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automaticllamacycle · 9 months

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I’ll do anything you say ( if you say it with your hands) part two

part one

Summary: it’s the long awaited next date.

Content: 18+, oral sex, unprotected sex, praise kink, first time, after care, smut with plot

Word count: 8600

You’re back at work the next day. Penny is already in your ear begging for every single detail of last night.

“You’ve got to tell me more than just that,” Penny sighs, finishing a latte for a customer.

“Did you expect me to give you a play by play of everything?”

“Duh. Of course I did. You have to give me more than ‘Oh, it was good,’ because that is not enough information,” she protests.

“Fine. It was… nice. I helped him make spaghetti for dinner, because he struggled to make it by himself. The man cannot follow a recipe. Then we watched 10 Things I Hate About You and did some other things…” you pause, not telling her any more detail. “And then he walked me home because I forgot to tell my neighbor to let Socks out for me like a dumbass.”

“Expand on what ‘other things’ means.”

“No.” You’re blunt. She isn’t going to convince you to talk, especially not now.

“Come on! Can you least tell me if you guys, you know…” she trails off, a smirk on her face as she pries for more information.

“We didn’t go all the way, no. We are having another date this weekend, but I don’t know what we will do. Matty hasn’t told me the plans yet.”

“I think we both know what the plans are,” she replies, eyebrows raised.

“I don’t think I’ve told you to shut up enough during this conversation.” At this point, you turn your body away from her, hoping she will drop the topic while you make yourself a coffee.

“You know you love me.”

“That’s debatable.”

Matty walks in the shop three days later. The rain is pouring outside down outside, making his curls damp against his forehead.

“Hey, how are you?” you ask him from behind the counter, starting on his drink after ringing him up. His order is second nature now. You could do it in your sleep.

“I’m good, a bit damp though,” he laughs. To prove his point, Matty runs a hand through his hair, shaking out the water onto the floor. He has on a rain jacket, but no umbrella in hand, obviously the reason he’s completely soaked.

“I can see that. Do you not own an umbrella?”

“I lost the last one I had, haven’t got around to buying a new one, yet.”

“I think you need to get on that. You do live in London you know.” You joke, handing him his coffee. His hand grazes yours as he grabs the cup. Despite the cold rain outside, his hands are warm on yours.

“You got a few minutes to talk? I wanna talk to you about our next date, if that’s alright with you.”

“Oh, yeah? Sure. I can take my ten.” You walk over to Penny to let her know. Her eyes narrow at you before she looks at Matty, giving him the same expression. He raises his hand in an awkward wave at her scrutiny. “Can you not stare him down like that, Penny?” you ask before walking out from behind the counter to follow Matty to a table. “So, what’s your plan this time? please tell me it doesn’t involve cooking.”

“I, for one, think the food was great.”

“Because I did most of the work,” you correct him.

“No, the plan is not for me to cook again. I’ll work on my skills, and we can try that again another time. Actually, there’s going to be trivia at one of my favorite pubs this Friday. I was thinking we could go to that, and then maybe go back to my place afterwards…” he doesn’t continue his sentence, looking down at his coffee.

“Back to your place, huh? Yeah, I think we can do that,” you chuckle. “I’m excellent at trivia, though. I can get pretty competitive.”

“That makes two of us, love. I can pick you up at 7:00? That way we don’t have to walk to the train.”

“Going to be my chauffeur for the night? That sounds good to me.”

“I have to make up for the disaster dinner somehow.”

You chat with him for the rest of your break. Matty takes up most of the conversation, explaining the new sound he was working on for the band. You listen closely, even though you struggle to keep up with the crazy he ideas he throws at you. Most of the time, you just nod along and smile, hoping he can’t see through you. His eyes always light up when he talks about music. With that look in his eyes, you could listen to him all day. He could be speaking a foreign language for all you care, but you would hang onto every word.

Unfortunately, the ten minutes go by fast, and your break is over. “I gotta go back to making coffee for grumpy people,” you sigh, getting up from your seat. Matty gets up at the same time.

“I’ll see you this Friday,” He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into a hug. When he lets go, his lips meet yours in a quick peck. The innocent display of affection makes blush run to your cheeks, turning your face cherry red. “Bye, sweetheart,” he says before walking out the door, back out into the rain before you could say another word.

Penny is on you the second you’re behind the counter. You knew she had to have been watching you both like a hawk the second you sat down.

“So… you’re at the kissing-in-public stage now? Wonder what that means you get up to in private.”

“Penny, oh my God, it was just a peck calm down.” The heat still burns at your cheeks.

“Just saying!”

Friday comes along fast. Knowing the date would be at a pub, you decide to wear something simple. You put on an oversized white button up and tuck the shirt into a pair of black slacks. After looking in the mirror, your hands undo a few of the top buttons, letting a bit of the black bralette you’re wearing show. At exactly 7:00pm, you hear a knock at your door. “Well, you are right on time,” you say after opening the door. He’s wearing a pair of jeans with a band tee, with a warm trench coat over top.

“I’m known for being punctual.” His gaze drifts down from your eyes to the open buttons of your shirt. You take the opportunity to tease him a bit.

“My eyes are up here, you know.” You tease. “Let me grab my coat really quick and we can head out.”

“I was just looking at your… necklace, it’s really pretty,” he counters.

“Oh, I’m sure that’s exactly what you were doing.”

“Well, you can’t wear a top like that and expect me not to look, darling. You look lovely by the way. Let me help you with your coat.” Like a true gentleman, he slides the coat over your arms before the two of you walk out the door. Once you make it outside, he opens the passenger side door, letting you get inside.

The ride to the bar is short. Matty has on the car radio on a low volume while you exchange conversation back and forth. He makes a bit too much eye contact for your comfort, but it’s hard for him to keep his eyes on the road when he can look at you instead.

“Matty, you need to watch the damn road! You’re going to hit something at this rate.”

“Just admiring the pretty girl in my passenger seat. I can’t help it, love.” There’s a smile on his face as he reaches for your hand. His eyes dart back to the road, but his hand holds yours, resting on top of your thigh. The size of his hand engulfs your own; the warmth from his fingertips sinking into your skin. It stays there, encasing your hand until you arrive at the pub. His hand grabs back of your headrest while he backs up into a parking spot, looking over his shoulder. “What drink you want?” Matty asks when you make it to the bar.

“I think I’m feeling a vodka cran tonight.”

“I was expecting something a little bit more adventurous from you.”

“Let me enjoy my vodka cranberry in peace. What are you going to get, a glass of wine?” You’re halfway joking, but he proves you right with his next sentence.

“Yeah, actually. I would get the bottle, but I don’t want to get too wasted anyway. Want to remember every second of tonight.” A smirk runs across Matty’s face as he turns to the bartender to tell him the drink order.

After the bartender makes your drink and pours Matty’s glass of wine, Matty leads you over to one of the open tables, guiding you with a hand at the small of your back. The heat from his hand radiates through you, especially when his hands travel up your back to take off your jacket. He places it on the back of your chair then does the same with his own coat.

“Okay, so what’s the prize for winning trivia? There’s gotta be something or there wouldn’t be this many people here,” you ask, gesturing to the room full of people as you settle into your seat.

“Cash prize is a two-hundred dollars, plus a free drink, but I don’t think we have a shot at winning to be honest. Some of these people are real pros and come every week.”

“Maybe we should make our own wager then. Whoever answers the most questions correctly wins a reward.”

“Oh, sounds like you got something in mind. What kind of reward are we talking about?” Matty asks.

“I bet you could probably guess if you tried.”

“I’m sure I could, but I thought we talked about you using your words on our last date.”

“Fuck off,” you exclaim, cheeks flushed. You take a quick sip of your drink. The alcohol couldn’t set in fast enough.

“How about this, winner gets to do whatever they want to do first tonight when we get to my place.” His voice is low as he speaks, like he doesn’t want anyone to overhear him. “Does that work for you, darling? Good enough of a wager?”

You gulp. Voice caught in your throat. He isn’t easing into this. “Uhm, yeah. That works.” You struggle to meet his gaze. His brown eyes look through you, reading you like a book right in front of him. “Going to tell me what you’re thinking of doing first?” you ask.

“That’ll ruin the surprise,” he chuckles. Before you have a chance to counter his statement, the host of the trivia announces himself with the microphone. He’s quick to explain the rules. Players can work in teams, or by themselves. Players have to write their answers in pen on the answer sheet in front of them before the answers are reveled. And of course, the person or team with the most correct answers wins the cash prize.

“Ready to lose, babe?” Matty says, confidently. Only a hint of humor in his words.

“Strong words for a man who never finished his GCSEs.” You counter.

“Trivia isn’t all about book smarts.” The announcer formally begins the trivia night, and Matty practically eats his words at the first question.

“Alright everyone, hopefully you remember the basic solar system. For our first question, what is the smallest planet?”

You write down you’re answer quickly, and flip the answer sheet over, not trusting Matty to keep his eyes on his own paper. “We are starting off easy tonight. I got this one in the bag,” you declare.

“Calm down, darling; I think everyone knows this one,” he smiles as he writes down his answer, turning his sheet over as well. After one minute, the host announces the answer, which is Mercury. The exact answer you wrote down. Matty did not have as good of luck, though. “The fuck? I could have sworn it was Pluto.” He protests.

“Matty, Pluto isn’t a planet. It hasn’t been for over a decade now. I’m guessing you didn’t finish your science GCSE?” you poke fun at him. Matty shoots a look right back at you while you take another sip of your drink. Your academic knowledge doesn’t help you for the next question.

“Throwing it back a little bit here with this next question. Who was everyone’s first friend on the MySpace?” the host says. Without much thought, you jot down a name on the piece of paper, knowing you had no chance of getting the right answer. When the host says the answer after about a minute, you put a sarcastic expression of defeat on your face and sigh.

Matty, on the other hand, smiles happily across the table. “What? You didn’t know about Tom from MySpace?”

“Never had a MySpace,” you laugh. “Facebook was the rage when I was in school.”

Trivia night continues and the competition between you and Matty only heats up. It goes back and forth for most of the night. He gets an answer right, then you don’t, and vice versa. Or, you both answer wrong. You finish your first vodka cranberry during a brief break in the trivia, so you start to excuse yourself from the table to get another drink. Matty stops you. His hand catches your wrist when you stand up.

“I’m cutting you off, love. Don’t want you to get drunk. I have a lot of plans for later.” Although there is a smile on his face and lightheartedness in his voice, you can’t ignore the look in his eyes. They practically devour you.

You decide to mess with him a bit. “Feeling a little bossy, are we? I can handle my liquor you know.”

“Not taking any chances and look,” he gestures to his wine glass, still on his first one. “I’m limiting myself, too.”

“What a proper gentleman you are tonight,” you reply as you sit back down. He keeps your hand in his, enjoying the touch of your skin.

Matty does way better at the trivia than you expected. He nails every question that has to do with music, pop culture, and especially football. For the most part, you’re able to answer the other question categories.

After the final question, you both tally up your scores. There’s no shot either of you won against the another teams, so you don’t even bother to turn in the score sheets.

“Well, love, let’s see who won the competition, shall we?” He reaches over to grab your answer sheet, comparing it to his. “I think you have met your match. I beat you by a whole ten points.”

“No fucking way!” you exclaim, grabbing the papers from his hand. A strong laugh leaves his throat at your reaction. “There’s no way I lost by that much.”

“Look with your own eyes, then.” The paper backs him up; he completely blew you out of the park.

“I think this was a set up.”

“I told you I’ve been to a few of these before. Those GCSEs not help you much?”

“I guess not,” you laugh. “So, what’s your little plan then? Since you won and all.” Your heart rate up at the thought of his plans. The pulse loud in your ears.

“Let’s just go to the car, yeah?” Matty stands up, putting on his own coat and helping with yours. He leaves a cash tip on the bar for the bartender, then guides you out of the bar back to his car.

The tension in the car is thick. His hand rests on the inside of your tight. It’s only slightly above your knee, but the touch of his fingers gives you goose bumps. The car ride, feels like hours as you both sit in silence. He doesn’t answer when you ask him what he is planning. Matty just smiles and looks at the road, telling you to be patient.

However, patience isn’t easy when you know what is going to happen next. When you know that tonight is the night. Every time his hand squeezes your thigh a fire shoots through your body.

When he finally gets to his flat and parks the car, it takes everything in you to not leap out of your seat. Instead, you wait for him to come around and open your door, like he he’s been doing all night long. On the elevator ride up to his apartment, you expect him to touch you. For him to kiss you and put his hands on you. But, he still doesn’t. As you enter his flat, you think he’ll finally kiss you, or do anything really.

“Why don’t you take a seat on the couch. Do you want a cup of tea?” Matty says nonchalantly while he walks to the kitchen, setting up some quiet music on a blue tooth speaker. You roll your eyes at him, sighing. He continues though. “I’m going to make myself a cup regardless. Sure you don’t want one?”

“Okay, fine.” You hear him start the kettle before returning to the living room. Although, he doesn’t sit on the couch next to you. Matty walks over to a set of drawers by his TV, grabbing something. It’s only when he sits down on a stool across from the couch that you make what he has in his hands, a deck of cards. He pulls them out and begins shuffling the deck on the coffee.

“What on earth are you doing?” you ask. To say you’re confused is an understatement.

“Shuffling a deck of cards. Can’t you tell?”

“I’m not blind, Matty. Why are you shuffling a deck of cards?”

“Because we are going to play gin rummy.” He finishes shuffling the deck as the kettle goes off, so he goes to the kitchen and pours two cups of tea. Matty hands you a cup before sitting back down on the stool.

“Did I misread something? Why are we going to play a card game?”

“Because. I won the trivia night, and we agreed that whoever won got to decide what we do first. I am choosing to play gin rummy.” The look on his face is comical. His big brown eyes crinkle as he smiles right back at you, like he wasn’t teasing you.

You don’t think you can wait any longer. You want him now. No, you need him now.

“Matty, will you just touch me already?” There’s a needy whine in your voice that you can’t control. “Please?” His jaw clenches at your words. He’s holding himself back.

“It’s all about building tension, darling. It’s more rewarding if you wait a little bit.” He doesn’t stop there, continuing to tease after a brief pause. “Going to be a good girl and be patient for me?”

“Fucking hell,” you sigh, hiding your face in your hands. Blood rushes to your cheeks, heating your face up. A heavy blush falls over your entire face.

“Now, do you know how to play? Or do I need to walk you through that too?” he smirks, setting the deck of cards face down on the table.

“I know how to play. Are we doing first to one hundred points wins?” he nods his head, and you both draw a card from the deck. His card wins so he deals out the cards. “Does the winner get a reward this time?” You wanted to know if you were getting yourself into another competition with him.

“I think the reward is the same no matter who wins,” he chuckles but doesn’t elaborate as his stare into yours. It doesn’t take long before they trail down to your chest again. You both go silent as the game begins. You and Matty take turns to draw cards and discard others, attempting to be the first to have only sets of melds in their hand. The tension could be cut with a knife. His gaze is heavy on you as he tries to read your face and guess what you’re going to do next. You nearly have gin before Matty suddenly knocks his cards on the table, ending the round.

“Can’t handle the pressure?” you ask as you display your hands. It’s obvious once your cards are down that your hand is better than his, which gives you 25 points, plus the value of his unmatched cards, 33 total points.

“Well, fuck. That wasn’t a good choice,” he laughs as he shuffles the cards again. “Am I about to find out that you’re a secret prodigy at gin rummy or something?”

“It’s all a game of luck, Matty. But yeah, you just so happened to pick the card game I’m quite good at playing.”

“Give me a run for my money then.” Matty insists.

“I didn’t think we were playing for money.”

“We aren’t.”

The next round goes by quickly. Once again you enter the same dance as last time, however this time you manage to reach gin before he has the chance to knock out. He groans loudly when you call out, revealing his horrible hand.

“Shit, that’s rough. With how many unmatched cards you have, if my math is right… that should be 55 points!”

“God, maybe this was a bad idea.”

“You started it, Matty. Don’t start a fight you can’t finish.”

“Watch it, love.” His eyes darken.

Your winning streak runs out on the next round, he gets gin before you do. He’s awfully proud now, even though he’s only won once. You keep cool as he shuffles for the next round, one more win and it’s in the bag for you. As you get closer and closer to calling gin, Matty makes the same mistake as he did in the first round, choosing to knock out. He knows that if you reach gin, it will be over, so he takes a risk. The cards land in your favor, though, your hand having less unmatched pairs than his.

“I think that means that I win, Matty. Do I get a reward now for being so patient?”

He walks over to you and sits on the couch right beside you. He still doesn’t move though, taking a second to look over you. God, you are so beautiful to him. He could spend all day just looking at you. You interrupt his thoughts by wrapping your hands in his hair and pulling his mouth to yours. The sudden action surprise him a bit. A subtle groan escapes his lips as he catches up with your movements. It’s heated and needy. His mouth moves against yours in a fervor as his tongue brushes against your bottom lip. You happily let him into your mouth, and a whine leaves your lips. His mouth swallows up the sound. Electricity runs through you as his hands touch your body. First, they meet the sides of your face, tugging you in closer by your jaw. Next, one of his hands trails back until his fingers intertwine in your hair. He’s not gentle with it, tugging harshly on your locks to draw another moan out of your mouth. With his other hand he grips your waist, urging you to straddle his hips. In an instant, you grind against him. Your hips move sloppily, but all you can think about is the release he gave you last week. You want his hands on you again.

“Matty, please,” you beg after separating from his mouth. His hands still hold your hips firmly to the bulge growing in his jeans. Brown eyes stare back into you, completely blown out. Your eyes drift down to his lips, which are now swollen and glistening. They’re begging to be kissed again, to be pressed up against your own.

“What do you need, baby?” His fingers dig into your hips. You pray they’ll leave a bruise for you to admire tomorrow. His eyes search for any sign of hesitation on your part.

“I need you to touch me again.” There’s a nervous break in your voice. Although you want this more than anything, the anxiety begins to seep through.

His hand detaches from your waist to hold your jaw. You feel the rough calluses on his thumb as he rubs your cheek gently. It’s taking everything in you not to drown in those kind, brown eyes. “I’ll take care of you. I promise.” He seals the promise with a chaste kiss on your lips. “Let’s go to the bedroom, yeah?” Matty guides you to stand up, taking your hand as he leads you to the bedroom. His hand is warm, grounding you and keeping you steady. Rough compared to your own, but still so gently when he holds you. Your hand trembles a bit in his grasp, and you know he can feel it, too. He squeezes your hand, trying to offer you comfort however he can. Once you’re in his room, Matty’s hands rest tentatively on your waist. “Are you comfortable, love? You can back out any time you want to, just say the word.” His voice is serious as he talks. Completely genuine. It doesn’t matter how much he wants this. He would never do anything against your wishes.

“Just a little bit nervous.” You break away from his gaze, looking down at the ground before your next sentence. “But I want this. I want it to be you.”

“Can we get started with what your reward is?” He has a cheeky smile on his face as he tilts your chin so you’re forced to meet his eyes.

“What might that be?” Your voice unintentionally comes out in a whisper. Matty leans down. His lips brush against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine when he speaks again.

“I want to taste you. That okay?” His voice is gravelly, sending heat between your legs.

You start to nod, but quickly remember Matty wants a verbal response. “Please.”

“That’s a good girl. Going to make you feel so good.” His lips move against your neck, sucking at the skin. The feeling of his tongue against your pulse sends electricity through your body, making your hair stand up on end. He breaks for a moment, taking his time to unbutton the front of your shirt to reveal the lacy bralette underneath. “I’ve been wanting to see this all night,” Matty whispers while his hand squeezes your breast through the bra. “Wearing this just to tease me. Such a naughty thing.” A choked sound leaves your throat as he begins to suck at the revealed skin. His teeth scrape against a certain spot on your collarbone, making you jolt.

“I didn’t know having just a few buttons undone would have you this worked up,” you tell him.

He looks up at you. The brown ring around his eye small in comparison to the size of his pupils.

“You always get me worked up. Could be wearing a garbage bag for all I care.” His eyes dart back to your chest. Eager to see more of your skin, to mark up every inch of your body. “Can I take it off? Want to see you.”

“Yeah,” you whine. Skilled hands pull the bralette over your head, leaving your chest bare to him. Matty’s mouth falls open at the sight of you.

“Fuck. God, you’re gorgeous, love. So fucking beautiful.” An unabashed moan leaves your lips as his mouth takes in your nipple. His tongue swirls around the bud, before his teeth graze it, once again making you tremble. He pays your other breast the same attention, tongue scalding against your skin.

Matty stands back up to full height, towering over you. “Sit on the edge of the bed for me, yeah?” His voice is commanding, but his eyes haven’t lost any of their kindness. You listen, stepping backwards until the back of your legs hit the bed behind you. Matty’s gaze sets you ablaze as you sit down, slightly spreading your legs. Snapping out of his trance, he quickly removes off his t-shirt, revealing his toned chest. He’s panting, struggling to catch his breath. With his eyes locked to yours, Matty takes a few careful steps forward before falling to his knees. His tongue wets his lips as he looks up at you. Matty’s hands linger on your knees, trailing up your thighs. His fingers avoid touching your center, finally resting on the waist band of your pants. His tongue traces where your pants meet your waist. The sight is erotic. He’s already worked up, straining against his jeans.

“Lift your hips for me.” Matty whispers. Your hips raise for him, and he slowly drags the fabric of your pants down your legs. His hands are rough on your knees as he pulls your knees farther apart, leaving enough space for him to rest between them. His warm, swollen lips touch the skin of your thigh, leaving kisses all the way up. When he reaches your inner thigh, you jump as he adds teeth, determined to mark up the skin. He wants to be able to see the marks later. A physical sign that you’re his. Your skin muffles the chuckle that leaves his throat at your reaction. The slowness movements torturous. “Matty, please. I need you.”

“I know you do. Can see how wet you are, darling.” He runs a finger over the wet spot forming on your underwear. Matty mouths over the fabric, saturating it further. He nuzzles at your clit through it.

“Fuck.” You cry, craving the feeling of his tongue on you.

“Let me take these off then if you’re so needy.” He discards the fabric and takes no time to run a broad stroke along your center, collecting your wetness on his tongue. The feeling instantly makes you scream. You’ve never felt anything like it before. The sensation much different than his fingers. His tongue movements are precise, circling your bud. Your hands wrap in his hair, fighting the urge to grind into his face. He breaks free from your grip for only a moment to tease you.

“I knew you’d taste sweet. I could stay between your legs all night long.” When his mouth goes back to your cunt, he traces over your entrance, not fully pushing his tongue inside.

“Matty—” you croak. Your hands pull hard on his curls, making him groan at the pain. It seems the pain only spurs him on, though. He moans into your cunt while he fucks his tongue into your entrance roughly, holding your hips still as you squirm. With every movement of his tongue, his nose nudges against your clit. His arms flex as he holds your hips down, trying to keep you still. You put up one hell of a fight. Hips jolting in his arms.

He moves back to your clit, alternating between lapping over the bud with quick, delicate strokes and sucking at the bud. Whines leave your throat as you struggle to catch your breath. Matty’s tongue is relentless, building heat up in your stomach. He grabs your legs quickly, throwing them over his shoulders so he can hook his arms underneath your thighs. His strong arms hold your center to his mouth, not letting you pull away from his tongue.

You gasp at the new fervor he has against your cunt. He’s licking your center like you’re his final meal, completely burying himself in your cunt. Ecstasy overwhelms you head to toe. Your hips rut against his face, chasing pleasure. The grip in his hair is the only thing grounding you right now, pulling tight. The fire is building by the minute as he quickly circles your clit. “Matty, I’m close please,” you whine. Your thighs clasp around his head, holding him there. Matty’s fingers dig further into your thighs in retaliation. He sends you to release the second he delivers one final, harsh suck on your clit. The euphoria overwhelms you. Cries of Matty’s name leave you in broken sobs. Your hips jolt against his face at the shocks of your orgasm. The world is hazy around you. The only thing you can feel is his tongue continuing to work against you through your high, wet and hot against your clit.

When your thighs unclench around his head, Matty beams at you with a dumb smile on his face, completely blissed out that you came on his face. “How was that, sweetheart?” His voice is cocky. Matty turns his head back to your inner thighs to leave soft kisses on the bruises forming on the skin. You forget to answer him, wrapped up in the way he looks between your thighs. A wet sheen is still all over his mouth, lips swollen and red. His hair is wild from your hands pulling at it, standing up in all directions. He nips your thigh again to get your attention. “Well?” his eyes brows raise while he waits for your answer.

“It was good.” You really didn’t know how else to put it. His tongue made you see stars. Matty raises off his knees to hover over you on the bed, standing between your thighs. He kisses you recklessly before he speaks again. The taste of you lingers on his lips.

“Just good? That’s all you have to say?”

“I already miss when your tongue was occupied.” You joke.

“Oh, I can go again if you want? Meant it when I said I could stay down there for hours.”

“Please. I need you, Matty.”

“You have me, darling.” He knows exactly what you want, but he wants you to ask for it. The sight of him standing in front of you, still mostly dressed, makes you more aware of how bare you are. His eyes devour you, still waiting for a verbal response. At first, Matty stares at your lips, still swollen and puffy. His eyes shift down your neck and chest, admiring the way the marks from his mouth clash with your skin. Out of instinct, he goes to palm himself through his jeans, groaning at the pressure and wishing it was your own hand.

It doesn’t take long before you give in and tell him exactly what you want. “Fuck me. Please.” Your voice is desperate. You want him more than anything. You need him more than anything.

Instead of teasing you further, Matty’s eyes soften as he steps forward to hold your face in his hands. His thumb traces over your lips, delicate and tender. “Alright, baby. I’ll be gentle. Promise I won’t hurt you.”

“I trust you, Matty.” He smiles before he kisses you again. At first, it’s soft and sweet, but it becomes frantic. One of his hands leaves your face to hastily undo his belt, and his jeans are off the next second. His hand grabs your hand, pressing your palm to his hard length covered by his boxers. A loud groan breaks free from his lips as he separates from your mouth. “Do you feel how hard you make me? That’s only for you. Can you lay back on the bed for me?” You listen quickly, shifting up on the bed. Your eyes linger over large bulge in his boxers. The fabric is strained and wet with precum.

Nerves course through your veins at the thought of his cock inside of you, stretching you out. You’re on fire, practically leaping out of your skin. Only his touch can calm the burn. His hands move to pull down his boxers, releasing his cock. Beside the bed, he opens the nightstand, grabbing a condom and holding it in his hands.

“Um,” you interrupt before he opens the package. “I’m on the pill so you don’t have to use one if you don’t want to.” You’ve waited so long for this moment. You want all of him, and nothing less.

Matty struggles to hold himself together. It’s obvious you don’t know how much that sentence fuels him. The thought of being the first one inside of you already makes him ache. The added lack of separation only increases his desire for you. He refuses to pressure you, though. “You sure?”

“I want to feel you.” Your legs part, letting him see the sheen dripping down your thighs.

“You’re going to be the fucking death of me,” he pants.

The world around you slows down as Matty climbs on top of you. All that matters is you and him. His hands rest beside either side of your head, holding himself over your body. The gentleness still in his eyes from earlier. Those kind eyes calm you down instantly. He lets his body lay down fully on you, connecting you skin to skin. When the head of his cock lines up with your entrance, you gasp.

“You ready?”

“Please,” you whisper.

With your confirmation, Matty slowly pushes into you, stretching you out. A breathless groan leaves his throat from the feeling of you so warm and wet around his cock. His hands squeeze at your waist. The rough calluses on his fingertips dig into the skin, steadying himself as he sinks into your cunt. Your eyes squeeze shut. Although he’s going slow in fear of hurting you, the ache from his cock makes a whine leave your mouth.

The pain is welcomed, though. You’ve never felt so close to someone. Never felt so full. As he goes deeper and deeper, you feel yourself stretch around him, allowing him to fill the places deep inside you. The places that you never knew you needed him.

Matty peppers kisses on your cheeks and neck, desperate to comfort you when he sees the expression on your face. “You’re doing so good baby. Feel so fucking good. Almost there.” His voice is strained, like he’s barely holding himself together, falling apart at the seams. Your hands clutch his back, gripping into his skin. He will have some bruises of his own tomorrow to look at.

When he finally bottoms out, he lets out a loud moan. His hands on your hips tighten, grounding him as he stills deep inside of you. He checks on you quickly. “You okay, sweetheart?” He searches your eyes for discomfort, wanting nothing more than to make you feel good. He wants this to be perfect. His chest heaves, trying to catch his breath.

“Yeah, I just…” You take a deep breath, the feeling of his cock filling you up is indescribable. A mix of pain and pleasure. “Just need a minute,” you sigh. The longer he’s inside you, the more the pain fades away. Your body begins to welcome his, almost like it was made for him all along.

“As long as you need. Just tell me when to move.” His voice is calm and caring, not rushing you at all. Matty remains still, cock twitching as you tense around him. He fills the time by kissing your neck. His teeth are completely out of the picture this time. Instead, his lips and tongue delicately smooth over your skin, lingering over the marks he gave you earlier.

When you finally feel ready, you thread one of your hands through his hair while the other digs into his back. “You can move,” you gasp.

“Alright, darling. Tell me if it hurts too much and I’ll stop.” He kisses your lips before he rests his forehead against your own. His eyes are locked with yours while he carefully begins to move inside of you. He’s holding back. Soft groans leave his open mouth. Matty struggles to keep his eyes open as pleasure overwhelms him.

It doesn’t hurt as bad as you thought it would. Both of your hands grip his shoulders. Before you realize you’re doing it, your nails sink into his skin, scratching down his back. “Fuck—” he cries out, not exactly in pain, though. As he continues to thrust inside you, bliss starts to replace the ache inside of you. Your body molds around him. Small whimpers leave your mouth, electricity building in your gut. You need more. Now.

“Matty. Faster. Please.” You cry out. Your legs wrap around his waist, needing him to be even closer to you. You don’t have to tell him twice. He speeds up his movements. His cock grinds in and out of you rapidly, hitting the spot deep inside of you. Your back arches in response. The sensation is overwhelming, running through you all the way to your fingertips. Matty’s fingers, hell, even his tongue is nothing in comparison to his cock. All of those years waiting for a guy were worth it. You have him. You have Matty, and that’s all you need. He fits perfectly inside of you, stretching you like he is made for you.

“Shit. Such a good girl for me. You’re so beautiful, fuck.” His words are breathless. Sweat builds at his brow, falling down the side of his face.

The eye contact melts you into a puddle. It’s intimate. Raw. His forehead still rests on yours. He wants to see you, to see every expression your beautiful face makes. “Kiss me, please. Need you to kiss me.” You beg, needing to feel his lips again. His mouth collides with yours recklessly. It’s messy, but it’s perfect. Matty bites at your lip, letting his tongue sooth over it. You moan into his mouth as his hips snap into you, bringing you closer to the peak of pleasure.

Matty knows you need more from the way you’re squeezing his cock. You’re almost there. One of his hands releases your hip. At first, his hand stops at your lower stomach, pressing down firmly.

“Feel that? Feel my cock in your stomach?” he asks with a broken groan. You shutter at the pressure of his hand.

“Fuck, Matt—” you cry out into his mouth. He moans, cock twitching inside of you when you pulse around him. His hand only stays on your stomach for a moment, traveling down to circle your clit carefully, not wanting to over stimulate you. There would be a chance for that another day. You whimper when his fingers touch you. The heat in your stomach builds rapidly. You are about to snap.

Matty is in no better shape. His hips lose their precision, and he’s trembling from pleasure. He’s doing everything to hold himself together. Moans leaving his lips in rapid successions. Nothing has ever felt more right to him than being inside of you. Your face, your body, and the sounds you make drive him closer to release. When your eyes meet his, completely blown out and in pleasure, he can’t stop the words that leave his mouth.

“I love you.” The phrase leaves his mouth in a groan, like he’s been holding himself back from saying it. It’s true though. His words aren’t a heat of the moment expression. His head falls into your neck, hiding his face from your gaze while he speeds up his hips once again, igniting you from the inside out. You gasp at his words, crying in pleasure as you get closer to your orgasm. You entangle your hands in his hair, pulling his head from your neck so his mouth connects with yours. You kiss him with more passion than you ever have before. It’s a clashing of teeth and tongues. Hot and needy. You hope the kiss makes it clear just how deeply you care about him. You need to tell him though, to use your words like he would want you to. Your hands in his hair pull him back harshly, separating your lips. “I love you too.” Your voice is thin and weak, almost unlike yourself. In an instant, a wide grin breaks across his face. It’s perfect. The moment is perfect.

His hand speeds up on your clit, rubbing tight circles on the bundle of nerves. You’re on the edge of the cliff about to fall off. You try to tell him. “Matty I— Shit, I’m—” Your words fail you, breaking out into helpless whimpers as you hold onto him tighter. Your hands move to his back holding him close. You’ve definitely broken skin by now, but he doesn’t even flinch.

“I know, baby—” He stutters in the middle of his sentence when you pulse around him; he’s nearly about to break. “Come for me. I’m right there.” Those words send you over the edge. You come around him while he rests his forehead on yours, continuing to move through your orgasm as he chases his own release. The rest of the world melts away. Pleasure shocks through you, pulsing through your veins. You’re completely overwhelmed with the feeling of him, gasping his name over and over again. Pure bliss and euphoria wash over you.

Seeing you completely in pleasure underneath him, and hearing you cry out his name so desperately is what sends him over the edge. “Fuck—” he groans. He thrusts a few more times before he completely falls apart, spilling inside of you. His warm cum fills you up deep inside. “God, fucking love you so much,” he gasps, voice nearly unintelligible. You watch as his mouth falls open above you as he loses himself inside of you. You’ve never seen him so lost in pleasure. Words of praise continue to fall from his lips throughout his orgasm before he finally collapses on top of you.

You both lay in silence for a moment, holding each other close while you try to catch your breath. You feel fuzzy, still trembling from the release. Your hands rub at his back, attempting to sooth the nail marks. Matty is the first to say something, worried that you’re shaking from something else entirely.

“Did I hurt you?” Panic paints his face when he meets your eyes.

“No, no. Not at all.” You assure him quickly with your hand on his cheek. “That was perfect. You were perfect.” His lips meet yours again, kissing you softly. When the kiss ends, you are suddenly aware he is still inside of you. “Okay so… what do we do now?” you ask, utterly clueless. They didn’t go over this part in sex ed. He chuckles at your statement, not in a mocking way, though, rather just at the innocence of the question.

“I’m going to take care of you now, sweetheart. Going to pull out, okay?” You nod in response. You wince as he moves out of you, feeling entirely empty without him. “Let me get a washcloth to clean you up. I’ll be right back.”

He returns from the adjoined bathroom quickly with a warm washcloth in hand. His hand meets your knee, indicating for you to part your legs for him. He stares for a moment, hesitating with the washcloth.

When you feel his cum drip out of your cunt, you realize what he is staring at so intensely.

“Are you looking at something interesting?” you tease with a raised eyebrow. He snaps out of it at your words, meeting your eyes again. A light blush appears on his face, growing redder by the second.

“Sorry. I lost myself for a second there.” Matty begins to wipe you off. His hands are delicate and gentle as he presses the warm rag to your center, careful around the sensitive skin.

“No need to apologize. Just didn’t think you would be so into that,” you continue, playing with fire.

His eyes cut back to yours. A shade darker than before. “I just cleaned you off. Are you trying to get me to fill you up again? Because I will. Gladly.” There’s a slight joking tone to his words, but you know his claim is serious. Dead serious.

“I’m already too sore for that.” You smile back at him, feeling the blush rise to your cheeks.

“I think I know of something to help.” His hands wrap around your waist, lifting you off the bed and carrying you to the bathroom. He sets you down gently on the counter, discarding the washcloth in the sink. He walks over to the large bathtub and begins running the water.

“Running a bath? How romantic.”

“Consider it an early apology for how sore you’ll be in the morning, love.”

When the bath is full, he stands you up before he settles down in the bath first. He winces as his back meets the water, stinging in the marks from your nails.

“I’m sorry about that… I’ll be more careful next time,” you say as you step in the tub, sitting directly in front of him.

“Don’t worry about it. I liked it,” he replies. Matty doesn’t waste a second to wrap his arms around you, letting you fully lean back on him. The hot bath water sooths every ache in your body. His hands run over you, massaging your skin. They rub over your arms, and then your stomach. There’s nothing sexually charged about his movements. He’s simply tracing your soft skin, clueless of how he got so lucky to have you in his arms. The water and his touch nearly lull you to sleep before he speaks again.

“Can I wash your hair for you?”

“It’s not two-in-one, is it?”

“Do you think the curls on my head would be intact if I used two-in-one?” he laughs. “Scoot forward a bit and lay back for me.” He lets your hair fully submerge in the water before applying shampoo to your scalp. His fingertips massage your scalp, and you find yourself humming peacefully at the sensation. After washing the shampoo out, he repeats the same process with conditioner. Just when you think he’s about done, Matty grabs a loofah from the side of the tub lathering it with his body soap. Smells of bergamot fill your nose as he rubs the loofa over your body.

“Want me to smell like you, huh?”

“That’s just a bonus of taking proper care of you.” He takes his time to rinse the soap off of you. You’re completely clean. “Come on, let’s get you dried off.” Matty wipes away the water on your body with a clean towel, drying himself off quickly with another one next. He guides you to sit on a chair in the bathroom. “Be right back.” He says, walking back into the bedroom. Matty returns wearing a new pair of boxers, holding a t-shirt and another fresh pair of boxers in his hand. He helps you get dressed, pulling the boxers over your hips before putting your shirt on.

“Going to dry your hair now. Don’t want you falling asleep with wet hair.” He takes out a hairdryer from underneath the sink and begins to dry your hair. He runs his fingers through your scalp as he maneuvers your hair to make sure it’s all dry. Matty is focused on the task, biting his lip in concentration.

“Do you do this every time? Or are you just trying to impress me?” you ask after he turns off the hair dryer.

“I’ll do it every time if you want. I’ll do anything you say, love.”

Matty carries you back to bed, getting under the covers right after you. You lay your head on his chest. The sound of his heartbeat rings strongly in your ear. His arms wrap around you. You’ve never felt safer than with him.

“I really do love you, Matty. Never felt like this before,” you admit, pressing soft kiss to his neck.

“I love you, too. I’m so fucking glad I walked into that coffee shop.”

#matty healy x reader #matty healy smut #matty healy #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 #matty healy fanfic #matty healy imagine #the 1975 smut

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neufhistoires · 11 months

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Loveless Marriage (FrUK) Chapter 9

Loveless Marriage

Chapter 9

Word Count: 4,327

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Seychelles was a beautiful country, so any couple would be happy to have their honeymoon there together… That is, if the couple was truly a couple.

It was rather awkward for Francis and Arthur to go to such a lovey dovey place together alone. Their parents had booked them separate rooms, instructing that they just had to be careful not to post pictures that alluded to them being in two different rooms. They told them that it was their treat to them for following through with the whole publicity stunt so well. Francis was hurt by the wedding ceremony, but the thought of essentially just hanging out with Arthur on an island where they didn’t have to put on a show anymore didn’t sound so bad… Actually, it sounded kind of fun.

Francis wanted to hit up the different nightclubs on the islands, go shopping, see the botanical gardens– that sort of thing. On the other hand, Arthur wanted to go to the island that was supposedly haunted. What they were interested in on the island did differ some, but they were both excited to go nonetheless.

Checking into the hotel felt normal because they didn’t have to pretend they were in love or anything, and they were both registered under their own last names. It was sure to be a whole argument when they had to figure out what to do about their last names now that they were technically married, but they would deal with that when the time came…

They brought their luggage to their hotel rooms and then met back up in the hallway afterwards. They didn’t have to spend time with one another, and they did want to do different things, but… they didn’t know anyone in Seychelles, so it made sense to stay together, right? Surely that was the only reason they did.

“I guess I’ll spend time with you because you’re terrible at socializing,” Francis said with a smug look on his face as he leaned over Arthur’s shoulder to look at the tourist map they had been given in the hotel lobby.

“Hmph, a haunted island would be more fun alone anyway. Go off and hook up with random people you’ll never see again if that’s what your idea of fun is,” Arthur said dismissively, as though he was too caught up in looking at the map to care about the Frenchman’s jabs at him.

“Are you really looking for ghosts on an all expenses paid vacation? I thought you were joking,” Francis said, surprise apparent on his face.

“I’ve already heard all the ghost stories in England. Not to mention the ghost that I keep seeing in our neighbor’s window…” Arthur muttered the last part, but it sent chills up Francis’s spine.

“Stop reminding me,” Francis retorted. He hated that sort of thing. Especially because he was pretty sure he had seen it a few times, too…

“How about we make a compromise?” Arthur said, lowering the map and locking eyes with the taller blonde beside him. “We’ll go to the haunted island today and then I’ll go out drinking with you afterwards.”

“That’s not fair– you like to go out drinking, too!” Francis complained, narrowing his eyes at the Englishman.

“Fine– what do you want to do then?” Arthur asked, sounding as though he was forced to ask him that question.

“We’ll go out drinking tonight, because we both want to, and then tomorrow will be my day to choose what we do… Which will most likely be…” Francis pulled the map out of Arthur’s hands so he could look at it again. On the right hand side of the map different attractions and events were listed. “We should go sunbathing and swimming at the Côte d’Or!”

Arthur looked like someone had stabbed him when he heard that Francis wanted to go sunbathing and swimming on some crowded tourist beach. However… the truth was that he didn’t actually want to go to the haunted island by himself… and the people in Seychelles did speak French, so it would make sense for Francis to come along with him… so…

“Alright, fine– we’ll go there tomorrow,” Arthur agreed reluctantly, making Francis smirk victoriously. Arthur cursed himself for thinking that Francis looked kind of handsome with that smug look on his face.

“It’s settled then– off to Moyenne Island!” Arthur said, pointing his finger at the island on the map with such enthusiasm that he made himself blush with embarrassment afterwards.

They took a ferry from the main island to Moyenne Island, which was supposedly haunted by ghosts, some of which just so happened to be British, and others which happened to be pirates. Arthur had always been interested in both ghosts and pirates, and he was British, so it was like it was practically made for him.

When the ferry finally arrived on the island, it left to return other tourists to the main island and pick up more people who were interested in going on the haunted tour. Francis was a bit unsettled by the whole thing, but it was still rather early in the day, so he figured he didn’t have to worry too much about seeing any ghosts. After all, they only came out during the day, right?

The tour guide started by explaining some of the history of the island while they were still standing at the shore. Then, after adding in some details about how the last man who owned the island died there (great), the tour guide began leading them through the wooded part of the island and it started to seem darker due to the shade from the trees.

They passed a sign that said the Moyenne Island National Park closed at four o’clock, but it was already four thirty. Francis had been reassured by daylight, but it was most likely going to get dark for part of their tour.

“Arthur– how long is this tour?” Francis asked, nudging the Englishman out of the trance he was in as he listened to the tour guide.

“It’s going to be a few more hours, but don’t worry so much– I checked and some of the bars around here don’t even open until midnight,” Arthur said dismissively, putting his hand on the Frenchman’s shoulder to urge him to continue up the trail with the other tourists.

It wasn’t exactly that Francis was thinking about drinking, but more so that he didn’t want to be on an island that was allegedly haunted in the dark… It was too embarrassing to admit that though, so he just accepted that Arthur apparently thought he was an alcoholic and continued to tread up the trail.

Eventually, they made it further up the hill and reached an area where mounds of cement with iron crosses atop them donned metal plaques which read “Unhappily Unknown.” They were tombstones.

Unfortunately, the sun had started to set when the tour guide stopped in front of the tombstones and started to explain who built them and when. The nameless ones were supposedly pirates who had visited the islands in the 1800s. The previous owner of the island was buried there himself along with his father. The thought alone sent chills down Francis’s spine. He wanted to leave.

“Do you think I’ll be able to capture a photo of a ghost?” Arthur whispered, leaning in towards Francis so he didn’t interrupt the tour guide who was still speaking. The Englishman had his phone out every once and awhile, making sure to take a photo of anything the tour guide mentioned being haunted or belonging to someone long dead.

“I don’t know– maybe,” Francis replied nonchalantly, but on the inside he was going against Arthur, hoping he didn’t see any ghosts.

The tour continued and they had finally made their way past the ominous tombstones. Francis had been impatiently waiting for that moment, but then his own paranoid thoughts caught up to him and he started to think about how unsettling it was that the graves were behind them now.

Francis and Arthur were at the back of the tour group, which was most likely due to a combination of Arthur stopping to take photos of everything and Francis being reluctant to be there in the first place. At the beginning of the tour, Francis thought being in the back was the thing to do. After all, he didn’t want to be there so why get in the way of those who did? However, he was starting to regret it because he felt rather vulnerable with no one else following behind them.

Nonchalantly– at least he hoped it was nonchalant– Francis grabbed Arthur’s hand and then acted like nothing happened when the Englishman turned to him with a confused expression on his face.

“You got my hopes up– I thought you were a ghost,” Arthur joked. The sun had finished setting and it was dark. It was difficult to see much of anything other than the light that the tour guide was carrying and the occasional light from the other tourists’ cell phones.

“You were hoping to hold hands with a ghost?” Francis asked dumbfoundedly.

“Why are you holding my hand anyway?” Arthur asked, ignoring the Frenchman’s question. Of course he wanted to hold hands with a ghost.

Francis contemplated what he should say for a moment before a smirk formed on his face and he cleaned in closer to the Englishman. “You’re my husband– why shouldn’t I hold your hand?”

Arthur’s face flushed and he gave Francis a light shove, making their hands detach from one another. “Don’t say things like that..!”

The two of them walked in silence through the dark woods for a few before Francis casually reached out and took Arthur’s hand again, causing him to let out a sigh. Arthur would’ve just accepted it, but then a thought crossed his mind…

“You’re afraid, aren’t you?” Arthur asked with a smirk.

“What? What’s there to be afraid of?” Francis retorted, but his offended tone made the truth easy to reveal.”If anything, the ghosts would come after you– you’ve been taking their pictures all day, after all..!”

Arthur’s expression was enough to make Francis even more annoyed, because the smirk on his face just kept growing.

“You could’ve just told me you didn’t want to come because you were scared– you didn’t have to lie and tell me you just thought it was boring,” Arthur continued to tease Francis until they reached another spot in the tour, so they had to quiet down if they wanted to hear what the tour guide had to say.

However, there was quite a distance between Francis and Arthur and the tour guide. That was why the noise that Francis heard behind himself was so distinct. He had definitely heard something. It sounded like some sort of rustling in the trees.

Francis still had Arthur’s hand in his because regardless of how much the other man had teased him, he still secretly liked holding him close like that, especially in public… So, in the most aloof way possible, he turned around to look at the clearing behind him to see if anything was there. There didn’t appear to be anything, but then he heard it again and he suddenly went from feeling a little suspicious to feeling terrified.

“Arthur– did you hear something?” Francis whispered.

“Huh? No, did you?” Arthur asked, feeling a bit empathetic towards the other man when he felt how tight he was squeezing his hand.

“Oui, it sounded like there was something behind us just now,” Francis replied, glancing at the path behind them again.

“You know what– it was probably just a–” Arthur started, but he was cut off by Francis suddenly jumping and clinging to his arm. The Frenchman’s actions were enough to catch him off guard and scare him, too, in the process.

The culprit that had followed and terrified Francis turned out to be a giant tortoise, which slowly crept out of the bushes after Francis’s sudden movements. Upon seeing what it was, the Frenchman released Arthur and let out a sheepish laugh.

“What I was going to say was that it was probably a giant tortoise,” Arthur said in a somewhat annoyed tone because Francis had scared him, too. “Weren’t you listening? The tour guide mentioned that the man who bought the island brought giant tortoises here, so we might see them roaming about during our tour.”

“Yeah, and he also mentioned how this island is haunted about five million times! How was I supposed to know it was a tortoise and not a ghost?!” Francis yelled in a hushed tone, hoping Arthur was the only person that witnessed his embarrassing reaction.

“So you do admit that you’re scared..!” Arthur said with a smirk, pointing his finger at Francis accusatively.

“Non! I was trying to protect you from the…” Francis stopped speaking and his cheeks turned pink as he became more and more aware of how embarrassing the whole thing was.

“From the tortoise?” Arthur pushed further, a smug grin on his face.

Francis didn’t answer him, letting out a “hmph” as he turned back around to face the tour guide. Arthur couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction. Then, the tour guide and the group of people in front of them started to walk further up the hill, so Francis and Arthur followed after them, still holding hands. It was pitch black outside, so it made sense for them to keep holding hands like that. You know— for safety reasons…

Eventually, the tour came to an end and they took the ferry back to the main island. Francis was spooked the entire way back to the island, thinking some sort of mysterious sea monster or vengeful spirit might attack them while they were drifting through the water. Meanwhile, Arthur was kind of hoping something like that would happen. For some reason, he would have loved to have seen it. Not to mention that he thought the way Francis had tried to pretend he wasn’t scared the entire time even though he kept latching onto the Englishman was rather endearing.

“Bien, c’est fini. Now let’s go to the bar,” Francis said, letting out a sigh of relief as they stepped off the ferry. “I need a drink after that,” he muttered.

“Yeah, yeah, I need one, too,” Arthur replied, a small smile on his face as he reflected on their time at the haunted island. It was actually a lot of fun.

Just like Arthur had mentioned, the bars didn’t actually open until around eleven thirty or midnight, so they had to wait a few until they could get in. Once they did, they drank much more than they should have and then headed back to the hotel.

The next morning, Francis woke up feeling like he had gotten the short end of the stick. It was his day to choose what they did, but since his day came after a night of way too much drinking, it was also plagued by a terrible hangover. Since Francis and Arthur were in separate rooms, the Frenchman couldn’t even bother the Englishman for medicine and water. He would have to get up and get it himself…

Reluctantly, Francis moved off the bed and stumbled into a standing position. He could barely remember the night before. Due to the fact that most of the night involved talking about ghosts, he couldn’t keep straight what was from the tour and what was from some sort of fever dream.

Francis fumbled around in his suitcase, trying to find medicine. Eventually he found it, took it, and then stumbled into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. He looked like a mess, but he should be able to fix it within a few minutes. He just needed to take a shower and that would probably be enough to wake him up and freshen up his appearance.

Meanwhile, Arthur hadn’t even woken up until Francis was already in the shower, getting ready for the day. He was suffering from a hangover, too, but it was even more difficult for him to have motivation to get up and get ready because he absolutely didn’t want to go sunbathing and swimming at a crowded beach.

There was a selfish voice in the back of Arthur’s head that urged him to fall back asleep and forget about the plans he had made with Francis. After all, the Frenchman didn’t have a key, so all he could do was knock for a bit and then give up. Then, Arthur would have the day to himself and he wouldn’t have to do something he didn’t want to… Arthur smirked at the thought and closed his eyes again.

Just as Arthur was about to fall asleep, he realized that he couldn’t. He had a guilty conscience, and as much as he hated to admit it, he wouldn’t have been able to fall back asleep knowing that he lied to Francis and made him spend the day alone, especially after he had gone to a haunted island that he was clearly afraid of.

Arthur let out a groan and sat up, stretching his arms in the air as his head pounded with a terrible headache. Then, he went to take medicine and get a shower, too.

As soon as Arthur got out of the shower, he received a text from Francis, asking if he was ready to go. He had to rush a little bit, but the truth was that it didn’t take him very long to get dressed. He envied that Francis could get dressed in the same amount of time, but he still always ended up looking more fashionable. Actually, sometimes they wore similar things, or he took the Frenchman’s fashion advice, but he still looked better.

It had been just a normal morning and Arthur didn’t usually contemplate what he was going to wear too much, but his own thoughts suddenly overwhelmed him and he started to feel insecure at the thought that they were going to a popular tourist spot and Francis would be dressed so much better than him. He started frantically sifting through the clothing that he had brought with him, hoping to find something to pull on before Francis stopped waiting for a response and just came over himself. However, that time came quicker than the Englishman anticipated, as only a few minutes later he heard a knock on his door.

Arthur ignored the knock and continued to go through his clothing, but then he realized that nothing he packed would make him look as good as Francis. No, maybe nothing he owned would make him look as good as Francis. Or, maybe it was just him, and he couldn’t pull off anything as good as the Frenchman. Francis would look good even if he was wearing a trash bag, but Arthur felt like he struggled to put a decent outfit together.

“Arthur, bonne matin– are you awake?”

The Frenchman’s voice was easy to hear through the door, but Arthur really didn’t want to answer the door in his underwear, or, even worse, admit that he was terribly insecure and felt inferior to the Frenchman, so he was sifting through his clothes at the last minute and questioning all of his life choices that led up to this moment.

Arthur chose to ignore Francis again and continued to look through his suitcase to find an outfit. Then, the knocking started again, and in a stressed panic Arthur just pulled on a random pair of shorts and a shirt before he ran over and swung the door open.

Francis’s eyes widened upon seeing that Arthur was indeed awake and he looked stressed rather than hungover.

“Arthur– what are you–”

“I know, I look terrible– go ahead and laugh,” Arthur said, cutting the Frenchman off before he could even finish his sentence. Also, he sort of looked like he was going to cry, like his eyes were glassy and the tears just hadn’t poured out yet.

Francis just stared at Arthur for a moment in confusion, trying to understand what could’ve made the other man so upset. He really had no idea, but he could see that the Englishman’s clothing was mismatched, so he decided to take it from there and tread carefully.

“I was just going to ask what you were doing– I could hear you rustling around in here…” Francis mumbled. “Anyway, didn’t you pack a white button up shirt with you? Why don’t you wear that? It will look nice with those shorts,” Francis said, pushing past Arthur and entering his room. He noticed the messy piles of clothing throughout the Englishman’s room and then he started to understand.

“Are you sure it will… look nice..?” Arthur murmured, shutting the door behind them as he walked back over to the piles of clothing Francis was standing in front of. He was embarrassed that the other man was looking at the mess he made– he had intended on cleaning it up when he got back later.

Francis found the white button up shirt in one of the piles of clothing and picked it up, turning to face Arthur. His heart ached at the thought that the other man felt so insecure. He felt sort of guilty, too, because he knew that he could tease him about the way he dressed sometimes. He was usually just joking and he didn’t have any malicious intentions, but he suddenly became aware of the fact that he was probably hurting the other man without realizing it.

“Oui, of course it will. I’ve always thought that you look nice in button ups– they suit you,” Francis said softly, a gentle smile on his face as he started to undo the buttons on the shirt.

Arthur felt inexplicably relieved, like a weight was lifted off his shoulders. He turned his back to Francis as he took off his shirt, but it wasn’t really because he was changing– he finally gave his eyes permission to release his tears and the pressure in his head went away some.

Arthur nonchalantly dried his cheeks when he pulled the shirt over his head and then he turned back to face Francis, who lightly tossed the shirt he had unbuttoned at him.

“Thanks,” Arthur murmured, pulling the shirt on and hastily buttoning it back up. “I’m ready then, if you are.” “Wait– you didn’t forget this did you?” Francis asked, picking a bottle of sunscreen up from Arthur’s bed.

“Oh, actually I did,” Arthur said, letting out a small laugh. He had been so concerned with his appearance and yet he had almost set himself up to get burnt to a crisp.

“I figured,” Francis said in a matter of fact tone as he opened the lid.

“What are you doing?”

“What do you mean? I’m going to put sunscreen on you,” Francis replied in a voice so innocent that Arthur almost obliged.

“No. You’re not.”

“Oh, come on. There are places you can’t reach,” Francis said, taking a step towards Arthur with a smirk on his face.

Arthur’s face paled and he took a step back, moving away from the Frenchman.

“I’m not going to get naked on the beach, so I think it’s just fine if sunscreen isn’t applied to those places,” Arthur hissed, continuing to back up as Francis neared closer.

“Arthur, you’re no fun,” Francis commented, the smirk on his face growing even larger as he lunged at the Englishman and tackled him onto the bed.

The whole thing happened so fast that Arthur felt as though his life had flashed before his eyes. The two of them ended up wrestling and laughing, accidentally getting some sunscreen on the bed and their clothes during their fight, if it could even be called that. It all felt light hearted and fun until they landed in a position where Francis was on top of Arthur and the two of them were panting from laughing and rolling around– that was when it started to feel a tad too intimate and they both abruptly pulled away from each other and got up from the bed as if a deafeningly awkward tension hadn’t just erupted.

Francis cleared his throat awkwardly and said, “anyway, you should put that on before we go to the beach.”

The two of them headed off to Côte d’Or and it basically turned out the way they both expected it would– Arthur set up a beach towel and an umbrella, hoping to fully stay out of the sun, but then Francis urged him to come get in the water, essentially guilt tripping the Englishman by saying that he did what he wanted the previous day, so now it was Arthur’s turn.

Reluctantly, Arthur did end up joining Francis in the water, but the beach turned out to be a lot less crowded than he had originally thought it would be, so it was also much less awkward than he had predicted, too. It actually wasn’t so bad. Although, to the Englishman’s dismay, because he hadn’t listened and didn’t keep reapplying sunscreen like Francis because it was too awkward to lather himself with lotion in front of a group of other tourists, he did end up getting burnt. It was mainly on his pale cheeks and his shoulders. It was sort of cute though, like he was in a constant state of blushing, Francis defended. And now he wouldn’t know if Arthur had actually blushed at that comment or not.

The day came to an end similarly to the previous one, but this time they vowed not to drink as much so they could wake up with ease and enjoy the next day properly. The plans for the following day were arranged according to Francis’s suggestion, too, but it was something that Arthur supposed he could get behind– the Victoria Botanical Gardens.

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diana-bookfairchild · 1 year

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@fluffbruary Day 22

How was your year, Tessa? Jem asked in the way of the Silent Brothers, in her head.

Their meetings on the bridge were so brief, barely cooling the aching grief of her mind and heart, and she yearned to draw him to her and never let go, to say my Jem and hear him say Wo ai ni.

She shook the urge off. Thus was the curse of immortality, and she had gotten better at bearing it over the years.

“It was good,” she said. “I worked as a nurse again, which was exhausting. I have all the respect in the world for Catarina. I think I’ll be going to university again this year.”

Which course would you want to study?

“Linguistics,” she said, spinning the bracelet Will had given her for their wedding anniversary around her wrist. “It has a few entertaining jobs lined up afterwards, which spares me from going into the Labyrinth for a while.”

She loved her fellow warlocks, and she loved working and researching in the Spiral Labyrinth – but after the incident seven years ago it was still hard to think about going back there. She had no doubt she would, though: to her it was what hospitals were to Catarina, what luxury was to Magnus, what the Shadow Market was to Hypatia, what Idris was to Ragnor, what his family was to Raphael. A constant, something you find yourself drawn to in the long years of loneliness.

“How was your year?” She asked him, even knowing his response, because thinking about how her life was going sometimes made her incredibly sad.

It was well, he answered, entirely uninformative as usual. He always encouraged her to talk about herself and her life, and always refused to say much about his own.

Tessa spent all year yearning for this period, for the time she got to interact with the love of her life, and then when it came to it, when she was finally looking at him, she wanted to close her eyes and be done with it. She hated what life had done to the two of them, she hated how much they had lost: Will. James. Lucie. Cordelia. Jesse. Matthew. Christopher. Thomas. Alistair. Anna. Cecily. Sophie. Gideon. Charlotte. Gabriel. Henry.

She hated that looking at Jem and talking to him brought up so many sad memories of her past, all the people she loved and her memories of them tinged with grief and sorrow.

Silences were unfilled, but never awkward between them. As many conflicted emotions Tessa held for this, there was always a peace to be had with Jem, even with his eyes peacefully closed, in the parchment robes of Silent Brothers.

Suddenly there was a loud commotion from the other side of the bridge. A few teenagers were creating a cacophony of noise, yelling at one another. One made gestures which were getting more and more agitated and exuberant by the second. Another stomped their feet and pointed between two of them, screeching about the sheer betrayal they left. It looked like those two were about to come to blows before the third pushed their way between them, hands on hips, and began to scold them, and then they stood there sulkily, occasionally glaring at one another.

Tessa threw her head back and laughed in a way she hadn’t in a while.

Jem was looking at her softly, and her breath caught. He almost looked the way he had, mortal, so many years ago.

It has been a while since I have heard laughter, he confessed.

Tessa found that indescribably sad. No matter how much she went through in life, she had never been devoid of laughter, in herself, in the people she loved, or simply on the streets she passed.

Why did you laugh like that? Jem continued.

“I just remembered something,” Tessa said, and for once, it brought the hot rush of joy rather than melancholy. “It was so silly. It was so long ago. We were such children.”

What was it?

“Cecily and Gabriel,” Tessa chuckled. “And the day Will found them. Also, coincidentally, the day they got engaged.”

I assume it was not quite that coincidental, Jem commented dryly, though she was fairly certain she and Will had told him that story when it had happened, Will nearly incoherent in his apoplectic, appalled rantings.

“No, it wasn’t,” she agreed, and she slipped back to the memories.

Gabriel and Will had been on an overnight mission, and Tessa and Cecily had stayed up until dawn for them, Cecy practically vibrating with impatience that she hadn’t been able to go. They’d watched the sky turned lighter as Bridget sang about murder in the background.

At that point, Cecily had completely lost her temper and gone to demand mission details from Gideon, who had never been good at denying his brother’s girlfriend, and caved instantly.

“Are you coming, Tessa?” She’d asked grimly, adding several daggers – her chosen weapon – to her holsters.

“Of course,” Tessa had replied. “I’m not leaving my sister to go out and get my husband alone.” That had gotten her a smile.

They’d gotten the carriage out, Cyril expressing several worries over them going out alone, and followed the trail left by their partners to a slime covered street.

“Cecaelia demons,” Cecily had said, her eyes blazing with that battle high Tessa saw so much but could never understand. “No wonder they’re late.” The both of them drew their blades and then charged in.

“Cecily!” Will had cried in fury. “What are you doing here?”

“You were late. I’m not sure what else I could’ve come for, Gwilym,” she’d replied, throwing a demon bodily off a stunned Gabriel. “Feel free to give me ideas, though.”

The four of them had made quick work of the demons, Will and Cecily trading barbs, and Will regularly trying to keep Tessa out of the way, which was rather useless.

“Why are you here, Tess?” Will had asked at the end, tiredly but tenderly, taking her hand.

Tessa had cocked her head to the side and smiled. “Cecily put it quite well. You were late. I hope you didn’t expect me to sit around and wait.”

Will had laughed. “Of course not, my Boadicea,” he’d kissed her hand. “What did you think of my performance?”

“You were rather dashing in the battle,” Tessa had allowed loftily. “But you wouldn’t have succeeded without me.”

“I would be incapable in every way without you,” Will had agreed mock solemnly.

“I don’t know,” she’d replied amusedly, “Cecy seems to keep you in line.”

At that, his face turned thunderous. “Cecily!” He barked. Cecily was nearly eighteen then, the same age they had been when they had met, but Will would forever remain overprotective – smothering, Cecily complained – over her. “By the Angel, I nearly forgot. Where is she?”

They’d found her in Gabriel’s arms, the two of them kissing like the world was ending. Tessa had smiled – you could say many things about Gabriel, but never that he didn’t adore Cecily. And she certainly remembered her own ‘we’ve survived, yay! Also you look hot fighting’ sex.

Will … did not see it that way. He had gone absolutely ballistic. He’d torn Gabriel away and thrown him to the ground.

Tessa had tried to calm him down, but to no avail.

Cecily and Will had gotten into a screaming match. Will raged and said she should have better decorum. Cecily swore at him in Welsh and called him a bloody hypocrite. Gabriel and Tessa exchanged a half-amused half-hapless look.

“How many times have I walked in on you and Tessa?” Cecily demanded.

“Tessa and I are married,” Will had snapped back. “That doesn’t matter.”

“Really, Will, you know we didn’t wait for marriage,” Tessa said exasperatedly. Gabriel winced at that. Will shrugged, knowing it was true and not wanting to argue with her, but his face was set.

“So, what you mean is if Gabriel and I were married, you would have been fine walking in on what you did?” Cecily had said, eyes gleaming with the Herondale promise of mischief and Tessa felt dread rise up in her. Gabriel made a choked noise.

Will laughed, clearly not considering that a serious question. “Sure, why not.”

“Very well then,” Cecily had tossed her hair back arrogantly and gone and knelt in front of Gabriel. Both Gabriel and Will’s jaws had dropped. Tessa had been unable to prevent an excited half-cheer half-laugh. “Gabriel Lightwood,” she continued, and the challenge in her eyes faded to something softer, something that made Tessa feel like a voyeur. “. I have never loved anyone before you, and I sincerely doubt I will after. Ever since I met you, you have kept pace with me, supported me, and challenged me, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you continuing to do those things. Will you do me the honour of being my husband?”

“Cecy. . .” Gabriel had sounded absolutely flabbergasted. And so, so in love.

Cecily had smiled at him, a moment so solemn and sweet not even Will had interrupted. “Do you have an answer for me?”

Gabriel had dropped to his knees as well. “For you,” he’d said. “The answer will always, always be yes.” They’d kissed, chastely but still somehow fiercely before parting, Gabriel having a hand on his fiancee’s cheek. “I am happy to spend the rest of my life with you,” he had continued softly. “And I am honoured you chose me.”

Cecily had grinned in a private, tender amusement. “I’m certain you would have been insulted if I had picked anyone else.”

Gabriel had snorted, taking her hand, slipping his family ring off his finger and onto hers, and pressing a light kiss to the back of it. “Rest assured; I absolutely would have been.”

“Congratulations!” Tessa had beamed, seeing that the moment had been teetering towards an end. Both of the lovebirds had startled slightly, before turning matching smiles to her. She moved rapidly to hug Cecily, and turned to Gabriel with his fiancée still in her arms. “Welcome to the family, Gabriel.”

Gabriel had smiled, obviously touched. “Thank you, Tessa.”

“The family?” Will had called, sounding revolted. But his expression hadn’t matched his tone, he’d been looking between the newly engaged couple, a furrow in his eyebrows. “Cecily, cariad, you’re seventeen.”

“Tessa was seventeen when she was engaged to Jem, and no one objected to that,” she’d pointed out in return, ignoring the slight noise Gabriel, who had never understood how they still considered Jem family, made. Cecily had, though. Cecily still called Brother Zachariah Jem, even though Tessa knew he slightly unnerved her. “We shall perhaps have a long engagement, but that does not matter right now.”

Will had sighed ruefully, considering this, hands in his pockets. Tessa had made her way back to him, and he’d almost unthinkingly come to her side. “I suppose there’s little left to be said then,” he’d commented. “Keep good on those promises you made, Gabriel, and we’ll be okay.”

Gabriel’s eyes had been wide at the approval. Cecily looked happy and irritated at the same time, saying “You have no right to comment on my relationships, Will!” while he’d stared at Will, the two men nodding sharply simultaneously moments after.

“Welcome to the family, I suppose, Lightworm,” Will had continued resignedly. “I probably won’t call you that anymore or prank you. Much.”

And with Will and Cecily still arguing, with Gabriel still looking delightedly dazed, they had made their way back to the Institute.

That is quite the story, Jem said, and he sounded wistful in her head. Tessa wasn’t sure if it was her own bias or if he actually did sound that. And it was very Cecily of her to propose.

“It’s fairly common now,” Tessa agreed. “But back then it was nearly unheard of. Cecy did love breaking stereotypes,” she said softly, and for once, the memory of someone she loved brought her joy rather than pain.

Tessa was immortal. Nearly everyone she loved was dead, and those still alive could die someday. She would outlive Jem, and it wasn’t a guarantee that she wouldn’t outlive her immortal friends.

But that wasn’t the point, she realized with a startling clarity. The point was to make memories like that which would make her smile years in the future. The point was that you lived, and did everything you could to live well. The point was the choices you made and the people you loved. The point was having those people, even for a short while. She thought of Gideon and Sophie, and of Gabriel and Cecily, who had lost their Barbara and Christopher so early into their lives and had still not regretted a second of it.

Tessa swallowed the lump in her throat, and looked at Jem: no longer a melancholy piece of the past, but the hope and happiness of her life there that she carried into the future.

“I think I’m going back to the Spiral Labyrinth,” she decided on a whim. “I’ve missed it a lot.” And she had, she realized.

You will? Jem asked, sounding surprised.

“Yes,” she said firmly. “What about you? Any New Year’s resolutions?”

I’m not sure, he admitted.

“That’s alright,” Tessa said, smiling. “We’ve got time.”

#fluffbruary #fluffbruary 2023 #the infernal devices #the shadowhunter chronicles #jessa #wessa #gabrily #tessa gray #jem carstairs #cecily herondale #cecily lightwood #gabriel lightwood #will herondale #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff

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nebulousneuroticism · 5 months

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My sleep last night was restless and fitful. I woke several times before my alarm, and although I tried to snooze it after it rang, I found I could not doze off. So I got up, put on some nice clothes, gathered my things, and drove to the office.

It felt strange, being back. Nothing has changed there. It's all just as it was before--even some decorations my old team had put up. That team is long disbanded, but our decorations remain. The only difference is that it's quieter now: not many people go in to work every day.

I gathered my energy and went to have lunch with some coworkers, doing my best to ignore my rising social anxiety. I felt awkward and slow the whole time, but once I got going, the anxiety mostly subsided. They're my coworkers, after all; it's not like they can outright reject me.

After lunch, my boss and I had a short meeting, and he helped me with the form I needed help with. It went smoothly and quickly, and now it's all done. Afterwards, he chatted with me for a bit about his future plans. He had some very kind words and advice for me. He's a good person, I think.

Then, I was left on my own. I sat in a vacant desk and did some work, interrupted a few times by coworkers coming to chat. It was good to talk to them, but I fear I was a little too frank about my feelings about the company, and I may have come off rather negative. I also felt slow--I would be talking to one of them, and it would take me some time to remember when I started working with them, or what teams or projects we had worked on together, or who our coworkers were at the time. Maybe it's just because I've been there so long, but all the details seem to blur together when I try to remember my history. Then again, no one else seems to have that problem. Is my memory fuzzy, or is it all in my head?

Anyway. I finally left a little early, hoping to beat rush hour--I still hit some traffic, but I had planned it well enough. I had about fifteen minutes at home to gather my things before heading to D&D.

The game was fun tonight. It was nice to be a player again. I was maybe a little quieter than usual, perhaps because my social battery was getting low. But it was a nice time.

Then, I was finally alone again. I went home, ate the last of my leftover soup, and played Against the Storm until bedtime.

I feel extremely tired tonight. I hope I can relax tomorrow. I'm not sure, though--that cute girl wants to talk to me on the phone, so we'll see if I get a night of true solitude or not. I really hate phone calls, even when I like the person I'm talking to. Something about it is so stressful to me.

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wujico · 5 months

Text

tw: death, sh

today sucked.

i thought it was going to go well... it started off well- so i assumed things would run smoothly. 🍀 didnt wake up until i was already at work, so the entire morning i was doom scrolling on tikok waiting for a text from him :,) im so pathetic, aren't i?

my mind was a little quiet though, given the anxiety i had last night. i woke up expecting the worse. silence is better than hearing anything. sometimes i wanna shut out my headmates forever, if it means i dont have to think.

ill never get that pleasure though, be it the thoughts from my depression, or my mind running as a cause of the adhd... and i dont even wanna get started on the malidaptive daydreaming disorder.

i hear everything and feel everything so heavily; maybe im cursed to have my emotions turned up all the way. ive always been called a "cry baby", though i dont think ive cried in front of anyone again since that one day.

as i write this im on my break at work. my hands are shaking in the break room, from the anxiety and the cold. i think the cold just makes the anxiety worse, especially with certain headmates who are serverly triggered by snow / cold weather.

i always used to like the snow, now i feel like dying when i wake up and see the crytal flakes falling outside my window.

im waiting for a message from 🍀 right now. he replied to what i sent him but didn't say anything more and i cant help but be worried... he never tells me anything anymore... when did i become such an unproachable person?

i think ive always been that way.

my breaks over, maybe ill write more tonight.

its tonight now,

i saw an old woman today, at my work. she reminded me of my grandma who died a few years back. ever since i started working here ive gotten better at talking to people, especially to lonely old people, who just need a outlet. i can do some small talk, even though im awkward and it burns me out right afterwards. i can never rest during work because i constanly replay every conversation and nitpick every detail of what i said and how i could be better.

but anyway, she reminded me of my grandma.

i never talked much with my grandma, not seriously. and i hate myself for it. i so blatantly had a favourite grandma back then. and now the one i pushed away is the one i miss the most. she was also so kind to me, even when i hated myself.

she used to make me crochet things when i was younger, before i was even born. i have them in my baby box, little signs for my room, little toys, little stuffed animals... she loved doing that and she was really good at it. she made me an entire dollhouse, which i dont have anymore. oh how i long to play with my barbies on the fabric she carved out herself.

she used to do it all the time, make things for me, especially when she used to babysit me and my brother for weeks on end during the summer months. as i got older, things like TV started to take over our life. me and my brother would still play outside a lot, and we'd play together inside too.... but slowly playing games like uno and skippo with my grandma got less and less "cool" in a way. me and my brother would turn to our wii and the tv (to watch dantdm together) before we'd chose to play a game with her.

i remember it vividly; shed sit at our table, doing crosswords, crochet, or watching gillmore girls. sometimes shed even ask, "ji, do you wanna play a game with me?" and even then, id say no.

i regret it. hours and hours shed sit there. i mean, sometimes i would play games with her, but to a kid... dantdm and stampy are much more fun than uno.

we had this thing, when id watch those youtubers, when they started being extra loud. shed yell at me jokinly why im watching british men play a game- maybe she couldnt undertsand the appeal of minecraft at all. i would giggle, turn it down a bit, then start infordumbing about what hes doing. she'd shake her head and walk off saying she didnt understand, but i saw her smiling anyway.

we went camping all the time with her and my grandpa, park our little tent trailer next to their bigger trunk-pulled one. they had a dog at that time, a german shepherd named shadow. she was such a sweetheart, i used to love running around with her in the surroundings forests. my grandma would struggle with making her bed and other things because it was tucked in the very back of the trailer. i used to go and help her if she "rewarded me nicely", which she always did. she always got me the best snacks that my parents wouldnt let me have. camping was a treat in itself, but it was better with them.

and we'd play games, over and over and over again.

its not the same anymore. my grandpa is gonna sell the trailer, shadow is dead- and so is my grandma. the areas we used to go to i never set foot in anymore.

i dont think i properly got a chance to grieve over her; i never get a chance to grieve over anyone. life moves on immediately, at in that case it was no different.

ive never thought about it since it happend... i think it was about 5 years ago maybe more. she had a heart attack of some sort; was send in an ambulance to the hospital. i was a kid, i didnt think much of it. 'shed get better' id tell myself, because at time my other grandpa had been in and out of hospital for cancer and he seemed to be doing alright. oh how wrong i was.

im crying now, blurring the letters on my phone. the lights in my room are giving me a headache. i never thought about it again, what i saw, what i experienced. i thought i had forgotten it, but for some reason, tonight, i remember it all.

the hallways of the hospital are white with brown accents, but theres a hint of colour within the plants. it smells like a hospital usually does; sterile and stangant. i didnt really mind it that much at the time. i was with my aunt and my dad, both my grandmas children. we walked to the icu. the windows werent glass though, like they are in the movies, i couldnt see into any of the rooms until we got to my grandmas, which im still thankful for, because i know i wouldnt have liked what i saw.

when we got to my grandmas room, it was really dark. her bed was against the oppsite wall to the door. there were no windows outside. there were two chairs on the left wall. the rest of the room was filled up completely by machines and tubes and wires.

my grandma was in the middle of the bed, not moving, barely breathing. she was in a coma. she was so pale, so lifeless. i had never seen her alseep before.

i sat on the chair and listened to my aunt speak to her. i wanted to cry and beg her to wake up. but i didnt. my dad asked if i was okay, i just nodded my head. my throat was dry. i still remember how peacful she looked. but i wasnt dumb, i knew it was a sort of peaceful that couldnt mean anything good.

im so sorry grandma, that i didnt say anything to you. im sorry i didnt say i love you. im so sorry that i couldnt speak, that my words were caught in my throat again. i can never speak when it matters the most. im so sorry im so sorry im so sorry

they say coma patients are still aware of their surroundings... ill always live with the guilt of never saying goodbye.

she died a few days later. my uncle picked me up from work— from my old job at a movie theatre. i was gonna go see my grandma again. i was really dissociated that day, so its all blurry. but i remember eating popcorn. my uncle started driving me home instead of the hospital. my mom told me she died when i got home.

i hate myself for not being able to say goodbye. i hate myself for all the lost time i never spent with her. i hate myself for chosing other activites than hanging out with her. i hate myself for never being able to hold a conversation with her as i grew older. i hate myself for having a favorite and for treating her differently. i hate myself for never saying i loved her.

i couldnt cry over her, besides the initial tears. i dont know why tonight is different, why do i have to remember everything all of a sudden?

i really want to die. im six months clean from sh, but i think im going to end that tonight.

- ji

(1 / 14 / 2024)

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guideoftime · 1 year

Text

the-devils-toybox

Ever since Link came back, things were tense. He had almost certainly been trying to avoid Sheik, not out of a sense of hatred toward the Sheikah, but out of an obvious shame, and to a lesser visible extent, fear of how he sees him. Though he definitely did his best to stay out of the house, the few times he found himself within the premises were awkward, tense, and dialogue kept between the two was short before he went back to his silence. It was a silence that he himself would eventually break, however. Days of him having left only to be followed by days of him returned but distant seemed to have come to a head when, out of nowhere, he would stop Sheik on his way out of the home, grabbing him by the arm. With a deep breath, the Hylian would speak; "...I'm sorry," he soon spoke. "I know that things have been tense since I... said that... something had come over me that I wasn't strong enough to fight off, and I betrayed your trust in the process. And after that, I tried to run away from the problem, never tried to speak to you about it afterward... "If you want me to find other accommodations, I will do so... but I want you to understand, I would never do anything to insult you against my will. I still look up to you, whether it's praise you want or not... and I could never hate such a devoted warrior and friend." He would let go of the other's arm, doing his best to not meet Sheik's gaze.

This is–a lot of emotions and Sheik isn’t good with emotions.

“You left Epona’s stall unattended. The crazy spider children from next door started coloring on it.” Is what he gets out, because he doesn’t immediately know what to do with himself or what to say. His nearly bites his own tongue just to say those words. Truthfully, of course he was hurt. Sheik is hurt very easily by the things the Hero of Time says. It isn’t hard for this man to break him, as ashamed as he is by that. He gets so trapped inside his own head that he makes things worse when it comes to Link, no matter how hard he tries not to do that.

The thought of the other leaving and not coming back is very nearly enough to send him right back to that place. He’s trying not to let those emotions carry this conversation though. It won’t do right for either of them if he can’t properly convey the fact he doesn’t want Link to leave, that he very much never wants him to leave. Impa’s house would become uninhabitable if the other left and ran off again.

“I did your laundry, it’s folded on your bed. I cleaned up your room too, made your bed, swept and mopped it. You need to clean your boots off before carrying them upstairs to your room, there was dried mud everywhere.” His room, his bed, his things. All that are a part of this house and a part of this life they were so carefully building together.

Sheik likes that he can come home and Link is comfortably inhabiting this space with him.

“I had to do your half of the dishes so now you need to do dishes the rest of the week.” Forever, preferably, because he wasn’t leaving. Because Sheik doesn’t want him to leave. He just can’t quite figure out how to get that out without making himself sound weak and small. Vulnerable. Gutted emotionally and physically.

“Can you go to Castle Town tomorrow and pick up some things? We need groceries. And you’re the only one who can stand that place.”

#Sheik VC: the only thing I can focus on is that you threatened to leave #( asked but that sounds like a threat to him )#Sheik VC: so here's a list of chores I did you need to make up for #Sheik VC: also go get the groceries for the week please #thedevilstoybox #▴ — thedevilstoybox / link (hero of time).#▴ — path / guide of time #▴ — the eye of truth / asks.

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silkscream · 3 years

Text

wipe your blood off the concrete

pairing: peter parker x reader

synopsis: you are peter’s best friend in the whole world. the two of you can barely hold back your feelings for each other after peter is beaten badly after a night on patrol. he takes you by surprise when he insists the two of you go to a party afterwards and things get very confusing.

warnings: smut (18+ only), mentions of blood, mentions of mental illness/anxiety/panic attacks, alcohol use, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, protected sex

genres: best friends to lovers, uni!peter, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, fluff and angst and smut all in one

wc: 8k+

a/n: GOD this is a big bertha. i was listening i think you’re alright by jay som and then my brain spiraled entirely into... this. i recommend you listen to this song while you read. i could probably make a playlist based on this fic but i don’t want to self-indulge more than i already have. i’m a sucker for bffs to lovers, obviously. i’m also very wine drunk. do what this info what you will.

when i wake up in the morning

i’ll make you some coffee

we’ll lay about and let the day pass

College had taken a toll on Peter. He was an anxious boy, you knew this already. What you hadn’t seen in your years of knowing him was how hollow he could be, how he wouldn’t want to get up in the morning, how tight-lipped he could be in conversations when normally he’s always beaming. He doesn’t sleep at your place that much anymore because he hates to be a burden, even though you swear on your heart that you don’t mind helping him through his nightmares.

It often goes like this:

There are nights where Peter does unforgivable things. He watches Tony Stark die, he watches Aunt May look upon him in tears, he reaches out for your hand but you’re falling ten stories below him. It’s these nights where he shakes himself awake, suffocated by his own panicked breaths, but you’re usually right there to soothe him with hushed nothings in his ear. It’s an unspoken arrangement between the two of you that you don’t dare to discuss by morning. Besides, you’d had a few panic attacks of your own as you grew into your girlish flesh-suit, knobby limbs and scraped knees. Peter always liked you for how alive you always looked, even if you felt awkward roaming the earth in a body you were taught to dislike. You’re headstrong in your beliefs, however, and at your current age you’d been through enough bullshit to not fixate on the little problems you faced as a teenager. Peter considers you his rock, his other half. He often thinks it’s you who ought to bear the weight of a superhero. You’d do a better job than him, maybe.

It’s 10 am on a Friday and Peter is doing an awfully good job at zoning out the sound of you knocking on his door.

“Pierre,” you whine, holding a bag of donuts and a tray of coffees. “Let me in you son of a bitch.”

The lock on the door slides open. You’re met with a sleepy Peter, who’s traded his gangly figure to impressive biceps over the past five years. You try not to stare at how good his arms look in his fitted Led Zeppelin tee. You chuckle at the fact that he’s still wearing his boxers. Spiderman-patterned boxers, nonetheless. He groans. “Fuck, sorry. Real out of it today.”

“Oat milk, no sugar,” you smile at him, holding out your tray. You can see dark circles around his eyes. He must’ve been up late doing schoolwork or more technological advancements to his suit.

“You’re a godsend,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead as he takes the paper cup.

“Whatcha been up to?”

“Physics,” he yawns. “Waiting for you.”

“Peter, did you sleep at all last night?” you pester, poking his under-eye circles.

He shoots you a look of slight annoyance and shrugs.

You roll your eyes, gracelessly hopping onto his couch. Without a word, he topples onto you, settling his head on your lap as he flips through the front page of Netflix. You stroke your fingers through his curls. “You finish your work?”

“Yeah, you could say that,” Peter gripes.

“Is the Peter Parker slacking on his schoolwork?”

He grumbles and buries his face closer into your body, which makes your stomach flutter. “I finished everything, swear. Could probably spew out formulas in my sleep.”

“Get Tony to build you another EDITH but in reading glasses form. I’ll tap the answers to you. Or the formulas could probably just float across the lenses.” You steal the remote from him, much to his dismay and futile attempts to block you, and settle on a random episode of New Girl.

“Wow. We need more women in STEM like you.” You playfully smack the side of his face and it makes his nose scrunch up. Your fingers trace the freckles on his nose that aren’t very visible unless it’s the summer time, but you’re able to see them just from how close you are. The trance is broken at the vibration of your phone in your pocket, much to your relief.

He notices immediately how you chuckle at your screen, a smile lighting up your features. “Who’s that?”

“Um, Tinder message.”

“Can I see?” Peter asks, lifting his body to glance at your phone, though you swat him away. “Y/N, c’mon, I wanna see what goons are hitting on my best friend.”

“I don’t need your approval, Parker,” you giggle, holding your phone above your head. He intercepts it anyways, nearly falling into your lap and grabbing the phone. He blocks your squirming frame by laying his body on top of your sprawled out legs while his broad shoulders block your view.

“Tyler, 22, born and raised in Manhattan. Oh, please, business major? At NYU?” He swipes through the man’s pictures and squints. “‘You’ll probably see me hanging out with the dog at the party.’ Huh, how quirky and relatable of him.”

“Peter, give me my phone!” you half-laugh half-shriek, breathless from the fact that Peter’s weight is holding you down and preventing you from moving at all.

“Is he even your type? Seems like a dick honestly. You’re waaaay out of his league,” Peter muses mindlessly.

“And what exactly is my type, Parker?” Peter looks at you and opens his mouth, though nothing comes out. You smirk at him, able to flip him off of the couch and onto his carpet, snatching your phone from his hand as you sit on his chest. The two of you half-heartedly wrestle until you’re pinning him to the ground. “Tap out, motherfucker!”

“Ugh,” Peter huffs, sitting up slightly. “I’m serious, he looks like the president of a frat that’s on probation for some Title IX violations.”

“You’re an asshole,” you croon, shaking your head. “Let me get laid.”

Neither of you ever liked to address the pang of jealousy that came with seeing your best friend get attention from the opposite sex (okay, there were some girls enamored with you during your first semester of college, but you were too in your shell to actually follow through with anything). Secretly, Peter’s heart is dripping down to his shoes, but only slightly, of course. He’s laughing and teasing you the whole time, poking you in the ribs as you finally let him swipe through your Tinder. He sneaks a peek at your own profile, too, admiring how big and bright your eyes are in each photo — mostly which are photos he’s taken.

You’ve been on a few dates, give or take, but the end of the night is almost always instantly uncomfortable once things get physical. Peter Parker is like the devil on your shoulder, the New Moon-era Edward apparition to your Bella. You’ve been getting better at accepting that it’s him and always will be him. Even if you never have the guts to tell him.

___

i’ll wipe your blood off the concrete

take you to the party

we’ll drink until our brains black out

It’s past 8 pm when your texts to Peter quadruple. He’s usually very prompt and mindful in texting you back, especially when the two of you have plans to get Chinese takeout. The clock turns to ten when he finally answers.

peter: fuck

peter: can you cpme get m

peter: please

The bastard.

You swallow down your disappointment once you unlock your phone and the pit in your stomach is replaced with panic. Immediately, you tug on your shoes and grab your car keys.

___

“Peter!” you screech, seeing your battered friend on the concrete a few feet away from you. He’s struggling to breathe so he takes his mask off, exhaling heavily as he spits out a mixture of saliva and blood onto the pavement. Your eyes widen at the state of him — a bruise under his eye the shape of a crescent moon, a cut lip that’s still bleeding.

“Come here.” He’s able to get up, just barely, but he’s able to use you as a crutch as you usher him into your car. Luckily, this was a quiet neighborhood and your car was shielded by the dark alley. You wince at the sound of his groans in the backseat.

By the time you get to your apartment, his suit is completely off. You don’t expect to glance over to your backseat to see your best friend half-naked, though it’s nothing you haven’t seen before. It just makes something ache inside of you when you realize the damage of his wounds.

“What the fuck happened to you?”

“It’s okay! Just some attempted assault on some woman. It’s okay, NYPD came just in time.”

“Fuck NYPD,” you mutter under your breath. “I’m serious, Peter.”

“Shit,” Peter groans, clutching his side. The thought that enters your mind when you hear him is ungodly. “Fumbled the web-shooters so they were able to get the upper hand. Not to mention one of their buddies fucking… hit me with their car.”

“Jesus, Peter!” you exclaim. You can’t really berate him for getting hurt, though situations like this have you worried sick. You pull into your driveway and get out of the car to assist him.

“‘m sorry, y/n,” Peter huffs, grabbing your hand to support himself as he gets out of the car.

“Don’t apologize. This isn’t the first time you scared the shit out of me. I’m just glad you’re not dead.”

Peter darkly chuckles. Under the streetlight, his eyes look a bit amber, and the gaze he fixes on you isn’t something you can really fathom. It’s a look of tenderness. Your eyes dart to the other side of the street and back at him. “Stop staring, creep. Mrs. Wilkins will threaten to call my landlord if she sees me parading around a dude in his boxers at the dead of night.”

Peter shakes his head at you, laughing, but follows you into your home nonetheless. He follows you around like a stray cat as you rummage your bathroom for the first-aid kit. The glow of your bathroom light shows off your cheekbones, and he knows he can’t hide his affinity for you especially when you’re like this, tongue in your cheek focusing on the materials you have. He sits on the edge of your bathtub and watches you.

“Hydrogen peroxide, Neosporin, gauze…” you muse to yourself. Picking up the dark red bottle, you wiggle it towards him. “This is gonna sting.”

Pouring a bit onto a cotton round, you wipe it across his wounds gently. Peter braces himself but the stinging you warned him about is much worse than what he’s actually prepared for. “Fuck!” he cries out, his jaw clenching. He nearly hits you by accident but misses. He manages to stay still by holding your shoulder with his large hand, squeezing and cursing expletives. Your breath hitches at his strong grip. You could probably hear his heartbeat if he wasn’t breathing so hard. Your faces are inches apart as you rub his cheek, sliding a thumb down to his split lip.

“Um, here,” you stammer awkwardly, spreading Neosporin on his cheek and bandaging him up. You wrap gauze around his wrist and around his left knuckle which blooms red and purple hues. “Hmm. Boxer vibes.”

“I’m already healing,” he shrugs, looking down at the budding bruise on his chest. It’ss entering its stage of pale green already, which still freaks you out despite the fact you’d known about Spiderman for years. “Y’didn’t have to do all that. Thank you, though.”

“Anything for you,” comes out of your mouth without thinking. You try to stay casual with a tight smile but Peter’s eyes seem to flicker the slightest bit at your statement. You turn your heels to your bedroom to dig out some spare clothes of Peter’s that he tends to accidentally leave after he stays over. The habit has turned into him having his own drawer at your place. How domestic.

“You still going to that party?” Peter asks as he pulls on a pair of pants. Your back is turned, which is amusing for him considering how close you are. There was quite literally a picture of the two of you naked at the age of five on May’s mantle downstairs. However, he couldn’t help but notice how your eyes would mindlessly wander to his arms and stomach when he would talk to you lately. Maybe it was a fluke, but he liked — loved — holding your attention.

“What party?”

“The one at that senior’s house? I heard you talking about it with MJ.”

“Um, maybe, but I was too busy worrying about you, and I was under the impression that we were spending the night eating Chinese and watching horror movies. Why?”

“We should go.” You turn around and raise an eyebrow. Peter Parker liked socializing, you could say. He was enigmatic and adorable and easy to be around, but you know that he’d rather stay at home with his documentaries or Star Wars movies than getting shitfaced at a rando’s house.

“Peter, you just got the shit kicked out of you,” you mutter in disbelief.

“All the more reason,” he shrugs, walking past you to flop onto your bed. “You worry about me too much. Gotta let loose, babe.”

You scoff and roll your eyes. You always imagine yourself as a shadow compared to Peter, like a friendly apparition. Casper the ghost. It’s not that you’re an outcast — hell, Peter goes on and on about you to classmates and friends alike if they haven’t met you yet. You’ve never been friendless. But the thought of going to a party with Peter makes your stomach churn a bit. The few times you had, the two of you would be attached to the hip because of your shared shyness, but Peter’s evolved into someone who probably knew more people at university than you did. You didn’t want to be left alone. Slight anxiety settles over you. You look at him and his smile is pushing daisies up from the earth. You sigh. When you had said “anything for you”, you truly meant it.

___

You didn’t dislike parties, but any house party in the suburbs of New York felt like the setting of a bad rom-com, not to mention the good amount of losers you could attract by accidentally blinking their way.

“You look really pretty,” Peter whispers into your ear assuringly. You feel validated, yes, but also you’d be lying the feeling of Peter’s breath under your earlobe didn’t make your organs flip around in your body like primordial soup.

You frown at a mirror in the foyer. You had opted for a green printed mesh top that hugged your features, black jeans, and Peter’s old denim jacket. Peter follows your gaze and snakes a finger to your hair, twirling around a strand. “I mean it, Y/N.”

“AYYYY, PENIS PARKER!” roars from behind a couple making out. Lo and behold, Flash Thompson is suddenly in front of you, nestling a Corona in one hand and waving furiously at you both with another. He’s gotten taller somehow since the last time you saw him, which was quite literally graduation. You roll your eyes at his arrogance. To your surprise, Peter knocks fists with the kid and gives him a half-hearted side hug. “Oh shit, dude, what the fuck happened to your face?”

“This one right here gets a little too rowdy when she loses Monopoly,” Peter smiles, hanging an arm over your shoulders.

“Shut up,” you whisper, voice laced with venom as you shoot Peter a glare. “He’s lying. This one is just… incredible clumsy.”

“Jeez, she bite too? Hey, I know a guy who’s really into that kind of thing.”

“Okay, relax, Flash-your-tits,” you sneer.

“Wow, still the wicked witch of Forest Hills,” Flash retorts. His eyes scan you up and down, then to Peter’s arm around you. “Didn’t know you guys were a thing. When’d that happen?”

“We’re not—“ stumbles out of both your mouths in unison. Your face heats up immediately, though Peter is merely holding back a laugh.

“Right. Save your virginities, fellow comrades! It’s a scary world out there. ’s some liquor in the kitchen,” Flash slurs, immediately making eye contact with another poor soul who’s about to be subjected to a similar greeting.

“Freak,” you mutter under your breath as you saunter past a rowdy beer pong table. Without bothering to rummage through the stash that’s sat on the kitchen counter, you take the first bottle of cabernet sauvignon you see. Peter grabs a shot glass and pours himself some Tito’s.

He meets your eyes. “What?” he shrugs, knocking back the shot with a scrunched up face.

“Nothing, you just like, never drink,” you smirk. You decide to keep the wine for yourself — it was the cheap kind, anyway. You down a good amount so that you can get a little warmth into your stomach. The effect is slightly numbing.

“Yeah, but my metabolism’s all weird since the bite, remember? Surprised I haven’t tried to drink more. I think I’ve only been drunk like… once or twice?”

“Better go easy, there, Parker,” you tease, jabbing him in the ribs. He grunts just a bit and you gasp. “Oh shit, I’m so sorry.”

“Nah, ‘m only a little sore. I could still take you in a fight,” Peter snickers. He grabs a red solo cup and fills it with more Tito’s, not paying attention to the amount he pours in, and then fills it to the brim with some orange juice. You practically gag at the sight. Vodka was never your forté and you were sure that it wasn’t much of Peter’s thing either. And yet, here he is. You wonder about his out of character desire to come to the party but ultimately shrug it off.

___

Seeing it feels like a kick in the throat, your face flushing hot like molten lava, chest creaking like a wooden floor in a haunted house. You didn’t expect to get everything you wanted, did you? Of course not. So it shouldn’t hurt that much to walk outside in need of that crisp autumn air and accidentally be met with some blonde eating off the face of your best friend. The love of your life. You don’t remember what time it is. You actually don’t even remember that you had been looking for Peter at all, but the realization hits you in the face once you recognize his brunette little head getting his hair pulled by some Walmart-brand Blake Lively.

and god you’re so pretty

your smile’s unforgiving

i’ll place it where nobody can find

You’re in too much shock to even beckon to him, but you know that the gears in your brain are turning with bells and whistles shrieking abort, abort, abort, abort! Before you can so as much turn around, Peter pulls away from the girl and yells for you. His face is carnation-pink, lips reddish from the girl’s lipstick. He’s waving at you like a little kid but your head feels like it’s underwater.

“Hey! Y/N! Been looking all over for you!”

Embarrassed, you wave back meekly before sliding back into the house. You hear hushed whispers of “shit, was that your fucking girlfriend?”, maybe a mild slap, Peter mumbling the words “best friend” and “not dating” and “what was your name again?” You could laugh if you didn’t feel like a literal hole was burning into your chest like the end of a cigarette charring flesh.

Calm, calm, calm. We are calm.

You don’t even know what to do with yourself, really. Your mantra isn’t helping and if you take one more sip of your wine you might as well throw up. Your eyes flash in surprise at MJ walking towards you, smiling but then settling her face into a confused frown.

“Hey, Y/N, is everything alr—“ MJ attempted to intervene, but you smile and nod your head maniacally as you pace through the house past her.

“I’m great! Fine. Um, I gotta go…”

You and MJ aren’t as close as you were in high school, but she knows well enough what you’re like when you’re in a state of crisis. She calls your name but you’ve dashed out of her grasp. She stares after you, puzzled, right before Peter nearly knocks into her, a collision of whiplash. The poor brunette stares wildly at the boy.

“Jesus, Parker, are you good?”

“MJ! Hi!” Peter exhales. His eyes are the size of flying saucers. He grips MJ’s shoulders and doesn’t realize the volume of his voice, which makes spectators around them look on curiously. “Listen, have you seen Y/N? I gotta talk to her.”

“Um, yeah, she went that way… dude, are you drunk?”

“No! Yes? All of the above,” he replies hurriedly, moving into the foyer and up the stairs.

You can’t really explain your emotions, process them even, so you do give into the wine bottle. Might as well detonate the bomb. Before Peter can call after you, you escape his field of vision in the hallway and immediately slip into the upstairs bathroom without him seeing you.

You stare at your reflection. There’s no point in crying, you think. Peter’s too good at prying and you’re too bad at explaining. It’s best not to worry him. Isn’t it? You want to believe you’re capable of staying sane with your little crush. Your stupid unrequited crush. You realize you’d have to reach into your guts and rip out all that you feel for Peter in order to get over it. It was best to drown out all those feelings now until you passed out. Maybe Michelle could take you home. Or a kind stranger could seduce you. Or you ‘accidentally’ fall out of the window and escape Peter’s questioning by being in a literal coma for a few days so you can forget the image of him kissing that girl that’s burned into your brain.

You frown at your reflection. You look pretty, Peter was right. It’s a miracle your makeup is still intact. Your under-eye liner is smudged a bit but the glitter on your cheekbones reflects even with this shitty bathroom lighting. With the alcohol inside you, everything seems to melt, like the walls are sweating and closing in on you. Before you’re able to control your breathing, the sound of your name reaches your ears like a harsh wind. It’s coming from your favorite voice in the whole world. Pounding on the door ensues.

“Hey! Y/N?”

“It’s… it’s occupied, sorry,” you caution in a high voice.

“Y/N, I know that’s you in there! Can you please let me in?” Peter begs. More raps on the door. You stay silent, staring at the sink.

“Please, Y/N, something bad’s happened… MJ’s…um…” Peter yells. You furrow your brows in worry. God, I can’t get a break. What a cursed fucking party.

Profanities are mumbled to yourself as you finally open the door. Peter rushes in and backs you into the wall, shutting the door promptly behind him and locking it. You gasp at how quickly he manages this without the two of you colliding, his swift movement and your intoxicated state dizzies you. Peter settles his palms on the wall, trapping you in between his arms.

“What happened to Michelle?” you glower. Peter sighs with a look of defeat and avoids your gaze.

“Nothing. Just needed you to let me in.”

“You asshole,” you roll your eyes and vociferate. Your teeth are gritted — you can’t bear to look at his face, but you do. Peter’s puppy dog brown eyes are boring into yours with desperation behind them. He takes his palm from the left of you and tilts your chin up, to which you shake your head in rejection.

“Hey, hey, look at me.” So you do. Your faces are inches away from each other. You can feel his hot breath in your face. It makes your body feel even hotter.

“What do you want, Peter?” you whisper.

“Want to talk to you,” he slurs.

“Okay, so talk.”

“Why were you running away from me?”

You scoff. You almost want to tell him the truth, but you can’t. “I’m in a bad mood,” you mumble. “I don’t need this right now, okay? I want to be alone. Why don’t you go back to that blonde? She seems to like you an awful lot.”

“Who— what? Are you… are you jealous?”

“Who you take home is none of my business, Parker, I swear on my heart. I’m a big girl, I can get an Uber by myself. Don’t worry about it,” you spit back at him. “Okay? Can I be left alone, please?”

“But I wanna be alone with you,” he confesses, absentmindedly twisting your hair between his fingers again. You didn’t think anything of it until now because this is something he always does. It’s as easy to him as breathing or blinking. But at the moment, he’s staring at your collarbone and your neck and the side of your jaw. You make eye contact with him and you gulp. Lipstick is smeared from the corner of his mouth like a streak of wine on a white sheet. The space between you feels like television static, like a red string you’re dying to pull into a knot to close the distance.

Instead, Peter does it for you. You blink once and his mouth is on yours, and you taste the other girl’s lipstick and mandarin oranges and a hint of copper from his bloody lip. You breathe in the smell of your own shampoo, which Peter keeps in his apartment for you even though he secretly uses it when you’re not around. His hand is gripped to your jaw, tongue peeking into your mouth as he pushes into your body. The hurt inside you crawls out of your throat and spreads your body like a blessing instead — a baptism, a rebirth.

His hands are to your sides now, pushing the mesh fabric of your shirt up so he can palm the skin of your upper hip. You sigh into him as he massages the skin lightly and he responds to your sounds with a subtle moan. You feel like your knees are buckling to his touch as your heat gets wetter and wetter.

“Touch me, Y/N,” Peter whispers in between your kisses. A whine emits from the back of his throat when you tug on his hair just slightly.

You pull away suddenly, though Peter doesn’t see this as a halt. He simply peppers wet kisses to your earlobe and down your neck. You sigh deeply and give him a slight push to the chest.

“What, what’s wrong?” he whispers. He’s drunk on you, maybe literally considering he lost count of how many shots he’d taken. He looks like an angel like this, brown hair mussed up with smoothed out curls falling over his face and a just-bitten pair of pink lips.

You touch the band-aid on his face. “You’re drunk, Peter.”

“Yeah? I know. So are you.”

“That’s the problem. I don’t want you to regret anything,” you mumble, biting the inside of your bottom lip.

“I couldn’t… I won’t. You know how much I love you, right?” Peter pleads. He’s breathless at the sight of you. You look away.

“Don’t say shit like that, Peter. You’d… you’d never say that sober.” Hurt flashes over Peter’s face as he listens to your words. He wants you to believe him so badly and he’s too drunk to process what you could be feeling. All he feels is that he wants to be absorbed into you at this very moment. His brain doesn’t even register the actions that made you upset in the first place.

“That’s not true, Y/N, you know that,” he urges. His thumb swipes over your inner eye, where a salty tear has fallen. His voice is hoarse, raspy, raw. “I only want you.”

You close your eyes and shake your head, tears flooding your cheeks that he tries to kiss away gently. “Why are you doing this?” you croak.

“What am I doing, baby?” he whispers, taking you in his arms and cradling you. Your cheek is against his warm chest and you can feel his beating heart. It ticks like a clock, which somehow comforts you in the most minuscule way. His tender knuckles are in your hair, combing your locks softly. Peter wants to find every jagged piece of you so that he can soothe it like nighttime tea and a spoonful of honey. Would you hate him for it?

“This is fucked up, Peter.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry” is whispered through hushed breaths against your hair. You pull back after a few minutes, embarrassed at how red your eyes must look. He cups his hands on your cheeks, tilting your face to look up at him. “I’m not lying to you. I… I love you so much that it scares me sometimes because you’re my best friend. I always get scared that I’m gonna lose you. And… and I don’t even know that girl. The one I was making out with. I think I just needed a distraction from you.”

An awkward beat.

“I don’t know why I got so drunk. I think because patrol was so fucked up and I’ve been having more nightmares, and I was scared that if I told you I loved you tonight that I’d fuck everything up, and I wouldn’t remember, and I couldn’t find you anywhere…”

You shush his rambles with your lips against his.

“I love you, too,” you whisper, wiping your eyes. “Always have. It scares me too.”

“Really?”

“Yes, you idiot, I thought it was obvious. You scare the shit out of me sometimes.” The two of you laugh darkly at your mutual drunken states. Your mutual confessions, the fear of your mutually assured destructions. The moment was making your heart swell up like a balloon.

A rude awakening breaks through with a pounding on the door. “HEY, ARE YOU GUYS DONE FUCKING? SOME OF US HAVE TO PISS.”

The two of you are broken out of your spell. You both erupt into laughter. You wipe your face with your sleeve as you open the door. Your toothy smile flashes the unfortunate spectator when you open the door.

Flash stands there with a look on his face that is both bewildered and dopey. His eyes flit between you and Peter, mouth agape.

“All yours, babe,” you taunt, holding Peter’s hand as he follows you across the hall.

___

i’ll be your old broken tv

your stuttering baby

your puppy when nobody’s home

He can barely take his hands off you once you get the door of your apartment unlocked. Immediately, his hands are all over you, pushing up your top to reveal your stomach. He kisses you roughly which has your head spinning.

“Peter… I—“ you giggle in-between kisses. He can’t detach himself from you. He doesn’t want to. He takes matters into his own hands and rips your jacket off for you, picking you up effortlessly so that your legs are around his waist until both of your bodies collapse into your bed.

You feel like you have motion sickness. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the uneasiness of letting yourself fall blind to Peter’s desires. He knows how stubborn you are about literally everything and he doesn’t know how to fully convince you how much he wants you. He’s hovering over your body, forehead to forehead, pawing at your clothed body. “You’re so pretty,” he says, thumbing your cheek.

His eyes are glistening like the earth wet from being kissed by autumn rain. You swear to yourself it’s just lust but you know this is exactly how he looks at you when you’re just there. Existing. In his room, on his lap, on his fire escape in the middle of the night. You’ve always noticed but decided you’ve made it up in your head. But he really does love you like this, vulnerable and soft like a cherub out of heaven. He could certainly get used to the sight of you underneath him. His mouth turns up into a grin.

“What’s got you so happy?” you coo.

“You,” he breathes, dipping his head back down to meet your mouth.

“Cool,” you mumble in between your kisses, sighing as you feel Peter massage little circles underneath the hem of your shirt. “What’re you thinking about?”

“Mmm, lots,” Peter sighs. “There’s this girl… thought she’d never… like me back. But I think she does.”

“Tell me about her.”

“Well, she’s a hard one to chase down, y’know? She’s too pretty and smart for literally anyone. And she’s really good at playing with my hair, and knowing everything I like, and beating me at wrestling. And she smells like flowers. And looks like flowers.”

“Hmm, sounds like a catch,” you flash him a candy-sweet smile. The glow between you two is bioluminescent. Every part of you that Peter touches feels like electricity.

“Mhm. That you are,” Peter nods. He’s feeling feverish, sobering up from his many shots but still drunk on the sight of you. In the past few months, Peter feels like he’s only present between peripherals and the only time he’s even remotely tuned in to the world is when you’re beside him. His mind is swamped with only you and your kiss tastes like honey dripping into his mouth.

A low hum reverberates from your throat as you feel Peter’s lips on your neck. He settles back to your lips like he’s diving underwater. He doesn’t care about coming back up for air. Your brows knit in concentration as you try to pull him closer, despite the fact he’s basically falling through you like fog. Your brain is begging him to devour you, burn you, lick up all the hurt inside your chest from the night.

“Can I touch you, please?” Peter asks carefully, his voice low, brain spell-bound.

You nod fervently, heart beating out of your chest when you’re suddenly aware of how hard he is. Peter helps you slip out of your shirt and your jeans, leaving you in your underwear. He can barely breathe. He chuckles like he’s seeing something that shouldn’t be possible.

“Don’t laugh when you just stripped me naked, freak,” you chastise, covering yourself up with your arms.

“‘m not teasing you. I’m… I just can’t believe it. How pretty you are.”

“Shut up and touch me, Parker.” Peter feigns a look of seriousness before attaching his lips to your bare stomach. He loves the way your body reacts to his touch, breaths rising and falling to the pitter-patter of his heartbeat and his fluttered eyelashes. He teases you with kisses close to your center and descending down your thighs. You whine at how sensitive you feel, coaxing his head forward with your hands.

“Okay, needy,” he taunts, which makes you whine in response. He slides your underwear down your legs and doesn’t hesitate to lap you up at your clit. You gasp in response. He’s ravenous in the way he works, responding to all your little sounds by gripping your thighs harder until you’re nearly bruising. Your mouth gapes open wider when he slides in one finger, then two into your pussy, your wetness making his entrance easy.

“Jesus, fuck, where did you learn that?” you ask breathlessly as he pumps his fingers in and out of you in all the right places.

“Secret,” he murmurs, pausing his sucking to curl his fingers into your walls in a way that makes your insides flip. You immediately feel a pressure inside your core that slowly rises like a rollercoaster rolling upwards on a track. He brings his tongue back to your bud and scissors his fingers in a way that makes your hips buck upwards, which makes him lose his balance a bit. He chuckles, adoring the sound of your moans and the way your long eyelashes blink rapidly like a butterfly’s wings.

“Say my name,” he groans, desperate to hear your voice.

“Fuck,” you moan. “Fuck— Peter, just like that. Oh my God, Peter!”

He decides right then that his name sounds like it was made for your mouth, how it sounds like a hymn, a magic spell, a word invented by you, his creator. You grab fistfuls of his chestnut curls as you feel your body plunge into saccharine warmth. You surprise yourself with your restrained moans; you don’t recognize the sound of your voice. Peter’s moans echo yours as he watches you come undone. His lips part at the way you come, gazing at the way your body flexes like a viscous liquid with your hair fanning the sides of your face like Juliet on a bed of roses.

“Peter!” you strain, breathing heavily on the comedown. You blink at him, bleary-eyed, tasting yourself on his tongue once he reaches up to kiss you again. “Take your clothes off. ’s not fair that I’m fully naked and you aren’t.”

“Anything for you,” he says, echoing your words from earlier that night. You think that maybe you’re melting or you’ve been struck by lightning. Peter blesses you for your request because his cock is quite literally straining against his jeans. He can’t believe you’re real — that this version of you is real and right in front of him, instead of being a dizzying made-up thought in his brain. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t fantasize about what your pussy feels like, how you’d sound with your toes curling into the mattress as he fucks into you. He’d always shake the thought of you after he comes when he’s alone, embarrassed after his orgasms when he’d come back to reality. But now he doesn’t have to. You’re fulfilling his dreams at this very moment.

Not even thirty seconds pass before he’s stripped just like you. Your mouth waters at the sight of him. You’re convinced he must be carved from Ancient Rome, porcelain skin and smooth edges. His size is certainly unexpected and you’re shy about how your eyes are probably bugging out of their sockets.

“Do you… do you want me to get a condom?” he asks you, voice cracking slightly. You’re reminded of how boyish he really is, how despite everything, he’s always been your Peter. Your puppy, your best boy. You nod at him and grin. “Right… ah— where are they?”

“Under the bed, blue shoebox.”

He comes back from under the bed and rips the silver foil. He toys with it for a second, awkwardly. “Ah, this is… a good brand. Very safe.”

“Yeah, good reviews?” you gush at his awkwardness.

“Like I’d know,” Peter blushes and shrugs. You know that Peter’s not a virgin but he’d never been the type to be cocky or promiscuous. It was you in senior year of high school who broke down where a woman’s clitoris was, after all. You playfully hit him, urging him to continue. He nods sheepishly.

“Wait, do you want me to… do you want head, too?” you ask curiously.

He shakes his head, sliding the condom onto his length. “No, ‘m okay. Just want to be inside you really bad.”

You kiss him hard, and to his surprise, you push him onto his back. His eyes widen at your shift in attitude and newfound dominance. His taut mouth widens when you push down onto him, going up and down at an agonizingly slow pace as you grip his shoulders. “Oh, fuck.”

You respond graciously with a breathy sigh, eyes closed as you grind against him. “Fuck, that feels really good,” he whispers. “Gonna be the death of me.”

“That’s why they call it la petite mort, yeah?” you smirk. You start to grind faster and Peter’s eyes screw shut, mouth slack in a blissful fashion. He grips your hips harder and gives your ass a light smack as he groans.

“Ass man, aren’t you?” you tease. “Figured you were more into tits.”

“Can’t talk, feels too good,” Peter mumbles. He palms your breast with one hand in response to you, which makes you giggle. “Please don’t tease me at a vulnerable time like this.”

Your laughter is like music to his ears. He looks at you with a dark expression on his face, a sort of pained desperation that secretly begs you to wreck him. He wishes he could tell you that you could have him in any way possible, but he figures that the enormity of his desire would scare you away. Peter caresses your cheek and your head lulls backward at the elation of him inside you. Teasing a finger on your bottom lip, you take his finger into your mouth and you suck on it gently. He feels like he’s about to lose it. It’s a miracle he’s even lasting this long, he thinks to himself. He swore he almost came when he was just giving you head.

“Jesus fucking christ,” Peter breathes. The aura of you is everywhere in the room, the smell of your skin permeating his senses. He can’t get enough. You’re surprised by how vocal he is and it kind of makes you feel a bit cocky. His lips are slick and swollen from your love bites and you can’t help but admire how he looks underneath, curls loose over his warm forehead.

“Fuck, hold on. Can I do something?” he asks, his eyes doe-like. You nod quickly. “Can, um, can you get on your stomach?”

You oblige to his request, getting off from his lap and sinking into the bed, ass up. You nearly choke when he fills you up from behind, his hands cradling your hips. He’s slow with his thrusts at first, wanting to be careful to both control himself and to make sure he doesn’t hurt you. He reaches you at a deep angle and you nearly scream out, which encourages Peter to rock his hips a bit faster.

“Oh my god, Peter!”

Your head twists slightly so you can see his face. He reaches over immediately to kiss you, holding you by the chin forcefully as he pulls your hips towards him. His hand stays wrapped around your throat as he bends over to pepper kisses to your neck and down your back. A finger rests on your bottom lip that you take into your mouth. He moans at the feeling of it.

“Fuck, you’re gonna… make me come soon…” you breathe. You whine as he pulls your hair slightly to get better access to the side of your neck.

“Fuck, I fucking love you,” Peter pants. His breath is hot beneath your ear and it makes you shiver. His hushed curses are like little love notes spilling onto your shoulder. “My favorite girl.”

Your face falls into your bedsheets once he hits your sweet spot repeatedly. Your whole body vibrates at the feeling of it as you grip your sheets hard enough to strain your knuckles. Tears are pricking from the corners of your eyes on impact. Your orgasm is white-hot, blinding, paradisiacal.

“Hey, hey, hey, are you okay?” Peter whispers worriedly, slowing down his strokes and wiping your face gently.

“Yes,” you moan, shutting him up with a kiss. He pulls out of you and melts into your lips, the wave of your orgasm and the tenderness in your chest igniting a small fire in the pit of your stomach. The two of you are side by side now, limbs entangling one another in a blob of lust and warm bodies and languished breaths. He’s confused at your husky laughter but stays attached to your mouth, tasting you in all your sugared glory. The taste of blood pools into your mouth again and you pull back slightly. You lick his bottom lip carefully, lacing his mouth with your sweetness.

You smile devilishly at the red marks on his neck, marks that you left. He rubs his neck and it’s like he’s blushing all over, because he knows that although he’ll complain about the hickies in the morning, he feels blessed to have any remnants of you on his body. A burn, a bruise, a red stamp on his forehead with your name on it. He doesn’t care.

“You wanna stop?” he questions. He traces shapes on your hip, then letters. I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U.

You shake your head and nuzzle his neck. “No, I want you to come. I want to see your face when you come inside me.”

The alcohol has definitely worn off but he still feels intoxicated in your presence. How can someone look like that? he wonders. You’re underneath him now, bright-eyed in anticipation. He licks his lips, amber eyes wide like a puppy. He wants to come — no, needs to — but he's also entertaining the idea of holding himself in so he can hear you orgasm ten more times.

“C’mon, Spidey,” you whisper, pulling his length towards you. He slides in slowly and exhales like it’s the first time again. You sigh dreamily, eyelashes fluttering at the halcyon feeling of warmth inside you. You feel so fucking full. Your nails dig into his muscular back as he moves faster, and the feeling is so euphoric that you’re sinking your teeth into his shoulder to muffle your screams.

“Oh, shit,” Peter sputters, whispering your name like it’s a poem he’s memorized. You nearly are a poem he’s memorized and it feels like heaven and more that he’s able to experience your body in this capacity — every inch, every curve. He’s about to be pushed to the edge once he hears you stutter his name mindlessly.

“Peter, Peter, Peter… f-fuck… gonna come again…”

Your back arches as shockwaves course through your body and suddenly Peter is gripping you from your hair to your shoulder hard enough to almost hurt in the best way possible. His knees buckle as he releases his come into you and you’re coming up for air after hearing his guttural moans and whines.

“Ffffuuuuckkkk,” Peter cries out, murmuring your name over and over like it’s the only word he knows.

You clutch his body like he’s a fallen hero (ha ha) and push the hair from his forehead, pecking him with kisses all over his face. His face is warm and so is his smile — so pretty, so unforgiving.

“We should do that, like, all the time,” he sighs, flopping his head onto your chest. You giggle, pulling him in your arms. His body is like a weighted blanket. He purrs at the feeling of your fingers through his hair.

“Definitely.”

___

i’ll be your cigarette ashtray

come back when it’s too late

worship you til morning comes

It was an annoying habit of yours. For some reason, your biological clock decided that when you got really drunk, you wouldn’t sleep in. Instead, like clockwork, you’d wake up at the crack of dawn.

Your eyes squint at your phone. 7:09 am. You groan, turning your body away from the sunrise that was perching itself higher and higher into the sky. The body next to you stirs at your movements, mumbling something unintelligible and laying an arm over your frame.

Your eyes flutter open to see Peter’s face, angelic and blue-tinged in the dimness of your room. His breaths are slow and quiet. You want to trace his cheekbones and his slightly crooked nose but you’re afraid to wake him, so you settle for a longing gaze.

“Morning,” he whispers, making you wince. His eyes are still closed but his mouth turns upwards into a smile.

“Sorry. Did I wake you?”

“Maybe, but I’m a light sleeper.” His pupils are blown out and black when he opens his eyes. He takes his hand and strokes your hair, inching over to your face and peppering a chaste kiss to your nose. He waits a second, then gives you a more passionate kiss on the mouth.

“Mmm. Morning breath,” you chuckle lightly.

“Hey,” he pouts. “That’s not how I like to be dirty-talked.”

You’re used to waking up next to Peter but the sight of him now is something new. He’s grown into his body and the way he looks naked right now, wrapped in your comforter… it’s like an alternate universe fr you. The sound of his morning voice is slightly raspy and low and you absolutely adore it.

“‘m not getting you off right now,” you mumble. “Make me breakfast first.”

He groans dramatically. He pulls you closer so that your nose is nestled into his warm chest. “Nope. Haven’t slept in like twenty-six hours, baby. Sweet dreams.”

#peter parker fanfiction #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fluff #peter parker x you #peter parker angst #tom holland smut #uni!peter parker #college!peter parker #peter parker oneshot #peter parker imagine #uni au #college au #friends to lovers #best friends to lovers

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subpar-ghoulfriend · 3 years

Text

Live In Nanny Pt 2

Villain!All Might x Reader

All Might raising baby Deku but is in desperate need of a nanny (Pt 2). The morning after and basically wayyyy to long so the smut is gonna have to be in pt 3. (word count: a little over 2k)

pt 1 here

TW: Yandere themes, day after dub con, reader is held against their will

You were sore. Your hips, wrists, back, pussy, everything ached. A silky sheet was the only thing covering your bare form. You could feel that you were alone in bed, Toshi's bulkiness was no longer weighing down the mattress. It must be mid morning because light was streaming through the curtains. Maybe if you remained still you could absorb into the mattress. Not only because of your tender body, but because you would prefer to never see your boss again. But speak of the devil. "Are we staying in bed all day?" You groaned. Hating how he worded his question. We. It was condescending, patronizing, and somehow filled you with butterflies. Something was placed on the bed, definitely not heavy enough to be Toshi. And then you realized, not something but a tiny someone. Baby Izuku crawled over to you, babbling, and tapped your sore shoulder. "Morning, Zuzu," You mumbled. Your joints crackled to life and you tightened the covers so you could face the little one. Behind him the clock read 11:00 am. "I need to get dressed." The villain cocked his head, "I tossed your clothes in the laundry do you want me to go get something from your closet?" No, you didn't want him running through your belongings. He would probably make a mess. "Just give me one of your shirts." That provided you enough modesty to get to your room and you were surprised the menace didn't follow. You scrubbed your body raw under the shower, subconsciously punishing yourself for taking pleasure from the night before. You were frustrated. Clean and covered in giant sweat pants and a hoodie you stormed into the living room where Toshi sat watching izuku entertain himself. "I quit." There was a pause. You tried not to look at the child. He would sway your resolve. This didn't have anything to do with him, it was between you and his father. "Alright." Oh. He wasn't going to challenge you? Figures, the man got what he wanted from you. You turned on your heels and rushed back to your room. You didn't own much so it wasn't hard to shove your belongings back into the suitcase. Opening your bedside drawer you froze. Your keys and phone were missing. This was their spot. The dedicated key-and-phone drawer. You check the room once, twice, then Izuku's room, the playroom, the kitchen. "Where are my keys?" You hissed, to hell with the phone you could buy a replacement. "Why would you need those," His voice was taunting. You felt your fists ball up and your nails dug into your palms. You stomped your foot like a frustrated child. "Because I'm leaving, I quit, now give me my keys." "I agreed you can quit, if that's what makes you feel better. I didn't say anything about leaving." The tension could be cut with a knife. He wasn't speaking or moving, he was eerily looming. In the other room Izuku was getting fussy. It knotted your stomach not going to check on him, but you kept your eyes on the villain. Toshinori was the first one to move, he went to check on his son. Clearly you weren't a threat. You could do without the keys, even sacrifice your suitcase. You made it all the way to the front door where you expected him to be, but he wasn't. He was with Izuku. With a twist at the knob the door didn't budge. You tried once more before angrily shaking the door. All Might called for you, "I told you that you aren't leaving. It's a two way security system but feel free to keep trying." When did he install this? You didn't see anything obvious like a box or camera indicating a security system. You could've thrown a fit or tried to break open the window but you had a feeling you wouldn't make it far. "What are you getting at?" You asked, rejoining the father-son duo. "Nothing aside from what we discussed last night in bed," he was making your cheeks burn red. "Making sure we stay a happy family." By the tone of his voice you knew there was no room for discussion. He didn't chastise you for slamming the door your room. He didn't pester you through out the day. He didn't even open your door to tell you he made dinner. He came by later to tell you (through the door) that he left you a plate in case you get hungry. By midnight you were. You tip toed down the hall, peeking into to the nursery to see Izuku fast asleep. You scarfed down the food before crawling back to bed. --- The next day you shuffled out of bed and into Izuku's room where you picked up the quiet but awake baby. You were gentle as you combed through his green curls with your fingers. He was still warm the way babies gets when they sleep. Holding him soothed you. Toshi melted when he saw you two curled up on the couch. He didn't want to ruin the mood so he stayed out of your line of sight for a few more minutes. Finally he entered the threshold of the room, "I'm heading out for the day but I won't be out late." You could've ignored him, but Izuku's grubbing hands were grabbing for his daddy. You had been defeated by the toddler. You weren't a monster. You moved toward your now ex-employer so he could tell his son goodbye. Goodbye before he goes off to commit atrocities. Toshi kissed the child’s chubby cheeks without removing him from your arms. He was too close for comfort. You took an awkward half step back before his huge hand caught your hair. With a tug, your chin jutted forward and he pressed his lips to yours. "Zuku, keep an eye on mommy," Chuckling as he stepped out the front door. Your mind was fuzzy for a moment before looked down at the boy on your hip who was giggling and clapping his hands together. --- The jovial villain was focused at work. He was on edge, quiet and irritable. Eager to return home and help you with his son. All Might wasn't delusional — well at least not entirely. He anticipated that this would be a rough time for you, but you were a good girl, you would adjust.

When he placed that ad to scout for someone to watch Izuku he didn't plan for this. But you were so perfect. He ached for you in a way he never hurt before. Had you been anyone else he would've killed you when you found out his villainous ways. But no, he could never bring himself to harm you. God, you even took the news in stride. Yeah, you weren't thrilled and may have walked out of their lives if he hadn't stopped you; but you weren't trashing his house or treating Izuku any differently.

And you were so pretty underneath him, whimpering while you took his length, your nails digging into the man's shoulders when he released into you. You slept like a rock afterwards, rolling unconsciously into him. Your body sought his comfort, knowing you were safe with him. He just needed to give you time to adjust.

--- It didn't take long for you to stop leaving the room any time he entered. And soon you were back to your normal routine of caring for the child and keeping up with the house. You resumed playing around with Izuku and began reading a ton of books to the boy. You told Toshi that Izuku could even pick which books he wanted you to read. It was nice that you were talking to him again, sometimes making jabs at his life choices and always kept a distance between yourself and him. Izuku was becoming quite the talker, well the babbler because he hasn't said his first word yet. He was figuring it out though. He knew he could say 'Ap-ap' for apple or to get picked up. You were sure he would say his first word any day. --- The three of you were in the living room when it happened. Izuku was watching some baby show, the first "lesson" was colors and the little one did his best to make nonsensical noises. The next subject was family members. Siblings, sister, brother. Parents. Mom, mommy, mama. Dad, daddy, papa. Grandma, grandpa. Aunt, auntie. Uncle. Over and over again until the show was done. Toshi looked at the izuku who was wearing the face of a thinker. He looked at his dad, the little one was trying to get something of importance out. You both cheered for him once he finally got out the word "papa." It was cute to see the man beam with pride, even though he was a villain. The butterflies were breaking out of their cocoons again. --- Toshi didn't get much alone time with his son and he liked it that way. That meant you were with them. But when he did get time with son he worked on teaching the boy that you were the mommy. Mama. And Izuku would try to repeat but hadn’t quite got it. --- You were struggling to maintain your composure in between watching the news and cooking dinner. All Might was robbing a bank. There were hostages. You recognized the location immediately as a bank you passed almost daily before working for Toshinori. Did you know anyone inside? A small part of you worried for the man, probably because you were thinking of him as Izuku's father rather than a villain. You shut the TV off when you heard Izuku start to wake from his nap.

That night you couldn't help but notice a slice on his arm; it was superficial, not even bleeding but enough to draw out the question: Why do you do it? It's easy, he shrugged. All Might never initiated an attack unprovoked nor directed his actions towards helpless civilians. He stole, dabbled in the black market, and made sure everyone knew not to mess with him or anyone in his circle.

You just couldn't understand. When Zuku gets older he will ask questions. All little boys idolize their dads. What if someone tried to hurt the boy?

The two of you were whisper yelling with each other. You more so than Toshi but he was still running low on patience; it had been a long day, after all. Izuku was picking up on the changing atmosphere, watching you both through furrowed brows, the quiver in his lip worsening. You stopped when you heard the whimpering begin. He was a sensitive child. Maybe you just needed to sleep. Toshi picked up the baby, bouncing Zuku in the way that always prevented tantrums and wails. He kept babbling and you could tell he was doing his best not to cry. You started to head towards your room when a cry broke out for 'mama.' This time it wasn't Toshi “putting you in your place”. This time it was Izuku.

"It's okay, Zuzu," Toshi soothed. "Mommy just needs a minute."

The crushing realization of just how trapped you were knocked the wind out of you. You couldn't leave the house. Toshi was always being too kind and patient. Somehow he managed to teach Izuku that you were his mommy. The most infamous villain had ensnared you and no matter what he wasn’t letting go. You would never be able to convince him to leave you alone and you'd never be able to leave Izuku.

You were tired of stubbornly holding out. Pathetic tears cascaded down your face, gentle and oddly relieving. Izuku practically leapt into your arms. The tot clung to you and his crying calmed down. you turned away, not able to look at the man.

"Are you going to think the worst of me forever?" Toshinori whispered. Maybe? Probably not. It was hard to tell. You didn't want to.

He continued, "I'm a good father, I would never let anyone hurt Izuku. Or you. Sure I don't have a lot of redeeming qualities but there are some."

You were tired of being stuck inside. It wasn't good for Izuku either. You wouldn't admit it but you weren't so sure you would abandon them even if given the chance. You were tired of trying to hate the man behind you. Tired of pretending you didn't fantasize about that night when you were alone in bed. Toshi moved right behind you and you relaxed against his huge chest. He was surprised and hesitant to move in case he frightened you to your senses. He couldn't just stand there though, that would be weird. Two thick arms wrapped around waist. "Tomorrow I wanna take Izuku to the park," You whispered. Toshi was equally defeated.

"Okay."

---

After putting Izuku to bed you made your way down the hall. The shower in Toshinori's bathroom was running. That was fine. You needed a moment to collect your thoughts. If this was going to work without you feeling like a hostage he was going to have to be open to loosing the reigns.

He was surprised to see you in his room when he exited the bathroom in nothing more than a pair of sweatpants.

"More fighting?" He cocked an eyebrow.

You shook your head, "I hate All Might, just as much as I hate every other villain. But when you come home I don't see All Might, I just see Toshinori, Izuku's dad. That's the man I care about and no matter how much I fight it I can't stop caring."

It was hard to keep eye contact with him but you continued, "I want to be with you and Izuku, not with All Might. And I want to be here on my own accord. I want to be able to go out with Izuku and with you. Can't we just try that?"

You didn't come in here to berate him again? Or to demand to leave? His heart softened as he realized that the person he wanted, wanted him back. You were willing to remain in their lives.

"I can try that."

Toshi trained his eyes on your body, fighting every instinct to close the space between. But you moved first, gingerly placing your hand on his shoulder to steady yourself as you straddled his lap.

"Can I sleep in here tonight? I want you to hold me," You whispered.

He nodded and rested his forehead against the crook of your neck. "Is that all you want from me tonight?"

#bnha yandere #yandere #yandere x reader #mha yandere #all might x reader #villain all might #all smite #toshinori yagi x reader

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goldenhypen · 2 years

Text

forget me not — park jay

genre. fluff, high school!au, academic rivals to lovers!au // warnings. none // wc. 0.7k // requested — 800 followers event

jay was living his life comfortably as the top scorer of the school; never having much competition and the work itself always coming quite easily to him—this was until you came along.

it was at the beginning of his third year of high school that you entered his life, you having just moved to south korea. and little did he know, you were the top student of your previous school and that he had just encountered his future enemy.

initially, your rivalry began with you two fighting for the highest grade, but it quickly escalated to you two competing for everything; either you or him just had to be better than the other. one time, like little kids, you two even had a debate on whose lunch was better.

but at the end of the day, it always came down to whose grades were greater.

one day, with jay sitting a couple seats to your left, your class had a test. as you were pondering an answer to one of the questions on the paper, you looked up, away from the words to think. and as you did, your eyes landed on jay who just happened to be staring at you.

noticing your eyes making contact with his own, he immediately looked away anywhere but you, nervous at the fact that you caught him staring. he just hoped you didn’t realize the real reason behind it and that you’d take it as nothing but a very brief moment of awkward eye contact. with his eyes avoiding your own, his just so happened to land on the paper in front of you.

irritated, while the teacher wasn’t looking, you covered your paper with your hands as you glared at the boy and mouthed to him, “stop cheating!”

his eyes went wide after realizing where they had landed and he immediately returned to his own test in front of him.

unable to speak to one another during class, afterwards, you confronted him about it.

“what were you doing staring at my test earlier?” you asked, suspicious.

“well, i wasn’t cheating if that’s what you’re thinking. and you know i’d be better off using my own answers than copying yours,” he retorted with a smirk on his lips.

you scoffed at his comment.

“so then what were you doing watching me during class?” you urged.

“i wasn’t watching you!” he was quick to defend.

there was a moment of silence as you looked at him, unconvinced.

after a few seconds, you noticed his expression turn to one of slight nervousness before he sighed, breaking eye contact with your own and looking down in front of you for the second time that day.

“i know we’re supposed to hate each other, but i realized,” he paused, “i don’t exactly know how to say this- but you’re my motivation every day, and it’s not exactly just because of school anymore.”

he looked into your eyes before continuing, “i think it’s more than that.”

suddenly your heart began racing and your breaths became hitched with nervousness as you began to understand where he was going. and perhaps you also grew a very large crush on him months ago after realizing how smart, talented and hardworking he was.

“would it be bad if i said that i liked you?” he asked.

“that’s a brave thing of you to ask,” you commented before deciding to play with him a bit. “aren't you afraid of this becoming awkward and uncomfortable if i told you i don’t like you back?”

he fumbled with his words for a moment, trying to let out a response, but he had become even more nervous at what he thought you were implying.

you continued, “well, lucky for you though, i just so happen to like you, too, park.”

it took a second for him to fully process the words that had just left your lips, and smiles slowly grew to both of your faces.

before you could even process it, jay had already grabbed your hand, pulling you out of the school building and into a more secluded spot only you, jay and a few others knew about.

as he stopped in his tracks after reaching the destination, he turned to face you with a smile, causing you to question what he was doing.

but before you could even finish asking, he answered with his hands on the sides of your head and his lips on yours in a long awaited kiss.

a/n. hope you liked this one <3 also, on an unrelated, yet related note, i’m just gonna state the obvious rn bc my boi deserves all the praise in the world and i’m in my jay feels again 💔 don’t tell jake,, jay is the definition of ‘cool,’ and nobody can convince me otherwise 😌🤷🏻‍♀️ i just- ijustlovehimsomuchlikehaveyouseenhimughwhatagloriousman someonehelpmebeforeiswervelanes

taglist. @rein-deer-stuffs @herasalvatore @enhasfever @heelariously @en-ternity @mika-monalisa @jungwoniics @all4haru @aleinasstuff @hopelessrthym @wanlore @ddeonubaby @sheepgardenenha @jungwonseyebrowsonflick @strqyverse @liliansun @02liz @niikipuff @astridyoo15 @squiishymeow @wccycc @w3bqrl @luvvwonie @linoragi @miminyuu @peridaunt @ja4hyvn @chae-darling @lee-known @hell1cy @enhacolor @changmin-wrlds @chewychubchuu @sk4tersoobin @enhypenenthusiast @tyunni

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sukirichi · 3 years

Text

happy little accidents

— Life is a series of unfortunate events, but sometimes, there are happy little accidents.

REQUEST. (accidental pregnancy, fuck buddies au) + childhood friends to lovers + baby moments with father! megumi

CONTENT/WARNINGS. slight smut, slight exhibitionism (I think? there’s a CCTV lmao) just daddy megumi uwu

NOTES. hi anon, thank you for requesting and joining the event! I have to admit...I don’t really know how to write this and I just had to ask my mother about her experiences in pregnancy LMAO. I apologize in advance if this sucks, I’m pretty good at fluff but domestic and cute stuff with children isn’t my expertise asggkhl I’m awkward around babies and kids so anyways, I hope you like it! OH AND ALSO I HAVE A CAMEO LMAO

Megumi’s hands runs up under your shirt, bringing about a shiver forward when his cold fingers come into with your warm skin. You feel him smile onto the kiss, his grip nothing but teasing before he brushes the underside of your breast, prompting you to grip closer to his hoodie. You and him were childhood friends; having always liked one another until playing house was no longer a game a but dream, but his family was too strict and controlling – they’ve made it clear long ago this relationship could never and would never happen.

His Uncle Naoya made sure of it.

But that didn’t stop the both of you. All the way from highschool until now in your university days, you and Megumi are still stuck together by the hip, occasionally fucking whenever time allowed. Weekdays are spent staring longingly at each other in the hallways, the weekends flourishing into finally’s and hushed kisses under the sheets, completely unaware of the world you both trudged in.

Today was one of those days, and you’re nothing less of passionate as you swipe your tongue out to taste his lips, smiling when you realize he’s also grown used to wearing your mint flavoured lip balm. “Mhm, Megumi, I missed you,” you placed your legs beside his arms, a contented sigh entering his mouth as he closed his eyes.

“You miss me? I’m always around you,” he reminds you, pulling away momentarily to tug your shirt to the side where he leaves a soft patch of kisses. “Never gonna leave your side, baby.”

“You better not. I’m the best you’ll ever have.”

Megumi nods wholeheartedly in agreement, not wasting time before he pulls you closer to him. You’re almost weightless as you crash on top of him, hands tangled into the other’s hair and his large palm squeezing your breast. It produces a breathy moan from you, a thread of saliva connecting your lips when it comes again – that hellish bitter and sour bile that flows up to your throat. You push yourself off him and run to the bathroom, the content of your stomachs poured while your groans echo around the room.

He’s beside you in an instant, crouching beside you to pull your hair up and pat your back. Once you’ve finished throwing up, you clutch at the indistinguishable bloating of your stomach, leaning back into his touch while you slowly regain your composure.

Your head is throbbing uncomfortably again, one that wouldn’t go away no matter how much you press your thumbs against it.

“Wh-what’s wrong? Are you sick or something?”

You chuckle a bit from the way he frets over you, hands tilting your cheeks side to side while he pales, a sheen of worry visible on his hairline. He’s always been such a worrywart. You look behind him and see the box of condoms in your half-open medicine cabinet, the sight making your heart drop in your chest.

“Megs...when was the last time we had sex?”

“Well,” he scratches the back of his head, “We’ve both been busy from uni, so...last month, I guess? It’s been a long time.”

You swallowed audibly. You’ve recently gotten that box of condoms because if you remember correctly, last time you both skipped straight to the deed after realizing you ran out of it. Eyes flicking over his confused ones, your throat ran dry and itchy from the throw up session, your voice low as you say, “I’m three weeks late on my period, Megs.”

He looks just as shocked as you are, but he doesn’t give you the time to recover before he rushes out into your apartment. For a moment, you’re left heartbroken at the cold bathroom tiles, thinking that he left, but Megumi comes back a few minutes later, a pregnancy test kit and some chocolates inside a plastic bag. Your eyes widen when he gently ushers you to sit on the toilet, his feet tapping impatiently on the floor while you both wait for the result.

And there it is.

The timer on his phone goes off. Megumi rushes beside you, his chin resting on your shoulder as he blinks at the test kit. He turns to you and blinks in question, wondering what the hell it meant.

“’Gumi...it’s positive,” you cry out, sending him into a stagger backwards when you jump at him. Thankfully, he’s carried you too many times to count that he’s natural at hoisting you into his arms, still rendered speechless as you announce, “You’re going to be a dad!”

It’s been five whole months since you and Megumi turned into being stable fuck buddies, intent on hiding your relationship from both your families, into homeless and young parents whose fear over life and the future only increased tenfold now with the growing baby inside you.

You still remember that dreadful moment when both of you are kicked out into your family estate, Megumi’s Uncle Naoya especially enraged over the news. He doesn’t even give his nephew a chance to pack his bags before he signals the bodyguards to escort you out, then takes away all Megumi’s privileges and former luxury of being part of the Zenin Clan. You assume he’d want to strangle his pitiful Uncle for the never ending mistreatment, but your now boyfriend is nothing but happy, relieved that he’s been freed from the tight reins that always got in both your way.

Unbeknownst to the controlling Zenin Clan head, his wife is much more cunning than he is. He knows his wife always had some sorts of tricks hidden up in her sleeve, but even you were surprised when Megumi’s Aunt Suki shows up in your college dorm one day, throwing a set of keys your way with a wink before driving off back to become Naoya’s beloved trophy wife.

She lent you one of her high-estate apartments and even a humble car, silently wiring fees into your bank account since Megumi’s was already shut down.

Truly, if it wasn’t for her, you and Megumi wouldn’t be able to live this comfortably no matter how much both of you worked your ass off.

Now, none of you had to worry about not getting to make ends meet, no more worrying about putting your health at risk by working two jobs a day along with university – you and Megumi agreed to take advantage of her kindness just until the baby was born, opting to live quietly and comfortably in your shared home that would soon be filled with more memories. Well, as comfortably as you both could anyway, since pregnancy – although a beautiful experience – wasn’t always rainbows and unicorns.

Megumi comes home one day, the food you’ve always been craving from the Chinese restaurant from the other town present inside his bag. He’s tired from uni, even more so that he shares your burden of becoming new parents, but every time he comes home to you, all his exhaustion is wiped away, especially with the evident growth of your belly.

Your boyfriend runs up to you after placing the food on the counter, his arms wide open to get a hug – he’s gotten extremely touchy ever since the pregnancy – when you reel away from him, face turning green.

Your fingers come to pitch at your nose, eyes narrowed at his confused pout. “Ugh, Megumi, your deodorant stinks.”

“You were the one who got this for me, though,” his brows furrow as he lifts his sleeve up to sniff himself. He doesn’t smell bad... “You said you liked it on me,” he mumbles more to himself than you, staying still in his spot when he sees how colourless you’ve become. “Why are you looking at me like that? I showered today.”

“I can’t stand the smell of you, I can’t, gosh,” pushing past him, you rush to the toilets, the morning sickness well present all the way until sundown as you throw up. Megumi stands at the doorway, hands extended in front of him as he’s unsure whether he could help you or not. You firmly shake your head at him, lips turned into a sneer. “No, don’t get near me or I will honestly whack you with my purse, Megumi. Get rid of that deodorant and find a scent free one or something.”

Megumi is left with a slack jaw when you hop into bed afterwards, too tired and irritated to finish your papers. Seeing that he should probably do the same and pamper you instead, Megumi is silent as he crawls under the covers, only to be kicked out with a harsh kick to his thigh and a fiery, “Get out!”

“Nobara,” he whines into the phone, too fearful to even look at the bedroom at the thought that you’d feel his gaze and get even angrier. Your instincts and senses sharpens with each passing day; he won’t risk it. “My girlfriend hates me!”

“I could see why.”

Megumi groans at his friend’s flippant tone, the sound of a nail file grazing acrylics mixed with lo-fi music playing from the other line. “I’m serious – she doesn’t even want me a foot near her! When I tried to join her on the bed, she literally woke up just to hit me with a pillow. Right in the face!”

“Let me guess, you’re banned from the bedroom and staying on the couch?”

“Yeah, I am,” he sulks on the couch, “I don’t know why she hates me. I can’t imagine what I did wrong.”

“You don’t have to do anything wrong for a pregnant woman to hate you, Fushiguro. It’s not your fault your face is just really annoying,” Megumi makes a sound of protest before slapping a hand over his lips, nervous gaze darting at your door again. He relaxes into the seat; you’ve probably fallen asleep. “But on a more serious note, I think it’s the hormones. She’s erratic right now and you can’t blame her, she’s literally growing a child inside of her, dude, are you crying?”

“She might divorce me because of my deodorant.”

“Idiot, you two aren’t even married!” Nobara bellows loud enough that Megumi pulls the phone away from his ear, waiting until she’s calmed down and continues speaking like she didn’t just burst his ear drums. “Listen, just be extra sweet and careful around her, okay? Don’t open your mouth as well unless you want to die. Now get a notepad or something, we’re going to devise the best Baby Mama Seduction Plan that is guaranteed to win her heart.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Nobara!”

“Hmph, you owe me tickets to that fashion show though. Get your rich ass uncle to pull some connections or something.”

“Nobara, you know I can’t—”

“Oh shit, is that your girl about to kick you in the face?” Megumi yelps as his body flips at the direction of your room, both hands raised in surrender with his phone pressed between his ear and shoulder. He sighs – the door is still closed – he should be safe for now. Meanwhile, Nobara snickers cockily, almost as if she could see everything. As always, Nobara was triumphant. “That’s right, we both don’t want that to happen, so stick to your end of the deal man.”

Megumi stays up the whole night to execute Nobara’s plan. It’s tiring to run back and forth in the open convenience stores just to fill the fridge up with all your favourite food, but Megumi is determined to have you accept him again, even if he knows you’re not actually rejecting him.

By the time you’ve woken up, all beautiful and glowing as you pad out your room, Megumi stands up straight to conceal his body ridden with exhaustion. He just wants to make you happy.

“What’s all this?”

“You’ve been working hard,” he starts off unsurely, a hand scratching the back of his head as he gauges for your reaction. You plop down on the dining table and don’t scowl as you take a whiff of the food, blinking for a few seconds before you dig in. It’s enough for him to take as a go-signal, and he walks beside you carefully, his voice wavering and soft. “I just wanted to surprise you – show you how much I love and admire you...all that.”

“That’s suspicious,” you mouth through a mouthful of dumpling, but smile anyways with your arms extended. “Come here, give me a kiss.”

Megumi is beyond elated as he buries himself in the warmth of your arms again, sighing when you kiss his cheeks and jaw. “Are we good?”

“Did you replace your deodorant?”

“Yes...”

“Good boy,” you kiss him on the lips this time. Megumi has the audacity to blush as if he didn’t just fuck a baby into you, making you laugh before you slap his ass, last night’s irration now replaced with a reminder that this was Megumi – your first love and everything more. There was no way you wouldn’t be ‘good’ with him; you’d go to heavens and back for him, but maybe once you’re done birthing his child. “Yeah, we’re good. Get the mint choco ice cream pint for me?” Megumi sprints to perform your commands, and you reward him by pulling him in for a deeper kiss the time, his lips so sweet and minty. You can’t help but sigh, falling for him over and over again. “You’re such a sweetheart, Megs. This is why I’m head over heels for you.”

“You didn’t want me sleeping beside you for a week straight though.”

Your nose scrunches at the memory – that slight change in your expression making Megumi step back – as you wave a spoon at him, glaring at him in warning. “Like I said, you stank.”

But...pregnancy wasn’t all that bad for the both of you. There were times you’re unable to keep your hands off him. Although unexpected and mostly occurring in the most inconvenient situations, Megumi can’t say he’s complaining, especially not when you push him towards the wall just as the elevator doors closed.

“Daddy,” you moan, guiding his hands into your already soaking wet panties. Megumi breathes sharply as he cups your drenching core, wondering how you’ve gotten this aroused without him doing anything sexual in particular.

The nickname spilling past your lips is unforeseen though, as is his growing kink for it when he hardens immediately.

“Please, please, please, I need you so much – make me feel good, will you?”

Megumi has to pin your needy, trailing hands all over his chest down to your sides, his pupils blown wide as the elevator ascends from one floor to the other. His eyes dart to the blinking red light from the cameras, his Adam’s apple bobbing when you don’t stop in the slighthest, only leaning forward to tug and nip at the skin of his neck. Megumi groans at your ministrations; you know very well that was his sensitive spot. “Y/N, we’re literally in the elevator, just wait until we get back home—”

When Megumi tries to push you away to stop your hands from palming his boner, you growl, eyes fierce and heated as you turn to him. “Do you want me to chop your dick off and prevent you from having a second child?”

“N-no.”

“Then shut up and fuck me.”

“Fuck, okay, don’t blame me if I make you sore, though.”

You roll your eyes at him, your hands moving expertly as you bunch your skirt up to your waist to show him that your bud was already swollen just for him. “Megumi, my boobs are already are its most sore point, I don’t give a fuck anymore.”

Megumi makes quick work of shoving his pants down just to his knees, gentle yet needy as he pushes your chest flat on the walls, round and perky ass puckered for him to take you already. He could cum just from the sight of you bending over for him like this, your arousal already dripping down your thighs as you wiggle your hips at him, breathless in the desire to be taken once more.

There were still fifteen floors to go before you reached your destination. Megumi’s brows pinch together in anxiety that anyone could press for the lift, but you’re also submissively bent over for him, moaning and gasping his name even when it’s only the tip of his cock sliding into you.

He sees the way your fingers hover over the buttons, clearly more prepared to shut the doors and deny others entry than he was, and he thinks fuck it to himself before he buries himself deep into you, head thrown back at the heavenly and salacious feeling of fucking you raw. You’re somehow warmer and tighter, wetter with puffier lips during your second trimester. Just as he blanches at the thought he could hurt you, he remembers the doctor’s encouragement of more sex. Being the good boyfriend he is, Megumi fucks hard into you, groaning and panting when your walls clamp down on him.

He only wants to help you.

Days of rubbing your feet and singing to your belly were gone – now replaced with laughter pouring into your house and switching from listening to Mother Mother into actually enjoying nursery rhymes playing from the stereo.

It feels just like yesterday when he rushes you to the emergency room, your hand nearly crushing his during your contractions before you gave birth to his child.

Megumi has never really been much of an emotional person, preferring to be calm and stoic unless you’re around; the rare times he actually lets his walls down. Surrounded by a group of doctors, though, Megumi stops caring about saving face when they hand him his daughter. He isn’t the least bit embarrassed when he sobs upon seeing the tiny bundle of joy in his arms, so small and vulnerable that promised there and then – he’d do everything he can to protect his child and give them the best future.

Fushiguro Megumi is a hands-down helicopter dad. The moment you’re able to take your daughter back home, he’s already had the whole house baby proofed. Along with studying for his exams, he’s also switching back and forth to parenting guide books.

You can tell he’s taking his job as a dad very seriously. Megumi doesn’t hesitate to shoot out of the bed in the middle of the night whenever he hears his daughter cry, racing you to her crib while he rocks her back and forth and you prepare her milk. You’re both utterly tired and sleep deprived, your head resting on his shoulder as your baby calms down in his arms. Faintly, you feel him kiss the top of your head, encouraging you to go back to sleep with the assurance he can handle it.

But of course, you’re the stubborn parent, and you drag your boyfriend and daughter back to bed, making sure there was enough space to make her comfortable before falling asleep.

Being a parent – especially with the love of your life – has never felt any more magical.

Of course, it was hard and definitely not a walk in the park, but it was worth it. Every time you came home from school, Megumi would already be there, his daughter babbling nonsensically in his arms while he prepared her meals. At the sounds of the door opening, both of them would run to you, showering you with kisses while you did the same.

Both your families have still refused to accept you back – not that you both minded – but it was getting shameful to keep relying on his relative to provide for your family. Eventually, you and Megumi decided that the other stays to take care of your baby while you work after class.

You’re staggering inside your home like a zombie after a long day, muscles aching from too much work and brain barely functioning due to the lack of sleep. With a long, drawn out sigh, you plop on the couch next to your boyfriend who jolts back awake, still careful not to let his drooling daughter wake up in his arms. Upon seeing it’s just you, Megumi leans over to kiss you on the nose, smelling sweetly of floral detergent powder and baby cologne.

“Welcome home,” he murmurs at your skin, your eyes already fluttering close at the comfort and warmth of home. “Scarlet is fast asleep. She couldn’t wait for you to kiss her goodnight anymore.”

“Don’t be dramatic. Mommy will always come home to the two most precious people in the world,” Now, it’s your turn to kiss Megumi to remind him he’s also doing a great job. You know he’s working just as hard you are, and you honestly don’t think you could do this without him. “Megumi,” you begin, tracing soft circles into his wrist to feel his lulling heartbeat.

“Hmm?”

“Have I ever told you I loved you?”

“I think I know that already,” he smiles romantically at you – even after years, you’re still very much smitten with that smile, and the sight of him and your daughter alone has you relaxing back in your seat.

“Yes, but you need to hear it again,” you tell him, cupping his face into your palms. Megumi sighs as he leans closer into your warmth, his hands patting your daughter’s back to soothe her in her slumber. “You’re such a natural at this – being a father. I’m really lucky I had a family with you. It’s all I ever wanted,” Burying yourself closer into his arms and collecting the both of them into an embrace, you smile into his shoulder, feeling like you’re on cloud nine. “I don’t think life is gonna get better than this, Megs. I’m so happy right now I feel like I could die.”

“Don’t say the d-word around her,” he jokes, the two of you sharing tired and dry laughter. Once the amusement subsides, Megumi’s other hand shifts to squeeze your thigh to get your attention. “Y/N...do you ever think about...making us official?”

“What do you mean?” you mumble sleepily, “How else official could we get? We live together and we have a baby. Soon, we’re going to be employed too and then we can provide better for her and stop relying on Aunt Suki so much,” Megumi nods above you, but his lack of response is worrying that you look up to him, frowning as you see that his face is pulled deep into thought. “We’re already a family, Megs. What’s on your mind?”

“I want to marry you,” he blurts out, “I want to make you mine and mine only – I see a future and a forever with you,” Megumi looks you straight in the eye the whole time. “Marry me, Y/N. Please.”

You’re rendered speechless.

You love him so much, you really do, and nothing about that will change. After spending a lifetime with you, Megumi knows just by looking at your face that there’s a but coming afterward and he clenches his jaw, sadness swirling in his eyes that you have to stop him before his thoughts run off again. “I want that too, Megumi, believe me,” you reassure, brushing his hair back with your fingers; a gesture that always pulled him back to you. “I just don’t want to rush things, you know? We can still barely stand on our own and we have Scarlet to worry about. I think we should focus more on her future than ours.”

Megumi nods, albeit disappointed, though this doesn’t stop him from kissing you straight on the lips before he mutters, “I understand but...think about it, at least?”

“You already know my answer would be yes.”

“Scarlet! I wonder where my little princess is hiding,” Megumi announces from outside your room, your toddler giggling beside you as you both hide behind the closet hand-in-hand. Four years later, you and Megumi are married, and life’s gotten a lot easier – in addition to it being a whole lot more domestic since Megumi takes his husband title just as seriously as being a father. Right now, he’s crawling outside, his voice lowered in an attempt to be scary. “If I find her, she’s going to face the wrath of the tickle monster!”

“Tickle monster!” Scarlet gasps beside you, turning to you with wide eyes. “Mummy, I don’t want tickles!”

“Then we better be quiet so Daddy doesn’t find us!”

With your voice intentionally louder than a whisper, it doesn’t take long before Megumi opens the closet doors, carrying you both effortlessly before dropping you all down onto the bed. “I found you!” You all tickle each other and laugh, your daughter falling into panicked squeals while you chortle at the side. Megumi then hoists Scarlet up before the both of you kiss both sides of her cheeks, sending the giggling child into an utter ticklish mess.

While the two are busy tickling one another, you feign a gasp, clutching at your husband’s bicep. “Megumi!” your eyes widen, pointing deftly at the kitchen with trembling lips for effect. “Can you please check the oven – I think I left something in there and it might be burning!”

“I don’t smell anything,” is all he says, but runs there anyway. Megumi stands in front of in confusion, Scarlet safely bundled in his arms while her father opens the oven, frowning as he takes the object out and inspects it. “Mittens? But Scarlet is already—” Just then, Megumi’s jaw drops, his grin stretched wide while Scarlet keeps poking at the mittens, trying to make them fit into her slightly larger hands. “No way. Another one?”

“Another candy?”

You laugh at Megumi’s beaming face that matches his daughter’s – the two looking too much alike – but for completely opposite reasons. “We’ll get you all the candies you want, sweetheart,” you swipe a candy from the counter and hand it to your daughter’s grabby hands, pecking Megumi’s cheeks who is still beyond flustered at the announcement. “But yeah we have another one – and it’s a boy!”

#fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #fusiguro megumi x reader imagines #megumi x reader imagines #fushiguro megumi x reader romance #megumi x reader romance #fushiguro megumi x reader fluff #megumi x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader romance #megumi x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #ngl i dont think this is my best work LMAO i suck at this im so sorry im just not a fan of kids spspss but i tried my bestttt wee woo #excuse me if the fluff is cringe IM CRYING #suki: 500 milestone event

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missdawnandherdusk · 4 years

Text

Slytherin!Muggleborn X Draco Extensive Dating Headcanons

requested by the ever lovely @mimsyisgianna

A/n: Hi, this is super long and I’m in love with it.

oh this is going to be fun

As a muggle born you have absolutely no idea what’s going on

But you guess magic is cool? And your parents said that you don’t have to stay at Hogwarts if you’d rather a muggle school and forget all of the magic stuff

Which quells your anxiety a bit

Then there’s this asshole

Draco Lucius Malfoy: arrogant asshole extraordinaire, even as an eleven year old

You’re over his entire personality in about 0.2 seconds and you haven’t even talked to him yet

So maybe this magic thing wasn’t for you, because good god these purebloods are awful

Then you’re in the same House as Draco and you really just want to go home, but you decide you can try it for a semester and you shouldn’t let some prissy rich boy ruin your fun

Because, well magic is a lot of fun--and you’re pretty good at it

There are a few other half-bloods and muggle born in Slytherin, not many, but enough that you don’t feel alone

And maybe you become best friends with a muggle born hufflepuff who lives up the road from you back home

Draco, on the other hand, has made it his personal mission to make sure that you know you don’t belong at Hogwarts and you definitely don’t belong in Slytherin

he tells you as much. in so many words. in front of the entire great hall

You’re not hurt, you’re livid

“You know what you’re right!” You snap back, “I’d rather be anywhere but here with your vain racist arrogant ass!”

The entire Hall goes quiet and Snape breaks the two of you up

Now you both have detention together on Saturday

Draco yells something about his father hearing about this and you roll your eyes and go back to your dorm, dinner forgotten

Detention with Snape could be worse. All you’re doing it organizing potions ingredients onto the shelves

“That doesn’t go there,” You point to the misplaced vial of newt. “Yes it does,” Draco snaps, “Don’t tell me what to do little mudblood,”

“Don’t call me mudblood, asshole. Newt goes over there,” You point to a different shelf. “With the rest of the reptile related ingredients,”

You and Draco stare each other down, both convinced you’re right. You scoff and go back to your own ingredients letting him be wrong. It didn’t matter to you.

Draco would never admit that you were right. But you were.

You smirk at him when Snape points out the mistake

Since you’re Slytherin, it’s unavoidable that sometimes Draco is your partner in class

You mostly ignore him and try to focus on the professor, but sometimes he gets under your skin and you just want to deck him in his perfect face

“That’s not how...” “Good lord Draco how are you still alive...” Draco that’s not what the professor said...” “What in the world are you doing?” “I don’t think that’s how...” “He said 1354CE not 1435CE,”

“I don’t need a mudblood telling me what to do,” He always snaps.

“What about a Slytherin?” You fire back. He never has an answer to that.

It’s the end of first year and late one night after exams and you’re alone in the Common Room, staring at the murky lake water outside the stained glass, well almost alone.

You’re so lost in thought that you don’t hear him the first time he speaks to you

“Oi, Y/n,” He calls. It was the first time he ever used your name. It caught your attention.

“I’m not really in the mood,” You hug your knees barely glancing at him. “I’m sure Hermione is somewhere in a library if you want a mudblood to taunt.”

“I’m here as a Slytherin actually,” He leans against the wall adjacent to the window seat. “How were exams?”

You shrug. “Fine. I guess.” Sighing you rest your head against the wall, closing your eyes. “Mom thinks I should go back home... go to a normal--muggle,” You mend, “school, and give up all this magic stuff,”

“What?” He demands. “Why would you do something so... so stupid?”

This time you do look at him, confused. Sure, he had called you a lot of things and mocked you more times than you could count but they had always been about your blood status, never about you inkling to leave this magical world.

“It’s not stupid!” You argue back. “How--all year you’ve given me hell for not belonging and now that I might actually want to go, you’re telling me no!?”

You don’t let him say a word, instead you rush down the hall and to your room, slamming the door shut and locking the door, confusing your roommate, but she sees the tears in your eyes and decides not to question it.

Draco sort of hates himself for making you cry, but he can’t quite figure out why. He can’t figure out why the thought of you leaving for good bothered him so much. His friends couldn’t figure out why he cared so much. And neither could he.

You’re not at the End Of Year feast, nor on the train back to King’s Cross, and Draco gets really worried that you have left for good.

The more he thinks about it over the summer, the more he thinks that you weren’t so bad for a mudblood. And maybe sometimes you were actually brilliant. And maybe you’re the only one who can see right through him and yet you still help him when you can even though he’s stubborn about it. And maybe you did belong in the Wizarding world with him.

But he had to go and screw all of that up.

He does a double take when he sees you September 1st with a few other Slytherins on the Hogwarts Express.

“You came back,” He blurts out. “You can’t get rid of me that easy Malfoy,” You grin at him.

You still snap at each other but now it’s more of an inside joke rather than malicious. It’s a game that you both like playing.

“Happy now Y/l/n,” Draco grumbles after you correct him in front of the entire class. “Ever so more, now that you’re put off Malfoy,” You laugh.

Boy does Draco freak out when he hears that mudb-muggle borns are the target when the chamber of secrets is opened

Now he’s constantly worried about you and still doesn’t know why. He chalks it up to “you’re a slytherin and slytherins take care of their own,”

Not that he cares about any other slytherin muggle born, just you

Not that he admits that to himself either

So maybe he stalks you a bit in second year. You notice but shrug it off. Draco’s weird, that wasn’t new info to you.

This year you go to Quidditch games, one because Draco mentioned he was the new Seeker, and two... well, why not?

You go to one, then swear them off. Good lord they’re dangerous and give you unnecessary anxiety. Especially the amount of times people get hurt. Magic or not, you didn’t want to watch that.

After the first match that Draco sees you there, he always looks for you in the crowd again, but never sees you. It throws off his focus more than he cared to admit

he liked showing off to you okay?

He finds you in the common room after one victory, enjoying the party with your friends. You wave at him and after a while congratulate him on catching the snitch. It’s blushing and awkward but then Pansy comes and draws Draco’s attention and you can barely get out goodbye

The fact that you’re a muggleborn hardly bothers him anymore. You’re just... you.

After one particularly aggravating quidditch match you find him afterwards, sulking in the library.

“Draco?” You ask, confusion in your voice.

“Go away,” He grumbles, more or less hiding behind his book.

“I heard about what happened today...”

“And you’ve come to mock me, brilliant,”

“No,” you offer a smile. “Though the thought is appealing... I was wondering if you were okay,”

“I’m fine,” He snaps, taken aback that you came to check on him. No one did that. Ever.

The summer still gives him anxiety because there’s always the possibility that you won’t come back to Hogwarts the next year. And Draco can’t have that

But his fears are put to rest when your in his train compartment that next year (you have the same friends after all--and Slytherins stick together)

You notice that Draco’s wearing his hair a bit different this year and maybe he’s a bit taller...

and you have no idea what feeling is in your chest because of it. was it nervousness? No... was different... but what was it?

You shrug mentally and the game is on again with Draco.

“I was going to insult you but it seems like you’re doing just fine on your own,” You grin and Draco is livid. And it makes you laugh. He’s just so cute when he’s mad.

“I can see that you’re failing at attempting to mock me Y/l/n,” Draco smirks. “Oh you’re completely right,” You smile innocently, and Draco’s eyes widen because did you just say he was right?. “I’m not attempting, I’m succeeding at mocking you.” You giggle and make a face at him before heading down the hall with your friends.

and maybe Draco’s heart skips a beat

Animosity between the Gryffindors and Slytherin is real and even though you’re a muggle born the self righteous golden children don’t seem to care

Hi Dracos protective of you

“You don’t have to defend me. I’m just fine on my own,” you huff one day after class. “Slytherin take care of their own,” Draco shrugs and walks off.

Did Draco just call you a Slytherin genuinely? Did he just call you one of his own?? What the f—

Okay but Buckbeak terrifies you?? Like sure horses you could do but this??

Draco laughs at your apprehension before he realizes what you really are terrified and ducking behind him and the other Slytherin.

Hagrid picks you to come forward and greet Buckbeak and you can’t seem to get out the words “no thank you”

Draco, being over dramatic and now protective goes forward instead (you know the scene) and despite your fear of Buckbeak you’re scolding Draco that he’s going to get hurt if he doesn’t do it properly

Then he does get hurt

“It’s killed me!” He cries and you have to laugh, crouching down beside him.

“You’re fine drama queen,” you help him up and take him to Pomfrey. “Thanks,” you whisper as his arm is getting wrapped.

“Sure, I save you from a bloody chicken and all I get is a thanks?” He grumbles.

You rest your hand on his and your eyes meet.

“Thank you,” you say softly and boy does Draco melt on the spot

He still scoffs and plays it off. “Whatever,”

The same thing happens again with the boggarts but this time the roles are switched. Draco is terrified to go up but you’re pretty brave and reckless for a Slytherin

But holy heck does this backfire

Because your Boggart is Draco...

“You don’t belong here and you never will! You filthy little mudblood! Just go home and don’t come back! No one wants you here!”

You can’t manage the spell—because honestly you didn’t expect it to be that—and Lupin has to rescue you and you rush out of the room, tears in your eyes and everyone is just staring at Draco.

As you can imagine, things get pretty bad. Draco avoids and ignores you to the best of his ability because he had no idea how scared you were of him... sure maybe a little bit... but to be your greatest fear? It didn’t sit well with him.

And you figure out pretty quick why that was your boggart but you don’t know if you can admit it to anyone.

Until Lupin pulls you aside after class one day to ask if you’re okay and if Malfoy is giving you any trouble about being a muggleborn.

“I can give him detention,” Lupin offers. “Maybe it’ll straighten him out.”

“Stars, no!” You gasp. “Professor, please, Draco’s never...” You can’t exactly say he’s never said that, because he did, in first year. “It’s not for the reason you think, but Draco really... it’s not...” You don’t know how to explain without telling Lupin the entire thing.

“Alright,” Lupin appeases. “But if you have any trouble with anyone, you come to me you understand?”

You nod and leave, accidentally running into Draco in the hall. He barely looks at you before rushing off again.

“Draco, wait!” You call. “Please,”

Apprehensively he pauses and turns to face you. He waits for there to be fear in your eyes, but all he can see is desperation and sadness.

“I thought you were afraid of me,” He meant it as a snarky reply, but it comes out broken.

“No,” You shake your head. Biting your lip you decide to tell him why he’s your boggart. “You’re... you’re the only one I... I trust enough to believe... if you told me I didn’t belong... It only scares me if it comes from you,”

“What the bloody hell am I supposed to do with that!?” He demands.

You shrug, sighing thinking about the same. “I don’t know... I’m sorry Draco,” You turn and walk down the hall.

It’s gone from bad to worse because not the awkward tension between you two is tangible and about every Slytherin is over it. So are most of the other students but they don’t have to live with you two.

Draco barely sleeps at night. He’s just thinking about how he actually said that to you in first year and how you still held onto his words. He never meant for them to hurt you that badly. At least now he didn’t mean it.

Then there was the matter of what you had explained to him. That he was the only one who could hurt you with those words. Because you trust him? Why the hell would you trust him? Why was it him of all people?

Maybe his thoughts shifted to the panic in your eyes the day with Buckbeak, or the smile when you helped him off the ground, or the gentle kindness in your eyes when you thanked him in the infirmary.

Or maybe it was the determination in your eyes when you volunteered yourself to face the boggart so he didn’t have to.

Or maybe it was every taunt and tease that had you both smiling and laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. Every name calling, every insult.

Maybe it was the day he saw you at King’s Cross, telling him that he couldn’t get rid of you that easily and grinning at him like it was some sort of inside joke.

Or maybe it was the soft apology you gave him for the mess you were in.

You didn’t really talk for the rest of the year, but the tension seemed to ease after Draco’s epiphany that night. You smile at him and he waves to you in the halls... it’s nice. It’s friends.

Draco still thinks that this is finally the year that you don’t come back to Hogwarts and it really does crush him over the summer not being able to ask you or contact you at all. The disconnect between wizard and muggle was very irritating because he just wanted to talk to you.

His fears are again quelled when you’re on the Hogwarts Express. He sits with you this year.

Fourth year means the Durmstrang students are being hosted by the Slytherins and more than one has their eye on you and you just feel creeped out

Hi, Draco is jealous

Now he was your partner in every class, and constantly beside you in the halls, glaring down whichever guy dares to come near you.

Not that you notice. Again, Draco was weird. It wasn’t news to you. Besides he’s cute when he’s grumpy

Until one day you’re irritable and Draco just happens to be the person closest to you when you’re pushed over the limit.

“I don’t need you to protect me okay! I can handle guys just fine on my own thank you! God what is with you Draco!?” You scream at him during study hall and storm off. Against his better judgement, he gets up and follows you.

He finds you in the library leaning against a bookshelf in the back, your eyes closed.

“Go away Malfoy,” You sigh.

“How did you know it was me?”

“Because I know you,” You look over at him. “I’m sorry I yelled at you,”

“I’m sorry if I made you feel...” He looks down. “I... You’re...” He turns a slight shade of pink and trails off.

“It’s alright,” You offer a smile. “It’s actually kinda sweet,”

Now you’re both blushing.

You go to the first task together with the rest of the slytherins and Draco can barely watch the task because he’s watching your face light up at the sight of dragons, because your little muggle self has never seen a dragon before and it’s amusing and cute

Then Draco asks you to the Yule Ball for before any of the imbeciles from Durmstrang can in front of the entire Great Hall.

“Malfoy’s got himself a muggleborn girlfriend!” It’s some Gryffindor mocking you

You turn bright red and run off, finding yourself in the Forbidden Forest hiding behind a tree. You’re crying because you’re embarrassed and you’re mad that you’ve even crying, which makes you cry more.

You hear his voice calling your name and you pray to whatever god existed that Draco wouldn’t find you or see you cry.

He does find you.

“Go away Draco,” You beg, hiding your face in your hands.

“Now where have I heard that before?” He teases softly. A silence falls again.

“You never answered me,” His voice is soft and gentle. “Do you want to go to the Ball with me?”

You dare to look at him, confused as hell. He sitting beside you, staring at the grass and tree roots beneath you.

“Do you really mean that? Don’t give me that look. I know you don’t exactly hate my existence, and things are different... but asking me to the ball? I...” Shaking your head you rub your face.

“I can’t blame you for questioning my motives, though a part of me thought... maybe hoped you wouldn’t, but I really do mean it. I know I was an ass to you in the beginning, and sometimes I still am, and I’m sorry for that. I really am trying.” He nervous and rambling and you know it. “But I really do want to take you to the ball, because you’re kind, and sweet, and a brilliant slytherin and an amazing witch-”

He’s cut off because you pulled his tie and pressed your lips to his.

of course it’s awkward and weird because you’re kissing him and... he’s kissing you back?

You pull away, thoroughly confused, and you start to apologize, but he’s not having that, so with a bit more elegance, he pulls you in for another kiss.

This one is softer and slower and it gives you both time to figure out what kissing is now that it’s a thing you’re actually doing.

“Will you please go to the Ball with me?” He asks again, when the perfect kiss is ended. You nod and smiling giving him a “yes,”

“And maybe go out with me?”

You grin. “Whatever you want Malfoy,”

maybe he kisses you again

You to eventually head back inside, hand in hand and all of the Slytherins sigh in relief because finally

You’re a nervous wreck because all you can hear is “Malfoy’s got himself a muggleborn girlfriend,” on repeat and you can’t help but feel wrong

“You’re thinking about it again,” Draco raises an eyebrow at you.

“And you’re not?” You challenge. “It feels... wrong. How could a pureblood, a Malfoy no less, choose a muggleborn, a mudblood,”

“Don’t you ever,” Draco gets dangerous with cold fury. “Don’t you ever call yourself that. You hear me?” He’s towering over you, his grey eyes trained on yours. “You are a Slytherin,” He cups your face, his demeanor softening, “You are a brilliant witch. Pureblood or not, you’re mine. You hear me?”

You nod, and he wraps you into a hug, sighing. “I’m so sorry,” He whispers.

Your dress for the Ball is a bit more muggle than wizard, and you’re nervous about what the others in your house will say, but all of the worry goes away when Draco stares at you, turning pink and stumbling over his words

Not that you’re faring much better, because good lord is he gorgeous

It’s awkward and weird to be officially dating, but soon you fall back into your familiar game but now it’s harmless banter and lowkey flirting

Because Draco is protective and jealous of the Durmstrang blokes gaping at you maybe he’s okay with holding you closer than strictly necessary, or kissing you in a way that not completely polite in the company of others.

You roll your eyes at his antics, but allow it because you don’t like the way a few girls are staring at Draco.

Boy is Draco a goner when you get jealous and just as protective. He’s a stammering blushing mess if he can even make a word out at all

At the moment, Draco’s parents don’t know about you--partly for your safety partly because neither you nor Draco are ready for that battle

Draco and you spend free nights acclimating each other with wizard or muggle culture. Some nights are fun and carefree, some not so much...

Draco gives you a very strict rundown of the looming war and the threat of the Dark Lord and how very serious it is and how easily you can (and will) be killed for simply existing under Voldemort’s regime

Maybe once Draco agreed with his father that muggles shouldn’t exist and muggle born wizards were preposterous, but now? How could he look at you, your family, who welcomed him with open arms, and say that? How could anyone believe that?

He says “I love you” first. It’s an accident but you’re studying kne night and your eyes light up—like they always do when you learn something magic related—and it just slips out.

You gawk at him for a bit. Draco turns bright red and stares down at the books in front of you trying to play it off.

“I... I love you too,” you finally get out.

His eyes flash back to yours and your homework is forgotten and you’re in your own little bubble of a world in the epiphany that you love each other

“Of course I love you Draco,” there are tears in your eyes as he pulls you into his arms and now you’re both crying and kissing and mumbling “I love you”s

This summer, now that Voldemort is back, Draco goes about insane thinking about you, sending you owls almost daily to make sure that you were alright as well as hiding you from his parents

Except his mother finds out. Well, more like she knows her son and can see that he’s changed and casually asks “who is she?”

It’s a quiet conversation held behind closed doors and silencing charms. Draco explains who you are to him, and what you mean to him and now Narcissa is on your side, to be your protector from his father and the Dark Lord

I can throw Snape in there too right? Cuz he’s your head house as well as being close to the Malfoy’s and sees how much you mean to Draco. Yeah, sure, why not?

It’s harder for you as a Slytherin because no one outside of your house sees what kind of danger you’re truly in because they don’t want to take the time.

But you’re still fericely protective of the younger Slytherins who still get berated despite being eleven with no choice of a house

You and Draco as prefects?? Hello?? The CUTEST thing because you’re now the honorary parents of Slytherin younger years. And Draco seeing you take care of the first years does something weird and paternal to him. It’s the same for you.

Which means you might go toe to toe with Harry a few times because once after a quitting match when you’re waiting for Draco he says “how can you be with someone like him? You’re a muggle born. He’s a Malfoy, you don’t exactly belong,”

Cue you hexing Harry for saying that. Then Draco coming between you two. You explaining what Harry said and then Draco turns on Harry and then it becomes a muggle brawl and you have to drag Draco away from it before you get in trouble. By the end Harry has clearly got the message that yes you do belong, and no it’s never up for debate again

You both have detention again. But that’s fine, it’s just uninterrupted time you can spend with Draco and get some homework done

You are 100% over Umbridge and her rules. Especially when she gets between you and Draco with her eight inch rule but then again you’re slytherin and she seems to favor your house so she’s not as strict, especially with Draco as her golden boy

You don’t join the Inquisitional Squad, but you still look after your own house as a unofficial prefect as Draco works as part of the squad.

With the news of Draco’s father in jail, you comfort him that night, not leaving his side. He feels so conflicted because on the one hand it’s his father but on the other hand you’re safer with him locked away

Draco loathes that you leave him in the summer to go back home but he agrees it’s safer for you to be back in the muggle world. Until Voldemort starts to attack your muggle world and dementors hover over your town.

Draco writes to you, begging you to come and stay with him where it’s safer and you can use magic to defend yourself but you refuse because you won’t abandon your family

Draco takes the Dark Mark to keep you safe and to keep his facade up.

But he doesn’t tell you. Not for a long while. You know something is up because Draco looks like the embodiment of death but he won’t tell you why.

“Draco,” you confront him one night as you sit and watch the stars. “Please?” You don’t even have to ask the explicit question. There are tears in your eyes as you plead with him silently.

“I can’t,” he whispers hugging his knees, not daring to meet your eyes.

“Draco it’s me,” you lay a hand on his shoulder. “It’s just me. Whatever it is... I’ll always love you,”

“How can you... how can you love me when I became the one thing who’s truly meant to hate you?”

Your eyebrows furrow as you cup his face softly, his eyes meeting yours. “Do you love me?” Then mend. “Forget what you are... or what I am... or what should be. Look me in the eyes and tell me you love me,”

“I... I love you,” he gasps out, pulling you close. “Merlin of course I love you,” he’s sobbing into your arms and you hold him, letting him cry in peace and comfort.

You two sit in the quiet for a while, both lost in aimless thought.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says pulling away from you. “I’m so sorry,” he tugs up his shirt sleeve and you see the Dark Mark etched into his skin

“Draco,” your eyebrows furrow, your hand running over the mark. “Are you okay?”

“Why is that your first thought?” He laughs hopelessly, cupping your face delicately. “You never cease to amaze me,”

“Now what?” You ask softly after some time in silence. “What does it mean?”

“I don’t think anyone knows,” he admits. “It all became so complicated,”

You chuckle. “Oh the days when our biggest problem was my blood status,” you rest your head on his shoulder, tucked into his arms.

“I mean that’s still a relevant problem,” Draco points out, pulling you in tighter. “I don’t want to lose you. Not because of some stupid notion that pure bloods are better than muggle born,”

You smile at that and close your eyes, relaxing in his arms. “Did it hurt?” You asked after a while. “Like you wouldn’t believe,” there’s still pain in his voice.

You’ve become more protective of Draco now and he of you. It might go back to the core that Slytherins look out for their own, or maybe it was because your to loved another. All of the Slytherins seem to stick together lately.

In an attempt to protect Draco, Harry’s sectumsempra hits you instead

And stars above Draco would have killed Harry if he wasn’t so focused on keeping you alive until Snape arrived

Draco has the dark mark and you had dark magic scars all over your skin. That was a hard one to explain to your parents

If anything your scars make you more confident and self assured because they show the true nature of the precious “chosen one” and you’re not keen on letting Harry forget it from tank tops to shorts and skirts, you boldly show off your scars

Of course Draco takes his sweet and gentle time praising and adoring all of your scars. It leaves the ghost of his lips on your skin for days on end until he does it again

In all honesty you and Draco are a force to be reckoned with, both scarred by a war that hasn’t truly begun.

You’re beside Draco when he’s face to face with a dying Dumbledore. You’re gripping his other hand, a snarled look on your face because you saw his manipulative nature for what it was

Though you couldn’t bare to think of killing another, you didn’t stop Snape from doing the final action

You and Draco fled with the rest of the Death Eaters, both running into the Forbidden Forest before apparating away.

You share a desperate kiss at the Manor behind his locked bedroom door before you have to apparate back home, safe from Voldemort and his other Death Eaters

Now that both you and Draco can apparate legally, you have rendezvous points that you meet during the summer for a few hours a week. Sometimes it’s sunny afternoons in the countryside, sometimes it’s desperate nights in lavish hotels, sometimes it’s lazy mornings in comfortable beds

Seventh Year is hellish. On the one hand it’s great for the Slytherins, on the other hand it’s terrible for muggle borns. You escape a lot of the torture because of being with Draco but you can barely stomach watching it happen to others... especially first years.

“This is wrong Dray,” you whisper one night. “I... I can’t keep pretending like it’s okay. They’re just kids,” there are tears in your eyes.

It’s the first night that the room of requirement opens its doors to you letting you in on the renegade camp. Almost everyone is baffled to see you there.

“So...” Neville starts. “Yeah,” you nod looking around at all of the battered and bruised faces. Your heart breaks a little more.

You use whatever magic and muggle skills you have to help the younger years get patched up and feel safe again, soon becoming a co-leader along side Neville and Ginny.

The fact that you’re a Slytherin gets left at the door.

In fact after a while the room itself gets rid of all of the house banners and just becomes a communal space

You tell Draco where you are and what’s going on but despite how hard he tries, he can’t get into the room

Until one night, the night after Luna is kidnapped and he’s made to torture her, does he become desperate enough that the room opens for him and offers him a safe haven from the war as well

Boy was everyone shocked to see Draco stumble through the doors on the verge of tears.

Wordlessly you stand and go to him, wrapping him into a hug and pulling him to your cot, again letting him break down in peace and comfort

Soon more and more Slytherins start to trickle into the renegade room.

You move your parents far away from England and London while the war is happening with help from Narcissa and Draco

The day comes and the battle of Hogwarts arrives and the Slytherins stand with Hogwarts, knowing that family doesn’t start or end with blood.

You and Draco lead the Slytherins into battle against the Death Eaters with a furious vengeance

No one budged when Voldemort offered to reconcile after Harry was pronounced dead. You and Draco shared one last loving look and prepared to face death together

But then Voldemort is gone

You almost collapse in relief into Draco’s arms and he sinks to the floor unsure of the world himself.

Many lives are lost and many are wounded. You both go around healing and helping where you can, never far from the other

You break down crying when you see Lupin dead before you and Draco holds you tightly shedding a few tears of his own

You and Draco are both acquitted in the trials because most of Hogwarts comes to your defense in testamonies.

Your story makes headlines a few years later....

“Pureblood Ex-Death Eater Malfoy Proposes to Rebel Muggleborn Sweetheart”

It’s not happily ever after just yet, but maybe it’s a step in the right direction

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sammygvfslut · 3 years

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i like you a latte | s. kiszka

Summary: Words cannot espresso how much you mean to Sammy Kiszka.

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Hey besties!!! this is my first ever sam fic, and i really hope you guys enjoy it! it’s super cheesy so beware of some tooth-rotting fluff ahead. any and all feedback is appreciated <3

Loud chattering and the sounds of espresso machines hissing and whistling filled the cafe. Every few seconds or so when a new customer walked in, a soft ringing above the door rang. Glancing at the clock, you sighed as it read 7am. Way too early for your liking. You wished to be back in bed under the covers with your cat Joey snuggling. Plus, the cold weather made it even harder for you to get out of bed every morning. Damn you, winter.

“Good morning.” A voice said suddenly, startling you as you slightly jumped. “Whoops, didn’t mean to scare you there for a sec.”

Turning around at the voice, your heart fluttered and a smile pulled at the corners of your lips. “G-Good morning, Sam! Nope, didn’t scare me at all. I was just uh...focusing very hard and you caught me off guard.”

A chuckle rumbled from his chest, his own lips curving and flashing that beautiful grin. God, he made you melt. You took a quick chance to admire his appearance for the day, luscious brown locks pulled back into a low bun with a few stray pieces framing his face, and he wore a slightly oversized brown grandpa looking sweater. He exuded true fall energy today and all you wanted to do was snuggle with him watching a movie while sipping on hot chocolate. “Right. Focusing on what exactly? Staring at the register?”

“S-Sure. Yes, the register.” Totally not him instead. “Um, I realized it turned off right now and my mind blanked to turn it back on.”

Sam placed a hand on your shoulder as he laughed, his touch leaving a wave of goosebumps to rise out of your skin. “You’re so cute. I’ll leave you to that then, but if you need help trying to get the register to turn back on again, let me know.” And with that, he sent you a wink and turned on his heel away to start on the customers orders.

Alright, alright. So maybe early shifts weren’t as bad as you thought thanks to your insanely charming co-worker. Sam and you had been working together for the past year, and almost instantly you started falling for him. He welcomed you with open arms and he was a great help when it came to your training. Your co-workers were nice too, but Sam took that extra step in making sure you were comfortable with what you were doing. If you made a mistake and were freaking out about it, he somehow knew the way to calm you down. He was too precious and good for this cruel world. And most of all, out of your league too.

With his dashing looks and amazing personality, you just knew there was no way he’d ever feel the same about you. Except, any time you’d voice that thought to any of your friends at work, they’d tell you you’re crazy and that he likes you too. Apparently they caught on to the signs more than you did, which wasn’t a shocker considering that you’d have no clue if a guy was interested in you unless he blatantly confessed. So, trying to figure out hints was completely pointless for you.

“Uh oh, she’s deep in thought,” one of your friends/co-workers, Danny, teased. He also happened to be Sam’s best friend, and current band mate since the pair are in a band with Sam’s older twin brothers. “I bet I can guess what, or who you were thinking about.”

“Don’t even say it,” you warned with a finger, “He’s literally four feet away from us—”

“So?” Danny rolled her eyes with his arms folded. “Why don’t you just tell him how you feel? Come on, it’s been almost a year now. What’s the worst that can happen if you confess?”

“He can hear me.” You stared blankly at him, shaking your head. “Absolutely not though, Danny. I will not embarrass myself from the humiliation I’d have to face from his rejection.”

Danny groaned frustratedly, placing his hands on both your shoulders and shaking them. “You’re so hopeless! Y/N, how many times do the guys and I have to tell you he likes you too!” He raised his voice a little louder than necessary which accidentally caught the attention of almost everyone in the cafe. Sam included unfortunately. Danny’s eyes widened, silently cursing under his breath. “Carry on, everyone.”

As much as you hated to admit it, Danny wasn’t lying when he mentioned about the guys agreeing that Sam likes you too. Every time you came over Josh’s apartment and Sam was there he’d find any little excuse to have his arm around you or teasing you constantly. You’d shake it off that he was just treating you like a friend would, but of course the guys would disagree with you.

“We’ll finish this conversation later,” Danny told you sternly, “But for now, and don’t make it obvious, but Sam’s looking at you.” A mischievous grin spread across his face as he winked and stepped to the next register before greeting a new customer and taking their order.

Heart pounding out of your chest, you slowly looked over your shoulder in Sam’s direction. You saw his head quickly turn and finish off the drink in front of him. Your cheeks burned at this and tried taking deep, slow breaths to calm yourself down. Didn’t work much, but as a new customer waved and told you their order, your breathing turned back to normal.

On the other end of the counter, Sam was currently freaking the hell out from what he heard a few minutes ago between you and Danny. He didn’t mean to, but he also wasn’t that far from either of you. Plus, Danny wasn’t the best at keeping his voice low. He had a strong feeling he knew you were talking about him, and for that reason alone he overflowed the cup he was pouring into and made a mess. He cursed under his breath and wiped his hands on his apron, shaking his head.

You caught sight of this and rushed to his side, grabbing a cloth from under the sink and started wiping the sticky counter. Sam was certain his cheeks were tomato red from his embarrassment, making a complete fool of himself for not paying attention to what he was doing. More so focusing on your conversation and your damn smile from earlier. You weren’t the only one here with a crush.

“T-Thanks, Y/N.” Sam chuckled nervously, throwing the cup in the trash and tossing the drink pitcher he held in the sink. “I’m normally not this much of a dumbass.”

“I’m not too sure about that one, Kiszka.” You teased lightly with a grin. “It happens, don’t worry,” you assured. “I’m just glad it was cold tea you spilled and not steaming coffee. I’d hate for you to get a third degree burn. That happened to me once, don’t recommend it.”

“Didn’t I drive you to the hospital for that?” he asked. “I think that might’ve happened a few months ago.”

Your eyes widened at the memory. “Oh shit, you’re right. God, I’m still so sorry I had to drag you into that.”

Sam shook his head, lips curving and cheeks no longer flushed. “For the hundredth time, stop apologizing about that, Y/N. You know you can count on me for anything, so of course I didn’t mind driving you to the hospital. I remember even blasting some ABBA on the way over there so you’d have something else to focus on instead of the pain you endured.”

You smiled at the memory. “Didn’t we also go out for ice cream afterwards?”

He nodded, lightly rubbing his arm. “Yeah, it was a lot of fun. I mean, I always have fun when I’m with you.”

Your breath caught in your throat at his last few words, blinking slowly. “O-Oh.”

Oh? That’s all you have to say? Nice one, Y/N.

Sam’s heart dropped. Fuck. Maybe you weren’t talking about him after all. Maybe it was Danny or one of his brothers that you had a crush on and he was mistaken about it. He wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow him whole right about now. Being anywhere but here sounded splendid to him.

“Y-Y/N, I—“

“Ihavefunwhenimwithyoutoo,” you muttered all too quickly, and poor Sam barely even understood what you said. He didn’t have the chance to ask you to repeat yourself because you quickly walked away to the back and he was left with a tug at his chest, frowning.

Within the next few days after Sam’s tea spill, literally, things between you and him became...awkward. Something went off in him to become even more clumsy than normal and forget everything he’s ever known when you’re near him. He’d get flustered, stuttering a lot, messing up orders, dropping dishes, and nearly tripping all the time. He hated it so much and wished he could just muster up the courage and apologize for being such an idiot and confess his feelings to you. Even during your hangouts with the guys, Sam and you wouldn’t interact as much and honestly you were well aware you were being super childish and immature about the situation. Sam did too, and he needed to snap the fuck out of it.

The next few days at work Sam would ignore Danny’s little side comments about his immaturity and continued working in silence. For the rest of his shift he didn’t talk much to anyone other than the customers. He wanted to talk to you when he had the chance, but then he’d quickly back out and walk the opposite direction.

He couldn’t figure out why it was so futile for him to just grow a sack and tell you he likes you. He’d never gone through this struggle before. Then again, as cheesy as it sounded, the other girls he’d asked out in the past couldn’t compare to you. Never in a million years, and maybe he was too afraid that he didn’t deserve someone as amazing as you.

Nearing closing that same day, it was only you, Sam, and Danny. The flow of customers died down and not many people came in towards the end of the night which you were grateful for. It finally gave you the chance to relax a bit and start cleaning things up ahead of time so you wouldn’t have to stay after. Joey and a nice warm bath were waiting for you at home.

While Sam decided on working the register and you and Danny would clean, he grabbed your arm and led you into the back.

“What are you two still doing not dating each other or talking?! It’s been way too long now, Y/N. And since it’s only us three tonight, you have no other choice. Come on, I know you can’t take this any longer, and he can’t either. I can take over the register for a bit while you and him talk.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, contemplating his offering. As incredibly thankful as you were for his help, you were also scared shitless of the possible outcome. Perhaps it was finally time though that you say fuck it and say what you needed to. You couldn’t go on for any longer to keep your feelings bottled up inside. Maybe, just maybe he might feel the same way, and by God you hoped that would be the case.

Inhaling, you nodded slowly and made your way back to where you were. Your eyes searched for Sam and saw he was busy making a drink, except there was no one else here besides you, him and Danny. It could’ve been a drink for him, so you shrugged this off and went towards the sink to start washing the dishes.

A few moments later, Sam cleared his throat from behind you. “H-Hey Y/N, so um, I know the créme brûlée latte is your favorite, and I thought I’d make you one. You seemed really stressed and busy today and I wanted to try to cheer you up. I hope that’s okay.”

Your heart swelled at his generosity and your cheeks burned as you felt his gaze burning into you, his palms soaking from nervousness. “Sam, you didn’t have to do that for me.”

He shrugged casually, a small smile on his lips and his cheeks tinted a light pink. “It’s okay, I wanted to. And I uh, tried my best on the art. Hope you like it.”

Raising a brow, your gaze dropped on your cup and your eyes widened as you saw what he was referring to. A small coffee cup with the words I like you a latte around it.

“It’s true,” Sam chewed on his bottom lip while running his fingers through his hair. “I really like you Y/N, and I’m so sorry for acting like such an idiot these last few days around you. I don’t know what came over me, and I’m sorry that I didn’t talk to you much either.”

Setting your cup on the counter, you took a step closer to him and cupped his cheek, rubbing your thumb softly against his soft skin. “You don’t have to apologize for anything, Sam. I’m sorry for not talking to you too, as well as for making a fool of myself. I tend to do that around someone I like.”

Finally, the realization dawned on Sam as a wide grin pulled at his lips. “Glad we’re on the same boat.”

“I-Is it alright if I kiss you?” he asked shyly, his eyes sparkling as he looked at you.

You giggled. “You don’t even have to ask, loverboy.” You playfully rolled your eyes and cupped his other cheek before connecting his lips with yours.

A smirk pulled at Danny’s lips as he glanced at the two of you, shaking his head. Josh and Jake owed him $20 now.

It was about damn time that Sam and you finally espresso’d your love for each other.

tagging these lovely folks bc they helped inspired me and their work is amazing <3 @godlygreta / @flowervanfleet / @dharma-divine

#sam kiszka imagine #sam kiszka x reader #greta van fic #greta van fleet #sam kiszka

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saintshigaraki · 3 years

Text

the sun has not yet fallen

pairing: bakugou katsuki x gn!reader

word count: 2.2k

excerpt: You look back towards the setting sun just once. You don’t really know why. Perhaps to find some bravery in the beauty of it, to steal yourself a few extra seconds of this limbo you’ve found yourself in. Where everything is hazy and beautiful and hurts so bad you can hardly breathe.

a/n: me: i hate angst

also me: writes this fic

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, sometimes love requires work

in case you want to read it on ao3!

Katsuki is in a bad mood. He was uncharacteristically quiet when he walked through the door which is more often than not a sign he was trying his damndest to hold back saying something just a bit too cruel. And you appreciate the effort, truly you do.

On any other day, you would’ve let him be to work through his shit alone. He usually does that by cooking up something far too elaborate for a weekday night, and then after decompressing for a bit, he tends to slink back into whichever room you’re in and lay his head on your lap so you can work your fingers through his hair.

You’ve found over the last two years that that is what tends to work best. Giving him space and letting him come to you.

But today you’re feeling just as raw as he does. You can’t remember the last time you spent quality time together. You can’t remember the last time he didn’t go to bed so exhausted he was out before his head hit the pillow. You can’t remember the last time you didn’t feel this heavy cloud hanging over your head. You can’t remember a moment where there wasn't a timer counting down and down and down while you do nothing but wait for it to hit zero. You’re not quite sure what will happen when your time is up.

It’s selfish, probably, to want to be with him right now when you know he’s so weary, but you won’t even bother him, is what you tell yourself. You just want to be around him for an hour (or two) you want to stand so close to him you can smell the ever clinging scent of caramel and help him with dinner and think of brighter days. Better days.

(You want things to go back to the way they were before. You want to cling to him, just for a short while, stuff your face into the crook of his neck while he tells you everything’s okay. That you guys are okay.

But that’s for another day. It has to be.

How many times have you told yourself that?)

You follow him as he stomps towards the kitchen.

He aggressively grabs the ingredients for whatever he’s making and slams them on the counter, grumbling under his breath the whole time. You stand in the doorway worrying your hands, feeling awkward, and hating that you feel awkward in your own kitchen with your own boyfriend.

It makes that awful nagging voice in your head grow just a bit louder.

You approach him slowly while he sets up a pot filled with water and turns on the stove. He’s still grumbling to himself by the time you place your hand softly on his forearm.

He jerks away immediately and narrows his eyes. You viciously stamp down exactly how awful that makes you feel. How small and unloved.

“What do you want?” he says bluntly (and a little cruelly but a part of you says just ignore it, maybe if you close your eyes and cover your ears you can pretend that everything is fine, that you guys are fine) .

That was part of his charm when you two first started dating. You loved that he was blunt, that he got to the point, there was really no guessing what Katsuki was thinking because he’d simply tell you and if it were any other day perhaps his words wouldn’t have bothered you as much as they did now.

And it’s partly your fault, or maybe even mostly. Because you let it get this bad. You could have told him something was bothering you, that lately, you’ve been feeling a little insecure in this relationship. Katsuki was blunt but very rarely if ever cruel with you or your feelings. He would’ve understood, probably.

But anytime you thought about broaching the subject with him, he always looked so, so tired. Bone tired. And you thought maybe it was selfish, to want him to comfort you over something this dumb. Over something as frivolous as this. He just needs time.

(How much time, you wonder. How much more can you take? you ask yourself.)

“Are you fucking braindead or something,” he snaps, dragging you out of your spiraling.

“I was just wondering if I could help. It’d be nice to cook dinner together.” We use to do it all the time, you almost say. Now you can’t even remember the last time you did.

“You’re a shit cook,” he says.

It’s true, and on another day, a brighter day maybe, you would’ve laughed. Or at least smiled. Because it was true. You are an awful cook, a shit one, as he so eloquently put it, especially compared to him. But that never mattered to Katsuki before.

He always let you cook with him, always wanted you to cook with him, even if the majority of the time you ended up sitting on the counter swinging your legs and watching him do all the work.

To be fair, afterward, you always cleaned the dishes. It was a lovely, simplistic give and take, one you wish you had again so, so dearly.

“Yeah, I am,” you agree. You try to smile, but it feels forced. You’re tired, you realize, bone tired.

You don’t say anything else and he turns away. You know that’s technically a dismissal but you elect to ignore and start unwrapping the vegetables.

Just as you reach for a knife he grabs your wrist.

“What the fuck is up with you right now?” he grounds out.

“I just want to spend some time with you.”

Your voice sounds frail, even to your own ears.

And before he even opens his mouth you know what he’s about to say is going to bring all this to a head. And from the look on his face and the awful, gnawing in your gut, you know you’re not going to like it. You know that more likely than not, it’s going to break your heart.

(A part of you can’t help but wonder if maybe your heart has already been broken. That it’s made up of haphazardly glued together pieces. Perhaps that’s why you feel so fragile. Perhaps the damage is done and you’ve just been waiting for Katsu to bring down the axe. To scatter the pieces. To finish the fucking job.)

“God,” he spits out. And it’s like a dam has been broken and every hateful thing he’s ever thought about you can’t help but come pouring out.

“You’re so fucking needy, you can’t do a fucking thing by yourself. It’s like all you ever do is breathe down my fucking neck and tell me everything I’m not doing for you.” Distantly, you wonder if that’s true. It might be. Maybe it’s that ugly selfishness you’ve never really been able to hide. You thought you’d done a better job of tucking it away. You were wrong, it seems.

“So I can’t spend every single fucking second of every single day with you, sue me. I’ve got my own shit to deal with, my own problems, or have you forgotten that I have a life outside of you?”

No, you think. I haven’t. Or maybe you have. You’re not really focusing so hard on his words. You tune them out as much as you can. You’re staring at his face, taking in all the details. The deep red of his eyes, the pale blond of his hair, the sharpness of his cheekbones, the slope of his neck, the little scars peppering his face. You used to sit on his lap and kiss each and every one, no matter how faint.

You’re so weird, he’d say as you did it, but the tightness of his arms around you always spoke a different story.

You’re going to miss that, you think. Holding him. Loving him.

It takes you a while to realize he’s still yelling. It’s all hateful and cruel and so sharp. Like he��s taken a knife to your skin to flay you open, exposing every crack, every vein, every shattered piece of heart that makes you. You let it wash over you, like a particularly violent ocean wave.

“Sometimes,” he says, his voice finally quieting to a bearable level, “I wonder why I’m still with you.”

The breath you let out is shaky. No matter how ready you thought you were, there’s simply no amount of time that prepares you to hear those words from him. From the person you thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with. From the person you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.

The silence between you two is deafening. And heavy. So heavy it feels as though your chest will cave in from the pressure.

“Yeah,” you say at last, though you have to force the words around the burning iron poker in your throat. And then you laugh, you can’t help it. It’s all so fucked. You hate that it’s come to this bitter monstrous ugliness.

When had this all started to fester, to rot? you wonder. Is this really all that’s left?

“I can’t help but wonder the same thing.” It comes out more bitter than you'd like. A small jab to try to even out the gaping wound he’s torn open in you.

But it’s also true.

You can’t see his reaction through the tears clouding your vision. You don’t really want to anyway. What’s done is done. What’s said is said.

You grab your phone and keys and walk through the front door, closing it softly behind you.

He doesn’t say a word.

You think if there was any part of your heart left unbroken, his silence has shattered it to oblivion.

You walk for an hour or two. Until the sun has dipped almost completely below the horizon and it’s surrounded by hazy blood-red waves.

It’s a good place to think. To set your jumbled thoughts in order.

It takes a special kind of selflessness to love a hero, you realize. A type you don’t possess, not even nearly. You’ve always been just a little selfish when it came to love. But there’s no room for that when with people like Bakugou Katsuki.

And that’s okay, you tell yourself.

It’s a lie. It’s not okay. And the hollow aching in your chest that beats in time with your heart agrees.

You look down at your phone.

33 missed calls from Katsu

You look back towards the setting sun just once. You don’t really know why. Perhaps to find some bravery in the beauty of it, to steal yourself a few extra seconds of this limbo you’ve found yourself in. Where everything is hazy and beautiful and hurts so bad you can hardly breathe.

It’s not long before you’re biting the inside of your cheek, turning on your heels, and heading home.

You don’t even have your keys fully out of your pocket before the door swings open, with Katuski on the other side looking a bit worse for wear, though you doubt you’re one to talk.

His eyes are bloodshot and his nose is a bit pink. He’s been crying. You can’t remember the last time you saw him cry.

(That’s a lie, you realize. You had gotten in the crosshairs of a particularly brutal villain versus hero showdown. The resulting injuries you suffered were severe. You’d apparently been a bit touch and go for a while. When you opened your eyes for the first time after everything, Katsu was right there, looking like hadn’t slept, showered, or eaten for days. Later you found out it’s because he hadn’t left your bedside since you returned from surgery.

Katsu, you’d croaked out weakly, stretching out a shaking hand toward his face.

He broke down into sobs so violent they wracked his whole body. It took him over an hour to calm down.)

You got about half a foot through the door before he threw himself at you. Wrapping his arms around you so tight it bordered on painful. He sinks down to the floor. You sink with him.

He’s sobbing into your shoulder repeating a mantra of, I’m so sorry and I didn’t mean it. Please, please. I didn’t mean it.

You think about that old saying. What a person says in anger is how they really feel. You don’t necessarily believe that. You yourself have said things out of anger that you in no way meant, that were purely thrown to hurt the person on the other end.

You want to believe he didn’t mean it, more than anything you do. Because you love him. Because you really do think that Katsu is it for you. That he’s always been it for you.

You pull away about as far as he’ll let you.

“Do you love me, Katsuki?”

The words hang in the air. You feel raw. Like you’re the one who has taken a knife to your own skin and flayed it all open for him.

You don’t quite know vulnerability until you ask someone if they love you. It’s a different sort of weakness.

“Yes,” he responds. His voice rough from his tears. “More than anything.”

You watch one last tear fall from his eye.

You hold his face in your hands and wipe it away. Softly. Gently. Lovingly.

You guys are not okay and now that you’ve accepted that you think there’s a chance that one day, you will be.

#bakugou x reader #bnha #mha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou imagine #bakugou katsuki x reader #vicwritesbnha #bnha imagine #mha imagine #i’m thinking a shinsou hitoshi fluff drabble next 👀#vicwrites

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redpandaramblings · 3 years

Text

Like Caramel For Chocolate- An Omega Bakugou x Alpha f!Reader fic. Part 3.

Part 1- Here

Previous part Here

Next Part Here

Content Warning: Negative headspace, omegaverse, self deprecation, depressive thoughts, pushy parental figures, ambiguous omegaverse reproduction, unhealthy relationships, relationship that could be easily fixed if idiots would use their words and communicate, Shinso/Denki side relationship

Where we left off-

You glanced up at the sound of the door. In came your parents, then the Yokomadas. You did a double take as the final person, the omega you were here to meet, entered the room. They looked equally as startled as your eyes locked.

“Y/N?”

“Denki?!”

You slowly walked through the teahouse garden, your electric blond friend oddly silent as he kept pace with you. Your parents and the Yokomadas had allowed the two of you a bit of privacy to talk. So far, neither of you had mustered the courage to break the awkward atmosphere. Neither your parents or the Yokomadas had seemed to pick up on Denki or your mood. If anything, they were thrilled you two already knew each other. With a sigh, you sat on a bench by the koi pond, not looking at the blond as to settled down next to you. After several minutes, he spoke.

“So. What are you doing here?”

You snorted, and gently dumped your shoulder against his.

“Right back at you, Pikachu.”

“I’ll tell you. After you tell me.”

You chuckled humorously, and tilted your head back to look at the sky.

“Would you believe me if I said I was just here to appease my mother?”

Denki considered for a moment before shaking his head.

“No. You’ve been saying no to her for years. So tell me, why are you here.”

You take a deep breath and let it out again slowly through your nose.

“I… I think I wanted to be here. Needed to.” You wrung your hands, throwing a sideways glance at Denki. “I… I want to be mated. Have a family. Have someone who needs me and lets me need them. I used to think Kat… I used to think Bakugou was my person. But I’m not sure anymore, Denks. You know what he’s like and so do I, but I’ve waited for years, and nothing, and I’m so tired, and I’m not even sure he even likes me anymore, and…” You’re stopped by Kaminari gently rubbing your back.

“Breath, Y/n. Come on. Deep breaths.”

You inhaled shakily. You hadn’t even noticed you’d been hyperventilating. Quiet settled again, aside from the sounds of nature and your slowly slowing breathing. After a few moments, you spoke again.

“I’m just so lonely, Denks. I see him every day, and I’m still so goddamn lonely. So I think… I think it’s time to let go.” Your lips twitched slightly upward as you tilt your head to look at him. “Am I terrible?”

Denki huffed out a breath and shook his head. “You? Never.” He sighed, removing his hand from you back as he began picking at the hem of his sleeve. “I wish I could say I didn’t understand. But I do. I’m kinda here for the same reason after all.”

You gave an encouraging hum and reached out, taking his hand in yours and running your thumb over his knuckles. He interlaced your fingers, giving a squeeze before continuing to speak.

“You know how I feel about Shinso, right?”

“I think everyone but Shinso knows how you feel about him.”

Denki snorted. “Yeah. Not surprised. But that’s the problem. I’ve liked him for years. Little bit of a crush but at UA, thought I could play it cool and it would go away; but then the agency paired us together and, well.” Denki gestured with the hand not holding yours. “It was so easy! I’d go boom! And then he’d go pow! Then shoom! It was amazing! He was amazing… And so I tried to get his attention. I tried so damn hard. And you know me.”

You snorted, giving his hand a squeeze. “You’re about as subtle as a brick through a living room window.”

“Exactly!” He shouted, pulling away to stand up and pace. “I flirted. I used all my best pick up lines. I asked him out to the club, and he said yes. But do you know what he said afterward? He said though it wasn’t his usual scene, it was really good being able to hang out with a friend. I… I asked him to spend my heat with me.”

You inhaled sharply. Kaminari looked at you with an expression you hardly recognized. He collapsed onto the bench, leaning heavily against you.

“He said ‘I’m glad you’re that comfortable with me, but it probably would be better for you to ask someone else.’” Denki whispered, sniffling.

“Oh.. Denki.” You wrapped your arms around the blond, squeezing him tightly. Half out of instinct, you tried to pump out soothing pheromones while you gently scented his hair. “He doesn’t know what he’s missing, sweetheart. You’re a wonderful omega!”

That was all it took for Denki to start sobbing heavily in your arms. You squeezed him tightly as tears filled your own eyes. The tears fell when Denki wrapped his arms around you, hugging you just as tightly as you held him. There in the tranquil garden you both huddled together as you finally allowed yourself to cry. Years of hurt and longing fell from your eyes one drop at a time.

You weren’t sure how long it had been when the two of you slowly pulled away from each other. You used your thumbs to wipe Denki’s cheeks. He gave you a halfhearted smile.

“So,” you asked tentatively, “what should we do? They’re going to expect an answer from us about this whole…” You waved a vague hand “Marriage date thing.”

Denki hummed, puffing up his cheeks as he blew out a breath. “God, I don’t know. Certainly wasn’t expecting it be you, you know? No offense.”

You drew back, gasping in mock anger. “Full offense!” You could only hold your expression a few seconds before you started snickering.

Denki grinned his first really grin of the day. “Well excuuuuse me for insulting your alpha sensibilities.”

“You’re excused. For now.”

You both chuckled. Looking out at the pond, you spoke again. “I just wish I had the right answers. And I really wish we had more time.”

Denki furrowed his brow. “Well… Technically, we could.”

“What do you mean?”

Denki bounced on his seat. “Okay. So. Hear me out. We both need time to process, clearly. Also clearly, our families are just not gonna give us that. So… Why don’t we do this?”

“Wait. Wait. We do this?” you asked, both curious and incredulous.

“Yeah! Think about it. One! They mainly want us in relationships they approved of. They set us up, so clearly, they approve. Two! If we say we’d like to try out this match, they obviously aren’t going to set up any more dates; therefore buying us time. And bonus of no annoying randos. Three! We can say we’re going to take the relationship slow because we’ve both been burned before and want to make sure. Four! Four…” Denki trailed off, looking at his feet.

“Four is maybe if we can’t find a love match at least we’re friends who work well together?” You murmured.

Denki nodded, glancing at you with a rueful smirk. “Yeah. Exactly. Vibe on the same wavelength. Hell, we even want similar shit in life.”

“Actual house, few pets, stability…”

Denki nodded again. “Sucks, but would make sense for us to consider it. As much as I fucking hate the ‘You’re not getting any younger’ speech, they are kind right. We can’t waste all our time waiting for things that aren’t gonna happen.”

You shook your head with a chuckle. “God, don’t you hate it when they’re right about shit like that?”

“You have no idea.”

You stood, stretching. “Well, I guess we go tell them, then.”

Denki groaned. “There isn’t enough saki in the world for that conversation.”

“And just so we’re clear, this stays between us for now, right? No one knows but us, our folks, and I guess your cousins.”

“Agreed. I don’t want to think about what anyone would say. Bakugou would kill me!”

You winced. “Unlikely. I doubt he’d care. But if Mina finds out, everyone will know.”

“You’re not kidding. No worries from me, I don't want this getting out any more than you do.”

“So… Engaged, I guess?”

Denki dusted himself off and stood. “Deal. Engaged.” Denki stuck his hand out, and you shook it.

You both turned and started making your way back to the teahouse, taking your time and going the long way to be sure to avoid and of the other patrons. This was fine. A good plan. Nothing could go wrong as long as no one found out.

And there you have part 3! Sorry the wait and thank you all for being patient! If anyone has any questions regarding the fic or how this particular omegaverse operates, please feel free to shoot me an ask. Also, please note that @snuggleyourredpandas is my main account, so it you see a message reply from them, that's me!

TAGLIST- @yzviea, @not-a-pushover, @thelilypieforever, @kumihayu, @aomi04, @ladybakugouu, @one-simp-more, @hakunamatatayqueen, @my-thoughts-are-weird, @left-alone-yuki, @officialtrashbusiness Just a reminder, if you want tagged make sure you have the ability to be tagged turned on; and I'd have to be informed if your blog name changes! Cheers, Darlings!

#reader insert #bnha reader insert #bakugou x fem!reader #bakugou angst #bakugou x reader #reader insert angst #bakugou katsuki #katsuki x reader #omegaverse #omega bakugou #alpha reader #multi part fic #denki #fake dating #fake engagement

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street-smarts00 · 3 years

Text

Eavesdropping

Midoriya x f!reader

Summary: Y/n had just realized that she has a crush on her best friend, Izuku Midoriya. She confides in Mina while they were walking to class. However, someone just so happens to overhear their conversation.

Word count: 1.9k

Fluff with ⚠️language

This is my first time writing, enjoy!

“I still can’t believe it took you that long to realize it,” Mina joked.

Mina had once again brought up this embarrassing topic. God forbid you mention anything about crushes, it’s all she wants to talk about. But then again you are a bit of a gossip too, you just didn’t like when the topic of conversation was yourself.

“I've been single for the past 16 years, you really expect me to know how my feelings work,” you mumbled while the two of you walked to heroics.

It was exhausting talking about your new found feelings for one of your best friends, Izuku Midoriya. The two of you have known each other for over a year now and had just started second year; and only a few days ago did you realize that you had fallen head over heels for the guy.

“So when are you gonna tell him?” Mina smirked. “What? Mina I can’t tell him that I like him it will ruin our friendship” you replied as your cheeks turned pink.

“Why do you think it’s gonna ruin your friendship?”

You sighed, “Because it’s gonna make everything awkward. I won’t know how to act around him once he knows and it’s not like he likes me back.”

Your friendship with Midoriya was more important than some silly crush. He was always there for you, giving you tips on how to improve your quirk or fighting style, helping you study, and whenever you were in a shitty mood he always knew what to do to lift your spirits.

“Oh please that’s a load of bull shit”

“MINA!” You exclaimed.

“What? You really think he doesn’t like you? You guys are super cuddly and touchy and you two always have to be touching whether your holding hands or your arms are linked.” Mina explained.

You shook your head, “No Mina that doesn’t mean he likes me, he’s just a touchy person,”

She smirked, “oh really, well I’m friends with him and he isn’t cuddly with me. Or even some of his other best friends, like Iida or Ochako, has he ever cuddled with them during movie night?”

You opened your mouth to respond but no words came out. She was right. You thought that he was just a touchy person. You had never noticed that the only person he was physically affectionate with,was you. The constant hand holding, and arms linked or draped across the others shoulders, the cuddling on the couch during movie night. It was only you, no one else.

“And, it’s not just the physical affection, he also goes out of his way to help you, like all the time. More so then the rest of the class. And remember when you sprained your ankle during training a few weeks ago, he freaked out and offered to carry you to recovery girls office, and when you did get there he refused to leave until you were all patched up”

You were speechless. You thought all of that stuff was just his normal helpful personality. He’s always trying to help others. Did he really give you more attention?

“Holy shit,” you whispered. Your heart was beating a mile a minute. It felt like you were frozen in place even though we’re you still walking to heroics.

“Awww now you have to tell him! Come on it will be so cute. You’ll confess your feelings, you’ll start dating and then you’ll be in love, and then soon I’m gonna have to start calling you y/n Midoriya.” Mina giggled.

“Mina!” You hissed, and she replied giggling.

In the middle of your rage, you didn’t notice Shinsou pass by the both of you.

“Hey Shinsou!” Mina said cheered. You looked up and mumbled “hey.” He glanced over looking exhausted as always and replied “Hey guys.”

He walked passed the two of you and always out of your line of sight. However, right afterwards you heard him say “Hey Midoriya”

Wait what?

Did he just say? Nope he didn’t, he did not just say Midoriya. He did not just say the name of the boy you and Mina had an ENTIRE conversation about.

It felt like the world was spinning. Your hands became sweaty and you almost dropped the case with your hero outfit.

You glanced towards Mina and she had the same expression as you, eyes wide, jaw dropped and face pale. The two of you turned our heads and unfortunately there he was. Your best friend, green messy hair, worn out old red shoes, and an almost identical facial expression as you. Except instead of all the color draining from his face, it turned bright red.

He awkwardly smiled and waved his trembling hand. You reverted your head and stared at the floor; you couldn’t look anyone in the eyes.

How long was he behind you? How much did he hear? You didn’t want to ask, you were too mortified to find out.

In your grief you didn’t realize that you had reached the girls locker room. You and Mina quickly ran inside and you sighed the tiniest bit of relief now that Midoriya was gone.

——————————————————————

Heroics class was starting and you had barely spoken to anyone since the incident. Your mind hadn’t stopped racing. You played over what happened on the way here over and over again, trying to figure out how much he might have heard.

The only way you were safe from dying of embarrassment was if he only heard that last bit of the conversation where Mina had replaced your last name for his. If anything you could just play that off as Mina joking around or something.

You couldn’t gain the courage to go over and ask him cause there was a pretty high chance he heard EVERYTHING. He however, did have the courage to go over to you. You noticed him walking towards you and your insides felt like they are about to explode.

“Hey y/n” he said as he played with one of the gloves of his costume. You were surprised he wasn’t the same shade as a tomato right now. You on the other hand, we’re the shade of a tomato.

“H-hi Midoriya” you studdered.

He continued to fidget with his glove, “So about what happened earlier”

NO! No no no no! You were not ready for this. You did not want to talk about this right now.

“About what you said to Ashido, I . . “

“How much did you hear?” You had to know, it was eating you alive.

“Um well, a lot of it”

SHIT! Red alert! He knows, I repeat, he knows you like him.

“Oh yea right” you awkwardly giggled. “That was um, just uh. . . “

“All right class, let’s get started” All might interrupted.

“Today we will be working on close combat. You will all be in groups of two and we will take turns one at a time, so your classmates can observe and critique your work.”

——————————————————————

Thankfully Heroics went by smoothly after your little, but very awkward, conversation with Izuku.

You didn’t speak to him the next day at school either. You didn’t know what to say and you were terrified of what he would say about what he heard. Others had noticed too, it was odd that you two weren’t holding hands or had your arms linked let alone not looked at each other.

Once you headed back to the dorms you spent the entire afternoon in your room just like the day before. Midoriya even tried to talk to you. He knocked on the door and asked if he could come in but you said you were in the middle of an assignment. Which was a lie and he knew it because you had finished all your work during free period. You were just too scared to even look at him let alone talk to him.

You didn’t leave your room until Sero came and practically dragged you downstairs for movie night.

You heard a knock on your door and prayed it wasn’t Izuku. “Hey y/n, it’s Sero”

You sighed and got up from your bed to open the door, “Hey.” He saw your tired eyes, “are you ok?”

You realized he saw right through you and replied “yea I’m good just kinda freaked out about something,” His face fell and filled with worry, “do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really, its kinda personal and embarrassing, you replied.

Sero knew not to push you. You tended to have a hard time opening up and if he kept asking you would end up never telling him, or anyone at all. “Oh ok, but if you ever wanna talk I’m all ears,” he sympathized. “Wait, I almost forgot the whole reason I came up here. We’re gonna start the movie soon.”

Crap. You completely forgot it was Friday, and Friday was movie night. Where everyone sits in the common room and watches a movie. The movie night where you cuddled with your best friend on the couch every week. The best friend that you have a crush on. The same best friend that now knows that you like him, and might like you back but you're still not sure because there is no proof.

“Ummm ya know I don’t think I can make it to movie night I have a lot of work to do” you lied.

“But didn’t you finish all your work during your free period? Remember you put your feet on the desk when you were done and Iida scolded you for descracing school property.” He replied.

Damn, he was there for that?

“Oh Yea, so I guess I am free,” you said with a fake cheery attitude as you fumbled with your bracelets. You grabbed your phone, turned off the lights and followed Sero down to the common room.

Once you two reached the living room you noticed that everyone was seated ready to play the film. There were two empty spaces to sit. One of them was right between Midoryia and Jiro. You couldn’t sit next to him and cuddle for the next two hours without your brain exploding. You tried to go to the other vacant seat but sadly, Sero beat you to it.

You had no other choice. You slowly made your way to the couch and plopped down in the empty spot as the movie started. You crisscrossed your legs and played with your bracelets again. Midoryia took note of this, he knew you always played with your jewelry when you were scared or anxious. He leaned to your ear and whispered “Hey, are you ok?”

You didn’t look him in the eye. “Yea I’m good”

You hated lying to him but you couldn’t gain the courage to talk to him.

He leaned over to whisper in your ear again. “By the way, Mina was right. I do like you back.”

This was now the second time today that you felt your heart stop. You turned your head to face him. You were inches apart. “Promise?” You asked.

“I Promise.”

You both smiled as your cheeks turned pink. You leaned into him and wrapped your arms around his waist as he put his arm around you and pulled your closer.

He kissed the top of your head, “I missed this.” It may sound cheesy, but your insides felt like they were filled with butterflies.

“I missed this too”

Over on the other side of the couch a smug looking Mina whispered to Jiro, “I knew it.”

#mha #mha fanfiction #mha fluff #mha headcanons #mha x reader #deku x reader #midoriya izuku #deku #izuku midoria x reader #mha oneshot #bnha

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