. He doesn’t wait for an actual answer before he starts pushing in, pressing your legs to your chest as he slowly seats himself in your cunt.

You’re making that face—eyebrows moving toward your hairline as if you’re worried, jaw dropping open as air is pushed from your lungs. Erwin looks focused, licking his lips as he gazes down at the way your pussy stretches around him.

He thrusts in and out at a tortuous pace, apparently waiting for you to start trembling around him before he deems you ready to take more. Every one of his movements is measured, slowly pulling out only to push in all at once. The ridge of his cock drags over your g-spot, pressing firmly against it and making you claw at his shoulders.

He feels good, satisfying, but he’s not quite as good as Mike who used to hit all your spots without even thinking about it—somehow making you beg like a whore and sing like a little girl in Sunday school all at the same time.

Still, you don’t have to lie when Erwin quickens his pace and pants, “Feel good?”

“Fuck—yes, yes, Jesus Christ—”

He’s pulling all manner of crude sounds from your pussy, wet and greedy as it sucks him back in with every rut of his hips. The angle is perfect—his height paired with the bed on stilts has him hitting your spot every time, and you feel the need to warn him, “If you keep—keep fucking me like this—god—m’gonna squirt.”

“Fuck yes,” he praises, wetting a thumb in his mouth before bringing it down to massage your clit. He only speeds up as your voice rises, body confused like your muscles don’t know if they should be flexed or relaxed.

You feel that tell-tale burning, that urge that only gets stronger the more Erwin abuses your g-spot and presses against your clit.

“Shit, shit, shit—”

Erwin groans when fluid starts to trickle from you, pushes more and more out of you while quickly swiping two fingers over your clit. The sense of relief is mind-numbing. You can’t even be upset that your sheets are gonna be damp whenever you decide to sleep.

He doesn’t slow down, doesn’t lose his rhythm, just sticks his two wet fingers into his mouth and sucks them clean.

You see it now—the skill, the appeal, why the girls always come back to him. It makes sense. He’s devastatingly handsome, especially like this, all fucked out and flushed, hair out of place, lips red and swollen from biting them.

Yeah, Erwin is fucking hot.

But, that doesn’t mean he’s your type.

Pulling out, he flips you onto your stomach, and you have to stand on your tip-toes as you lean over the bed. The burn in your calves disappears almost entirely when he slides into you from behind, pelvis pressing against your ass as he curls over you, cupping your tits and tweaking your hardened nipples as he gifts you with a series of shallow thrusts. It makes you whimper and teeter forward, unable to balance and squirm at the same time. Face suddenly buried in the mattress, your cries are muffled by the blankets. Erwin’s hands travel back to your hips, rocking you back and forth on his slick cock. He’s getting a little rougher, pressing into you as deeply as he can, and the fact that you’ll be sore from this tomorrow gives you a strange sense of satisfaction.

Only way to get over someone is to get on top of someone else, right? Or, underneath in your case. Being a little more in control wouldn’t be the worst thing, though, so…

“Erwin, Erwin, fuck—Lemme ride you.”

There is no hesitation. Erwin slips out of you and throws himself onto the bed, grinning crookedly as he watches you climb over him on unsteady limbs. His patience must have worn out some time ago, because he holds his cock with one hand, using the other to line you up with it, then guides you down his length.

You have to sit still for a second, or you would like to, but Erwin is still holding your hips, and he rocks you back and forth in his lap like he knows. He probably does. He’s probably fucked enough girls to notice exactly when their eyes pop open, when they shudder and break out in goosebumps because that pressure is hitting exactly where it needs to, and yeah, he knows.

Finding it in yourself to move again, you lean over Erwin, planting your hands on the pillows by his head, then start bouncing on his cock. He hisses in a dark, appreciative way, eyes and hands immediately drawn to your chest. He sits up enough to suck one of your nipples into his mouth, licking and pinching then doing the same to the other.

He’s so good—feels so good, knows just where to touch, the exact place to bite on your neck that makes you melt, but how—how does he know that? It’s like he has a sixth sense or—

Or, he just paid attention to the bruises that Mike used to leave on the sides of your throat. That checks out.

Fuck, he used to mark you like he wanted everyone to see, especially that last night. It was almost animalistic, like he had been—marking his territory, Zeke’s voice plays in your head. It makes you frown, and you rid yourself of the thought only to replace it with the memory of Mike’s mouth on your skin, his calloused fingertips trailing down your torso, huge hands wrapping around your legs to pull you against him—

You whine, glad it sounds like a sound of desperation rather than frustration. You just want to stop thinking about him. Just an hour—if you could go a single fucking hour—

“Hey, look at me,” Erwin commands in a soft voice.

You open your eyes, still hovering over him, and expect him to say something, but instead he just reaches up to the back of your head and pulls you into a kiss.

He’s helping move you on top of him, forcing you to take his cock over and over, and like this, so close and breathing him in, you don’t even have the room to think about Mike.

Both of your bodies are damp with sweat, and Erwin’s hair is a mess, pushed from his flushed face. He bites down on your bottom lip and tugs, only letting go to ask, “Where do you want me?”

“I don’t care,” you groan, legs and arms and pussy growing sore. You’re not surprised; you’ve been going at it for a while now.

Erwin licks your lower lip as if to soothe it after biting it, tells you, “Oh, don’t give me that option. You know where I’ll pick.”

Smiling, you straighten up then move to fit your feet underneath you so you can bounce more freely. “You can come inside, dude. It feels good to me, too.”

“I really don’t know how to respond to being called ‘dude’ when I’m balls deep in a girl.”

You shrug, “Sorry not sorry,” then raise and drop yourself, feeling in charge for the first time tonight.

“Fuck—shit—”

That feeling is short lived as Erwin goes right back to using you the way he wants. You think for about half a second that he’s finally, really losing himself, but the accuracy of his finger on your clit proves that is not the case. He’s clearly having a good time, but he isn’t at that feral stage that Mike falls into sometimes.

Before you can dwell on it for too long, you hit your peak, moaning Erwin’s name, hips moving uncontrollably as you ride out your orgasm.

He’s speaking, mumbling praise or pleas or curses, you aren’t so sure, but after about another minute of fucking into you relentlessly, Erwin comes, shooting line after line inside of you until he’s spent and twitching.

With your two previous partners, this is usually when you’d fall forward and cuddle, catch your breath and enjoy the feeling of being all plugged up.

But, it’s Erwin, huffing and blinking up at the ceiling then finally stating, “That was a dumb idea.”

It makes you laugh for some reason, probably because you agree.

The sex was great. There is a reason girls talk about him on campus, about his sexual prowess or whatever, and if you weren’t too busy suffocating in your little pit of heartbreak, thinking about your best friend nonstop, you wouldn’t mind fucking Erwin again. And, again and again.

That’s not gonna happen, though. The heat of the moment is fading, every mental faculty returning to you, and despite the fact that you’re still seated on his cock, as you look down at him, you feel absolutely no spark.

He’s ridiculously attractive, pretty fucking brilliant but with a dumb sense of humor, and you love him. You really do. He’s done a lot for you over the last semester, made it at least somewhat bearable, but… This shouldn’t have happened.

Hopefully, it quelled his curiosity, though.

“I told you it would just make you feel shitty,” he mumbles, but he doesn’t look sad. Sympathetic more than anything, resigned that he’s probably going to have to pick up the pieces of another mess.

“Yeah,” you drawl. “You were right.” Your joints pop as you stand, towering over Erwin for once and leaking his fucking cum as you hop off the bed.

“It’s been known to happen from time to time,” he jokes absentmindedly, wiping a few drops of white off his stomach then reaching for the tissues on the nightstand.

You don’t feel awkward or out of place, but you have no idea what else to say. The only thing that comes to mind is, “I’m gonna take a shower,” as you walk toward the bathroom.

Erwin moves on the bed, stretching a little before grabbing his pants and leaving you to your devices, but you pause before stepping onto the tile, turn back and pace over to him.

“Hey,” you start, and Erwin glances up from the button of his khakis. “Thanks.”

He rolls his eyes, a small smile playing at his lips, and once he’s all zipped and buttoned up, he pulls you into a hug.

“I would say any time, but we probably shouldn’t do this again.”

“Yeah, probably not.”

You breathe into the space under his collarbone, humming as he gently scratches you back, then break away. “Alright, actually gonna shower now.”

Erwin nods, “You do that,” then slaps your ass as soon as you turn around.

You look at him over your shoulder with raised eyebrows, but he just winks and tells you, “I had to. Just once,” which is fair.

You run a hot shower, scrub the shit out of your skin, lather your hair with some fancy shampoo then rinse it off. Once you go through your full routine, you’re happy to change into pajamas and slip into the comfortable bed. You don’t even mind that the comforter is a little damp in various places.

* You don’t stir when the door opens and closes, but you do when the mattress dips. Shifting slightly, you assume it’s just Erwin, falling back into your usual routine by slipping under the covers with you.

As soon as he lays behind you, though, you know it isn’t Erwin. You recognize that weight, that warmth, that smell, and you are very awake very quickly.

“M-Mike?”

All he offers is a little, “Mm,” to confirm.

You chew on the inside of your cheek, confused and clueless as to what you’re supposed to do.

“Are you drunk again?”

“No. Little buzzed.”

Why is he here, then? You want to ask—What is he doing? Why isn’t he with Rhi?

You start to turn to face him but you're stopped when Mike sets a hand on your back. It's oddly firm, keeping you in place as he grunts, "No, don't."

"What?"

"Don't turn around." His voice is hushed and choppy, like he's gritting out every syllable.

"Mike?"

"I have shit I wanna say to you, and I won't be able to if you're lookin' at me."

You have no idea how to respond to that, don't know if this is going to be a positive one-sided conversation where Mike confesses deep feelings while actually sober, or if he'll just unload all the baggage you've given him. Either way, you wish you could see his face. Something about having him laying behind you, close enough to feel his body heat, has you feeling very uneasy.

But, you nod, "Okay," trying to put on a brave face that he refuses to look at.

For a while, he just breathes. You assume it’s because he’s gathering his thoughts or maybe working up the courage to say something, but the suspense is making you shiver under your blankets. You have that terrible feeling in the pit of your stomach, the mix of anticipation and regret you get on the way up to the first drop of a rollercoaster.

“Why have you been lying to me?”

And, there’s that drop.

You swallow. “I haven’t been.”

“Bullshit.”

“Mike, I haven’t been!” You try to turn again, but his large hand is still right in the middle of your back.

“Do you think I’m fucking stupid?” His fingers close around the material of your shirt. You feel it tighten at your chest, making it hard to breathe—harder to breathe. “How are you gonna tell me that right after sleeping with him?”

You open your mouth to argue, realize you can’t make a case for yourself, and when you snap your jaw shut again, the sound of your teeth clacking seems to echo in your head.

Yesterday, you would have been able to talk to him about this and be honest when telling him you weren’t fucking his best friend. Now, though…

God, that had been such a bad decision. Why hadn’t you just listened to Erwin? Why can’t you fucking listen to anyone?

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Mike mutters. His grip loosens, but you can still feel a light tug at your shirt, the movement of fingers, and you think he might be rubbing over the material he’s still holding. “Pretty sure all of us could hear you guys goin’ at it, so… Thanks for that.”

You take a deep breath in, squeezing your eyes shut because it sinks in that this is not going to be nice conversation. This isn’t going to result in the two of you apologizing and making love confessions to each other.

“I… I’m sorry.”

Now, you’re grateful for not being able to see his face. You wouldn’t be able to stand looking at him right now, not when you know his expression will be grim—probably angry.

“I can’t really do anything with sorry,” Mike sighs. His hand drops from your back, but you make no move to turn over.

Your heart is like a hummingbird’s, beating frantically in your chest as that ache rises inside of you again, making your throat constrict and your eyes burn.

“Why’d you invite Rhi tonight?” You ask, hoping your sniffle isn’t too noticeable.

“Why does it matter?”

You suppose it doesn’t, but you still want to know, “Is it to get back at me, or is it because you’re actually into her?”

Mike scoffs. “Not that it’s any of your business, but do you think I’d be in your room at three in the fucking morning if I was into her?”

It’s probably the closest he’ll get to admitting it, but it’s all you need to hear. He’s been going out of his way to hurt you. At least any pain you’ve caused him wasn’t intentional. Until tonight, that is, and even then, you didn’t fuck Erwin to hurt him; you did it to help yourself.

Pressing your tongue to the roof of your mouth, you hold back tears and mumble a thick, “Just wanted to know.”

“Want to make sure I’m still interested? That I’ll keep waiting for you to fucking realize—”

“I have—” You turn over roughly, pinning Mike’s hand under your ribs as you glare at him, but he manages to put more distance between the two of you when he yanks his arm back and sits up.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he tells you, and you think you hear his voice waver for a second.

The orange light pouring in from the bathroom is the only way you can tell his eyes are wide—worried—and it chills all the blood in your body.

“Wh-what d’you mean?”

“I mean, I can’t fucking do this anymore,” he repeats a little louder, drawing it out like it’ll help you understand. “I cannot deal with you anymore. I can’t keep feeling this way, okay?”

“Mike…”

“No,” he stops you, acts like he has something else lined up but bites his tongue and sighs. He sits cross-legged on the bed now, hangs his head as he speaks calmly, “This semester has fucking sucked. I am angry all the time. I can’t focus in class, and I can’t play lacrosse without getting in trouble, and I can’t fuck anyone else without feeling bad—I can’t fucking do anything without thinking of you, and I’m—” he looks at the wall and shakes his head. “I’m exhausted.”

“I am too,” you tell him, voice cracking as that lump in your throat grows and bubbles, pushing hot tears from your eyes that you quickly wipe away. “Mike, I am too, so can we just—”

“No,” he cuts you off again. “Whatever it is you’re about to say—move on, pretend it didn’t happen, pick up where we left off, whatever… the answer is no.”

He seems like he already has his mind made up, came into the room with a plan, and he isn’t gonna let you talk him out of it.

So, you stay as silent as you can, sniffing and swallowing and letting the comforter catch every teardrop.

“I have been… Right in front of you this whole time. I made myself completely available for a year—was at your beck and fucking call. I was—I mean—I was good to you, right?” He sounds incredulous, like he can barely believe he’s asking.

“Yeah,” you manage. “Yeah, you were.”

“Then, why…? Zeke? And, now Erwin?”

“Do you want me to try to explain, or do you just wanna rant for a while?”

Mike glances at you, looks surprised that you’d give him the option.

“Honestly, I don’t really wanna hear it. You’ve more than proved your point.”

Indignation swirls in your stomach alongside your nausea, and you press, “My point being?”

“That I’m not good enough.”

Oh, god. No, no, no. You could understand him being angry. You’re okay with him being angry, it’s fine. But, this—this feeling of inferiority? That is so much worse. It makes you sick. This is the last thing you’d ever want Mike to feel. It’s the last thing he should feel because it’s false. He has no reason—he’s too good and too kind and too warm. He’s like… He’s fucking sunshine. He can light up a room, and he doesn’t even know it.

“Mike, n-no,” your voice breaks, making you sound like a wounded animal. “You are so, so good. You are more than enough, I promise.”

He snorts in a self-deprecating manner. “Then, why—”

“Because I’m not good enough. I fucked this up. This is my fault, and I can own that as long as you know that there is absolutely no—nothing wrong with you,” the last part comes out as a squeak as you try not to hyperventilate and cry the way your body is urging you to. Not yet.

Mike nods a few times. You can see his mouth moving from the side like he’s biting his lip or sucking his teeth until he agrees, “Yeah,” then adds a quiet, “Whatever you say, babe,” that makes you want to throw up.

Mike scoots to the edge of the bed and stands. You assume he’s about to leave, let you be alone with your thoughts, so when he rounds the corner to get to your side, you sit up a little straighter.

Half of his face is illuminated, casting shadows under his eyes, highlighting the bruise on his neck that Rhi probably left, but your gaze is trained on his as he leans down to you. A finger hooks under your chin, and Mike tilts your face at an angle, kissing you so softly that it’s painful.

His lips are warm and familiar, everything you’ve been craving as they cover yours. There’s no tongue, no force, just light pressure as he inhales through his nose.

You know what this is, what he’s doing, but you can’t prepare yourself because there’s still that tiny string of hope you’re grappling for. He just needs a break. You just need to give him space. That’s all—

“I love you,” Mike murmurs. His voice is low and honest and slices you open. “I love you so fucking much it hurts, and I just—” He brushes a thumb over your lower lip as he pulls away, and it takes everything in you not to grab his hand and beg him to stay. “It’s like I hate you too.”

You pull away to wipe your face with the blanket. There’s so much you want to say but have no idea how to articulate it, so all you can do is stare at Mike with wide, watery eyes. He… hates you. He hates you.

Straightening, Mike’s expression is suddenly nonchalant, like he just flipped a switch in his brain. “I’m not exactly the social butterfly I used to be, but I wanna have fun my last semester of undergrad—make up for the time I lost fucking brooding over you, so—”

“I’ll stop going to the Pike house,” you tell him quietly. It’s easier to make the decision yourself rather than have to hear it from his mouth: Don’t come around anymore. I don’t want to see you.

“Cool. And, if you, like, see me on campus or anything—”

You cough, maybe gag, you can’t really tell at this point because wow, this just keeps getting worse.

“I won’t bother you.”

“Cool.” He bends to press another much more patronizing kiss to the crown of your head, then starts walking toward the door. “I’m just gonna try to move on, you know? Start fresh. And, you should do the same. Shouldn’t be too hard for you.”

You don’t watch him leave, just listen for the door to click shut behind him before you crawl out of bed, turn the lights on, and start packing your things.

You and Hitch drove together, but you have no doubt that she'll be able to get a ride with Nile, and with that thought, you’re out of the ranch house and on the road just as the first rays of the morning sun start shining over the horizon.

It’s surprisingly easy for Mike to slip back into his old, obnoxious persona, and the remainder of the school year is spent partying, fucking, and cramming for tests he should have studied for weeks in advance.

But, life is short, and he’s done beating himself up over stupid shit.

Most of his PKA brothers are happy to have him “back”, and the pledges get the chance to see this of him, but there are times when Mike catches Erwin or Nile shaking their heads at him. He doesn’t mind much. They can both go fuck themselves for all he cares.

True to your word, you don’t show your face around the house. There were a few weeks after the holiday get-together where Erwin would disappear for a few hours at a time and come back either tired or angry, sometimes a combination of the two.

He attempted to bring you up in a conversation a total of one time, right in the middle of a party where Mike had been eyeing up a sorority girl. He brushed his friend off, easily telling Erwin, “Don’t fuckin’ talk to me about her,” through the crooked grin he was flashing at the little blond across the room.

Erwin didn’t bother after that, obviously deeming Mike a lost cause.

Mike knows better, though. He isn’t lost anymore. In fact, he’s found himself all over again.

Every once in a while, he’ll catch a glimpse of you on campus, but whenever that happens, he just turns around and takes a different route to wherever he’s going. He doesn’t want to give you any reason to think you can talk to him—doesn’t want to give you the chance.

He’s spent too much of his time hung up on you, too much time pining and hurting, and that hasn’t disappeared entirely. Mike can still clearly remember the way you looked at him the last night the two of you spoke, the way your tears twinkled in the dim light. He remembers how strangled you sounded while speaking, remembers the way your shoulders shook as you fought your emotions, remembers the way your lips trembled against his.

It wasn’t very satisfying. Mike left the ranch house the following morning sporting a few bruises on the outside thanks to Rhi as well as a few bruises on the inside thanks to you.

That entire night had been a clusterfuck—between Maddie and Marie storming off to cry then the little stunt he pulled by inviting Rhi, it had been much too dramatic for a gathering of that size. Mike experienced a wide variety of emotions that night, but the one that stands out the most is the searing rage that threatened to burn him from the inside, the red the clouded his vision as soon as he heard you moan Erwin’s name through the wall.

Mike had already been toying with the idea of severing all ties with you, but that’s what pushed him over the edge, watching you put on your little show when Rhi walked in only to turn around and have a grand fucking time with his best friend.

It needed to happen. Mike needed to free himself of you. It feels good. Mostly. There are still some days he comes close to giving in, just picking up his phone and calling you, but he resists, and he’s better for it.

He gets through his classes, does well on his finals after actually putting in the time to prepare for them, and by the time Mike graduates, he’s already been accepted to the graduate program of his choice and has an internship lined up. The tension between him and Erwin has faded for the most part, which is great since he’s going to grad school in the same area up north. Things look… promising—something he didn’t think possible without you by his side, something he didn’t want to be possible without you by his side.

But, now, here he is, unpacking his new apartment with the help of Scout who insists on sniffing absolutely everything. He’s halfway across the country from his parents, away from all he’s ever known, and Mike couldn’t be more thrilled about it.

He can go full days without sparing you a thought now, and he hopes—he prays—that one day he’ll think of you for the last time in his life.

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#mike zacharias x reader #miche zacharias x reader #aot x reader #aot fanfic

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ageofevermore · 3 years

Text

Eighteen | T. Holland

Summary → you’re tired of feeling like the world silences you, but after an interview with sebastian and anthony, you start to wonder if maybe it’s your fault.

Warning(s) → mentions of anxiety, mentions of sexual harassment, mentions of inequality in gender roles, use of the word slut, fluff if you squint

Word Count → 1.9k

Note → this is a heavier topic, one that might be personal to some. if you don’t think you can handle the subject matter, please don’t force yourself to. this is relatively watered down, but it doesn’t take a genius to see what’s not being said. the ending features boyfriend!tom consoling the reader, so it does end on a fluffy note, but don’t hold out for those few ending paragraphs.

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It’s getting hotter in the interviews. A thin layer of sweat sparkles on your skin, and even though the air conditioning has been turned down multiple times, there are too many people in the room to feel any drastic differences. It’s unfortunate for you. Hot flashes are a lovely addition to your anxiety disorder, and press always sets your nerves ablaze. It doesn't matter what project you’re promoting, who you're partnered with, or what you're wearing-- you’re always hot.

Your cheeks are flushed dangerously when the last interview before lunch is called for yourself, Sebastian, and Anthony. This is your first press tour as an adult. You joined the marvel franchise years ago, when being eighteen felt like the equivalent of turning thirty, and you weren’t blind to the changes of tone. People were harsher to you, more forward. If they weren’t shutting you up, they were hinting at something less then appropriate, usually something sexual.

The next interview started with a short introduction to the media outlet, and your interviewer. He was middle aged, kind smile, salt and pepper hair. He asked for your names, then he told you his, and one by one he shook your hands. His grip on you was criminal, lasting longer than was comfortable. Sebastian and Anthony we’re oblivious to the few extra seconds of contact between you and him, but it made your skin crawl in a familiar discomfort.

Your fingers curled into fists, heart high in your throat. The questions started out easy. They were mostly directed towards the boys, like always, but this time you couldn’t find yourself to be annoyed. You had dealt with handsy and sexually charged men before, but he set a fire beneath you. It wasn’t behavior you should tolerate, but being a woman in the industry, inappropriate touches and glances we’re easier ignored then dealt with. When you spoke up you caused drama, made headlines, attracted nasty social media comments that called you a whore. It was easier to just internalize.

“Y/N.”

You hummed, looking towards the call of your name. He was smiling sweetly at you again, a predatory glint in his eyes that put you on edge. You shifted your weight closer to Anothony unconsciously giving the hungry man your professional attention and a nod.

He shuffles through his index cards, but his eyes don’t read the scripted questions his employers have supplied him with. It’s not often male interviews do their own research, usually they’re briefed by a colleague and handed a set of questions and topic point by a higher level employee, but this man doesn’t even read the card before he’s staring you down and opening his mouth.

“You finally got the Stark suit update,” He says, motioning towards the promo poster that shows off your CGI suit in all of its edited glory. Although the actual costume is breathtaking, the computer effects give it an entirely different, more technologically charged, feel.

“Yeah,” You nod, a forced smile on your lips as you try to ease the uncomfortable tension from your tone. “She’s finally--”

He cuts you off before you can give him any explanation for the upgrade. He isn’t the first one to address your new wardrobe, but he’s the first one to leave you antsy and uncomfortable. Sebastian frowns when you’re cut off, but he doesn’t think much of it. He lets the man continue, though a professional sharpness pulls his grin into a scowl.

“Were you able to wear undergarments underneath it? It’s tight, doesn’t leave much to the imagination. Was there ever a moment where you reflected how much your wardrobe has changed through the years?” He asks, a dirty grin on his lips.

Sebastian and Anthony are shocked at the blunt, inappropriate construction of his question. The public eye knew nothing of your battles with body image, or health concerns that lead to surgery. Your mind was plagued with doubts and self-criticism, and his invasive, pervy question both infuriated you and broke you apart.

You stutter to find an answer, heat overwhelming you. Your hand grips onto Anthony’s arm, and you can’t decide whether anger is what burns your skin or anxiety. Are you making a big deal of this? You don’t know. You feel like you have every right to feel violated and uncomfortable, but you’re a young woman in the entertainment industry, isn’t this the kind of ignorant commentary you signed up for? You don’t know anymore. You grew up with people always having an opinion on your appearance, sexualizing you as early as twelve. You’ve carried around pepper spray and self-defense keychains long before you even had an understanding towards predatory men and sexual assault. You’ve been conditioned by the world and the media to carry on with your day, no matter the broken boundaries or disrespect. You’re tired of remaining silent, feeling like your less than your male counterparts. Women and men should hold no differing values in society, and yet you walk to your apartment with keys between your fingers and Tom doesn’t even lock his front door.

“I don’t think that’s an appropriate question.” You choke out, voice hard and nowhere near the soft and frilly pitch it usually obtains. You’re livid, absolutely pissed to the point of a quivering cupids bow. You’re humiliated, and horrified. Your feelings are everywhere, but you remain as professional as you can. If you yell, try to defend yourself at all, you’ll be painted as a diva in every media outlet for the next week, subliminally inviting backlash and slut-shaming comments into your social media messages. If Sebastian and Anthony come to your defense, they’ll be sung high-praises.

The double standards men and women are held to, especially in the industry, is infuriating.

He stumbles out a response, but his time is already up. For the first time today, you’re thankful these interviews are only ten minutes. He leaves the room, shown out by security, and even then he still sends you a wink over his shoulder as if your glimmering eyes meant nothing.

“Hey,” Sebastian's voice is soft, his hand on the small of your back. You flinch away from his contact, head heavy in memories you’d rather forget.

“Sorry,” You mumble, voice trembling with tears that you refuse to let fall. You’ve already been humiliated, you don’t need to further paint yourself as some helpless teenage girl. “I’m sorry. I’m going to go find Tom.”

Anthony and Sebastian nod tightly. They watch as you quiver in your heels, hands clenched into fists at your sides. They’re proud of the way you handled yourself, though still absolutely enraged that any adult would find it appropriate to address you like that, especially in a professional setting.

You stumble into the dressing rooms, right into your boyfriend's chest. Your mind is racing, but the minute you attach yourself to him, you break down. Shy sobs break Tom’s heart. He holds the back of your head to his chest, other hand on the small of your back and wrapped around your waist as you cry. You’re trying to stay quiet, but the attention is already on you. Chris and Robert are worried, and Zoe’s trying to act like she hasn’t noticed, but they don’t all watch as you try to console yourself with your boyfriend's warmth.

“What happened?” Tom’s voice is soft, trying to keep this a private moment. He tries to move the both of you back into a corner, but you panic and squeeze around his waist tighter. “Baby,”

You and Tom have been dating for six months, and although you’ve shared with him stories of your traumatic experiences as a woman living in LA, he’s never seen anything upset you like this.

“I’m such a slut.” Your words come out so shy and small, you aren’t even sure you can hear yourself. No matter how many times you tell yourself that your makeup and clothes don’t give men permission to make passes or feel you up, it’s getting harder to believe that your verbal consent is as strong as your clothes. Maybe you are asking for it, and in a wave of nausea, disgusted with yourself, your arms leave Tom’s waist to pull at the bottom of your borrowed dress.

You’ve been hit on in sweats before. In ball gowns and crop tops. Somebody’s even pushed themselves against you while you wore Tom’s hoodie, but you still convince yourself that it’s your fault. That you we’re asking for it.

Tom’s jaw sets harshly into place, and he tilts your chin upwards to meet his eye. His brown stare is hard, only adding to your distress. Maybe he agrees. Maybe he’ll blame you for what just happened. He’s probably going to break up with you. Other guys just can’t keep their hands and eyes off of you. He doesn’t want a slut for a girlfriend.

“What the fuck did you just say, Y/N?” His tone causes you to flinch, words bouncing off of the dressing room walls. Everyone flinches, hearing only his heavy response. You try to divert your attention, but Tom squeezes your jaw, forcing your eyes back on his. “Say it again.”

“I’m such a slut.” You sniffle, submitting beneath his fiery glare. Tensions are high as you try not to break down again. Apart from Tom, everyone in the room has watched you grow up, never losing that shy and sweet sense of yourself. You’re an exuberant light, a brilliant scene partner, a rising star who has big things in store for the future. You are many things, but a slut, isn’t one of them.

Tom looks behind you, glaring straight at Anthony and Sebastion who are both stone eyed and still. They’ve not calmed down any since leaving the production room, instead, it seems their anger has only risen. The sight of you so distraught churns their stomachs.

“Some asshole tried to make a pass.” Sebastion said in short, words angry and delivered as such.

Tom’s breath hitched, his arms tightening around you and pulling you closer to his chest. His chin digs into your crown, eyes pinches shut as his hot exhale feels heavy.

“You aren’t a slut, Y/N.” He doesn’t leave any room for argument, but you try anyways. Tom has no patience for it, and so he tilts your head back and plants his lips against yours harshly and eagerly, desperate to show you love and intimacy. “You. Aren’t. A. Slut.”

You nod, ducking your head back down into his chest as you try to believe him-- try to remember that you never asked for hands around your waist, or cupping your boobs. Wolf whistles, or handshakes that turn into forced frontal hugs. You didn’t ask for any of the harassment, no matter the outfits you wore and what they revealed.

Tom lowers his voice, whispers melting into your hair, “This isn’t your fault, baby. Please believe me. None of this, is your fault. It’s disgusting and inappropriate, and you don’t deserve to deal with any of it.”

You sniffle. You can’t tell him you believe him, not yet. Not when your heart is so heavy. Maybe one day you’ll believe him, but that’s just not now.

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@deionswannabegirl @killingbxys @mauvesdior @mischiefandi @dmonchld @waddlenut @tanakaslastbraincell @hollandsxheart @quacksonhehe @tothemoonandbackx3000 @stiles-o-dylan24 @tikapollak @tomthetease @spookybooisa @geminiparkers @teen--marvel @rogersparkerbarnes @sarcasticallywitty15

#tom holland #tom holland fic #tom holland x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan fic #anthony mackie #anthony mackie x reader #sebastian stan x reader #anthony mackie fic #tom holland angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland x actress!reader #chris evans #robert downey jr

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jayankles · 3 years

Text

The Culmination: Endgame

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader

Word Count: 2362

Summary: Y/N doesn’t feel so good and it’s not like her to not answer the phone to Sebastian. He was right to send over Josie, Y/N’s friend, over to find out what’s wrong.

Warnings: Angst, Implied Smut, Fluff

Written for: @anyfandomangstbingo | @anyfandomfluffbingo | @anyfandomgoesbingo

Squares Filled: Sick fic | first time | “I really don’t like doing this over the phone”

A/N - Blake Lively is not a representation of the reader; it’s just for the dress. And the other beautiful woman is exactly who I pictured for Josie.

Feedback is gold and appreciated

Of course, you were sick today. The day that Sebastian had told you that he was to take a day at the gym then spend it with Don. You knew that when you woke up this morning it wasn’t going to be a good day, the cold sheets a little foreshadowing of how your day would have gone. The little guttural feeling you had punching you in the gut right now, it had you on the floor, bent over the toilet seat with your head in the bowl.

You felt awful. Unable to move, unless it was your throat spasming. Definitely the worst day so far, you couldn’t move and when you finally were able to move at all you felt like a robot. Not a good look.

You decided that it was time to head back to bed, none of your food would stay down so you made yourself a bottle of water and stumbled into bed with a bucket in your hand, ready to put the bucket on the floor beside your bed.

Pulling at the covers, you curled up under them and took a swig of your drink. Tears rolled down your face as you felt the pain grow stronger, you rubbed your stomach in hopes it would make you feel better; it didn’t.

All you could do was pray that you would fall asleep to not feel this pain anymore. Sleep evaded you. The pain is all there is that you feel. You threw up another three times before you finally succumbed to the pleasures of sleep. Rattling of keys had been the object that had drawn you out of your few moments of slumber. You didn’t dare move though, there was no point, you couldn’t move anyway.

“Y/N! Y/N, where are you?” It took you a minute to realise that it was your friend, Josie, shouting your name in hopes of finding you. “Y/N, Whe- There you are. What are you still doing in bed? Oh...”

She looked as if she sighed out a breath of relief before she retracted, covering her mouth and nose with her hand. Inhaling the stench of the room, she quickly ran out of there, returning with air freshener, spraying it around you to make her feel better.

“You need a bath, babe. Stay here and I’ll run you one. Of course you’re going to stay here, you poor thing.” Josie rambled, you stopped her before she could go on for another hour.

“Jo, pour some lavender in there. Love you.”

Freshly out of the bath after thirty minutes, you were wrapped up in Sebastian’s bathrobe, a reminder that he was home as it still smelt like him. “I hate feeling like this. It sucks. But I feel better already.”

Josie softly smiled at you, pity in her eyes. “Must have been that nap you took but I know it sucks. Could you imagine Seb with this kinda illness, though? It would be 100% worse just because it’s man flu.”

“Thank you for being here.” You said, taking a seat on the couch. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“Seb called, said he tried texting and video chatting you but you wouldn’t pick up. I guess he was right to have me come over and check on you.”

“He’s such a cutie.” You groaned as you walked, the bath only slightly relieving some of the pain.

“I know. It makes me wanna barf… not like you, though. That shit is nasty, no, thank you, ma’am.” She tutted through a pinched nose, reminding of just how gross you felt and smelt not even a mere hour ago.

“You’re a pleasure as always, Jo. Always so kind to me, when I feel like shit. Thank you.”

She shrugged knowingly, a smirk on her face as she reached forward for the remote, finding a music channel and turning it down a little so it faded into the background becoming nothing but white noise. “So do you know what brought this on? Eat some bad food?”

“I don’t think so, otherwise Seb would feel the same way right?”

“Well you aren’t pooping as well as being sick so this isn’t a viral or bacterial thing. You’re not burning up? No severe migraines?” She asked and you only had one answer.

“Nope. And no, my appendix hasn’t burst because I’ve already had it out.” You said, becoming tired again as you let out a yawn.

“Well, I think I might need to slip out for a little bit.”

“Why? Where are you going? I thought you were going to take care of me?”

“I am. I’m just gonna head to the store and grab you some stuff to make tomato soup. I’ll be twenty minutes tops.” Josie was true to her word, never taking more than the twenty minutes she promised. Putting the bag of groceries on the counter, Josie pulls out the contents, revealing the ingredients she offered to get for you but you could tell that there was something else in the bag.

“What’s in there?”

Josie was fidgety, her fingers twiddling together. “I need you to keep an open mind because I think I know why you’re grossly throwing up.”

“Hit me. I wanna know how I can feel better right now.”

“It’s a good thing that you’re sitting down because…” She paused, making a face that she knew you weren’t going to like. “Because I think you’re pregnant.” her face unchanging as she pulled out the pregnancy test.

Then it hit you.

No.No.No. Fuck!

Hands dancing.

Tongues twining.

Passion blooming.

It was everything you could have asked for when he was away but now that Sebastian was back, you couldn’t keep your hands off of him. You covered every area of the apartment possible.

Oh crap.

“Fuck!”

“Yes you did.” Josie laughed at her own joke, the reaction not quite the same on your end.

“Oh god, Sebastian is going to kill me. He’s never going to want to talk to me. Why was I so stupid? Oh, I’m never gonna hear from him again. I’ll be kicked out. I’ll be a single mother. I’m gonna have to live with you and if I have this baby, you’re gonna hate me, then you’re gonna kick me out too. ”

Josie scoffed at you, helping you scurf back your hair away from your face, making you look into her wide eyes. “First of all, chill. I gotchu, you know I gotchu forever. Sebastian isn’t like that, but if he is you will never see him again and that is a promise and maybe a little bit of a threat. He’ll deserve it if he hurts you so. Just be my alibi if anything ever happens. Just go take the test. Negative? You’re just sick. Positive? You call Sebastian and you talk to him like an adult.”

“Why are you always right? Don’t you ever get sick of it?” You huffed before you smiled at her, squeezing at her hand after taking the small handful of the pregnancy test boxes back to the bathroom.

Five minutes passed and you were holding the peed on sticks in your hand, four out of five of them being positive. “I think I need to call Sebastian, and a doctor.”

After making an appointment with the doctor, you took a deep breath and pressed the button to call Sebastian. He picks up the call pretty quickly and you are not surprised.

“Y/N! Finally! Are you okay? What happened?”

“Hey bubba. I’m fine, just a little sickness. But I really don’t like doing this over the phone. When are you coming home. We need to talk.”

Two months later.

It was the night of the premiere of Avengers: Endgame and you couldn’t be more thrilled for the success that the Marvel Franchise had. It was 10 years of absolute lovable craziness. Thank you, Stan Lee.

You had no idea that you would be here on the aptly coloured, purple carpet with Sebastian after all you would have thought that you would still be with him after the whole pregnancy fiasco but the two of you were able to talk things through. Things were thrown, voices were raised, and tears were shed but still after all of that, Sebastian made the executive decision to calm the two of you down. The stress was no good for anyone at this point. You were both going to be parents; it’s what was established.

The two of you walked hand in hand, palms sweating as the cameras flashed, and photographers called out to each and every star that was involved in the production of Endgame. The culmination of the whole franchise was just so surreal, the fact that it was ending with a bang both made you swell with pride but it also made you a tad emotional because this collection of amazing characters wouldn’t continue but the legacy they left would. And that was what mattered.

“Sebastian! Y/N! Over here!” You heard from one of the interviewers, looking beautiful in her outfit, Sebastian rubbed his thumb across your knuckles, you were going to be okay. He was right there with you and you had done this a few times before. He was there for you.

“Hi.” “Hello. You and Sebastian answered at the same time, making the interviewer laugh.

“Wait, I remember you. I bought you a soup in a thermos and Tom gave you his jacket. I see we got lucky with good weather today, huh?” You said, smiling at her.

“Yes. You remember me?!” The woman turned to the camera looking right into the lens of it. “Guys, I’m fangirling so hard right now. Ah!”

Once the woman got her fangirling out of the way, she moved onto the interview, trying to get any information that she could before the movie premiered. Sebastian took over that one, telling her that there was no way that they were allowed to say anything about the movie other than he was dust.

“Now we’ve got that movie non gossip out of the way. Are you okay to talk freely about your pregnancy?”

You looked to Sebastian, it was his decision just as much as it was yours, you knew that Sebastian wanted to keep his private life separate from his professional acting career. “It’s okay, honey. Go ahead.”

“I think you’re good to go.”

“Thank you. I must say that you do look stunning in that dress.” She gushed, you thanked her, hiding your face a little. You loved this dress, the nude under layer and the little white and purple flowers that scattered across your dress, your bump barely visible through your dress.

“How far along are you?”

“Well, we’re in the first week of the second trimester. So I’m a little more confident when telling you that.”

“That’s amazing. Was the pregnancy planned at all?”

You made a face, sucking in a little air, looking to Sebastian for a little light to be shed on the situation. “Not at all. It was Y/N’s friend that actually realised that her morning sickness wasn’t her having the flu. She felt absolutely awful that morning, it was enough to know that it was bad when I tried to call her and I didn’t get an answer.

“We had our issues, you know, we didn’t know what to do, we're new at this. But I think that it’s important to know that you don’t abandon your family.” Sebastian softly smiled at you, subconsciously putting a hand on your slowly growing stomach. “I guess that is what this franchise is about though, right? It’s about family and- and looking out for one another. Everybody’s got a somebody here and I love that.”

“And Thanos, fucks it all up and snaps his goddamn fingers.” The three of you and the cameraman began to laugh at your little outburst about the mad, purple titan. “God, I can’t wait for the premiere tonight but I’m scared. For everybody. But especially for me, you know, I’m an emotional person anyway, add a hormonal woman to the mix and a whole lot of angst. Get my ice cream and tissues ready, because I’m coming for you, Thanos.”

“I heard that!”

“Love you, Josh. For the record, Josh is a nice guy, the character he plays is a big old sack of balls and I have no idea how he does it so convincingly.” Lovingly, you made eyes at Seb. “But it’s just like my Sebastian, a dark hydra assassin but in reality he’s a big ball of sunshine and goofiness. And I love him for it.”

“This is- this is what gets me.” The interviewer leaned in a little as Sebastian’s voice dropped to a slight whisper. “I know that she is going to be the best mom for our child because Y/N loves everything and everyone and that is a great quality to have but she’s also caring and matches my goofy side but her sass outweighs mine of course, no one can beat that.”

“Aww, he’s making me cry already. Seb,” you whined. “My makeup.”

“Well that's it folks.” The woman spoke, telling the audience that this was one of the cutest interviews that she had ever taken, that she could die happy and quickly saying congratulations before the two of you were whisked away to walk the carpet again and pose for pictures.

“You’re way too good to me, you know that right?” You said to Seb as you admired the sky blue suit he was wearing over his plain white tee. “I never even got to tell them that this baby will have the hottest dad in the world as well as the sweetest man. Thank you for being my baby daddy.”

Unbeknownst to you, the cameras had caught every single moment the two of you shared. The kisses you shared together, were now shared with the world, all over social media. At this point you didn’t care, you only cared about the man in front of you and the baby growing in your stomach. And this god damn movie!

Feedback is gold and appreciated

#anyfandomgoesbingo #anyfandomangstbingo #anyfandomfluffbingo #sebastian x reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan angst #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan x pregnant!reader #sebastian x pregnant!reader #mcu fic #rpf fic #sebastian stan fic #sebastian x reader fluff #queue you!#jayankles #jayankles writes #bailey writes

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queen0fm0nsterz · 3 years

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It seems the "legacy" that Six and Mono has do needs each other so they can bonded together just so they'll get the right mindset for them to grow into monstrous adults given Mono becomes the Thin Man after he's betrayed by Six and Six gradually becomes worst with her hunger to where she eats up the Lady after she gets hurt by Mono destroying her trust

Yes, and it saddens me to literally no end.

We get to witness how their friendship grows only to see it ripped apart. Both parties suffering the consequences of their actions.

For some reason this ask got me to think, so... Here's a bunch of mini theories I have about The Square (Thin Man, Lady, Mono and Six) that I wanted to share with you guys but never had the chance to. Be sad with me or else.

1) Pacific Thin Man.

The Thin Man wasn't actively trying to kill either Mono nor Six. He only wanted to separate them, which is why he chased Mono away. I think this is almost universally agreed on.

2) The Thin Man wasn't trying to get to Mono at all and only used him to leave. He wanted Six from the beginning.

I actually think the Thin Man was doing what he's always done, even back when he was still Mono: taking his friend back at all costs and keeping her by his side so that he could protect her. Would explain why he only starts running after Mono when he tries to free her from the TV.

I mean, he had plenty of other occasions to get a hold of Mono. My boy literally travels through the TVs a bunch of times before getting here, but the Thin Man only shows up when Mono is actively trying to take Six away.

All three times we see him in person are related to Six.

First time: he takes her.

Second time: Mono tries to take her back so he steps in to stop him.

Third and last time: The Thin Man is the only thing standing between Mono and the Signal Tower, in which Six is trapped.

This would also explain the Thin Man's official description. Let's give it a read:

"As the ever-present hum of The Transmission chokes the airwaves, The Thin Man continues his endless journey through this desolate place, haunting the shadows, searching for something. "

The something would of course be his old friend. Although, he may be mistaken without even realizing it, which brings me to my next theories ...

3) Mono is the only one stuck in a loop.

This is mostly based to the meaning behind his name, especially compared to Six's.

We all know that his name means single, one, only, alone. Many people made the connection with the word "monophobia", a.k.a the fear of being alone, and that's an incredibly valid and fitting connection, but I think it may have an addictional hidden meaning just below the surface.

Because, let's be honest. If they wanted to keep the number theme, why not name him "One" instead?

Mono is a... very unique child. He's the only one capable of controlling the transmission, which is why the Eye keeps him around: to use that power as it pleases. I wouldn't be surprised if it messed with the timeline so that Mono was reborn again and again and again.

The number 6 written on the door could symbolize the fact that this Mono we're seeing is the sixth one.

I tried to check for a 7 on Mono's door at the end of the game, but couldn't see anything.

OOOOR, it could be referring to the Ladies of the Maw, which leads me to...

4) Six and the current Lady are NOT the same person...

The main reasons why I believe this is something that everyone seems to forget.

Guys. THEIR COMFORT SONGS ARE COMPLETELY DIFFERENT.

"And what does that mean?" EVERYTHING MY GUY. LITERALLY EVERYTHING. In a series where characters don't speak, it's up to the visuals and music to tell us the story - which means their role is extremely important.

It seems strange to me that they would use two songs that are so drastically different in melody and pacing if the characters are supposed to be one and the same - especially considering just how personal the songs are to both. For example, when Mono becomes the Thin Man, the latter's theme is prominent in End of The Hall, but when Six eats the Lady it's her own theme song that prevails.

Fortunately, we get a clear listen to both music boxes in the games, so we can hopefully make a comparison.

Here's Six's music box and The Lady's.

5) ... But Six does grow up to become the next Lady.

This. Just, this entire thing.

You see, for the Maw to keep running, it needs a Lady to lure people in and turn children into Nomes. We can assume that it works in a similar fashion to the Signal Tower.

Which basically means that the two structures only function if there's an Host they can feed off from, otherwise they fall apart, just like the Tower did at the end of LN 2.

Let's put it this way: Six absorbing the Lady's powers is the same as Mono sitting on the chair. They sealed an invisible contract with the Eye from which they can't break free, destined to be it's slave until the next Mono and... a possible Seven take their place.

6) The Lady can't leave the Maw...

I already mentioned this in the previous one, but basically what I mean is: The Lady is the only Host of the Maw. If she leaves, the entire thing crashes down.

7) ... But she's been in the Pale City.

We've got proof of this because a lot of paintings and pictures on the Maw depict various sections of the Pale City and some of their citizens. Both the Hospital and the School get their time to shine in these, especially ones the Bullies (I think it's finally time for me to push my "Teacher & her students on the Maw" agenda) who can be seen around the Residence.

Admittedly, most of these paintings aren't placed in the Lady's quarters, so maybe they just belong to her employees who hang them around to decorate the place a bit like Roger did, BUUUT! There's a very particular set of paintings that can be found in her quarters.

Well well well, if it isn't our blob bestie 🙃

Based on what we know, the only location we find the Eye blob is the Signal Tower, so... I think it's pretty safe to assume that's where she saw it. Then again, when did she see it? Probably when she was a child, before the got on the Maw for the first time. Talking about the Maw...

8) How much time has Six been on the Maw?

This may be kind of an odd question, but I wanted to answer it because it has always bugged me. Me, the fool, trying to form a cohesive timeline in this extremely vague franchise... Sigh.

Anyway. First of all, let's give the Maw's official description a read:

" The Maw arrives every year. Always at the same time, but never in the same place, it creeps and crawls and buries its claws deep beneath the glistening water. And there it sits in vast silence. Waiting.

Soon after, they start to arrive. The guests. The monstrous, sweating, hungry guests. All seams bursting, bodies bulging, eyes dead with boredom. They shuffle up the gangway and into the mouth of The Maw. And then they are no more.

For none of those that enter have ever returned to tell the tale. At least, not yet... "

So the Maw comes up once a year, stays there for a while and then goes underwater once again. When the Ferryman takes an unwilling Six to the Maw by boat, implying that Maw has risen.

And the next time we see the outside world in in LN, when Six climbs her way up in that wonderful scene. We can see the guests coming in again, so we can assume it's been at least a year.

The thing about the comics that is really funny to me is that it implies that Six has been wandering around since when she first got on, meaning both Roger and the Chefs are already aware of her presence and are familiar with her. The thought of them being like "Oh no this kid again" when they meet her in the game is so funny I can't.

Also, Mono has been trapped in the tower for at least a year by now :)

9) Mono glitching?

I got to think about this while playing LN 2. You know when Mono starts absorbing the glitching remains? If you don't get too close that he "eats" them but manage to stay close enough, you'll see that Mono himself starts to glitch a bit.

Huh. Leaves room for thought.

Anyway, this is all I have for now.

MASTERPOST

#little nightmares #little nightmares 2 #ln meta #ln theory #little nightmares theory #ln 2 theory #mono #ln mono #six #ln six #the lady #ln the lady #the thin man #ln the thin man #little nightmares 2 theory

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speechlessxx · 4 years

Text

look at this godforsaken mess that you made me.

[Chris Evans x Reader]

Summary: After one night of truth, it became difficult to hide the emotions behind this illicit affair.

Warnings: implied age gap, angsty, actress!reader,(poorly written) smut but in flashbacks LOL

Word Count: ~ 3k

sorry this was lowkey ass. i wrote this in the hospital.

Buy me a Ko-Fi - donations are appreciated but not necessary

Laughter and chatter were almost as loud as whatever top 40 pop song was blaring throughout the speakers. You used to enjoy these get togethers, but this time was different. You dreaded it.

If it had been your choice, you would’ve immediately packed up and flew back to your hometown, but the heavy storm brewing in the skies cancelled all flights out of the city. You were stuck with your co-stars – the makeshift Marvel family that welcomed you with open arms. Though you loved them dearly, six months had been a long time. You longed for a break and you deserved it all the same. But truthfully, you craved the escape more.

You were among the youngest members of the cast – at the prime partying age, according to Mackie at least. Everyone found your eagerness to leave and sudden standoffish behavior completely uncharacteristic, but you always dismissed the accusation.

No one needed to know the truth.

You stared blankly at the wall, a glass of water in your hand as you fought to ignore the eyes that burned through the back of your skull. Looking up would be a mistake, but you were always good at making those.

Your fingernails dug into his shoulders. His muscles defined due to his preparation for the movie. You gasped when his teeth nipped at the delicate skin of your neck, legs locking around his waist as if to pull him closer.

His thrusts were slow and deep as you moaned. The sound echoed throughout the hotel room, making him tsk. A soft chuckle escaped him before his lips ghosted over yours. “Can’t let anyone hear, baby,” he whispered, and you whimpered in response. His voice was deep and husky – a consequence of the early morning. He groaned when he felt you clench around him. “You gonna cum?”

You nodded, too breathless to muster a coherent response. His thrusts became sharper, faster as he tried to push you over the edge. He unhooked your legs from his weight and pushed them over his shoulders before one hand wrapped around your neck, applying pressure slightly.

The loss of blood to your brain paired with the new angle for deeper thrusts had you writhing beneath him, eyes rolling back. His lips found your again, capturing your moans. “Cum for me, baby,” he said into the kiss.

You threw your head back deeper into the bed as you felt the knot in your stomach snap.

“Chris! Chris!”

You took a long sip of water as you tried to shake the memory from your head. You suddenly felt hot – uncomfortable, even.

It had been a routine for you. Encounters that dated back over a year. It had started on a set of another movie, one that was apart from the Marvel franchise. You were new to the industry – the film had been your debut role that launched your career. It had been Chris that put in a good word for you with Marvel’s higher ups, landing you on the roster for an upcoming movie.

Though, now, you wondered if it had been a ploy to keep you in his circle.

You pulled at your shirt, shifting on the couch as you tried to listen to whatever crazy story Anthony babbled on about.

“No champagne?” Lizzie asked you, offering you the bottle. You smiled and politely declined. She eyed you and your water warily as she poured herself some.

“No, (Y/N)’s a beer girl!” Tom piped up, raising his bottle to you as if beckoning you to take a sip. Again, you declined.

“What’s got you suddenly sobering up?” Anthony chuckled. You shrugged. “Oh, c’mon,” he dramatically scoffed. “None of us have a call time at 6 a.m. You’re allowed to get drunk tonight, (Y/N).”

You laughed and shook your head. “I’m just not up for it. I guess.” What you meant to say was I don’t want to get drunk and sleep with Chris again.

Your shoulders suddenly tensed when the couch dipped and a familiar aroma swarmed you.

“Chris! Chris!” You chanted his name as you came around him.

His thrusts were relentless as he rode you through your high, desperate to reach his. “Feel so good, baby,” he huskily said. “So tight, so wet.” He pulled his hand from your throat, the blood suddenly rushing back to you, and moved it to rub tight circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves.

He groaned into you as your pussy quivered around him, shaking your head. “No,” you weakly whimpered. “I can’t – I can’t – “

“Yeah, you can,” he encouraged, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, resting his forehead against yours. His deep blue eyes stared deeply into yours and all you could feel in that moment was just him. “One more, baby… Gimme one more.” Your fingers combed through his hair as you nodded. “Cum with me, baby, c’mon.”

Your breath hitched as your anxiety quickly rose, but you hid it behind a tight smile. Perhaps you were a better actress that you gave yourself credit for because everyone seemed to buy that grin.

“Hey,” your jaw clenched when you heard his voice. It was hushed as if he were afraid someone would catch him talking to you.

Throughout the last month of filming – after your falling out – it had been easy to avoid him. Most of your screen time was shared with Elizabeth or Tom – the three of you being hailed by fans as the “new generation” for Marvel. Even before you abruptly cut him off, you barely saw him on set. Your time together was only limited to midnight rendezvous, closed doors, and twisted sheets.

You let out a shaky breath. “Hi.” You said, keeping your eyes on the rip of your glass, refusing to meet his.

Chris stared at the side of your face. He noticed your clenched jaw and tensed shoulders. The way you avoided looking at him broke his heart into a million pieces. He bit his lip before tearing his eyes away from you, focusing on the pieces of lint that gathered on the material of his pants.

You watched from the corner of your eyes as he picked at them. It was a telltale sign that he was anxious – or bored. Although you prided yourself with the idea that you knew him better than most people did, you still could never tell with him. He was a collection of empty promises, half true lies, and mixed signals.

You should’ve gotten up. Maybe you could’ve excused yourself from your little circle and insert yourself into a conversation with Robert and Scarlet. Would it have been suspicious if you did? Perhaps you could’ve just called it a night, say your goodbyes, and rush off to your hotel – back to the very room where he broke your heart.

“Cum with me, baby, c’mon.”

It was as if your body was attuned to his words and demands. Because just like that, you were a wreck beneath him, gushing and milking him for all he’s worth. He grunted as his thrusts became sloppier until he pushed in as deep as he could and that familiar warmth spread through you.

He was breathing heavily as were you. He pressed a kiss to your temple before gently pulling out. You winced at the sudden emptiness, feeling his cum drip from your hot core. “You did so good,” he praised as he slumped beside you on the bed. Two thick arms wrapping around your spent body, pulling you into him. He left a trail of kisses all over your skin. “Always such a good girl.”

In your hazy, post multiple orgasms mind, you said three words that changed everything.

“I love you.”

But you couldn’t move. You were frozen on that couch, fighting off the tears and the somber memories.

In your blossoming career, your repertoire consisted of two major movies – your debut movie and the Marvel one that wrapped this very day. Both of which had you starring alongside Chris.

You two became insanely close to one another. He could read you like an open book as you did him though sometimes, he threw you off.

“We just get each other,” is what he would say when prompted to speak out about your chemistry. “We’re like two long lost best friends.” Many attributed the closeness to a kinship of sorts – some even saying that you were like the Tom Holland to his Robert Downey Jr; some speculated a relationship. Little did anyone know that this “kinship” brewed from something else entirely.

He knew everything there is to know about you. Your ticks, your pet peeves, the way you tasted and squirmed. He knew from the way your were trembling and the way you gripped your glass that you were fighting the urge to cry.

And he hated knowing he was the reason for your tears.

“I love you.” The words that escaped your lips was barely above a whisper. If Chris had let out a deep breath the very moment you said it, he might’ve even missed it.

But he didn’t.

He heard all three words.

“What?” He unwrapped his arms around you, startled by the confession. You flushed in realization.

“I – I didn’t – “

“You love me?” He scoffed. Your faint smile immediately fell as you shuffled in the bed to stare at him. His eyes were wide in bewilderment – disbelief, even. “You … You can’t love me.”

“Just forget about it, okay?” You begged, not wanting to ruin a good thing. Despite your feelings, you didn’t want them to push him away. You were willing to swallow your pride and love for him if it meant that he wouldn’t shut you out.

Chris shook his head at you, frantically jumping out of the bed. You watched vulnerably with tears brimming in your eyes as he quickly got dressed. “Chris – “

“No.” He shook his head, running a hand through his hair as he pulled on his sweatpants. “Y-you… you can’t love me.”

“Okay, then I won’t!” You urged. “I didn’t mean it.”

He stood at the side of the bed, staring at you, seeing through the lies. He watched your guard fall as you watched his walls go up. He shook his head as he reached for his shirt.

“Chris – no, please,” you begged, pulling the covers to your chest as you tried to stop him from leaving. “I didn’t mea – “

“You meant it.” His tone was hard to decipher. You weren’t sure if he was angry with you or if he was confused. It was just flat. Before you could argue, he pulled his arm from your hands, hastily walking towards the door.

“Do you not want me to?” You asked him, freezing him in his place. His hand ghosted over the cold doorknob as his mind searched for a response. “Or do you not feel the same?” Your voice broke as did his heart.

He didn’t bother to spare you a second glance. “I don’t feel the same.” He said, curtly – emotionlessly – as he turned the knob and left you alone and in tears.

“(Y/N) – “he began but immediately cut himself off when he saw the single tear that rolled down your cheek. You quickly wiped it away with the back of your hand while he fought the urge to lean over and wipe it himself.

“Uh, I gotta go,” you said immediately after, quickly saying your farewells to your friends.

Chris bit the inside of his cheek as he and everyone else watched you abruptly leave, the door swinging closed behind you. Anthony had whistled, joking that someone was in a mood which Tom replied that you were probably just tired.

But Chris knew better.

-=+=-

It was late into the night when he heard the soft knocks. If he had been asleep, he wouldn’t have heard them. But just like you, his anxiety kept him up all hours of the night.

“Hey.” You shifted beneath his stare, keeping your eyes trained on your shoes.

“Hi.” He greeted in disbelief.

You stood in the hotel hall in awkward silence, trying to find the right words to say. Breathe. You reminded yourself. Just breathe. You found the courage, swallowing your pride, to lift your chin up and meet his gaze for the first time in what felt like forever.

“Can I come in?”

“Of course.”

It was awkward – to say the least. You always found that his room was much roomier than yours. It felt as if your room was a studio apartment while his was half of a penthouse – complete with a dining table and a full kitchen.

You fumbled with the sleeves of your cardigan as he asked if you wanted anything to drink. You politely declined – you wanted a clear head and an empty bladder for this long-awaited conversation.

You found it strange that he sat down in the seat adjacent from yours. He could’ve sat in the seat across from you – it would’ve made this interaction a whole lot easier.

He stared at you curiously as he wondered why you were here. Your constant avoidance led him to believe that you wanted nothing to do with him – and he didn’t blame you. He didn’t exactly handle that situation very well. Maybe you were here to end if officially?

“I just have to know,” you sighed out, looking up at him as he angled his entire body towards you. You scratched the back of your neck before continuing to fumble with the fabric of your sleeve. “Why?”

“Why what?”

You sucked your teeth before your tongue darted out to wet your bottom lip. You took a deep breath. “Why don’t you love me?” His brows rose in consideration as he tried to come up with a logical answer.

Why didn’t he want you to love him?

Truthfully, Chris wanted you to. He gravitated towards you like the planets to the sun. You brought a warmth into his life – a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long, long time… and it scared him.

He was no stranger to heartbreak – 39 years on this Earth. He’s had his fair share of it. And despite longing for a true, good love with a promising future, he was still so afraid of the possibility of getting his heart broken again. But he hated knowing that he broke yours.

He didn’t think he deserved you and only limited himself to the stolen kisses behind closed doors. It was his breakable heaven – and in the moment it got too real, he did the only thing he knew how to: leave.

But he couldn’t find the words. He stared at you dumbfoundedly, silently admiring your courageousness. For someone so young, he didn’t expect the cliché of showing up to his hotel – though he contemplated showing up to yours – and prompting this much needed conversation. But he knew your goal was very clear to you – it was either closure or a new beginning.

You rolled your eyes, exhausted. “Because… I don’t know. Maybe I’m crazy or naïve, but the way – the way you are with me? It’s not casual. It’s not a one-time thing. And maybe I’m reading too deeply into it, but I – I …” You trailed off. I hoped it was more. I hoped it was real.

“I love you,” Chris muttered. Your eyes widened with shock at the brashness.

“Chris – “you shook your head. You were tired of this long cycle – this vicious game of tug of war that pulled at your heartstrings until they snapped.

“I’m serious.” He said, looking directly into your eyes. He saw the doubt, the sudden indecisiveness that washed over your features. He saw you try to reel back into yourself, subtly scooting away from him to create distance. He saw the walls build back up as his fell for the first time in forever. “I was afraid of what it meant when you said it…” He admitted as he reached over to hold your hands in his. “It just made everything so – so real for me and honestly, (Y/N)? It scared me so much.”

“But you just left me there – “

“And I regret that.” Chris interjected, shaking his head as he pulled your hands to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “I regret it so much. If I could turn back time and stay, I would. In the month of you icing me out, it just… I couldn’t live like that. The world never felt colder when you weren’t by my side. But I, truthfully, honestly do love you. I’m sorry it took so long for me to admit it to myself – to admit it to you… But I love you, (Y/N).”

You shook your head, doubting him. Was this another scheme of his? Was he just trying to get you back into his bed by feeding you more lies – by telling you what you wanted to hear?

“Please, believe me,” he begged. His voice had quaked, breaking ever so slightly. “I’m in love with you.”

“Chris – “he couldn’t register the tone. It was flat, not leaning towards angry, or heartfelt, or confused. Just flat.

But then he saw the tears roll down your cheeks and he instinctively cupped your cheeks to brush them away with his thumbs.

You were torn. Despite hearing the very words you wanted to hear a month ago, you weren’t sure how to feel. Of course, you still loved him. His was the very name that your heart called out for as you laid awake in the late nights.

You gasped when he suddenly leaned in, closing the gap between you, pressing his lips to yours. The kiss wasn’t hungry nor heated. It was passionate, loving. “Just let me love you,” he whispered, his lips ghosting over yours – and you melted into him.

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seasidefallenangel · 3 years

Text

hq characters with a neurodivergent s/o

✰ neurodivergency refers to someone with adhd and/or autism.

sugawara koushi;

○ he tries his best to offer as much support as possible. he can’t say he understands a lot of it, but he absolutely sympathizes with you. you don’t have to worry a ton when you have more off days, or in the event you have rsd, that he’ll get upset with your feelings. he knows you genuinely can’t help it, and very rarely gets upset to point where he’d need a little distance from you

○ picks up on the concept of hyperfixations fairly easily. he can’t even begin to imagine how horrible it is - if one day he woke up and his passions meant nothing to him anymore. if you have a hard time making friends because of how quickly and intensely your interests change, he makes an effort to try and get into some of the new stuff you pick up. he can’t always guarantee he’ll like it or anything, but he’s always willing to listen to you infodump

○ if he spots any sort of fidget toy/stressball/etc, he’ll buy one for you. he’s not sure if they actually help you a lot, but you always seem super grateful for it. he’ll take notice of what ones you tend to reach for more and try to gear towards getting those ones for you

○ as patient as he is, he does have his moments where he can get overwhelmed with you. times where your impulsivity, aggression or other symptoms of neurodivergency become too much for him to handle can lead to him snapping a little. he’ll make sure to leave the room as he knows it’s not your fault and you don’t act like this on purpose, but he’s only human. he makes sure afterwards to let you know he’d never blame you for what you can’t help, and to not be too hard on yourself in these situations

nishinoya yuu;

○ there’s honestly a fair chance he had adhd himself, even if he doesn’t realize it. you’ve never explicitly said you think he is to his face, but sometimes you hint that the way you treat certain things is really similar

○ he’s a big believer that being spontaneous keeps a relationship fun and interesting, which is both a blessing and a curse. on some days, something new and unknown is exactly what you need to stimulate your brain and keep your attention. other days it’s hard to find purpose in doing anything at all, and keeping up with his energy proves to be difficult

○ he really doesn’t want to get annoyed with you, but it tends to happen pretty often. he recognizes you’re not purposefully trying to make him mad and in return he’ll try his hardest to never lash out at you. there’s been a few moments where it was just impossible to control himself (another sign of someone who’s nd, you noted afterwards), but both of you understand each others grievances and are able to work past it

kageyama tobio;

○ at first, he’s not going to take you seriously. he’s the type to say that you're just avoiding your problems, making up excuses, overreacting. the “if you want to do something, then just do it” type of person. he doesn’t really think he’s coming off as being an asshole, but when there’s a very noticeable rift between the two of you, he starts racking his brain for what might’ve made you upset and eventually puts two and two together

○ it takes time, as many things like this do. you’ll have to really sit down and explain things to him, and he slowly starts to understand. he’ll tell you some of this stuff reminds him of himself before brushing it off and never questioning it again. you absolutely suspect he’s on the spectrum but won’t bring it up until he either asks you or starts thinking about it himself - which happens when you accidentally mention how volleyball seems to be his special intrest

○ it can be... difficult to say the least. he can’t really keep up all that well with sudden shifts and the irritability you often show over things that seemingly don’t matter. sometimes it’s hard for him to not take things personally, and the fact you two seem so similar in this regard raises a fair amount of problems. you both have to learn from the issues and work together to co-exist peacefully, but it’s very worth it in the end

tsukishima kei;

○ tsukishima will pick on almost anyone for almost anything. this is something he will absolutely never joke about. he made the mistake once early on - something about a test grade - and had to deal with your emotional outburst, following a meltdown, over how you tried so hard but nothing makes sense. you can’t just sit in a class and learn like he does, you’ll never be normal, never be good enough-

○ he had to stop the downward spiral in the middle of the sidewalk, but he was too shaken up to worry about embarrassment. that sort of reaction wasn’t normal by any means, and when he got home that night he tried looking into why exactly that happened. the complete shift in attitude the next day was jarring you to, but the genuine apology was even more jarring. he doesn’t apologize easily, but something about having made fun of a neurological disorder you’ve suffered with your whole life just doesn’t sit well in his stomach

○ he picks up extremely quickly, even for him. he’s very perceptive of when you’re more on-edge than usual and reminds himself to be patient with you. he’s not coddling in public (unless you’re having some sort of breakdown or panic attack) but it’s noticeable that he doesn’t make any sort of jabs at you like he does with most others

○ helps tutor you without any gripes. he won’t lie and say he gets how hard it is for you to understand certain concepts, but he’s aware things don’t come as easily to other people like it does to him. very thorough in explaining whatever you have difficulty with and tries coming up with real life examples to help it make more sense. if it does become too much for him (he’s still a high schooler regardless of how he acts), he’ll end the session and let you know it’s nobody’s fault

kuroo tetsurou;

○ one of, if not at the top of the list, the best people to date if you’re neurodivergent. he takes this extremely seriously and doesn’t doubt you at all when you explain how it feels like everyday your disorder slowly rips you apart until there’s nothing left. every part of your life is affected by this and he wants to be able to help you feel as normal as possible despite everything weighing you down

○ puts a lot of time and research into your disorders. he wants to understand what’s helpful and what’s counterproductive without bothering you about it since he doesn’t know if you might react badly. he has a very good balance of figuring out how to help you cope in certain scenarios even if they’re not ideal and removing you from a situation where things are just too heavy for you to handle

○ he really stresses how important it is you talk to him about your boundaries, things you need, moments where you’re overwhelmed, etc. he can’t imagine life has been that easy for you thus far and tries to do everything he can, from helping with schoolwork, getting fidget toys, introducing you to new things that may help, and anything in between. he never wants you to feel as if you’re a burden or difficult because of what you can’t control, and will bend over backwards to prove it

kozume kenma;

○ kenma is fairly well versed in online topics and this is one that comes up often. given how perceptive he is towards the world around him, he was pretty easily able to figure out that something was different about you far before you started dating. he doesn’t speak about it much with you but does a lot behind-the-scenes to help make everyday life easier

○ given that kenma is always getting into new games and franchises, he’s able to help make the time in between hyperfixations more bearable. you had described to him how empty and monotone everything feels when you aren’t focused on something specific and he really hates picturing you so lifeless because your brain just won’t let you consume things normally. even if you aren’t playing the game so much as just watching his do it, he feels better knowing there’s something distracting you

○ something important to remember is that you’re not the only one who can act out or get overwhelmed easily. kenma hates being pushed out of his comfort zone and imagines it the same for you, so he makes sure to never put you in a place where you might face sensory overload or anything of the sort. he expects the same treatment back. infodumping is fine and he’ll nod and listen to you, but if there’s a point where you become suffocating then he’ll ask you to take a step back and give him a moment. wants to avoid triggering anything rsd-related so he’ll specify this isn’t your fault and that everyone makes him feel this way at some point

oikawa tooru;

○ quite possibly one of the worst people to go through this with you at the start. oikawa puts his soul into everything he does even if it shatters him, so some of your behaviors might not sit well with him. a lot of people who are neurodivergent have something they naturally excel in and in the same vein, end up dropping or disregarding because they no longer hyperfocus on it. it reminds him too much of a certain kouhai who had all the ability oikawa did with none of the years of practice it took him to get there, and puts a bad taste in your mouth

○ explain to him it’s not fair that he treats you in a way that implies you enjoy living like this, because you’d give anything to keep interests you have for longer than a few weeks or months, regardless of how much you try to force yourself to stay into it. he re-evaluates himself and realizes he’s in the wrong. he’ll never fully understand how it affects you but he’ll listen and learn about it, ask questions, study how he can help. he compares how you hyperfixate to how much he’ll focus on volleyball and knows this has to be an equally giving relationship in regards to respecting the other interests

○ he’ll have his moments where he can’t pretend that he’s able to handle your mood swings and inability to just sit down and pay attention to something. you tell him he wouldn’t be normal if he was somehow okay with everything you do. an afternoon where he practices in the gym by himself and you sit and binge watch something is good enough for some breathing room without causing any unclosable rift to appear. he’ll may sure he’s listening intently when he comes home and you go into detail about a new hobby of yours. he’s trying his absolute best, i promise you

bokuto koutaro;

○ it’s highly likely bokuto has adhd himself. it’s one of those things adults just say to kids when they’re being hyperactive without actually knowing all the things that come with having adhd, but the older bokuto got the more he looked into it and realized it might actually be a thing for him. there’s a lot of neurodivergent-related issues you have that sometimes fly over his head or he has to go back and think about again, but he’s the last person who ever wants to cause any issues for you

○ he’ll ask you questions regarding if you think he has adhd and some of the signs that make it recognizable. he’s terrified at the idea volleyball might just be a hyperfixation of his, but feels much better when you explain special interests and how if anything it would fall under that category for him. these conversations are a very intimate bonding moment for both of you, given how vulnerable you really have to be to let all your weaknesses be known without worry of ridicule. he wouldn’t trade the knowledge of having your trust so deeply for the world

○ bokuto, for as supportive as he is, can stimulate your brain in a bad way. he’s easily excitable and often has volume issues, and more than a few times has he triggered sensory overload for you. he feels horrible whenever it happens and wants to comfort you so badly, but knows the best thing is for him to just quiet down and leave you be. he never takes it personally and goes into “emo mode” because he knows how serious it can be. the only time he’ll get close in this moments is if you have a panic attack because of it in which case he tries helping you steady your breath and stop shaking. normally you’d hate being touched when you’re like this, but his arms and warmth work wonders for your psyche

tendou satori;

○ it’s terrifying how in-tune he is with you. it’s almost like you’re just talking about the weather instead of you trying to scratch the skin off your arm while your brain got the better of you. stimming, hyperfocusing, lack of interest, social interaction issues, you can talk to him about literally anything related to your neurodivergency and he’ll be on the exact same wavelength as you. he’s able to adapt very easily and can read your irritability, mood swings and any triggers you might have. is excellent at getting you out a situation before it becomes too much for you to bear

○ tendou is another character who always has something new to show you, so he’s also very good at filling the gap between hyperfixations. he’s somehow able to completely keep up with your infodumping and even will do something similar of the sort right back you. he loves finding new games and anime and will automatically partake in anything you show him. it really helps you mentally since you never feel like you’re talking too much or uncomfortably passionate about anything since he seems so genuinely interested in what you have to say

○ is extremely protective and defensive of you when it comes to others questioning why you act a certain way or do certain things. there’s probably a little bit of a personal tie there since he got bullied for being different when he was a kid, and he absolutely hates when people are derided because they don’t follow the falsely conceived notion of normalcy. you’re not harming anyone, why should it matter what you’re doing? if you’re insecure about stimming in public though, he invests in fidgets cubes for you to keep in your pockets to play with secretly so nobody notices anything out of the ordinary. his main goal is to make sure you’re happy no matter how much your head tries to tell your otherwise. really, he just loves you more than anything else

kita shinsuke;

○ if anyone else treated this the way mr. no gaps does, you’d absolutely freak out on them - but for some reason since it’s kita it comes off as comforting. he’s the type that doesn’t let you use disorders as a restriction or excuse to let yourself settle for mediocrity, but he makes it obvious that he wants to see you thrive despite the things holding you back. he’ll never put you in a situation he thinks will trigger any sort of attack, rather things he know you can handle if you put a little more faith in yourself and your abilities

○ if he sees you’re spiraling and can’t take any sort of outside forces interacting with you a ton then he’ll make sure you have a day or two off to yourself. he won’t criticize or ridicule you for anything and goes along with whatever whims you feel (or in same cases, don’t feel like doing anything at all.) understands there’s a very important balance you need to maintain in order to go through life feeling even semi-decent and doesn’t want to jeopardize any progress you’ve made towards helping yourself

○ likes to play casual volleyball in the backyard when you’re stable and attentive enough to understand what’s going on around you. if it becomes a hyperfixation of yours then he’ll be glad to go more in depth so long as it doesn’t hit a point where it’s damaging your ability to interact with anything else. he’s a big believer that moving your body and being outside helps relax you, even if you’re not enthusiastic at the moment about it. he won’t let anybody - not your family, not an outsider, not even yourself - look down on you for any disability you have

✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:* 　　 *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

✰ this was stupid self indulgent but idc!! i’m neurodivergent myself and let it be known that if you say you have hyperfixations and you’re not nd i will stick your arm in a deep fryer <3

#sugawara koushi x reader #nishinoya yu x reader #kageyama tobio x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kenma kozume x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #bokuto kotarou x reader #tendou satori x reader #kita shinsuke x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!!#haikyuu headcanons #fluff #headcanons #haikyuu

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dialovers-translations · 3 years

Text

DIABOLIK LOVERS MORE, BLOOD OFFICIAL VISUAL FANBOOK ー Interview Vol. 3 feat. Satoi

Source: DIABOLIK LOVERS MORE, BLOOD Official Visual Fanbook

Release date: 2013

Huge thank you to @keithvalentinex for providing the raw scans!

SECTION 1: Q&A

Q1. How did you feel when a sequel game got green light?

A: I think it is wonderful how much support this series has received. However, quite some time has passed since the franchise’s initial release and the art style has changed over time too, so I remember checking with the production staff whether or not it was okay for me to draw the visuals.

Q2. Is there anything you paid extra attention to while designing the Mukami brothers?

A: I mostly followed the instructions given to me to shape up the visuals. For the Mukami brothers, I tried to make them seem more human and approachable, just like I was directed to. The initial concept I was given for them had many similarities to the existing characters, so it was difficult to set them apart by design alone. However, by the time the CDs were completed, I thought it was amazing how all four of them turned out to be entirely different Do-S characters.

Q3. Karlheinz’ visual design makes its debut in this installment.

A: While designing the visuals for the mothers during last game’s development, I already imagined him with Reiji’s red eyes and Subaru and Christa’s white hair inside my head. I designed him while trying to add in a mature look which the brothers still lack. Since the series does not have a character with long hair so far, I decided to go for that look. He is the most grant character within the franchise, so I tried to make him fit said image.

Q4. Please tell me in which order you completed the visuals for the Mukami brothers.

A: I believe the order went like this: Yuma -> Azusa -> Kou -> Ruki. For Yuma, the first design I submitted immediately got accepted. Kou’s heterochromia was added later on, but I kind of like it.

Q5. Which character did you struggle with the most while coming up with the visuals?

A: Ruki. When I looked at the instructions, I thought he would overlap with Reiji... (lol) so I had a hard time coming up with an image for him. The final design ended up looking too ‘normal’ (for Diabolik Lovers) so I ended up asking whether it was okay for him to look like a regular guy. (lol)

Q6. Do the Mukami brothers have any features in common?

A: I gave all of the Mukami brothers prominent eyelashes. Then afterwards I distinguished between them through the shape of their eyes and eyebrows.

Q7. Please tell us what you were mindful of while designing the models for the boys’ younger versions.

A: I designed them with the intention of keeping their unique personalities but simply making them smaller. Shuu was not listless as a child, so I made him look more sharp. Looking at it now, I kind of wish I had changed his hair style as well.

Q8. Which character is the easiest for you to draw? Which is the hardest?

A: There are a lot of lines and different colors in the Diabolik Lovers art style, so these illustrations aren’t easy to draw. However, Kanato has larger features which makes him somewhat easier in comparison to the others. When I find a character hard to draw, I end up not being able to draw them at all, so I try not to think about it.

Q9. How about the underwear designs?

A: I received a lot of advice from Ito-san when drawing the underwear designs. I ended up chuckling when I received the suggestion to draw Reiji in brief bikini bottoms.

Q10. Please tell us your favorite CG, the CG you think turned out the best and the CG you struggled with the most.

A: The CG I like the most has to be the one of Kou’s Ending where he’s flying in the sky. This game doesn’t feature the characters smiling very often, so I had a lot of fun drawing that one.

Rather than thinking it turned out the best, I simply like this CG but it’s the one from Ayato’s ED where they are having their wedding ceremony. I believe I portrayed their happiness well.

I struggled with all the CGs!

Q11. Please tell us your favorite cover illustration you’ve drawn for the series so far.

A: Since they are all Do-S characters, for their CD covers, I first and foremost try to portray their sadism and how ‘sick’ they are. I’m sure you can tell which characters I personally favor, but I think I did an okay job at showing all of their unique personalities...Or so I’d like to think.

Q12. What were you going for when drawing the cover for this installment?

A: The story of ‘MORE, BLOOD’ is somewhat heartbreaking, so I decided to switch things up and make the expressions a little sorrowful as well.

Q13. Please leave a message for the fans.

A: I want to sincerely thank all of you for supporting the series for such a long time. I hope you will continue to enjoy the ‘DIABOLIK LOVERS’ characters from here on out!

SECTION 2: SATOI CHOOSES ー SITUATION-DEPENDENT CHARACTER SELECT

Who would you choose in these situations? What’s the developer’s opinion?

S1. To sleep together with?

Best: Teddy, he’s just the right size.

Worst: Yuma, not only do I imagine he’d have a bad sleeping posture, but his hair would probably prick me.

S2. To go on a trip together with?

Best: Ruki or Reiji because I think they’d be very knowledgeable on the area and its trivia.

Worst: Kanato, I feel like he would be selfish and wouldn’t want let me decide where I’d like to go.

S3. To eat together with?

Best: Kou or Laito because they’d probably make a lot of small talk which seems fun.

Worst: Reiji because I feel like he would be a little fussy about my table manners.

S4. To study with?

Best: Ruki or Reiji since they’re smart so they could probably teach me.

Worst: Ayato, I’m sure it’d be fun but I doubt I’d be able to concentrate.

S5. To go on a date with?

Best: Kou or Laito because they seem fun to hang out with.

Worst: Kanato, I’m sure he’d burst out into tears at some point.

S6. To play a video game with?

Best: Kou or Laito, they seem like good gamers.

Worst: Subaru, he might just break the gaming console.

S7. To play sports with?

Best: Ayato, I want to see him play basketball.

Worst: Shuu or Azusa because they’d barely move.

S8. To go on a drive with?

Best: Ruki, he seems like a good driver.

Worst: Subaru, he’d wreck the car.

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #diabolik lovers more blood official visual fanbook #diabolik lovers translation #diabolik lovers interview #satoi

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davidpastrsnack · 4 years

Text

no control - matthew tkachuk

a/n: i was in the mood for dirty matty so this is what we got! it’s filthy but it’s also a little soft. hope you enjoy!

It was one of the few Saturday nights that didn’t include a Flames game and the organization was taking advantage by hosting one of their annual charity events. Matthew was already ready, waiting for you as you finished up your hair and makeup in the bathroom. You laughed to yourself as you heard the TV turn on from the living room, the voices of the Sportsnet announcers carrying through the apartment. Even on his day off, your boyfriend couldn’t resist the chance to get a dose of hockey.

After just a few more minutes, you were finally feeling satisfied with your appearance, moving to the bedroom to slide off your robe and change into your dress. You grabbed it off the hanger, slipping the ivory silk fabric over your body, taking the time to appreciate the high slit once it was fully draped over your frame.

“Matty?” you called, wanting his opinion on your shoes before you sat to put a pair on. You could hear him shuffling towards you, the clicking of his dress shoes against the hardwood getting louder as he neared.

Matthew’s feet stopped short the second he looked up and saw you in front of him. The soft material of your dress clung to every one of your curves perfectly and the slit on your left leg made his mind wander to what he was going to do when you got home later.

“Matthew,” you repeated, gesturing to the two pairs of shoes in your hands. “Which one?”

“Oh um,” he tugged his curls as he tried to pull himself together, “Black?”

You smiled, agreeing with his decision, and stood up on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek before sitting on the edge of the bed to tie the straps of your heels. He walked back out of the room to turn off whatever game he was watching, sensing that you would be ready to leave any minute. He was right, and you came out just as he was putting on his suit jacket. You walked over to where he was leaning against the kitchen counter, running you hands across the crisp white dress shirt on his chest.

“You look good, Matty,” you whispered. He was wearing your favorite combination, a dark navy suit that made his bright blue eyes pop with a brown belt and shoes.

“No,” he chuckled, “Y/N, you look good,” he countered, his hands grabbing your waist and lifting you onto the counter.

You gasped at the sudden movement, recognizing the look in his eyes right away.

“You look too good, princess,” he groaned as he leaned down to press kisses to your exposed neck and collarbone, the skimpy spaghetti straps of your dress giving him plenty of room.

You couldn’t help but let your head roll back at the feeling of his mouth, he knew just how to work you up in a matter of seconds. You were finally mustering up the strength to tell him to stop because you couldn’t be late when you felt his hand start to slip beneath the slit of your dress. Your breath hitched at the contact, his thick fingers inching closer and closer to your core.

“Matt- Matthew,” you softly moaned, already feeling yourself fall under his spell, “We have to go,” you pleaded.

He picked up his head from your chest, pouting his pink lips. “But baby you’re killing me, just lemme get you off real quick,” he begged, his big blue eyes staring up at you.

Despite how much he was testing you, you eventually came to your senses, sitting up straighter and pushing his wrist from its post under your dress.

“Come on, we really can’t be late,” you rationed, Matthew rolling his eyes at your words but still moving towards the door in defeat. “Plus, you always ruin my makeup which we definitely don’t have time for,” you mumbled as you slid off the counter.

He turned on his heels to face you with a shit-eating grin on his face, “I’m that good, aren’t I?”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes, giggling when Matthew patted your ass while he held the apartment door open for you.

-----

Once you arrived at the event, it was the usual small talk and ass kissing from the start. You did the first round of hellos and introductions with Matthew, and like always he made sure you had your glass of rosé before a woman from management pulled him away to charm the important guests. He glanced over his shoulder shooting you an apologetic smile, but you simply nodded to the group of girls that you were going to visit, reassuring him that you were okay. Matthew was quickly becoming the face of the franchise and both of you had to navigate the new responsibilities that came with it.

Over an hour later Matthew and the rest of the guys were released from their obligations for the night, everyone sitting at the tables waiting for dinner to be served. The alcohol was flowing, and it was clear the team needed a night together with each other and their partners to relax. Just as you were laughing at the story Gio was telling about one of his kids, you felt Matthew’s hand lift from the back of your chair where it had been resting and slip down to lay just above your knee. You leaned into his touch, which was nothing out of the ordinary and seemed harmless.

But it didn’t take long for you to realize that it was not, in fact, harmless.

Every few minutes he moved it higher up, his thumb swirling gently circles against your skin, until he eventually slipped it under the slit of your dress. You turned your head away from the conversation, giving him a stern look that said it all.

Matthew simply raised his eyebrows silently asking you what was wrong, as if he didn’t know, all while trying to suppress a grin that was fighting it’s way across his face. You glanced down at your lap, the tablecloth thankfully covering his lack of restraint. You grabbed his hand with your own, squeezing tightly to warn him that he needed to stop, but you knew that was no use and you couldn’t deny that this was hot. His strength easily overpowered yours, and he gently moved his hand up to finally graze the delicate lace of your panties. You had to hold in a gasp as he started rubbing his thumb against your clit, hand circling so slowly that you couldn’t even tell his arm was moving at all from the table. The only thing that would give anyone a hint something was going on was your own reactions. Great.

Matthew gulped as he felt you growing so wet beneath him, his fingers quickly coated in your arousal as you soaked through the lace. It was becoming harder and harder for you to keep a straight face, your cheeks starting to flush and your nails digging into his thigh. You grabbed your wine glass hoping to distract yourself somehow from the pleasure slowly building between your legs, nearly choking on the liquid when he applied more pressure to your clit right when you took a slip. You turned your head to look at him and it was apparent that he was enjoying this more than anything. He again was fighting to hide his smirk while he watched you struggle to keep it together, nodding along to something Noah was saying.

Now he was feeling more confident, starting to pick up his pace and you knew this had to stop soon before you had no control of what you did or said.

“Matthew,” you spoke, louder than you intended, making everyone look at you. “Can I talk to you please?”

“Sure, baby,” he calmly replied, taking his sweet time to move his fingers, dragging them down your inner thigh to wipe them clean before standing. He put out his hand for you to grab, which you did and quickly pulled him away, but not before he could say, “We’ll be right back,” to the table.

You urgently lead him out of the dining room in search of a secluded place to yell at him, Matthew with a self-satisfied smile the whole time he followed you. You reached a part of the hallway that was seemingly empty, finally turning to face him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Matthew?” you whisper screamed.

“I told you I wanted to get you off, princess. You should have let me do it at home, huh?” He teased, hands moving to snake around your waist.

You scoffed at his words, “Can you please just be an adult and keep it in your pants until we get home?”

“I probably could. Or we could go into that storage closet,” he paused to point across the hall, “And I could finish what I started.”

As much as you were annoyed at him, you couldn’t deny that he had worked you up so much that you were actually agreeing to his ridiculous proposal.

“Just hurry up,” you groaned as you led him into the closet, hearing his soft chuckle behind you.

Matthew seemed to understand that this was a time sensitive situation, wasting no time to press you against the door while he sunk to his knees. He lifted your dress above your hips, swearing as he saw the wet spot on your panties he created just minutes before.

“You really need me, honey, don’t you?” he questioned, finally pulling your panties down your legs.

“Matty, please,” you whined, not in the mood for anymore teasing.

“Okay, okay, princess,” he cooed before attaching his mouth to your core, licking a long stripe up your soaking slit. He groaned as he tasted you, the vibrations sending shock waves through you. He alternated between flicking your clit back and forth with his tongue and sucking it into his mouth, both making you cry out for him.

He pulled back, “You gotta be quiet for me, princess. Can’t have the whole team knowing I’m tongue fucking my pretty girl in a storage closet.”

You nodded, just wanting his mouth back on you, and he quickly obliged but this time he slipped two fingers inside you as well. His mouth encircled your clit again, his fingers curling perfectly to hit your g-spot repeatedly and before you knew it you were covering your mouth as your climax washed over you. Matthew milked you through your high, moving down to clean you up himself considering the circumstances.

“Such a good girl,” Matthew mumbled in between kisses across your inner thighs. He pulled your panties back up, helping you adjust the lace around your hips, and smoothed your dress down, making sure there were no obvious wrinkles.

“Still mad at me?” He grinned as he rose to his full height and pressed a kiss to your lips.

“I guess not,” you laughed against his mouth, grabbing his hand so you could rejoin the event and hopefully not let anyone figure out what you had just done.

-----

Matthew behaved for the rest of the night, but all bets were off the second you arrived back home. As soon as the apartment door was unlocked you were pressed into it, his lips attacking your neck, marking you up like he couldn’t hours before. He was already hard and heavy against you, forcing a whimper from your lips as you felt his bulge rub your leg. He pulled the straps of your dress down, trying to get access to as much skin as possible when you stopped him.

“Matty, wait,” you pleaded and he paused to meet your eyes right away.

“What, baby?” he asked, concern lacing his face.

“I just really like this dress so I would love if you didn’t rip it,” you said with a smile.

He laughed at your words, moving his hands to grip the back of your thighs and carry you to the bedroom. “I can do that, sweetheart,” he mumbled against your lips, “I like this dress too,” he teased.

Matthew dropped you onto the bed, carefully unzipping and removing your dress, before he started kissing down your body, his destination obvious.

You tangled your hair in his curls making him look up at you, “I just want you inside of me, please,” you begged.

He nodded, swiftly removing his clothes and your panties before pressing his lips to yours again. Matthew gently pulled away, whispering in your ear, “Flip over for me, princess.”

You did what he said, arching your back with your ass up just how you knew he liked.

“Fuck,” he groaned, teasing your entrance with his tip as he took in the view before finally pushing into you.

It didn’t take long for him to find the perfect pace, your moans filling the room as he hit so deep inside you. One of his hands was gripping your waist while the other rested around the back of your neck, squeezing slightly to get the leverage he needed.

“Fuck, Ma-Matty,” you whimpered, “I’m close.”

“Yeah, princess?” he egged on as his hand slipped down to rub tight circles on your clit, “Go ahead, cum all over me, honey.”

You did exactly that, your body collapsing as he fucked you through your high, finally reaching his own as he felt you clenching around him. His body fell over yours, his groans filling your ears as he released inside of you, your moans loud at the sudden warmth.

“So good for me, baby,” he cooed as he pulled out, kissing between your shoulder blades while you winced at the loss.

Matthew helped roll you over so you were resting on your back as your body came down. He grabbed a damp towel from the bathroom, gently cleaning you up before tossing it and climbing in bed beside you. You curled into his side and he wrapped you up in his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“I can’t believe you were so horny that you got me off in a storage closet in the middle of a charity event,” you thought out loud, his body shaking beneath yours as he laughed.

“Yeah well I can’t believe you let me,” he chirped back.

“Fair enough,” you chuckled, “I love you, Matty.”

“I love you more,” he whispered, holding you tight as you fell asleep in his arms.

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #nhl smut #my writing

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mings · 3 years

Text

Some context...

...in relation to that last post. This is a lo-o-o-o-ong read, so feel free to skip right by if catharsis bores you.

This starts way before I joined tumblr; in fact, long before tumblr was even a thing.

Twenty years ago, we lived in a huge house backing onto the English Channel. We moved there from Scotland, which turned out to be (probably) the biggest mistake of my life.

Within nine months of buying the place, the company I’d moved to work for nearly folded. I and most of the workforce were made redundant. That set in motion an existential battle with our mortgage insurer, which refused to pay out because I “must have known” when taking out the insurance. (I didn’t, and they eventually caved in after destroying my credit record, but that’s another story.)

Work wasn’t immediately available; none that would at least cover the bills. We got inventive, wrote a business plan, obtained finance & bought a franchise. It went pretty well for the first three years, but we had to bust a gut to make the required income. It wasn’t easy. Eventually, the franchise operator messed up relations with several key players in our insurance market. Within three months, we lost 75% of our revenue. I had to close the workshop & find part time work to make ends meet. Ultimately, we decided to close the business, sell the house and downsize to something more manageable.

What’s the relevance of this? We tried hard to keep our precarious financial state form the kids. Maybe we didn’t do as well as we thought. Our son had already become withdrawn. He’d fallen in with a group of local lads about whom we had grave misgivings. Of course, there was no discussing it. We were “over-reacting” and unreasonable. It was around that time that he decided to jack in his education. I couldn’t criticise; I’d done the same. I pulled some strings and got him a job at our local Royal Mail delivery office.

We moved to our new place. It was a stressful move. Trying to fit into a house that was literally half the size was never going to be an easy task. One afternoon, our son came home from work and soon after announced he was going out. “See you later.” Only we didn’t. He didn’t come home that night. Nor did he turn up for work the next day. Nor the day after. And nor the day after that. Within a week he was written up for unauthorised absence. We had no way of contacting him. His case was heard in the following weeks. I could offer no mitigation. He was sacked for abandonment of duty. That tag that means he’ll never work for them again.

We still had no idea where he was. We only knew he was alive because we met a couple of his friends who couldn’t believe he’d not been in touch. Still no word. My wife was in shreds; I suspect any of you who are parents can identify with that. I was alternating between trying to prop her up and stay on top of my job, all the while under a constant barrage of barracking (Oh, we don’t mean anything by it, it’s just banter....)

About three months in I’d had enough. Sleep was a scarce resource so I rose at the crack of dawn and started on a trip, rousting one after another of the friends and acquaintances that I knew, following leads until finally I tracked him down to a sordid bedsit several towns and 40 miles away. At least he answered the door and looked sheepish. He offered no explanation or apology, and has never done so to date. He refused to come back home, but promised to keep in touch.

We know he bounced from one sofa to another in the next few months. He spent time in some of the worst areas in the county for drug abuse. He fell into a relationship with a girl that looked promising initially and subsequently fell apart. Later, he surfaced in another town with another girl whom he subsequently married. She often spoke of his irascible temperament and moods. Ultimately the marriage was doomed; she was younger than him, found a new interest and moved out. One wonders now how much of that was her and how much she’d put up with before voting with her feet.

He’s stumbled from one financial crisis to another. Money just evaporates. It’s as though adulting is a mystery beyond his reach. I’ve lost count of the times that we’ve thrown money at him and I don’t want to even think about how much. It’s literally thousands, always a loan, yet he never, ever pays back.

He left his job. That was inevitable too; he worked for his ex-father-in-law’s company. Heaven only knows how long the writing was on the wall; it was pretty swift once she left. He drifted again. He chose to live in a squalid flat with no heating rather than move back with us. Absolutely his choice, not ours.

We moved to Scotland. That meant all his stuff had to go into storage. Quick rewind - he moved all his stuff to ours when he gave up the house he & his ex lived in, but refused to move back home. I had to rent a storage unit to make space for all his gear & when we moved I shifted all his gear into the store, gave him the key & told him I’d paid three months up front; after that it was his to deal with. Apparently, he surrendered the store and moved all his gear into the flat...

Fast forward to a couple of months back. He’d run out of options at the flat. His flatmate was “really difficult” to live with. His ex had moved away, taking their son with her. He had nothing left to stay for and, surprise, he’d lost his job again so he couldn’t afford the rent.

My wife convinced me we should give him one last shot, citing his fragile mental health. I agreed on the strict understanding that we are simply no longer in a position to support him. He assured us he’d be applying for work as soon as he got here. We rarely see him before midday...

We agreed the end of the first week in March. We knew he’d arrive with a ton of stuff so we had (again) to create space. That’s infinitely more difficult now we’re running a B&B, but we set to the task. Suddenly, two weeks sooner than we’d agreed, he rented a van and was on his way. No discussion, no warning. We only found out because he put something on FB.

Finally, after trying to reach him most of the day, he phoned. Whilst we should have been relieved, instead we were treated to a barrage of abuse because all the petrol stations were shut. Of course they were. It was in a national lockdown and why would they stay open when there was no one on the roads? JFC, who embarks on a journey in sub-zero temperatures across some of the most inhospitable country in the UK without enough fuel? With a six year old child. Yes, not only did he forget to tell us about his change of plans, he forgot to tell us he was bringing his son too.

We drove south through the night for two hours to find him somewhere in the Cairngorms where he’d run out of fuel. No fuel meant no heaters at 1500 feet in deep snow. The ambient temperature was -5ºC/23ºF & with wind chill that was probably around -10ºC/14ºF. We found him & refuelled his van. No thanks, just another barrage of abuse, because he was tired. We took his son into our car & drove the two hours back in near silence. I think we knew then that it was an awful predictor of what was to come.

We’ve had row after row. He accused me of being passive-aggressive in the last. He actually ticks all the boxes for passive-aggressive behaviour. I’ve never been tagged with that before; if anything I’m too forthright, blunt even. That’s a failing to which I will admit. If by that he meant that I don’t talk about the elephant in the room, it’s only because we fear it’ll lead to another explosion.

He never saw the damage that we sustained during our fostering years. He was never there. Yet here we are, experiencing flashbacks to those traumatic incidents; the parallels are exact. We have the benefit of years of training. We recognise manipulative behaviour when we see it - we were trained by some of the nations best exponents - and we know divisive tactics implicitly. What he doesn’t know is that he will succeed only in pushing us closer together and alienating himself even further.

There are clear and well-documented links between cannabis and mental health issues. He is allowing the drug to determine his life choices. Although I may be wrong, I think he’s cultivating skunk, which is nothing like the weed that circulated in my youth. The smell that pervades our hallway is instantly evocative of high strength Afghan resin. It’s also going to be acutely difficult to eradicate before we’re due to open.

We’ve endured 20 years of this treatment. I know that even if we have a ritual burning, it will only be a matter of time before we’re back here again. We’re old. We’re tired. And we’ve worked our socks off (and still do) to achieve what we have. Maybe somewhere along the way we missed something. But I’m at a stage where I’m so far beyond this I just want it to stop.

#drugs #the damage is done #context #explanatory notes

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