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band--psycho · 3 years

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Raymond Smith Smut-Not So Calm And Collected

Written for @hotdamnhunnam writing challenge! Congratulations again on reaching such a huge milestone, you deserve it all and more! Just a fic based around these three prompts:

Intense Possessive/Jealousy

Extreme Dom/Sub

Punishment/Pain

(If this is not you thing, then please don’t read below the cut ) Hope you all enjoy 💖

Other Character Masterlist

Raymond was normally very controlled when it came to his emotions, he rarely let anything bother him and if it did, he was quick to put a lid on his emotions but the sight before him...that was something that made his blood boil.

He couldn’t help but watch as her hips swayed rhythmically to the beat of the music, all of the men were looking at her with a predatory look in their eye, each one eager to try and capture her. None of them would usually bother him, but there was a particularly ballsy young man, probably around his mid twenties, who just couldn’t seem to keep his hands to himself, they wandered up and down Y/n/ns waist as she grinded against him. And that’s when Ray felt it. A feeling that he’d only ever heard of. Jealously. Yes you heard right. The calm, cool and collected Raymond Smith was jealous of a twenty something year old. It should’ve been him that she was grinding against on that dance floor, it should be him who had his hands all over her while whispering all kinds of dirty things in her ear. It should have been him. He’d had feelings for her for so long but then work got in the way and the two drifted apart...he didn’t even know she was coming to the party tonight until she walked through the door wearing a glamorously tight fitted black dress, that showed off all of her curves in all the right ways.

Maybe it was the small amount of alcohol he had, maybe it was the way his blood was boiling as he watched the scene continue between Y/n/n and the other guy, maybe it was the months of built up feelings and emotions that Y/n/n caused him to feel. Or maybe it was a mixture of every single one of those things. But before his mind got a chance to process what his body was doing he was making his way to the dance floor. His eyes locked on Y/n/ns.

“Hey Ray,” she drawled, glancing over at him momentarily before turning her eyes back to the younger guy; he small yet delicate fingers caressed the man's cheeks and Ray couldn’t help but remember how soft her hands were, how they always seemed to wash away all the shit that had happened in the day. Ray didn’t say anything, instead he simply grabbed the hand that was caressing the man's cheeks and began pulling her away from the crowded dance floor. All eyes were on them, but Ray didn’t care. He needed Y/n/n, more than he needed anything else in the world. Luckily enough Mickey and Roz were there to settle down the people that had a problem and within a few seconds the party had returned to normal. Y/n/n surprisingly hadn’t uttered a single word since he’d grabbed her nor did she try to pull away from his grip, in fact it was almost like she let him do what he did...the cogs started to work in Rays mind as he calmly but quickly made his way to his hotel room, maybe she wanted this as badly as he did...maybe she missed him as much as he missed her. He opened the door, his hand still grabbed tightly around hers as he pulled her into the room, shutting the door with a loud slam before locking it.

“What the fuck was that?” Ray seethed, his glasses fogging up slightly in pure rage, thinking back to what she had been doing on that dance floor.

“What did it look like I was doing,” Y/n/n began in a sing song like voice as she sat down on the silken sheet double bed “I was dancing,” she continued with a small smirk on her face, a smirk that she knew damn well would her Ray riled up.

“You were acting like a fucking slut!” He snapped, the anger in his voice evident as he took off his fogging glasses and under the top button of his shirt in an attempt to cool down, physically not metaphorically.

“Why do you care?” The y/c/h female asked, rising from the bed and slowly making her way over to Ray who was still near the door.

“I’m not yours,” she whispered, her heels adding some extra height onto her so they were now at eye level.

“And,” she began, leaning closer into him, enough so that she could feel his erection growing in his trousers, “I can do...whatever...the fuck..I like,” in between those brief pauses of her words she placed a delicate, open mouthed kiss down his neck, before pulling away with a triumphant look in her eyes and a victorious smile on her face. As she went to unlock the door something inside Ray snapped. He grabbed her tightly, turning her around and pinning her against the wall.

“You’re mine,” Ray growled lowly, placing his lips onto hers in a rough and quick kiss. The action instantly causing Y/n/ns most intimate areas to tingle in excitement.

“You’ve always been mine,” he reminded, pressing his body into hers so she could feel just how hard he was for her, something which Y/n/n greatly appreciated, only adding to her already building arousal.

“And you will always be mine,” and with that he moved his hands from her wrists to her face, one hand cupping her cheek, the other wrapping around her neck, holding her in place as she desperately tried to kiss him, craving the touch of his lips on hers.

“Such a needy little slut,” Ray whispered just inches away from her lips.

“Say it, say what you are,” he ordered, lightly adding pressure to her neck in a brief squeeze.

“I’m..I’m a needy..needy little..slut,” Y/n/n choked out, revelling in the pleasure that all of this was giving her.

“You know what happens next, don’t you, sweetheart?” Ray asked, raising an eyebrow as he waited for her to answer, but all she did was nod, a crimson colour filling her cheeks as she did so.

“No, no, no, that’s not happening. You’re gonna tell me what happens next, you wanted to play this game,” he started, moving his hand slightly so he could suck some of the exposed flesh on her skin, causing Y/n/n to moan out in pure pleasure, not being able to hold back as his teeth bit down on her skin, “don’t be brat just because you’re losing,” he whispered against her ear, his hand returning to wrap around her neck, his thumb tracing over the purple bruises he’d left there, acting as reminder of who she belonged to.

“I...I get punished…” she stuttered out, doubting that she’d be able to keep herself from falling over the edge before Ray was happy with the punishment.

“Yes you do, the question is, how many spanks is it going to take?” He questioned, releasing his grip on her throat, before taking off his waistcoat, folding it away neatly and standing by the edge of the bed. Of course the question was rhetorical, he didn’t want a number, he wanted a specific answer.

“How ever many you think I need to have, Sir,” Y/n/n answered, earning a somewhat satisfied smile from Ray as he beckoned her over to him with a knowing look. Without any words having to be exchanged Y/n/n kicked off her heels and made her way to the centre of the bed, her dress barely covering her butt cheeks. Ray let out a small chuckle as he caressed her butt cheek, both loving and hating the fact that she decided not to wear any panties tonight. The contact of his hand on her bare flesh is electric, and that’s just from one, soft, delicate touch, Y/n/n had no idea how she was going to get through any of this without exploding, and Ray knew. Teasingly, his fingers moved down, to her aching pussy, without any warning he ran his index finger down her slit, another moan escaping past Y/n/ns lips as he did so trying ever so hard not to fall over that edge.

“A needy little cunt for a needy little slut,” he whispered, withdrawing his finger and moving it back up to her butt, drawing soft soothing circles on her sensitive skin, just as Y/n/n began to hope that she’d gotten away with it all, she felt a sharp tingling pain spread across the cheeks of her butt. “After that litte stunt you just pulled,” Ray started, using his free hand to grab some of her hair, pulling her back so she was leaning against him, “your ass is gonna be seven different shades of red and when I’m done with you, you’re not gonna be able to sit down for a week,” he growled animalistically into her neck as he pushed her back down into her original position. And that’s when it started, the relentless assault on her butt cheeks, the stinging sensation causing both pain and pleasure as each cheek shook slightly with the harsh contract of Ray's hand. She tried so desperately hard to count them all, but in the end she lost track, drowning in the ecstasy of pleasure that he was causing. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he finally decided to stop but when he did she felt like her butt was red raw, it was stinging from the amount of impact it had on it but the pain only added to Y/n/ns almost overflowing pleasure. In one swift movement, Ray flipped her round, the cool feeling of the sheets soothing her butt slightly. He loved seeing her like this, helpless and overwhelmed with pleasure. He made quick work of ripping the flimsy dress off of Y/n/n before quickly disregarding his own clothes, placing them neatly along with his waistcoat. The bed dipped slightly, making Y/n/n briefly snap back to reality as she watched Ray position himself between her legs. She was desperate for him. And he knew it. “I own you,” he muttered, lowly as delicately placed his hands on her exposed chest, tracing his finger over her breast, pinching her already hardened nipples slightly coaxing another moan from Y/n//ns lips; after a few seconds his fingers were replaced by his lips, sucking the sensitive flesh of one breast decorating it in a an array of hickies, his other hand still teasing her other breast; whispering the same words again “I own you.” And then he switched, giving the other breast ample attention too. Y/n/n just wanted to fall over the edge, but she knew she couldn’t, if she did now, it would lead to another punishment and as much as Y/n/n loved punishment, she didn’t want another one. She wanted...no she needed Raymonds cock. His lips worked their way down to her abdomen, his lustful eyes locking onto hers as he stopped just above where she craved him the most. The tickle from his beard on her sensitive skin only adding to her pleasure.

“Tell me what you want,” Ray ordered, his thumb teasingly tapping away at her clit in a slow rhythm.

“You...need...need you,” Y/n/n moaned out, bucking her hips, desperate for more contact. But her answer simply got a shake of Raymond’s head.

“You’ve forgotten all the rules haven’t you,” Ray said a devilish smirk playing on his features, as he lowered his head down so it was infront of her soaking pussy.

“You’re such a needy little slut you’ve forgotten one of the main rules,” as he said those words he slowly connected his mouth to her clit, running his tongue slowly across her aching bud. In amidst all the overwhelming pleasure and desire Y/n/n was feeling she knew what he wanted, she just needed to somehow find the words in her almost blank mind.

“Please sir...please...I need you...I need you so badly..please sir..please,” she moaned out, her hands desperately wanting to pull his hair and pull him closer towards her, but she knew at the current moment that was not a good idea, so instead she grabbed hold of the duvet, her hands turning into first around them.

“That’s better,” Ray praised, placing one final kiss on her clit before kneeling upright aligning himself with her aching entrance. Slowly, he pushed inside of her allowing her to get used to his huge length again; as soon as the guttural moans left her lips he showed no restraint, rapidly pounding in and out of her, hitting her g-spot every. Single. Time. She released the duvet from her grip, wanting nothing more than to wrap her arms around him, as if reading her mind Ray placed his hands on her wrist, pinning her down, denying her what she wanted, as he continued to hit that right spot repeatedly. There was no word to describe the pure bliss Y/n/n as her orgasm began to build. She couldn’t think. She could barely move. All she could do was lay on the bed and enjoy every single moment with Ray. She knew he was close too, his rapid thrusts grew even more frantic and the groan that escaped his lips as he chased his real ease was like serotonin for Y/n/n.

“Sir...I..I,” Y/n/n moaned out as she began to fall over the edge, falling deep into the pleasure that had been building for so long.

“Me too, sweetheart,” Ray groaned out, reaching his own release as soon as he felt the walls of Y/n/s pussy clench around him. He slowly fucked her through her orgasm, each thrust making it more and more intense. When he was sure she’d finished, he pulled out of her and rolled onto the other side of the bed, bringing her into embrace. His arm protectively wrapped around her as he admired the bold purple bruises on her neck. Neither one of them had to say anything, they knew from this point on, they belonged to each other. They would discuss it all in the morning of course, Raymond already had an idea of what to order for her for breakfast, but now, neither of them could string together a proper sentence. Y/n/n simply snuggled into his chest and Ray quietly whispered the word “mine” before they both closed their eyes, smiles on both of their faces as they drifted off to sleep.

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oikawaplssteponme · 3 years

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Incomparable Beauty

pairing: Izuku Midoriya x fem! reader

ratings/warnings: sfw, mention of insecurities

genre/AU: fluff, light academia (?) [i highly recommend imagining Izuku in light academia fashion, including some glasses ;) ], aged up characters [third-years]

word count: ~3.4K

synopsis: The young and talented photographer, Izuku Midoriya, is searching for a muse for his next entry in an art gallery. Of course, there seems to be one person who inspires him most of all.

a/n: hi hi <3 shoutout to my lovely 🍥 and ☕️ anons for requesting/helping me figure out this izuku fluff! i am really proud of this so i hope you all like it <3 reblogs are super helpful and id love to hear your thoughts on it. enjoy xx

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Izuku Midoriya looked up at the golden-pink sky. He stared into the abyss, hoping to think of something worth capturing. He adjusted the thin glasses that rested upon his face. He sighed and sat up, grabbing his notebook. Inside were hundreds of scribbles, sketches, and ideas that never seemed good enough. He looked to his right, where his camera laid. He wished that it could just take the pictures itself and create something jaw dropping. Still, a camera is nothing without a photographer. Furthermore, a photographer is nothing without a muse.

Izuku gathered his things as he headed back inside, making his way to his dorm. He was frustrated. He only had one week left to submit something into the Tokyo Gallery for Promising Artists, and even then it wasn't a guarantee that he would be selected. Maybe he should send an old piece he thought. He did have a few that he was proud of, but unfortunately, none of them fit the required theme of the gallery.

Izuke had his hands full as he attempted to open his dorm room door. You were making your way up the stairs when you spotted him. Izuku dropped his notebook, loose pages now scattered across the floor. You rushed over.

“Great…” he sighed. You quietly began to pick up the sheets of papers. Izuku froze.

“Midoriya, here,” you smiled, handing him his notebook. His cheeks flushed a rosy pink. He took his notebook back with shaky hands.

“Thank you Y/N.”

“Is all that for the gallery? I heard that you were entering,” you smiled. Izuku chuckled.

“It is but by the looks of it, I won’t be submitting anything. I still haven't come up with anything good enough,” he explained.

“Well don’t be too hard on yourself. I’m sure inspiration will strike you soon enough,” you reassured him, “you’re a brilliant photographer after all.”

Izuku's face was now a bright red. He laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his head.

“T-Thank you again. Well-uh- goodnight Y/N.”

“Goodnight Izuku.”

You walked away to your dorm as Izuku entered his own. He set all his things down and began to fan his burning face. He has known you for about three years now, yet he still can’t find the courage to get closer to you. You flustered him to no end, without even trying. Your voice, your smile, your laugh, your heart; Midoriya simply couldn’t get enough. You were so beautiful in all ways possible.

Midoriya looked at the printed flair pinned to his wall.

Those interested in applying to the Tokyo Art Gallery must follow the theme below in order to be considered.

The prompt read as follows:

‘Capture beauty in its purest form.’

Beauty, thought Izuku. Almost everything is beautiful. The way the sun rises and falls each day is beautiful. How Inko called Izuku every night at exactly 7:30 was beautiful. The friendships that Izuku cherished were beautiful. Then, there was you. Izuku’s mind couldn’t help but wonder to the thought of you in relation to beauty. Now you were truly beautiful.

Izuku soon had an idea.

The following day you found yourself sitting on one of the garden benches. Your classes were finished and you decided that some fresh air might do you some good. You basked in the warm sunlight, as if you were a precious flower that needed it to survive.

Izuku figured that you would be in the academy garden, so he made his way over there. His camera hung around his neck as he held tightly onto his notebook. With a shaky hand, Izuku tapped your shoulder.

“H-Hi Y/N,” he smiled nervously. You greeted him happily, gesturing for him to join you on the bench.

“Hi! Something wrong?” you questioned. Izuku looked like he was sick.

“Oh no, nothing’s wrong. I just-uh- wanted to ask you something…”

“Alright, what is it?”

Izuku set down his notebook next to his side. He held his hands together staring at them.

“Could I take your picture for the Tokyo Gallery?”

Your eyes widened at his request. The best and most handsome photographer in all of UA Academy of the Arts wanted to take your picture.

“You want to take a picture of me? I-I’m no model Izuku…”

“You’ll do great! I have this idea in my mind and it has to be with you.”

Now you were the nervous one. You weren’t one who particularly liked getting their picture taken.

“What if I mess it up? I’d hate to be the reason you don’t get accepted…”

“If those critics reject me, they’re just dumb. I promise it would have nothing to do with you. Please Y/N?” Izuku carefully took your hand with his and stared deep into your eyes. Gosh, how could you say no to him when he looked at you like that.

“Okay, I’ll do it,” you smiled. Izuku squeezed your hand and jumped up from where he sat.

“Thank you Y/N! I promise it will be perfect. Mind if we shoot tomorrow?”

“That sounds good to me.” Izuku smiled so brightly he outshined the sun. He grabbed his things once more.

“Meet me here at noon tomorrow. Try to wear a neutral colored shirt, okay?” he said. You nodded.

“Okay.”

Izuku ran off, leaving you alone in the garden. You soon felt a large pit in the bottom of your stomach.

You stood before the full length mirror of your dorm. You stepped closer to it, examining every detail of you being. A photoshoot? Not only that, but a photoshoot of just you. No way to hide behind anyone or fade into the background. It would be a picture of you. The pit in your stomach only grew. You stared into the mirror, almost hoping the reflection would change into someone else. Someone who would appear beautiful in an enlarged image. Certainly Izuku could’ve asked any other girl to be his model, but insisted that it had to be you. You didn’t understand why. You didn’t view yourself as beautiful in any form. So how could he?

It was close to noon and you should be heading to the garden to meet Izuku. You put on a neutral colored tank top as Izuku requested and finished applying some natural makeup. Your hands shook as you held the brushes. Hopefully your nerves would cease by the time you got to the garden.

Izuku had been setting up since early in the morning. He created a handmade crown of white baby’s breath for you to wear and arranged his backdrop. He set up his lighting and sun reflectors exactly where he wanted. You had been standing by one of the bushes for a few minutes, afraid to interrupt him. He was so in his element. The sleeves to his button down rolled up to his elbows. His dark sunglasses covering his eyes. His beige colored paints stained green at the hem from working in the grass, same with his off-white sneakers. You honestly thought he looked beautiful.

“Hi Izuku,” you said. Izuku jumped then turned to look at you.

“Oh Y/N you’re here, perfect! Y-You look great,” he smiled. Your face grew warm.

“Oh thank you. So, what’s the plan?” Izuku moved his sunglasses to his forehead, pushing back his fluffy green hair.

“So, your job is fairly simple. I’m gonna have you sit on this stool and hold onto this bouquet of flowers. Since it's just me out here I’ll be messing around with the equipment until I find the right lighting and all that. All you need to do is keep the pose I tell you to, okay?” he explained. You nodded.

“What is the theme for this year’s gallery?” you asked. Midoriya flinched.

“Oh it’s um...nature…” he muttered. Nature? Why doesn’t he just take a picture of a tree and call it good? What does he need you for, you wondered.

Izuku set down the stool in front of the garden wall and you sat down. He grabbed the bouquet and handed it to you. He then placed the crown uptop of your head. He carefully arranged it to rest effortlessly on you. His nimble fingers were delicate as they touched your head, then moved to your cheek without him thinking. Izuku’s index finger now rested under your chin as you looked up at him. With a burning face and widened eyes, you wished to never look away. Out of flustering embarrassment, Izuku took his hand back.

“Yeah um so for the pose I’d like you to be looking slightly to the side with your chin tilted up just as I had it. Then with the flowers have them close to your cheek. I’ll probably tell you to switch out poses here and there but that's a good place to start. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Izuku walked back and grabbed his camera. Your heart was pounding out of your chest. You tried to keep yourself calm with a few deep breaths.

“Ready?” asked Izuku. You nodded.

“Ready.”

The first click of the camera and flashing lights was the most startling. You soon got used to it, following whatever instructions Izuku gave you. You moved your head and hand placement, soon feeling more comfortable with everything.

“Yes that's perfect...keep doing that…” Izuku blurted out whatever thoughts came to his mind as he captured you on film. His encouragement was honestly what made your heart race.

“Now lower the bouquet so I can see your pretty face…yeah just like that Y/N…”

Midoriya didn’t even realize what he had said until the words left his mouth, but he didn’t care. He meant it.

“Okay now open your eyes and look slightly towards me, parting your lips a bit…”

Izuku snapped the picture then froze. He looked down at the small digital image.

“So beautiful…”

“Hmm?” You questioned. Izuku snapped out of the trance that he was in. He chuckled nervously.

“OH-the pictures look really good that's all. I think we are good,” he said. You let out a sigh.

“Oh good. That was honestly pretty exhausting.”

“I really appreciate you letting me use you for the gallery. I already know the final product is gonna turn out amazing,” he cheered. You smiled.

“It’ll be amazing because you are amazing,” you said. Izuku blushed.

“So are you.”

You took off the crown and returned the flowers to Midoriya. You helped him put away his equipment before the two of you headed back inside.

“Um Y/N, did you maybe want to grab something to eat?” he asked. You smiled.

“I’d love to, just let me change first,” you chuckled.

“Oh yeah of course.”

You dropped off the equipment at Izuku’s dorm before heading to your own. You slipped on a green sweater and some sweatpants before finding him again.

You and Izuku went to the dinning hall, each of you picking up a bowl of ramen. You decided to eat outside on the balcony.

“How do you think the pictures turned out?” you asked.

“Honestly, really good. You did amazing,” he smiled. You looked down at your food.

“I was honestly super nervous for them. Couldn’t you tell?”

“Not at all! You were a natural out there! I really think this will be some of my best work yet,” said Izuku.

“I’d love to go to the gallery with you,” you whispered. Izuku’s eyes widened.

“I was planning on taking you regardless,” he replied, “thank you by the way.”

You tilted your head.

“For what?”

“For always believing in me. I probably wouldn’t be a photographer if it weren’t for you.”

In Izuku’s first year, he was at the bottom of his class. He knew he wanted to do photography, but couldn’t seem to get the hang of it. He was so frustrated one day that he even said that he would be dropping out and quitting forever. You convinced him not to, to keep trying. You saw his talent when no one else could. Even when he couldn’t. From that day forward, Izuku worked to become the best young photographer in all of the Shizuoka Prefecture.

“Well I knew that you could do it, and I was right,” you teased.

“You’re great Y/N, seriously,” he said. You looked at Izuku, your face growing hot.

“I don’t know about that…”

“What? Come on, you’re smart, you’re kind, you’re talented, and you always seem to know what to say. You’re incomparable.”

“To what?”

“To anything. You’re incomparable to anything because you’re you.”

Midoriya had to stop himself from saying anymore, for fear of spilling his whole heart before you. He meant it however. Nobody compares to you.

You swirled your noodles around in their bowl. The pounding in your chest came back. You locked eyes with Izuku.

“You’re incomparable too.”

Izuku spent every waking moment arranging his piece for submission to the gallery. He was always found in the art room, either photoshopping or preparing the flowers to be pressed. Once the image of you was edited to his liking, he developed a large scale version of the picture. He enjoyed putting the pieces together. From hand pressing the flowers to finding the perfect frame to keep it all in, he has created a masterpiece. All thanks to his muse.

You roamed the empty halls of the school in search of Izuku. You hadn’t seen him all day, assuming he would be in the art room. It was late, he honestly should be asleep. You stood in front of the art room door and carefully opened it up.

Izuku was fast asleep on one of the desks. The large photograph was wrapped and ready to be sent to Tokyo. You quietly walked over to him, tapping his shoulder.

“Izuku? It's late, you should go to your dorm,” you whispered. Izuku groaned. He opened his eyes and stretched his arms out.

“What time is it?” he yawned. You chuckled.

“Close to eleven. You should get some actual rest. You have to go to Tokyo pretty early tomorrow.”

“R-Right...the gallery…”

You could hear the exhaustion behind his voice. You grabbed his hand, helping him up.

“Come on, let's go.” You held Izuku’s hand as he lazily walked to the dorms. You led him to his room.

“Goodnight Y/N…”

“Goodnight Izuku,” you smiled. Izuku scratched his messy hair, giving you a weak smile. Without thinking, you leaned in placing a quick kiss on his cheek, before rushing to your own dorm.

Izuku stared at the letter on his desk. He had received it hours ago yet was too nervous to check. It was addressed to him by the Tokyo Art Gallery.

He took a deep breath and grabbed the letter opener from his desk, carefully gliding it across the envelope. He took out the folder paper and opened it up. Izuku ran to your room.

You jumped from your bed when you heard the pounding on your door.

“Izuku? Everything okay?”

He didn’t say anything, simply handing you the letter.

“Is this…?”

“Read it.”

You caught your breath, peaking at the paper.

‘Dear Mr. Midoriya,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into the Tokyo Art Gallery for Promising Artists! Your piece titled…’

You didn’t finish reading the letter. Instead, you jumped into Izuku’s arms.

“I knew you’d make it! I’m so proud of you!” you cheered. Izuku hugged you tightly, laughing with joy.

“It’s all thanks to you, I couldn’t do it without you,” he whispered. You looked at Izuku, your hands on his shoulder as he held onto your waist. His face blushed red.

“Oh sorry-” he mumbled, removing his grip from you. Your face burned.

“I-It’s okay...congratulations Izuku. You did it,” you smiled. Izuku took your hand, giving it a squeeze.

“We did it.”

It was the day of the gallery showing. You were beyond excited to see all the beautiful artwork, specifically Izuku’s. You still hadn’t seen the final product.

You were dressed and ready, waiting for Izuku.

“Sorry I’m late-”

Izuku came rushing down the stairs to meet you. He looked devilishly handsome in his light grey suit and black turtleneck underneath. He prompted for some beat up black sneakers today.

“That's alright… you look nice,” you smiled. Izuku blushed.

“Says you..you look...wow…” He could barely form a sentence you were so breathtaking.

“Oh stop…”

“Shall we?” Izuku held out his arm for you to take. You did happily.

“We shall.”

The two of you rode the train to Tokyo, arriving at the gallery just before it was open to the public.

“Mr. Midoriya,” said one of the gallery workers, “your art is on the third floor.”

“Thank you.” You and Izuku made your way up the stairs, searching the room for the photo.

“Oh here it is,” smiled Izuku. The large photo was covered up and had velvet rope to stop anyone from getting too close.

“Wow, they must’ve liked yours!” you exclaimed. Izuku blushed.

“Well I didn’t tell you but it actually got nominated for best portrait of the gallery…”

“WHAT? Izuku, that's amazing!” you gushed.

“Yeah so some judges will take a look at it later on and hopefully we win…”

“Doesn’t matter if we win or not. I know it's the best one here,” you smiled.

You soon heard footsteps make their way up to the third floor.

“Showtime,” whispered Izuku. You took a step back from the portrait and watched as Izuku removed the curtain that covered it. The room filled with awes.

Izuku decided to go with the last picture that he took, the one where you seemed to have taken his breath away. You were entirely in black and white, only color coming from the flowers atop of your head and in your hand. Also, the pressed flowers that surrounded you. Izuku covered up the garden wall with pressed roses, daisies, lilies, and sunflowers. You looked like an angel.

You took a few steps towards the picture, reading its title.

‘Incomparable Beauty’ - Izuku Midoriya

You couldn’t seem to find the words, none of them seemed to be right. You backed away from the portrait before bumping into someone.

“Oh I’m sorry-” you said. They smiled.

“Don’t worry about it. Wait...you’re the model in that photo,” they replied. You gulped.

“Um yeah I am…”

“Well tell your photographer that they did an excellent job, really captured the gallery theme.”

“The nature theme?” you questioned. They tilted their head.

“No, the theme was ‘Beauty in its Purest Form’. Really great work.”

Your eyes widened.

“Uh-excuse me-”

You began to shuffle through the crowd of people. Izuku noticed you make your way towards the exit.

“Y/N? Y/N!”

Izuku followed you down the stairs. You rushed outside, breathing in the fresh air. Izuku grabbed onto your arm.

“Y/N what's wrong?” pleaded Izuku, “did you not like it?”

You shook your head. Tears began to gather in the corners of your eyes.

“No Izuku, I loved it. I really loved it,” you sniffled. Midoriya felt a wave of relief wash over him.

“Why did you run?”

“Because...I didn’t recognize myself...I looked-”

“Beautiful. You look beautiful,” he interrupted.

“Y-You think I’m beautiful?” you cried. Izuku wiped away your stray tears.

“Y/N, I think you are the most beautiful girl in the world, inside and out. Y-You’re my muse.”

Izuku cupped your face as you tried to hold back anymore tears.

“You made me look beautiful…”

“No Y/N, you are beautiful. I simply clicked the camera.”

Izuku pulled you into a tight hug, holding the back of your head gently. There was something about the way Izuku made you feel. As if you were the only girl in the world.

“I love you,” you whispered. Izuku’s eyes grew. He moved to face you, a smile creeping onto his face.

“I love you.”

Izuku placed his hand onto your cheek, feeling your soft skin. He began to inch closer to you. You couldn’t wait anymore, the anticipation killing you. You collided your lips with his, wrapping your arms around him. He had one hand on the small of your back as the other held the back of your head. Izuku took mental pictures of this moment, wishing to relive it over and over again. The warmth between the two of you in contrast to the cold air that surrounded you. It was a tornado of emotions.

You looked at Izuku, both of your faces burning and you attempted to catch your breath. You pressed your foreheads together, chuckling softly. Izuku kissed your forehead.

“You really are incomparable.”

•

[MHA taglist: @bibly @big-phat-cat @sapphoscolonoscopy @luluwiie @happyheartsss @lealofsblog @iwaisa @bakugousmymassa @evivn1 @tetsoleil @bokutory @vangoghmusings @moonlightaangel @misszenin @marajillana @sopesmin @alaina-rose13 @shotoful @runrabbitrun3 @katlingclaw @nerdypuppytimemachine ]

#willow.🌸#mha #bnha #my hero academia #deku x you #mha deku #deku x y/n #deku x reader #deku x female reader #mha izuku #izuku x reader #izuku midoriya #midoriya izuku #izuku x you #bnha izuku #izuku x y/n #izuku fluff #izuku midoriya x you #izuku midoriya x reader

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hermannsthumb · 3 years

Note

I've read fics where Hermann disapproves of PDAs but what about the reverse? As in he's so stunned at winning the most amazing man in the Shatterdome (6 phds, literal rockstar, gorgeous Newt) that he deliberately provokes contact and shows of affection. Just to show off to people and send a clear back off signal. And Newt just dotes on him obliviously.

ok this one is another super old prompt and when I was writing it this week it KINDA got away from me. but I hope everyone enjoyyyys. partially inspired from conversations with @k-sci-janitor 👀 totally sfw, except for one brief reference

anyway, a fic about hermann being all affectionate with newt and also discovering what relaxation is

——————————————-------------------------------------------

The day after the world doesn’t end, Hermann brings Newt breakfast in bed.

Honestly, it surprises Newt more than the whole world not ending thing. Up until the previous evening, after all, Newt was pretty damn sure the guy absolutely hated him, and that if Hermann was gonna do something as out of character as bringing him breakfast, it surely meant he’d spat in it first. Or maybe poisoned it. If hated isn’t the right word, Newt would say Hermann at the very least barely tolerated. And then the whole sharing the neural load thing happened. And, after that, hugging, not once, but twice, and then falling asleep in bed together. And now Hermann’s perched on the edge of his bed (which they shared while they slept) and handing him a plate.

“You had quite the busy day yesterday,” Hermann says kindly. Hermann has never spoken to Newt kindly before. Atop the plate are two pieces of toast, a soft-boiled egg, and a mug of coffee. The coffee and toast (Newt notices) are exactly the shade he prefers. He wonders if Hermann picked up on it before or after the whole mind-melding thing. Before wouldn’t surprise him—Hermann has always been weird about noticing details like that. The egg, however, is something purely Hermann in taste. “I imagine you could use a nice spot of breakfast,” he adds.

Newt shoves his glasses on and blinks at Hermann groggily. He struggles to sit up, partially tangled in his sheets, and then takes the plate. A little bit of coffee sloshes down onto one of the slices of toast. “Are you wearing my sweatshirt?” he says.

Hermann smiles and looks down at the ragged old MIT sweatshirt he’s tossed on. He may have a few inches on Newt, but he’s still one skinny motherfucker, and it hangs almost comically off his frame. “I am,” he says. “I poked around in your closet, I hope you don’t mind. My clothing was in a rather sorry state.”

Sorry state is an understatement for both of them. Newt’s surprised they haven’t been formally ordered to burn the shit they wore to the bone slums yet. Blood, dirt, and kaiju guts aside, Newt’s, at least, reeks to high heaven with sweat. “No worries,” Newt says. He picks up the coffee and blows on it. He wonders where Hermann got coffee that smells this good. It’s been hard to find anything decent and non-instant on the base these days, and (thanks to limited rations) chain shops like Starbucks cost an arm and a leg for even a small. He also wonders what people thought when they saw Hermann strutting around the base with bedhead in a sweatshirt that obviously wasn’t his. Newt almost wants to blush on his behalf. Scandalous.

Before Newt can so much as take a sip of the coffee, Hermann is suddenly unbuckling and shucking off his grey slacks. “Dude!” Newt yelps, flushing bright red to the tips of his ears. Hermann blinks at him innocently. “What are you doing?”

It’s not so much that Newt is upset as it is that it’s so wildly out of character for Hermann that he feels he owes it to Hermann to act at least moderately scandalized. In all his years of knowing and working alongside Hermann, he’s never so much as seen Hermann’s bare wrist before. Now he’s in Newt’s goddamn bed flashing calves, and thighs, and neatly-pressed little white briefs… Hermann rolls his eyes and tosses the slacks (unfolded!) onto Newt’s desk chair. “Making myself comfortable,” he says. “Would you like me to stop?”

Does Hermann iron his underwear? It would be at odds with the rest of his clothing if he did, which is usually in various stages of frumpy to outright wrinkled, but Newt can’t think of how else it would look like that. He wonders if Hermann’s stitched his name on the inner waistband. It seems like the kind of thing Hermann would do. Newt suddenly realizes he’s been staring at Hermann’s briefs (and, worse still, considering how cute Hermann looks in just them and Newt’s sweatshirt) for an uncomfortably long time, so he quickly shakes his head and drags his eyes to Hermann’s face. One of Hermann’s eyebrows is quirked up. Newt hasn’t been subtle. “No,” he says. He clears his throat. “No, dude, you’re—all good.”

He chokes down a too-hot sip of coffee to have something to do with his mouth.

Hermann smirks.

The bedcovers are drawn back. Hermann slips under them and drapes an arm across Newt’s chest, his hand curling protectively over Newt’s hip. With his other hand he snags Newt’s coffee from his grasp and takes a sip. Newt watches his jaw and throat work as he swallows it, a funny feeling blooming in the pit of his stomach. The mug is handed back over, Hermann’s fingers brushing against Newt’s, which make Newt feel even funnier. “Newton,” Hermann declares. “I think we ought to have sex.”

“Oh,” Newt says. “Can I finish my breakfast first?”

“Certainly,” Hermann says.

Newt’s heart pounds as he spreads a little packet of margarine across one of the pieces of toast; he can feel Hermann’s eyes on him, never straying once. Hermann’s hand draws little circles on his hip. Newt drops his toast twice to the plate before he can successfully take a bite, and even when he does, he doesn’t taste it. Hermann’s fingers dip under the hem of his t-shirt. Newt swallows his toast. “Why?” he says.

Apparently it’s the right question. Hermann nods, like he’s pleased Newt has asked. Like they’re talking theories or something. “I came to the conclusion while I fetching your coffee,” Hermann says. “It occurred to me that I wouldn’t have gotten up at seven in the morning to get coffee for just anyone. Then, of course, there is the whole drifting business—”

“You realized you wouldn’t have done that for just anyone too, huh?” Newt says with a smile. Hermann’s hand on his hip stills, and his cheeks go pink. Newt’s relieved to have gotten some ground back here. “Hermann, that’s sooo romantic.”

“The world was at stake,” Hermann sniffs.

“It’s okay,” Newt says. “I won’t tell anyone the great Dr. Gottlieb has feelings. So, what, you realized you have a big ole crush on me?”

Hermann takes the unfinished piece of toast from him and sets it down on his plate. He pulls Newt’s glasses off, kisses him soundly, and then puts Newt’s glasses back on. His mouth tastes like toothpaste. “On the contrary, I’ve always suspected it,” he says. “It’s just that now I have the time to confirm it.” He reaches up and strokes at Newt’s hair. “We have the time for lots of things, now, Newton. Whatever we’d like.”

Newt finishes off his coffee quickly, not even caring when he burns his tongue, and then tosses the remainder of his breakfast to the floor. His egg spills onto the massacred skinny corduroys he wore yesterday. Whatever, Newt’s burning them anyway. “God, get overhere already, man,” he says, tugging at Hermann’s borrowed sweatshirt. He needs to help Hermann confirm his crush or whatever, pronto.

It’s a few days before Newt and Hermann finally drag themselves out of bed and to the lab to tackle what little work remains for them to do—cataloguing what are apparently the last kaiju samples known to man (Newt), recording and backing up their drift data (Newt’s solo drift, and then their joint data), drawing some random scribbles on the board and pretending they’re important calculations about the possibility of the Breach reopening (Hermann. Okay, whatever, maybe they are important). Unfortunately, the delay isn’t for any sexy reasons, as much as Newt would’ve liked it to have been. The events of the last day of the war caught up with them pretty quickly after that morning in Newt’s bed, and they mostly just slept, ordered out dinner, popped ibuprofen for their various aches, and avoided medical at all costs. (Rumor had it the medical staff on base were looking for him and Hermann so they could do some brain scans. Apparently drifting with a kaiju brain is potentially dangerous, who knew.)

A rancid smell washes over them the second they push the heavy lab doors open, and Newt spots several hunks of kaiju organs rotting away on his workbench. Hermann clamps a hand to his mouth. “Oops,” Newt says, turning to Hermann sheepishly. He can’t help but cower as he does. He and Hermann got along swimmingly the past couple days—it’ll be sad to see all that hard work go down the drain over this. “Guess I forgot to clean up the other day. In my defense—we were kind of busy.”

But Hermann doesn’t snap at Newt, or thump his cane on the ground, or call Newt an idiot, or even look annoyed; he lowers his hand from his mouth and laughs. Albeit a terse laugh, but still. Newt gapes at him. “We were rather busy,” Hermann concedes. “So long as you clean it up in the next ten minutes, I—what, Newton?”

“Nothing,” Newt says, quickly. “I’m gonna—um—deal with it now.”

Hermann disappears from the lab while Newt is digging around in the storage closet for extra heavy-duty trash bags. When he comes back an hour later, he’s holding a cardboard tray of small plastic cups, and Newt has just hefted his last spoiled sample into the lab’s airtight biohazard bin (a bit mournfully, if he’s being honest, since he’s sure there’s still more to learn about the kaiju from them). Newt squints at the cups in the tray while he rips his messy disposable work gloves off. “What’s that?” he says.

“Iced coffee,” Hermann declares.

The gloves slap, wetly, into the biohazard bin, and Newt lets out a low whistle. “Dude. No way. From where?” He’s not sure when he gave off the impression that the way to his heart was good coffee, but maybe it’s true. Then again, Hermann could probably win him over with a cup of lukewarm tap water. Not because Newt is desperate or anything. He just really likes Hermann.

“A little shop a bit away from the base,” Hermann says. “I took the bus.” He draws back his chair and sits down with a soft sigh, setting his cane against his desk. Then he draws out a small brown paper bag from his parka pocket. He tosses it to Newt; Newt catches it with one hand. “They had these funny little cakes on sticks. I thought you might like one.”

“Cake pops?” Newt says.

“I presume,” Hermann says. While Newt inhales the little chocolate-dipped cake pop (which is so good, oh my God, Newt hasn’t had dessert that didn’t come from a vending machine in plastic shrink wrap in years), Hermann adds, “I wasn’t sure what sort of iced coffee you liked, so I made sure to get a variety.”

“Sick,” Newt says, spewing crumbs on his shirt. “Um. But, like, why though?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Hermann says. “I suppose I wanted to do something kind for you.” He carefully slides a straw out of its paper wrappings and pokes it into the lid of one of the coffees. Once he crumples up the wrapper and tosses It into his train bin, he grips his cane, and uses the handle to nudge Newt’s desk chair towards him. “You worked awfully hard cleaning the laboratory.”

Newt preens a little, even as he privately wonders why Hermann’s acting so weird. Well, nice. But nice is weird for Hermann, so they’re basically the same thing. Is this part of his whole deciding whether or not he digs Newt thing? Newt just assumed the awesome morning they spent together would be proof enough of that. Then again, Hermann’s pretty thorough. “I guess,” Newt says. “It was kind of my mess, though.”

Hermann pats at the empty chair with a smile. Hermann’s smiles are so rare—crooked, and stupid cute—that Newt’s heart gives a painful little twist at the sight of it, and he realizes he doesn’t actually give a shit about why Hermann’s being all weird, actually. “You’ve earned a break,” Hermann says. “Besides, I’d like to spend time with you.”

Newt’s too stunned to argue with that one. When he sits down, Hermann inches their chairs together until their knees are touching.

They don’t necessarily fall back into their usual habits by the next week, but the better ones they’ve picked up (being a little kinder to each other, a little more patient, a little more respectful, and also the fact that Hermann can’t seem to stop touching Newt) all but fall into the background as Newt throws himself into his work with renewed determination. Unfortunately, his desire to get it all done as soon as fucking possible speaks less to his awesome work ethic, and more to the fact that he’s just not sure what else to do with himself now, and he likes that work gives him the excuse to not think about it. Hermann said they have all the time to do whatever they like now. Well, Newt likes working. He knows working. Relaxation is a foreign concept to him, and it was a foreign concept to Hermann up until recently. While Newt is toiling away over his decaying kaiju samples in the lab, Hermann is out—

“Where?” Newt says.

Hermann gives Newt the most serene smile Newt’s ever seen cross his face. “I took a bath,” he says. “It was very nice. I bought some nice soaps, and lit some candles, and looked online to see how to do one of those mud masks. It was very relaxing. You ought to try it.”

“Try bathing?” Newt says.

“Yes. Well, no. I mean taking a bath. Is there something you’re not understanding?”

Newt tries to imagine Hermann with a mud mask on his face and cucumbers over his eyes and fails miserably. Hermann hates messes. He would never stand for mud, let alone on his skin. Where’d he even find a bathtub? Did he break into the rangers’ locker room again? Aren't candles banned on base for being a fire hazard, anyway? “Yeah,” Newt says. “Pretty much all of it.”

Hermann shakes his head with a snort, and Newt catches a whiff of something floral and fragrant—his fancy new soap or oil, he guesses. “I’m not surprised. You know, Newton, you are awfully tense.”

Hearing that from Hermann of all people, the king of having-a-massive-stick-up-your-ass, is probably the funniest thing that’s ever happened to Newt. He laughs out loud and plunges a bare hand into his kaiju sample with a gross squelching noise. “Sure, dude.”

He’s almost too engrossed in his sample to feel Hermann sidling up behind him and setting a hand at his waist. He definitely feels Hermann nose a kiss behind his ear, though, and the hot flush that spreads down across his neck from it. Newt’s hand goes sweaty around his scalpel. One thing he definitely wasn’t expecting from a post-no-apocalypse Hermann is how free he is with affection in any and all forms. “Give it a rest, love,” Hermann murmurs. He nudges at the heel of Newt’s boot with the end of his cane. Love? “Why don’t we head back to my quarters and watch a film? You can pick.”

“But.” Newt fidgets. “I have—my sample—”

Another little kiss. The soapy-oil smell is stronger now. Newt thinks it might be lavender. He wonders if the mud mask left Hermann’s skin all soft. “It won’t be going anywhere, Newton.”

Newt sets down his scalpel.

When they they pass by a group of LOCCENT staff in the hallway, Newt makes to drop Hermann’s hand (which Hermann had laced together with his own before they left the lab), but Hermann holds fast, maybe even faster than before, and looks at him with his stupidly sweet set of big eyes. Newt waits until they round the corner to say anything. “Sorry,” he says, lamely. “Um. I thought—you wouldn’t want—” Hermann continues to stare at him. His iris is still ringed red like Newt’s. “I just mean I know you’re weird about stuff like that. Public stuff.” Hermann has been a closed and tightly-bound book for as long as Newt’s known him; he can’t imagine that would suddenly change and he would start broadcasting his emotions far and wide in the course of a week just because he’s a little less stressed.

Or, you know. Maybe Newt’s totally wrong on this. “Ah,” Hermann says. He nods, very seriously. “Yes. I have been considering that as well. I see no reason to hide recent developments in our relationship.” He squeezes Newt’s hand. "In fact, I see no reason to not be quite, er, proud of them. You’re quite the catch.”

Newt remembers the stolen sweatshirt. Maybe Hermann wearing it out to get them breakfast was more calculated than he realized. “So if I made out with you against the wall right now you wouldn’t be mad?” Newt says.

“Well,” Hermann says, inclining his head to his door, "seeing as my quarters are right there, it seems a rather unnecessary inconvenience.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Newt smiles as Hermann leads him in. “Can I really pick the movie?”

“Within reason.”

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #esperata

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aka-ashi-keiji · 3 years

Text

“the words I couldn’t say”

Bakugou Katsuki

Angst, One shot

tw: character death, description of hospital.

a/n: no idea how i had the strength to write this but i did cry while doing so, i hope you do too ;)

Bakugou Katsuki. Your best friend, your neighbor, your classmate, the “fire” to your ice, and unknowingly your first love. Looking back on all the years you spent with him, all the plans you made together for the rest of your life, you never thought you’d be put in this position.

For months, this was the routine. School, hospital, Bakugou, home. Then repeat. But after today, there wasn’t going to be a “repeat”. The explosive light that once ran through his blood colored irises, was now fading and slipping through your fingertips. The fingertips that gripped the sleeve of the hospital gown that would soon be the last piece of fabric to grace his skin.

The same eyes that glared at you with jealousy and admiration of your growth as a child, now only displayed the bare minimum of life. But you could see it, you could see in the way his forearm flexed under your grip that he still had thoughts to voice. Although you knew he couldn’t, you also knew what he was trying to say.

Each visit to him was sealed with an ‘i love you’ from your lips, and an ‘i know’ from his. Bakugou was finally ready to reciprocate your farewell, but the barrier of a sickness restricted his ability to. While you silently burned this last image of him into your consciousness, you could feel the presence of the paper folded thrice in you pocket, the power of its presence burning into the side of your thigh. That paper, the paper you had taken hours to write, only to erase the words and start over once more. The final words you had written that stayed, were the ones you hoped Katsuki would die holding close to his heart.

Don’t cry.

That’s what you promised yourself. You wouldn’t cry until he was actually gone, you prayed those tears would never come. Your grip on his sleeve moved down to his pale hand. You fingers wrapped around the side of his palm, your hand half the size of his. His hands built like an iron fist, made to withstand those beautiful explosions that were meant to save the world. You focused on the feeling of his calloused skin against your trembling fingers, shaken by the fear of what was coming. And to your dismay, it looked as if it were already here.

His breathing became more rapid and his chest stuttered, his body flexed with pain and his eyes shut with discomfort. You wanted to force them back open, afraid to let go of the sight of the eyes that frightened others, but soothed you. His hand relaxed out of your grip, but you connected yourselves once more. You didn't have the strength to let go yet, you couldn’t let go of the hands that trained you into the hero you are, the hands that warmed themselves to heal your muscles. The hand you clutched every time you were scared, just like you had now. Before, it was out of fear of monsters in the dark. Now. it was out of fear of the monsters taking your protector.

You knew what the time was, and you knew it was time to say your goodbye. You had it all written out, but you didn’t want him to hear it. Not only because you didn’t want to accept his fate, but because you knew he wouldn’t be able to respond to the words you poured your lifeline into. That silence alone would break your heart before his departure could. Regardless, you stood, his weary eyes followed your stance. You smiled with every intention of pushing down the aching sadness that racked the inside of your body. As if Bakugou could sense the agony you were enduring, he smiled faintly back. His smile was more of a smug smirk, but that’s what made it special. That small sign was enough to remind you that he was still there.

You were never good with words when you had to speak them off the top of your head, but you were a damn good writer. Katsuki knew this and his expression seemed brighten just a bit as he watched you remove the paper from your pocket. A few deep breaths were taken before you found yourself unfolding the letter you whole heartedly wanted to burn to ash. But you knew that if you never voiced what it conveyed, you wouldn’t ever feel as if you said a proper goodbye. And after everything Bakugou had done for you, this goodbye was well deserved.

Your voice seemed to cease as you read the first line, your eyes flicking back and fourth from your hands back to where Bakugou laid. You nearly ripped the sheet of words from how hard you gripped it, restraining yourself from destroying it. Maybe if you destroyed the goodbye, you would never have to let go. That was your thought process in that moment. And in that moment, all you wanted was to be held in the arms kept you safe from the world, even when Katsuki refused to hug you. All you wanted for that moment, was to simply forget that soon, all of it was going to be gone.

“I’m terrible with my emotions, and even worse with putting them into words.”

You started to read, Bakugou turned his head ever so slightly against the pillow to show you that you had his full attention. Or, what was left of his consciousness. You continued.

“But for you Bakugou Katsuki I will try. I will try to help you understand how much you made my life a living hell, but I also feared the thought of living it without you. I never thought that I would be so bothered by your silence. I never thought I would miss your explosive outbursts and the way you would yell my name when I didn’t pick up after yourself. I never knew that I would be standing here, right now, saying goodbye to your forever.”

By this point in your speech, tears started to cloud your vision, the words becoming a pool of ink. You stole a glace at Katsuki over the top of the page, and his smile still remained. He was listening to every word, taking in the sound of your voice. He was keeping himself attached for you, one last time he would stay and listen.

“I never told you this and I should’ve, because i thought about it way too much. But you’re beautiful Katsuki.”

A soft chuckle barely audible rang through your ears. The small sound relaxing your senses and allowing you to push forward.

“I always thought every part and detail about you was beautiful. From the way your blood colored eyes softened at the sound of rain hitting your window, to the way you trace over the scars on your hands when you’re nervous. Your hunched stance, and the disgusted grimace that’s always plastered to your face, it was all always beautiful to me. and I hate that the most beautiful thing in my life is being stripped out of existence.”

A single tear rolled down your cheek, cursing the weakness of your eyes. Bakugou’s smile had faded, but he was still listening. Waiting for what you had to say next. But he wasn’t waiting, he was ready.

“I want you to know that I’m not upset that you’re leaving. But I’m sad that I can't go with you. Thinking about going back to a home without you is terrifying. I want to give up, I want so badly to stop my life right here. It doesn’t feel fair to live the life that was meant for both of us. But I know damn well that if I don’t, you’d come down and haunt my ass.”

You laughed breathlessly and your tears came much quicker now, trying to find a way to make this speech end, but also last forever.

“So i’ll live my life. I’ll make sure to live it so vividly that it’s as if the life was led by two people. I promise I’ll push through the pain that’s coming. I promise to live out all of our dreams together. I swear to you that I will become the hero you wanted to be. I’ll do it all for you, because you deserved for the world to know your name. I’ll make it known, I swear your presence on this earth will never die.”

You paused, you weren’t sure if you could get through the next line. You lungs weren’t expanding enough to allow oxygen to flow, the tears and congestion only building on your face. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him. You could see Katsuki, he was crying, just as much as you. His arm trembled as it reached out for you, calling you closer to him. You took his hand once more and seated yourself to allow his arm to rest against the bed. He nodded his head, smiling through the tears that dripped down his cheeks and onto his neck. You shook your head, rejecting his permission to continue. You couldn’t. You weren’t ready to stop holding on.

“Please. y/n, please.”

the sounds of your sniffles nearly overpowered the soft spoken words. Your crying came to a halt, the urgency and pain in such a small voice pulling at you to continue. He needed to hear the end of it. He was ready to let go, he was in so much pain. But here he was holding onto the pain, just so he could ease yours. You brought the paper up once more, and began.

“And even if the world somehow forgets how astounding you are, your memory will never die in me. A day will never pass where I won’t think of what it would’ve been like if you were still here. Damnit Kat, you’re not gonna graduate with me, you won’t see me off to my first day on hero patrol, you won’t be at my wedding either. Birthdays won’t be the same, I’ll never look at spicy food with a whole heart ever again. But I know, that even though you have to leave right now, I know deep down that you’ll be watching and guiding me through every step. I know you’d never leave me behind, and I wouldn’t dream of leaving you.”

He squeezed your hand lightly, letting you know he heard every word. He would be there in every moment for you. He was listening, and silently promising.

“And you know why I’ll never forget you Kat? Because I love you. I’ve told you everyday, because I’m scared I’ll never have another chance to. That time has- the time has finally come where- whe- where I won’t get another chance after today!”

Your voice was becoming rough and you stumbled over your words as you approached the last sentences. You were close to a scream, angry at the world for making you do this. You were mad Katsuki had to go through this. But no matter the rage, you had to keep going. As if on que, Bakugou tugged on your hand and your gaze flew to meet his eyes.

“I’m ready. It’s okay.” He whispered, a faint a genuine smile following. He was ready to let go, it was time for you to let him. You wanted to shake your head no and tell him he couldn’t leave, but you knew that wasn’t fair. How could you force someone who protected you with everything, how could you force them to fight through the pain he felt now. So, finally, you let go.

“I love you, I love you Kat. For the last time, I love you. I love you over and over, and I’ll never stop. You never said it back, but I know you know that I love you. And that’s enough for me... This is our goodbye, our final ‘see ya later’. But I love you Katsuki.”

You sank into your chair, your head pressed against the back of Katsuki’s hand you gripped so tightly. Your tears rolled from your cheeks onto his hand and down to the bed. You sobs shook your body, not taking a chance to look back up. Not ready to see him slip away. But you had done it, your goodbye was complete. But you felt as if a piece of you had been taken, you felt incomplete. The words on that paper dismantling your ability to hold on. Maybe that’s what it was meant to do, maybe this was your way of letting go. Breaking yourself was the only way to ease him of his pain.

You felt the bed shift, a weight change. Slowly your eyes trailed to Katsuki’s. Tears still ran freely from his eyes, but he was smiling. That genuine smile still pieced him together. You’d never seen him smile for so long, you’d never seen him smile with such sweetness. No smirk, no smugness, just pure ecstasy and joy. and even though you knew it wouldn’t last much longer, you were happy you had the chance to see it.

His free hand lifted from his side, and shakily crossed his body to hold it out to you. It was balled into a fist, and you took this as he had something to give to you. You held an open palm underneath, and he dropped his gift into it. A small piece of paper, your name scribbled out in Katsuki’s bold, but neat handwriting. Strong but beautiful, just like him.

You looked down at it, not entirely sure how to feel. You wanted to know what it was, but at the same time you didn't want to ruin the last piece of evidence that Bakugou was in your life. Reading this letter was almost as if sealing his departure. But, with all of these doubts, with a wide smile and a small nod from Kat, you opened it and you read. Oh how you wish you didn’t.

“Emotions suck, they’re a pain in my ass and I hate talking about them. But I know that if I don’t now, I’ll never get to. And I’m terrible with words, and I think by the time I give this to you, I won’t even have the option to voice this to you directly. So, here it goes.

Don’t be sad forever okay? I know it’s kinda shitty and I wouldn’t ever wanna leave you in this terrible world, but I’m really not that far. I’ll be there, I’ll protect your clumsy ass and make sure you don’t join me too soon. I want you to live the life we both dreamed of, live the life I know you’ve always wanted. And as dumb and sappy as it sounds, I want you to be happy. I’m your best friend and crap yeah, but don’t you dare let me take away that beautiful perspective you have on the world.

I never said it back, and yknow I kinda feel bad. I always said “I know” because i did know that you loved me. It felt good knowing, and I was hoping the validation of me acknowledging it would be enough. That was pretty fucking dumb of me. So I guess what I’m saying is that, I know you love me. But, I love you too. Don’t you ever forget it y/n. Don’t ever forget how much you are loved. it’s your turn to say ‘I know’. If you ever forget, just remember the words are right here.

These are all the words I couldn’t say, hold on to ‘em would ya?

from, kat.”

As you read the last line, the line on the heart monitor went flat. And that was that.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••🌸

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binniesthighs · 3 years

Text

hello stranger | reader x changbin |

a/n: hehe hello cuties, before i get to the chapter, I just wanted to say thank you so much for all of the support and lovely messages you that you sent to me for the last chapter. as I said, it was one that was super personal to me and for it to be so relatable and emotional for you all makes my heart feel so, so full. these themes are going to continue, so please read the warnings cuties. as always, thank you so very much for reading my stories <3

Part 6

Pairing: self insert, female reader x seo changbin, female reader x han jisung

Genre: strangers to lovers, fluff, smut, angst

Tags: (of this part) college au, rapper!changbin, rapper!jisung, establishedfwb!jisung, artist!reader, skz side characters, bestfriend!chan, bestfriend!felix, roommate!minho, explicit language, HARD fluff to HARD angst, some sensual-azz fuckin’ (muhaha), unprotected sex (stay safe cuties!), lil bit of breath play, nipple play (f), cumshot, mentions of food, changbin has a cute butt (that’s the tweet)

CWs: aftereffects of traumatic experiences, mentions of past toxic relationship, self sabotaging tendencies

Word count: 6.6k (remember when i said i wasn’t gonna write long chapters? wellllll...ooP)

Chapters

When you were back in high school, before you knew a thing about what love was, your Art teacher had given you an assignment: what do you think that love looks like? At first, all you had really known love to be was the kind that you shared with your friends and your parents, and maybe with your family dog. You had read about love in your favorite books and seen it in your favorite movies, but you had never really considered what it looked like. Obviously, the assignment was all up for you to decide, but there being a million and one things that you considered love to be, to put it to paper with your own hand was something different entirely.

At first, when you thought of love, you thought of the typical: hearts, hugs, the colors red and pink. But, this was too simple.

“What are you drawing?” You had sneakily whispered to your classmate.

She shrugged, and continued scratching away at her sketchbook. You had peeked to see what she was putting together, and for her, she had started to draw what looked like a house on the edge of a lake. The house was in the middle of nowhere and it was surrounded by trees of all different kinds and there was a single bench that sat at the edge of the water.

You figured, love can be a place, so you started drawing that.

Your pencil swiped over the paper in strokes big and small, and the lead rubbed off on the side of your pinky as you outlined the corners of your apartment building.

You thought, I love the people who live here, therefore, this must be love.

It made sense. People and places could make up love.

When you turned in your drawing of your apartment building you were surprised to see the variety of other paintings and drawings that the other students had turned in. One student had turned in a whole piece that had been drawn with oil pastel. It was a jumbling of colors: mostly red, as you had expected, but it also held streaks of gold, black and teal. You remember your teacher really liking that one.

Today, if you would’ve gotten that assignment, it would’ve been completely different.

It was a sunny afternoon when you sat at your easel with your pencil in hand. Drawing out the mere outline and rough draft, tears welled in your eyes. A long time ago you had promised yourself that if your art didn’t mean anything, what even was it?

The sun filled your room in the golden hour of the day best it could from your frosted glass window. The warmth that the rays held made your whole body swell with a warmth, and it gave your shaking arms the power to keep going.

You brushed lightly over the rough canvas with your pencil, tracing out the lines as if they were the very memories that you had kept painted in your mind.

You drew a snowy night, not much unlike the ones that you had been seeing recently. You drew an empty alley, not lit by much light. You drew the way that the oil slicked in potholes mixed with the snow. You planned out the way that the industry of the city lit his back as he stared out into that dark expanse where you knew that darker figures were hiding. You drew him. You drew him on that exact same night that you had fist seen him: a dark outline, who would become full of color.

╚ ——————————————— ╝

“What’s that?”

Changbin pointed to your easel with a sheet draped over it.

“A surprise.” You answered. “I know that I’m not good with surprises, but, are you?”

“I don’t mind them.” He chuckled. “For me?”

“Mmhm. Its not ready yet so you’ll have to wait.”

“I’m fine with waiting.” He sighed out.

You nuzzled closer into his bare chest, right up to his heartbeat. Both of you were admittedly a bit dewy in your sweaty afterglow, but this was of no concern to you. These past few days, this had been your preferred way to drift off to sleep. Even on the occasional times when the both of you would be too busy to make the time, when you finally could see him, it was everything to you. In his large and muscled arms, there was no place else where you had felt safer. You too wrapped your whole being around him with a feeling so close it must’ve been unreal. If you could hear the muffled little rhythm of his heartbeat, you were sure that he could hear yours.

“Soon, all this snow is gonna melt, and then I can take you to loads of other places. I’m just getting started.” Changbin’s airy breath tickled your scalp.

“Really? Taking me to all the usual places?” You mocked.

“No.” He said seriously. “I want to take you to places I haven’t taken anyone before. My secret places. I...you know...wouldn’t mind if you could draw them for me either.”

You giggled, “Ever heard of taking a picture?”

“Hey! It’s not the same.”

“Fineee. Okay, okay. I’ll draw them for you.” Your fingertips traced down the muscles of his back. “Maybe I should start charging if you’re gonna keep being like this.”

“You don’t do pro-bono?” He ran along with your joke.

“If you ask nicely, maybe I’ll consider it.”

He tsked, “Could you please draw for me?”

You masked another adoring chuckle. “I do like it when you say please.”

Everything about the one moment felt so sickly sweet, it was like you must’ve dreamt it up. In between the swaddling of sheets, you tried your best to enjoy the one moment: it was just enough to keep the doubtful whispers away. After all that he had done, said, all the pain that he had kissed away, or compliments he had hushed into your ear, the creeping feeling that you hardly deserved it all would rear it’s head time and again, even when you didn’t expect it to.

The two of you were quiet for a moment as you fell into the serenity of just existing together. After a while, you would narrow your focus best on the way that his breaths would rise and fall and the way this his body heat would melt into yours under the mess of sheets that neither of you bothered to fix. He would use his thumb to rub reassuring little strokes into the back of your neck where he had you.

Your hand would fall down his arm, all the way down this wrist where his scar lived. Ever since you had noticed it, you couldn’t stop looking at it. Every time that you did, you were given a tangible reminder of everything that he had been, and was, to you. You rose the uneven skin to your lips to gift a little kiss to it.

Changbin tried his best to hide his giddy smirk at the action.

“Do you have to leave tonight?” You settled his arm around you once more.

“No. Not tonight. But, for the next few days I don’t think I’ll be able to. They put me on the matinee shifts at the theater. I fucking hate those. No one comes in at all so it’s like I’m just sitting there.”

“Wanna sneak me in some time this week? I should have a break.”

“I would but...I’d prefer to keep that job. As much as I hate it.”

“We could do something this Thursday? You aren’t busy on Thursdays as much right?”

“Ahhhh I think so.” Changbin rolled the two of you over, allowing himself to lean over top of you. With a sly smirk he lowered his voice to say, “You know, my ribs really aren’t hurting as much any more.”

“Oooh? Good to know.” You ruffled his curly strands.

“I’m trying to say that I can go for another round if you would like to?” He bowed his head to kiss lightly into your neck and the fading love bites that he had put there himself.

Your eyes wandered to your clock telling you that it was nearly 2 in the morning. If you had better judgement, you would’ve said no. But, these days, judgement wasn’t something that you took too seriously.

He kissed down deeper, and pulled at your skin just in the way that he knew you liked it. Changbin knew the ins and outs of you perfectly, as well as exactly what to do send you quivering under him. All he had to do was press his body into yours so you could feel his weight, and it made you fold just for him. He followed his kisses up your jaw where he then lead them into your bottom lip and over every angle that your mouth would crave him. He often didn’t mean to do it intentionally, but between your parted mouths, his tongue would sneakily find yours, and he would slowly slide it against yours.

“Do you want to?” He muttered between kisses.

Under the covers, his hand cascaded down your side in a way that tickled slightly, but also made you shiver.

He broke from his kiss to hold your eyes seriously. “We don’t have to.”

“No, I want to.” You reached up to hold his sleepy and puffy face in your hands.

Changbin said nothing more, but instead returned to weaving kisses back down your neck. Under your waist, you felt him angle up your hips higher and the heat of his tip teased at your entrance still slick with your arousal from before, and now renewed. He bowed his head down to your chest to pump himself with a few muffled grunts. After, he rose his head to hold your eyes with his own. The muscles on his arms flared where he held himself up, and those adorable little stretch marks in the corners of his arms moved with them.

“God, you’re so beautiful.”

You melted under his compliment. No matter who many times he had said it, you still weren’t use to it.

“So are youuuu.” You said with a dreamy tone. One other thing that you had figured out about him was that returning such comments to him made him a flustered mess. It was utterly adorable for someone as stoic as him at times.

“Psh.” He scoffed, then lowered his voice once again. “Beautiful how I fill you up sweetheart?” Changbin angled your waist up higher, then spread your thighs, finally pushing them into your body to tighten you. He aligned himself over you, then pushed himself in agonizingly slow. “Beautiful how I can fuck you so deep? How I can m-make you...”

He had given up on talking, but rather thrust himself further into you with his shaking breaths and little “mmm’s” getting caught on his tongue.

“B-Bin...fuck, f-feels s-so good--”

He pushed your legs up closer to your body, allowing himself greater access to graze your g-spot. Your busy fingers found their way around his back to claw all the way down. He still relished in taking his time with you, and would never rush fucking you--it was as if he had all the time in the world to unravel you. You returned around him, tightening has he fucked in and out with his own pace. After a while of doing the same, his hand crept around your neck to give you a couple choking squeezes that made you whimper out like a kitten. He would never keep it going for long however, but rather indulged himself in the way that your gasps would remind him of how good it all felt. After, Changbin dipped his thumb into your mouth to run the pad over your tongue.

The tip of his teeth caught the skin of his lip which he bit into hard.

“You feel so good baby. F-feels so good on my cock. It’s all for you angel.”

An unrestrained groan escaped from your mouth as he continued and your orgasm pooled steadily. In and attempt to steady yourself you clawed back into your pillow supporting your head.

He swiftly changed your position, taking both of his hands to turn you on your stomach. Without a pause he lead his swelling head back into your pussy where he kept on going at his favored slow pace. Your face smushed into the pillow with hips raised in the air. The fluffy fabric muffled your helpless moans.

“Louder for me princess.” He growled.

With one hand he arched over to tweak at your nipples with force: twisting and pulling, then he wet his hand with his own saliva to let your skin feel the cold and wet sensation. His other hand he used to reach around and rub circles into your clit. He was gentle at first, but worked your bud harder and faster. Your knees and legs shook the faster he rubbed, and you spilled your loudest and most unapologetic moans into the room that had risen in temperature.

“Fuck...” He swore. Changbin allowed himself to quicken his pace inside of you. The action alone sent you spinning wildly into your orgasm: a tear of white hot heat that shook your whole body and turned your swollen bud into a sensitive mess under his fingers which did stop, even when when he knew that you had just cum all over them. The harder he pressed, the more wonderfully painful it felt, and you let your tears fall hot from your eyes to the sheet. You attempted to call out his name, but no words that left your mouth made sense.

He turned your body once more, using brutish hands on your hips as he pulled you overtop of the sheets to fuck you into the bed once more with your sweating back stuck to the comforter. Your body shook with your orgasm still, and you needily brought his lips down to yours to kiss him with your thank you’s as he milked himself out in your tightening walls.

Changbin was animalistic in the way that he finally let his hips snap over you, at last reaching his orgasm mere seconds after he had pulled out and jerked himself over you. Ribbons of his white cum came spilling out over your gasping chest and stomach and dripped lazily from his pink and flaring tip. He took in shallow inhales as he did, and kept rubbing until the very end and he had nothing more to give. Even as his hand dropped, you took his dick in your own hand to just twist lightly and ride out the last of his orgasm. He softened in your hand with eyes closed in his focus and came down.

The combination of your lust held in the air for a few silent moments, then he collapsed back down next to you into a blushing and exhausted mess. His pink chest shook, and his soft heather eyes found you.

“We should...probably take a shower right?”

“Probably.” You grinned.

Changbin leaned over to plant even more sugary sweet kisses on top of your lips. He always was one to admire his work, so he chuckled lightly seeing the way that he had properly covered you in his cum.

“I can help you clean that off.”

The bed shook and he rose to get you something to clean up. You wished that you could’ve moved to see him saunter around your room without a single piece of clothing on. It was no secret that he had one hell of a cute butt.

Changbin helped you out of the bed, finding that your legs had started to shake and betray you a bit more harshly than you had intended. He ran the water for you both, inviting you in to take the task of cleaning you to himself. He took the suds in his own hands to brush them all over your body and took careful and gentle attention to the more sensitive parts of your body. He giggled a little at the way that even under the warm water, your nipples would still harden when he ghosted his fingers over them with soap.

“Don’t look at me like that.” You scolded him.

He took care of the little bruises on your neck and collarbones, giving them kisses under the clear stream of water as if he was healing them. After he was done, you did the same and cleaned out his hair with your shampoo. He always let out happy little groans when you would massage his scalp. He still had a couple scrapes on his face from a few weeks ago, so you kissed all of them too.

Changbin’s favorite part was how he could mess up your hair with the towel afterword and make you look as ridiculous as possible. Of course, you would do the same. You would brush your teeth together, and dress somewhat all of the way back again. A while ago he decided keeping clothes at your place was a good idea, but you ended up wearing them more than he did. You blamed it on dirty laundry, but you really did just like the way that they would smell all tangled up in your blankets on your nights alone.

With bare legs, you would tangle yourselves all up in eachother once more, and not even bother to look at what time it was then.

As it had become his habit, before the two of you drifted to sleep, Changbin would kiss into your forehead “l love you. You know?”

╚ ——————————————— ╝

Chocolatey goodness wafted up Felix’s nose, and he let out a happy little squeal.

“~Thank youuu~” He beamed to the waitress.

He took a careful sip not to burn his tongue, then turned his head to watch the way that the snow had started to flurry outside of the diner window. Minho flipped the pages of his book and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Whatcha reading?” Felix said with a little tap of his feet under the table.

Rather than answering, Minho sighed out and closed his book. “Nothing now. If you’re gonna ask questions, then I’ll get distracted, so, nothing now.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Felix frowned.

Minho rolled his eyes, suddenly becoming exasperated over his new friend’s dramatic reaction.

“It was something that I’m assigned to read for one of my classes. It’s about economics or something like that. I’m kind of just skimming; reading because I have to....” He took a sip of his coffee. “Y/n should be reading the same book considering that we are in the same class...but I haven’t even seen you with it yet.”

You prodded at your plate of half eaten waffles. “About that...”

“If you think that I’m gonna give you the SparkNotes you are sorely mistaken.”

You writhed in your seat a bit like an upset toddler. “Come onnnnn, Minho, you know that I don’t have time for that, working at the library and such...”

“--More like stealing my roommate from me. I hardly see him at our apartment anymore.” Minho made his remark with a type of snark, but knowing him, he was still just as sarcastic.

“Yeah,” Felix piped up. “The three of us haven’t hung out in a while either!”

“...Sorry, I’ve just been getting...caught up in things.”

Minho cleared his throat. “I’m not saying that its a bad thing. It’s just something that I’ve noticed.”

Felix nodded, “Me too! I’m really happy for you!! So is Chan, don’t get me wrong. We haven’t seen you so happy and like, not serious in such a long time. Really, I’m so so glad that you have someone like him for a boyfriend.”

Your fork scratched your plate. “--Boyfriend?”

“Yeah!” Felix beamed. “Isn’t that what he is?”

Minho too held an expectant gaze.

“I-I don’t think...we hadn’t really talked about what it is that we’re doing...or are.”

“So you’re saying that he’s not your boyfriend?” Minho cocked his head in his confusion. “Well, you ask him and he’ll think that it’s a different story.”

“H-he talks about me?” You sat up straighter.

“Well, he hasn’t explicitly said anything, but the way that he never shuts the fuck up...” Minho suddenly became much more interested in his coffee.

“What? You don’t want him to be your boyfriend?” Felix looked just as confused.

In your hands, you crinkled up the napkin that you had resting on your lap. You hadn’t in fact, ever thought of such. Merely, you had thought that you loved him, and that you enjoyed being around him and that he had made you happy. Was it odd that the thought had never crossed your mind?

“And he hasn’t said anything about it either?” Felix leaned in. To his side, Minho nudged his arm in the most non-obvious way possible.

“...No?”

Your heartbeat quickened in pace.

“Af...after everything that happened back then? Didn’t you say that he like, confessed or something and you did the same? You’ve only been hanging out with eachother for weeks?” Felix pushed his cocoa away from himself to lay his hands flat on the table.

“I...don’t think that we should press the issue.” Minho patted down the boy sitting next to him.

It was the feeling that you had been avoiding for weeks: that kind of uncertainty and fear that you had pushed down so far after the night that it all came together, but you didn’t expect it to manifest like this. In your chest a knot tied itself together tightly and in a way that you couldn’t explain.

“I...just like what's happening right now between us, I didn’t think that he would want--”

Felix nudged Minho by the hip, motioning for him to let him out of his side of the booth. Minho rolled his eyes, but did so muttering, “I said we shouldn’t press the issue but here you go...”

Felix slid over to your side of the booth, nearly shoving you up close to the wall with how near he scooched to you. Carefully, he removed the napkin that you had scrunched up into your palm.

“Relax okay? You’re doing it again. Just calm down.” While his tone was sweet, you couldn’t help but find some condescending edge--real or not.

“Doing what? I don’t think that I’m doing anything wrong??”

Felix let you squeeze his hand tight, as patient as ever.

“Do you not want him to be your boyfriend?” He repeated. “But he treats you so nicely? There’s nothing to worry about.”

At first you were angry at yourself, angry at yourself for feeling the hot tears well up in your eyes in public,

I’m so fucking pathetic.

Secondly, you were furious at yourself for feeling anything less than the happiness that had made up your whole world for the past few weeks. You had worked so hard just to make something that made sense, and he made sense. Why did it have to be much more complicated than that?

“Y/n?” Felix bowed his head down with his softening gaze.

“F-Felix, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I’m just trying to understand so I can help you out with this. Clearly there’s something that’s upsetting you about, I don’t know, putting a label on it? If that’s the right word--”

Minho sucked at his teeth, “He’s too nice to say that you’re self sabotaging again. Listen, you don’t have to have the answers right now, we’re just saying you’re getting in your own way at having something that could be really great.”

Felix shot daggers in Minho’s direction.

“I wasn’t gonna say this, but Bin’s been going through shit right now with his family that I’m sure he isn’t telling you about. Someone tipped them off about what he’s been doing and they’re furious. He’s been telling them that no one knows that he’s tied to them when he raps but they aren’t listening. Literally when he goes to see you it’s like, what’s helping him forget all that shit. He cares about you a fuck ton, and I’ve heard about it all. He wants you to be his girlfriend. Believe me. Don’t know why he hasn’t brought it up yet, but...”

Felix took in a shaky breath, then turned his attention back to you. “Besides all that, I think that you should at least talk to him about this all. I had no idea that you felt this way. I’m sorry for making assumptions. At least, if you and him talk about it, you can figure something out right?”

You took at the papery and crinkled napkin and dabbed it harshly on your eyes to dry your tears before they had a chance to run further down your face.

“Why the fuck doesn’t he tell me anything?” Your voice wavered.

Minho folded his hands on the table. “Knowing him, he probably thinks that it would be burdening to you. Selfless dick. He thinks that putting that shit on you somehow makes him seem like a handful or some shit.”

“B-but I don’t feel that way?”

“Then tell him!!” Felix’s volume rose. “When you talk to him, tell him that.”

“What the fuck is this, a drama?” Minho laughed a little. “These communication skills are god-awful.”

“Oh fuck off Minho,” Felix rubbed your back to soothe you. “This is real life, and we’re here to help out Y/n.”

“That’s fuck off Minho-hyung to you.” The older boy stuck out his tongue.

You wiped your nose against your hand, then Minho threw another napkin from the holder in your direction.

“I promise that things will get better when you talk to him.” Felix nodded. “Talking always helps.”

╚ ——————————————— ╝

Thursday afternoon came, and the forecast had called for snow, but none had come. Rather, the atmosphere had turned to be dreary and grey the whole day long, and the temperature dropped so low that some local schools had to cancel classes for the day. Your university had decided to do the same. While you had been thankful and decided to spend the day working on your various projects, you couldn’t bring your hand to the canvas.

All day long you had spent figuring out what it really was that you wanted to say to Changbin, and you still hadn’t figured it out yet. Even you didn’t know what it was entirely that scared you deeply. But, you knew that somewhere you did.

Why her?

You could do better.

Isn’t she...boring?

You hugged your legs to yourself as you waited on your couch. The memories seeped into your brain like some kind of poison diffusing its way.

No, no. You’re wrong. You tried your best to banish them.

You’re all mine. No one else’s. Don’t you ever forget that. Tell me. Who’s baby are you?

You squeezed your eyes shut, and dug your nails into the fleshy part of your knees where you held them.

You don’t own me. You don’t have the fucking power.

Three knocks clicked at your door, and you knew that it was Changbin. Your chest shook with a type of anxiety that felt like prickling thorns. You rose to open the door.

“Fuck. It’s so freezing out there.” Was the first thing that he said. “I wouldn’t mind not having to go back out there if you are?” He slung his coat over one of chairs to your two person dining table. As soon as he was undressed, you were overcome with the desire to be as close as possible as you could get to him. It had been your safe place.

Changbin let out a little surprised noise when you launched your body at him, but he just as quickly held you back firmly.

“Is everything okay?”

For a moment you let his rosemary and cedarwood cast aside all the ideas and words that ate away at you.

“Can we talk?” You mumbled.

“Yeah, of course. Can we sit down? Get a blanket maybe?” You nodded and let him do the work of going back to your room to get back your knit blanket that he knew you liked best. He threw it over his shoulders them beckoned you to join him in his arms. You snuggled right up into his chest where he had tucked himself into the corner of the couch. “Want to talk about it now?”

With glistening eyes you tried your best to look up at him. His cheeks were still bitten pink from the cold.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me about your parents? Or about what’s going on right now?”

Changbin sighed and bit at his lower lip in his discontent. “Minho said something didn’t he?”

“You can tell me, you know?”

Changbin shook his head. “It’s not your problem to worry about, so I don’t want you do.”

“But you’re my problem to worry about. Don’t you get that?”

He sighed once more, then rested his head atop of yours. Where he held you around your arms, he rubbed gently.

“And if...being with me helps you...I’ll come around anytime alright? You don’t just have to come here.”

He laughed a little. “My place isn’t as private as yours is.”

You toyed with the fraying fabric of the blanket. “You know that I can be quiet if I need to be. Or if you just want me to sleep over, I can do that too.”

“I don’t want you going out of your way--”

“--I don’t mind.” You nuzzled a little deeper. “So, your parents are giving you a hard time?”

He tsked. “Yeah. It’s just...stupid is all. They care so much about what I do and don’t do when I left so it wouldn’t bother them. They’re trying hand out some kind of threats to me like they have the right to do so....they don’t.”

“What are you going to do?”

Changbin helped you up a bit higher up his body so your head could rest on his shoulder. “Nothing. Keep doing what I’ve always been. No one knows except the people I have closest to me. They’re worrying over nothing.”

You formed a “oh” with your lips.

“But, it’s nothing to worry about. I promise.”

Already, you had forgotten what you really had decided to talk to him about. It had slipped from your mind just as quickly as you had let it arise. The two of you grew quiet, and you let yourself become overcome with the feeling and warmth that his body and the blanket gave to you. You wondered if he would’ve gotten mad if you had fallen asleep just then. It didn’t seem like the worst idea.

“As long as we’re talking about things, do you mind if I ask you something?” Changbin asked after planting a small kiss on your forehead.

“What’s that?” You said with a sleepy and cracking voice.

“You...don’t have to have the answer right now, but I just thought it would be worth it to ask, since we’ve been doing you know, this, for a few weeks now. You already know how I feel about you, I think that I’ve made it pretty damn clear, but, I was thinking that we could make things exclusive between us? Like, it just becomes me and you?”

Drip by drip, the drowsiness that had swept over your eyes dissipated.

“Would you be up for that? I just, it seems a bit odd to me that we haven’t talked about it yet considering...well, I think that it would be easier if we knew what we were so then we could, I don’t know, plan or something like that? It’s kind of a commitment, I know, but I want you to know that I’m willing--”

“Bin...” You pulled yourself up from his chest.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that? Did-did I say something wrong?”

Who’s baby are you?

“You want me to...be yours?”

“Well, not exactly, you know what I’ve said before, but, I would like you to be my girlfriend--”

A sob clogged your throat. Now that he had finally said it, the realizations came flooding over you like the deathly winter chill.

“Angel, are you scared again? I told you that you don’t have to with me, I swear that I don’t ever want to hurt you or anything like what happ--”

“--Like happened what? Back when I was so fucking stupid to get myself locked up in something that I thought would be good for me? Why is it that you want me to be your girlfriend, huh? I-is it because I-I fall over for you? I can’t run away from you? Am-am I just a good fuck for you? What is it?”

“What the fuck? Where is this coming from? Y/n, you know that I love you, I fucking love you like crazy and I don’t think any of those things!! I’m not trying to restrain you our use you or anything like that, I don’t know why the hell you would think that!”

“B-because you might not now, but what about later down the line...when I get boring or you figure out that I’m not as exciting like I used to be or--”

“--What?! No! That’s not gonna happen!” Changbin reached out to pull you back into his arms, but you shook him off.

Salty tears filled the corners of your mouth. “The last time that I-I did something like this, I--”

“--Well this isn’t last time, this is this time, okay? It’s different! I swear to God that I’m not that fucking asshole. I get that you’re scared, okay, that’s totally understandable, but I’m asking you to trust me alright? Can you trust me?”

Part of you wanted to trust him. In fact, a much larger part of yourself wanted to trust him so bad, it hurt. But, a smaller part of you, a much smaller part of you still screamed into the abyss that he was the last person in the world that you could trust; and that voice, was much louder.

“I want you to be my girlfriend, and I want to give you everything that I have. All my fucking time, my attention, hell, just minutes ago you said that I was your problem, can’t you be mine? Is that not allowed? I’m just...I DON’T get you!!!” Changbin growled out the tail end of his sentence and only after he had said it he realized it was much louder than he intended. “Oh God, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...please. I’m not mad at you.”

Your body had weakened, so when he had reached out for you, you let yourself fall into his arms.

“Angel, can’t you see that what I’m trying to do is the complete opposite of what you think I am? Yeah I mean, it would be nice to call you my girlfriend, but not because I’m trying to control you or anything, but because...fuck, you make me happier, made me feel like I’m less lonely in this fucking crazy-ass world. I want to be that for you and you only.”

Poisonous thoughts. Why were they even more alluring than the antidote that you had right in front of your face?

Your limp body mustered up the strength of push yourself off his chest. Looking into his eyes you felt numb. With all the care that he held for you, you felt as if you didn’t deserve one single ounce of it.

Why her?

You figured that in some parallel earth, you would’ve been able to have said yes. In that parallel earth, nothing bad would’ve ever happened, and you wouldn’t have been crouched in that alley with snow melting into your dress. You would’ve lived a normal life without pain and doubt. Maybe you would’ve met him there too, and you would’ve been able to say yes.

“You...don’t have to have the answer right now, but can you please consider it...for me? I meant everything that I said, but I...I also can’t wait forever.” You heard his voice grow thick. “I know that if...you can’t do it, or iff you don’t know, then I can’t just make it happen. There’s not a lot else that I can do. But at least I want to try.”

You could do better.

“I-I think that I need to be alone...right now--tonight.” Two more hot tears fell down your cheeks with a sting like a papercut.

“Right now?”

“Yeah, just--there’s things that I need to think about, I don’t..I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“No. I understand.” Changbin sniffled.

Slowly, your two bodies seperated, and the heat from his body faded. You thought to yourself, it wasn’t yours to keep in the first place.

You lead him quietly to the door where you watched him lace up his shoes and throw on his coat. His eyes had become puffy, as much as you figured you had looked as well. His grey eyes looked tired, just like the dreary day that you had spent all day hiding from. Still, he smiled.

“Y/n. I know that you think that you’re hard to love. But you’re not. If you take away anything from this, I hope you know that your past doesn’t define you, and that you can have happiness after it all. I want to be that for you. If you’ll let me. Only if you’ll let me.”

Your clogged nose made a horrible stuffed sound and you nodded. You had listened to his words, but had you heard?

He sighed with finality, then bent down to kiss at the salty taste on your lips.

“Call me, okay?”

You closed the door after him, then collapsed down the door. Your pent up sobs flew out of your chest with loud and ugly sounding sobs. Each one hurt more than the last to get out. You crumbled against the wood door, and didn’t even mind the cool draft from under the crack. Your world became a blur in front of your watery eyes and your hands shook as they took your phone from your pocket.

Words of self loathing filled your ears as you searched up the name, but it was the only one that you could think of in your blind emptiness.

If only things could go back to the way that they were.

╚ ——————————————— ╝

The walk to his apartment was cold, freezing even. You had worn the shoes that you had been scolded for, and the coat that provided you with barely any warmth. You knew the way to his apartment well--it was almost muscle memory by now. Streetlights passed you overhead, and finally the snow that was promised started to drift from the heavens and before you.

Your hands cracked with the cold when you pushed the button to his intercom, and he buzzed you in without saying a word. You showed yourself up the staircase with empty sounding footsteps echoing against the walls. Your eyes had welled with tears once you reached his floor, but you blinked them away harshly. It was a futile attempt considering that he would see how red your eyes had become.

His door was cracked with old paint, and the number had been scratched off with age. You knocked one time, no more than that. Somewhere a tiny voice had hoped that he wouldn’t hear the knock at all, and figure that you hadn’t even come up, and that you could quietly slip back away.

But he didn’t. He must’ve been waiting.

He too looked to be a mess: his cheeks and eyes had puffed up and he looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. He wore minimal clothing that hung loosely on his frame.

“--Jisung--”

Before you could say any more, he had leapt into you, and wrapped his arms around you so tightly that he could’ve rid you of all your breath.

“Baby, thank you so much for coming. Thank you so much. I’m sorry how I acted at the concert. I just missed you so much....I missed you so much.”

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whumpmatsus · 3 years

Note

aaaa are you still taking the sickfic requests?? maybe "don't speak" with choro as the sickie pls?

SickFic Prompts / ACCEPTING!

Don’t Speak - (character) has a horribly sore throat and is reduced to barely talking while they load up on hot drinks and soup to recover.

yesssss always!!! I had so much fun with this, it hit me right in the Honey Nut Feelios and I hope it does the same for u, sunshine 😩

After still feeling like total crap for several days while his brothers were almost completely recovered from the cold they’d all caught, Choromatsu finally breaks down and goes to the doctor.

He doesn’t really want to. Being sick is something they all hate, and continuing to suffer after everyone else felt better is just astronomically unfair. Sometimes he thinks he can will himself back to health if only he sleeps and takes medicine and does everything a sick person is supposed to do.

The others prod at him to get checked out, though, considering the fact that lately every time he’s tried to speak, it’s set off a cough and is painful even to those just listening.

When he comes back home with a pharmacy bag and an informational sheet proclaiming that he’s been diagnosed with laryngitis, it explains a lot.

He has little choice but to hand the sheet over to Osomatsu as Karamatsu comes over to help remove his scarf and coat and walk him over to the kotatsu. The eldest of them doesn’t necessarily know best all the time, but usually when one of them is sick or hurt with more than a cold or a tiny scrape, Osomatsu often slides into big brother mode and shows a surprising amount of maturity.

For once, Choromatsu is actually glad his oldest brother is taking charge of the situation.

“Okaaaay, guys,” he calls as Choromatsu settles in at the table. “So this thing says Choromatsu has… acute laryngitis. The doctor thinks it’s because he had a cold, I guess, since it says ‘viral cause’. Huh.”

Everyone else is already seated around the kotatsu since it’s the middle of winter and freezing. Jyushimatsu’s arm shoots up right away. “Oh! What’s laryngitis? That’s a funny word. Are we gonna get it too?”

Choromatsu opens his mouth to try and explain, like usual. Instead, he manages to get out a weak, “Probably not,” before he starts to cough.

“Hey,” Osomatsu pouts as Karamatsu pats the third eldest on the back, “this thing says you’re not supposed to talk if you can help it, Fappymatsu. So, y’know… shut up.”

What he gets in return for his efforts is an unimpressed glare.

Osomatsu grins, running a finger under his nose before looking back at the information sheet. “Well, I’m not wrong! Okay, so… the cold was contagious, but it says the actual laryngitis isn’t. It’s just some kind of throat thing that happened because of the cold. So it might happen for the rest of us, but I doubt it since we’re all feeling better already. Choromatsu just has bad luck, I guess.”

Karamatsu hums in thought and continues to rub his brother’s back. “Hmph, we’re probably safe then. Which means we just have to focus on taking care of our dear brother. How do we do that?”

Choromatsu holds the bag from the pharmacy up, allowing Ichimatsu to snatch it and dump the contents out on the table. He points toward the things he picked up at the doctor’s recommendation ― over-the-counter painkillers, lozenges, a throat spray, and cough syrup. There’s other stuff mixed in too, like tissues and a jar of yuzu-cha and a magazine. Though he could have lived without everyone seeing that, it’s not a huge deal.

Osomatsu waves the paper before picking through everything on the table. “Well, it says they don’t have any kind of prescription to give him. No antibiotics since it’s viral. Looks like it says the cough medicines and painkillers might help. ‘Home remedies may also provide temporary relief’… like tea and soup, huh? So we should probably try to keep the bastard hydrated with warm stuff.”

Karamatsu gets to his feet, grabbing the jar of yuzu-cha on his way. “In that case, why don’t I go mix up some of this for you right now? After being out in the cold air, your throat could probably use something warm. Want me to add a little honey?”

Choromatsu nods eagerly, mouthing, “Yes, please.”

Karamatsu’s face brightens at being useful, and he gives an exaggerated pose before heading into the kitchen. “What a good patient! Your big brother will be back with something soothing before you know it!”

“Hold on,” Totty comments as he scoots the lozenges, spray, and syrup toward him, “did you get all this stuff to take for your throat?”

His eyes scan over the labels, then roll back in his head when he’s finished. “Ah, Choromatsu-nii-san! You can’t take all of these at the same time. See, look. They all say ‘do not use with other medications containing’ ― uh ― well ― w-well, I can’t pronounce the word, but it’s the same one! They must all contain this ingredient, so you can’t take them all in the same day.”

Ichimatsu makes a gesture for Totty to hand them over, then nods after reading them. “Yeah, he’s right. If you take all these in the same day, even if you use each one like the directions say, you’ll be basically overdosing on this shit. Your mouth’ll go numb. Be drooling all over the place and maybe having trouble breathing.”

All the medicine is plucked from his hands by Osomatsu. “Okay, so we’ll rotate ‘em, and I’ll take care of giving it to you whenever you need medicine. Y’know, so that fever doesn’t fry your brain and make you forget which one you’re taking for the day. Which one do you wanna use today?”

Choromatsu lets out a soft groan which only serves to irritate his throat further. He could seriously just kick his own ass for not checking that before he bought all of those. The only excuse he has is that he’s in a lot of pain and not thinking like he normally does. He points to the spray, thinking maybe it’ll feel kind of like sour spray candy; once it gets sprayed on, it melts and lingers for a minute, which might be a nice quality in a medicine for sore throats.

“Alright, open up.” Osomatsu tears off the plastic packaging. “Totty, Ichimatsu, did either of you see how many times I’m supposed to spray this?”

“Two sprays every two hours as needed. But it’s only supposed to stay for fifteen seconds, then he has to spit it out. He’s not supposed to swallow it or it might give him a stomachache. Totty, you wanna go get an empty cup for him to spit in and a glass of water to wash the taste out of his mouth afterwards?”

“What?? Why can’t you do it? Your legs aren’t broken!”

“Yeah, but I’m busy.”

“Are you kidding me? Doing what?!”

Ichimatsu shuffles himself closer to Choromatsu and puts an arm around his big brother. “I’m his emotional support Ichimatsu.”

Choromatsu chuckles a bit, though it turns into coughing pretty quickly.

“Oh, my God. Now you know why you’re not first in my brother rankings, right?” Totty grumbles, but gets up anyway. “Fiiiiine, I’ll be right back.”

The idea of an emotional support anything is nice, though, so Choromatsu leans into the contact, resting his head on Ichimatsu’s shoulder. As it is, the fourth eldest is almost like a cat, warm and cuddly when he feels like it.

His fever must be getting to him, because he could even swear he hears Ichimatsu purring.

The next three days in the Matsuno household are, predictably, a little wild.

Although Choromatsu sleeps on the couch in the other room so that his coughing doesn’t wake his brothers, it’s pretty much all for naught. At least one of them ends up missing him in the night and coming to camp out with him anyway; he just counts his lucky stars that when he needs them most, they show themselves to be pretty great brothers.

He also practically lives on soup and tea. Mom and the others try to switch it up a little, because otherwise eating and drinking the same things every day would drive him nuts. Plain miso and zosui were fine for the first day, but after he could breathe through his nose and smell things again, they started offering him other stuff.

Honestly, shogayu and negi-miso-yu have never tasted so good. Now that he can taste the yuzu-cha, too, and Karamatsu prepares some for him at least once in the afternoon, it’s like a small slice of heaven. He’s pretty sure Karamatsu can tell how grateful he is even without words, if the stupidly proud look on his older brother’s face whenever Choromatsu drinks it is any indication.

His throat still hurts like hell for a while. It’s difficult to speak, so Osomatsu, in his infinite wisdom, has relegated his brother to using a mini dry erase board and marker if he needs to say anything. That doesn’t mean Choromatsu doesn’t try to talk. He does his best not to if he doesn’t absolutely need to, however, since he wants to be rid of this thing more than anyone.

Thankfully, everyone is apparently using this as an excuse to treat him nicely. He gets to sit in front of the TV watching Nyaa-chan concerts almost nonstop, while nestling in against his emotional support Ichimatsu. Karamatsu in particular keeps checking every twenty minutes or so to see if there’s anything he can get for his little brother, and whatever Choromatsu asks for, he gets. Hell, at one point he’s craving ice cream, even though milky things aren’t a good idea for someone who’s coughing, and Karamatsu comes back with a melon ice pop, which is almost as good.

Totty even manages to do something nice while typing away on his phone. He says he’s got Choromatsu a date. With a girl. Who likes pop idols. Who’s really excited to meet him as soon as he’s better. He says he texted her a picture of Choromatsu and she thinks he’s really cute. It’s perhaps a good thing that he can’t say much right now, because he’s sure he’d scream loud enough to lose his voice a second time.

Jyushimatsu even sits there on Choromatsu’s other side, and reads magazine articles to him whenever they’re not watching TV. Of course, he doesn’t read the dirty articles… well, he doesn’t read those out loud after the first time he tried and everybody ended up crying with laughter. They all joked that even when he was sick that would be Choromatsu’s main priority, and for once, he laughed along with them despite the fact that it made him cough.

The one who surprises him the most is Osomatsu. Maybe that shouldn’t actually be a surprise, though. He fills the role of diligent oldest brother with a lot more ease than one might expect; he breaks out the thermometer every few hours to make sure Choromatsu’s fever isn’t getting higher, he keeps track of which medicines Choromatsu is supposed to take and when, he helps Mom cook things that will help Choromatsu feel better, and if he’s not doing any of that other stuff, he’s positioned with Choromatsu sitting on his lap, with Ichimatsu and Jyushimatsu on either side, running his fingers through his little brother’s hair. It almost feels like the way things were when they were all kids.

Choromatsu is easily tired out when he’s sick, and he’s 99.99999% sure that it’s Osomatsu who carries him to bed every night when he inevitably falls asleep.

Despite the fact that he gives them a lot of shit, and none of them are perfect people, he knows he’s got some pretty amazing brothers.

Today he’s feeling nearly back to his old self, and his throat is less sore than it’s been in over a week. He knows it’s partially thanks to rest and partially thanks to how well his family has been taking care of him. Despite that he’s starting to recover, the others are still treating him much the same as they have been. Tea whenever he wants it ― as well as Karamatsu shoving it in his direction, urging him to drink with that pathetic puppy dog face of his, even when he doesn’t quite want it ― and lots of head pats and the TV turned to whatever he’s in the mood for.

He’s not quite as tired as he’s been lately, so it would be all too effortless to just take advantage of all this. Instead, his thoughts have just kept turning to how grateful he is to have so many people he can count on.

There’s some small part of him that has to admit he can be just as bad as they all are sometimes. He can be selfish and rude and lazy. But when one of his brothers is sick or hurt, he knows he steps up to the plate to try and take care of them. To know that they’re all willing to do the same for him when he’s the one in need makes him happier than he thinks he’s been in a long time.

He’s still got the dumb little whiteboard Osomatsu gave him, because his voice isn’t back to normal just yet. For a moment, he scribbles on it, then he holds it up for Osomatsu who’s sitting behind him. “Hey, Oso,” he speaks up in a quiet, breathy, raspy voice.

“Uh…! Hey, dumbass, you’re not supposed to be talking yet,” Osomatsu laughs, then lifts his head to look at the board. “… Huh? Choromatsu… hey…”

He laughs in a way that makes it sound like he’s about to cry, then takes the board and waves it to get everyone else’s attention. “Hey, guys! Haha… look! Look at this shit!”

Four other pairs of eyes turn in their direction. Practically as soon as everyone has processed what Choromatsu has written, he’s buried in a pile of brothers. He gets arms put around him, and kisses on his forehead, and everyone nuzzling against his face. They’re all laughing in that same way Osomatsu did…

… Well, until they all start actually crying. Including Choromatsu himself.

The whiteboard falls to the ground, mostly forgotten, but the words written on it hanging over the sextuplets like a rainbow.

Thanks for everything. I love you guys. 💚

#Osomatsu san #whump #Choromatsu #Osomatsu #Karamatsu #Ichimatsu #Jyushimatsu #Totty #illness #laryngitis #caretaking #UGHHHHH THEY'RE ALL SUCH GOOD BOYS DAMMIT #I'm crying into my tea I love them so much look at them aLL AGGRESSIVELY TAKING CARE OF ONE OF THEIR OWN

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byima · 3 years

Text

Six Weeks at the Blofis’s pt.3

a brand new chapter since i promised @skaterannabeth. read on AO3 where I’m posting the full story.

pt 3: spread across the pillowcase

There’s something digging into his thigh.

It’s fine. He can just… move away...

He flips drowsily from his stomach to his back.

Perfect.

...

Nope.

It's back. And it’s brought company; something burrowing into his armpit, another thing tickling his side.

It's been a futile bob between conscious and unconscious, ongoing for the past hour, he’s tried to ignore the restless activity invading his sleep space but it’s, like, physiologically impossible. His body says “disregard it, go to sleep,” his mind says “wake up bitch, who ya tryna fool?”

He inhales sharply, bringing his arm down from behind his head to find Estelle’s body pressed to his side. The little monster. The little space hungry, touchy, adult-activity-inhibiting monster.

“Stelle…” he grumbles. He rubs his hand down her arm, trying to get her to ease up so maybe they can all get a little more rest. There isn’t even any morning light bleeding through the blinds, just the dull yellow of streetlamps and other city constants.

Then his sister makes a quiet, whimpering noise that almost sounds like a sob.

“Estelle?” He’s less sleepy now, voice clearing as a niggling sense of alarm creeps in. He repeats her name. “Estelle?”

She shakes her face into the side of his chest and weakly whispers, “I don’t feel good.”

He’s already sitting up, having put that much together through his own half-awake observations. His hand had slid from her arm to feel her face and neck, clammy to touch, and her hair, sticking to her skin with sweat. Worry makes his heart thump, and he pulls her up with him.

“Oh no, com’mere,” he helps her crawl into his lap and hugs her close.

He doesn’t know how long she’d been laying there, uneasy and quietly uncomfortable, but it was enough for her to crumble at the first sign of brotherly concern. She holds him tight, and he can feel the slight shake of her slight frame as she begins to cry.

“My tummy is hurting,” her voice hitches.

“Right here?” He presses his palm to her abdomen.

She nods mournfully.

He gives her belly a comforting rub, sliding his hand under the too small pajama top to lightly palpate.

“Do you feel like throwing up?”

She shakes her head stubbornly. “I don’t like throwing up.”

Annabeth begins to stir.

“Shit,” he glances over Estelle’s head to check if his blonde, not-at-all-a-morning-person wife is awake.

“That’s a bad word.”

“I know,” Percy shifts up the bed then swings his legs over the side so he can stand to his feet, baby sister light cargo in his arms. “Don’t tell mom, okay? We’re gonna go to the bathroom.” She nods into his shoulder.

Out the bedroom they go, Percy treading lightly, slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible.

Down the short hall, through the door on the left-

“Ow,” Estelle complains half-heartedly. Percy had bumped her against the bathroom door frame. He apologizes.

In the next thirty minutes, it becomes quite clear to Percy that Estelle was not lying when she said she didn’t like throwing up. He sits on the tub while she kneels by the toilet, spitting unconvincingly.

He tries to assure her she’ll feel better if she just lets it happen. She shakes her head, stone-faced, refusing to swallow or, like, breathe, when the nausea hits her.

He leaves her in the bathroom for a moment to tell Paul what’s going on. It’s a little before 6 a.m. at that point, and Paul is getting ready for work. His step-dad is immediately concerned and a little stressed; Sally is away at a creative writing conference in Jersey, they’re one parent down, and calling for a sub this late is always a nightmare.

“It’s a bug that’s been going around her class.” They’re back in the master bathroom, after checking on Estelle. “I really hoped she wouldn’t catch it,” Paul says, impatiently dragging the razor from cheekbone to jaw.

“Don’t stress about it.” Percy tiredly rubs his hand into the back of his neck, watching their reflections in the bathroom mirror without really processing. “I’m off, I got her.”

He returns to the bathroom to find Estelle curled into a fetal position on the bath mat. He’s picked her up and is sitting on the tubs edge holding her while she dozes when Annabeth peers in.

“She’s not feeling well,” he explains.

“You gonna stay with her?”

He nods.

She leans against the door frame and he asks, “What do you have going on today?

“Same as the last few weeks.” She shrugs. “I checked my phone-” he shakes his head because she should have known better, “I know. Thirty-plus emails from the legal team.”

“Why’d you check your email first thing?”

“Because I’m a masochist.”

He winces in empathy.

Then he stands and inclines his head towards the shower behind him. “Go ahead, I’m just gonna take her back to bed.”

They negotiate the small space, Percy, with a half-asleep Estelle like dead weight in his arms, drops a kiss on Annabeth’s forehead and a quiet “good morning.” She makes a noise in agreement, touching his arm and Estelle’s head briefly as he passes before hitting the lights and grabbing her toothbrush.

Good morning indeed.

----

9:15 a.m.

“Paul told me Estelle woke up with a stomach bug.”

“Yeah.” Percy leans on his elbow against the counter, cradling his phone in his hand.

“How is she doing?”

“She’s sleeping right now- Listen, Ma.”

“What is it hun?”

“She refuses to throw up.”

Sally sighs, and he watches her face twist into a frown. “I know. She had a bad experience a couple years ago,” she looks at Percy through the screen, shaking her head, “and ever since then she’s had this thing about not vomiting.”

“So she’s gonna wait for it to come out the other end?”

“No.” Sally sighs again. “She’ll throw up. She’s just going to fight it until it’s right upon her.”

Percy’s face twists in horror. “So you’re telling me, I’ve got a seven-year-old in my bed who’s basically a high pressure cooker full of vomit, liable to go off at any moment?”

“Yes-”

“Oh gods, this is just not ideal-”

“I don’t know what to say. Stay on your toes. Prepare to wash your sheets.”

“Thanks. For the advice. Much appreciated.”

She cracks a wan smile. “Take the phone to her?”

“She’s asleep.”

“I know. I just wanna see her.”

“Alright. Come with me.”

-----

11:07 a.m.

Percy pushes her hair from her face.

“You have to throw up, Stelle.”

She shakes her head slightly, curled in a ball on the bed, holding herself tightly.

“You’ll feel so much better, I promise.”

“I just want to sleep.”

He looks at her for a moment and then stands.

“I’m gonna go to the grocery store really quick Stelle Belle. I’ll be back before you notice.”

She doesn’t have much to offer beyond a weak nod.

“You’ll be okay? For like fifteen minutes? Not gonna burn anything down?”

She doesn’t respond, she’s half-asleep again, she hardly slept the night before and she hasn’t been much better during the day. He just adjusts her slightly, making sure she’s on her side so she doesn’t like, asphyxiate on her vomit in her sleep.

“Annabeth’s iPad is right here. You call or text if you need something, alright?”

Nothing.

----

11:31 a.m.

He hustles back in from the grocery store, depositing the paper bags on the kitchen counter before going upstairs to check on her. She’s still knocked out. He leaves her sleeping, going back down to unpack the Gatorade bottles and saltines he’d picked up, then he returns to the bedroom, a pack of saltines in one hand and a cup of water in the other.

She looks so small and pale. For all the bickering and teasing the two of them get up to, he loves her dearly, for the person she is and for the blood that runs through them both.

But he’s tired, too, and when he climbs into the bed to watch over her, he falls asleep in minutes.

-----

12:47 p.m.

Estelle sits up groggily, waking Percy from his light nap. Then in a blink she lurches to the side and vomits on the bedspread, on the pillows, everywhere.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck.” He’s on his feet as fast as a cartoon character.

He picks her up immediately, hands under her armpits, she’s crying, and carries her to the bathroom. They step inside, he sets her down and she vomits again before they even reach the toilet, her brother being her unintentional target. She’s crying harder, he’s swearing, panicking, trying to ignore the puke soaking his sweat pants and guide her the couple steps to the toilet, she vomits again, and on a stupid impulse, he cups his hands to catch it. He screeches in horror. And shoves her bodily towards the toilet.

She’s finally vomiting into the only place vomit should ever go, and Percy, in a semi-mindless haze, his only thought, I have puke in my hands, I have puke in my hands, thoughtlessly dumps her grotesque gift into the sink. He regrets it as soon as he attempts to wash the chunky greenish brownish orangish sludge from his hands and the sink refuses to drain.

“Fuckfuckfucking shit.” It’s his non-stop mantra at this point.

“Those are bad words,” Estelle moans.

“Fuck, Estelle I know that, I’m sorry.”

He forcibly shuts his mouth, the corners turning down in a grimace as he takes in the wreckage. The sink, the floor, his pants- Zeus’ beard, the fucking sheets. He yanks free five or six sheets of paper towels and dries off his hands, then attempts a rough wipe down of the counter.

“How are you doing down there?”

“Fine.” She coughs and spits a little. “I feel a lot better.”

----

3:45 p.m.

“So what’s your favorite flavor Gatorade?”

She points at the orange bottle. “This one.”

“The orange? Oh come on. How boring.”

“I’m not boring. That’s the best one, in my opinion.” She lifts her legs onto the chair so she can sit crisscross applesauce. “What’s your favorite?”

“What do you think?”

“The blue one.”

“Bingo.”

“I already knew that because you’re very predictable.”

“Me?”

“Mhm.”

They hear the front door open and then Paul announces his arrival.

“In here Daddy!”

Paul, who came home as soon as his last class ended, finds them in the kitchen sitting at the table before a row of partially empty Gatorade bottles. There’s a rainbow of colors represented, from red, orange, yellow, all the way to blues and pinks.

He asks, “How’d things go today?” despite having received an update from Percy less than an hour ago.

“It was okay. I throwed up a lot,” she leans against her dad’s leg when he comes up to her side, “but Percy cleaned it all up and we ate toast and crackers and did a Gatorade tasting contest and I went to sleep on the couch because Percy had to wash the sheets.”

“The sheets?” Paul’s eyes dart over to Percy, who’s standing as he picks up the bottle of blue Gatorade.

“Yeah. I throwed up on the sheets and Percy too.”

Percy is shaking his head and sending Paul a look that says please stop. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

----

6:17 p.m.

“How’d things go with the sick one?”

“It was alright.”

Annabeth points her chin over to their bed. “New sheets on the bed."

He nods, affirming her observation without really answering the unasked question.

"What happened to the old ones?”

“In the dryer.”

She looks at him for a second, processing this new piece of information.

“Ew.”

Percy laughs slightly out of his nose. “Ew is the word for it. Ew on the bed. Ew on my pants. Ew in my hands.”

Annabeth stiffens in his arms. “She ew’ed into your hands?”

He holds his hands in a bowl shape in front of them. “It was a reflex.”

Annabeth is shifting out of his lap before he even finishes his statement. “I wish you hadn’t told me that.”

He laughs harder now, “Don’t make this weird. My hands are clean now.”

“But the images- ew Percy let me go, I can’t handle this.”

“So I take care of a kid with the stomach flu all day, and now I can’t touch you?”

She relents, relaxing back into his lap. She leans her head against his collar bone. They’re in the desk chair in their temporary bedroom, parked in front of the desk Annabeth had brought in so she could have a workstation in the house. Estelle is sleeping again in the bed, now made up in a new, clean set of sheets.

“You’re a good brother.”

“I’m the best brother.”

She snorts. “See, now that’s your last compliment from me, for at least a week.”

He squeezes her hip and asks, “How was your day?”

“It was good,” she says, like it surprises her.

“You sound surprised.”

“Well yeah.” She pats his chest to make sure she has his full attention. “I had all the emails and the legal nonsense to deal with in the morning.” He nods. “Then,” she pushes his chest for emphasis, “I spent the afternoon looking ahead to new projects and reminding myself why I love my job.”

“Tell me. Why do you love your job?”

“Oh gods,” she signs dreamily. “Where do I begin?”

Percy chuckles at the obvious delight infusing her whole form.

“I love the planning part. The ideas and the inspiration and the draft paper…” She trails off, Percy’s got a look on his face that she recognizes. “Are you listening to me?”

”Absolutely.” He lightly squeezes her waist. “Tell me more. Use your architectural lingo.”

”Like curvilinear forms…?”

“Mmm…” Percy grumbles in approval.

“And spatial composition…”

“Go on…” he’s working the top button of her shirt free.

“Charettes... and…” she’s distracted by his mouth on her exposed chest and his hand on her thigh.

“And what?”

“And building topology-”

He growls, “so sexy,” and shakes his face into her cleavage.

She tries to bite back her laugh, “Stop it you fiend.”

“I played with vomit all day. Just give me this,” he kisses up her neck, “one thing. And maybe I’ll forget about the way puke looks, spread across the pillowcase.”

“Oooo, tryna get me in the mood huh?”

“A little, yeah. Is it working?”

“Oh yeah. You know puke gets me going.”

“I thought so.” He brings her face to his and they kiss lazily. He pulls back, just barely, they’re still sharing breath.

“Chunky, pesto pasta puke.”

She shakes her head playfully and deadpans, “I want you, I need you, oh baby oh baby.”

He pulls her closer and growls again and she shifts so she’s straddling him on the chair.

“Sorry. Didn’t know I was interrupting. Just checking on the sick kid.”

They pull apart. Annabeth holds a hand to the unbuttoned portion of her top and stands from Percy’s lap. “It’s alright,” she says. A knock would be nice, she thinks, leaning against the desk behind her.

“I’m fine Daddy.” Estelle surprises the couple by pushing the comforter down and sliding down from the bed.

“I think it’s time for more toast and Gatorade,” she states, making her way to her dad.

“Sounds good to me.” He rubs a hand over her bedhead.

“Besides, they were starting to kiss too much. And I already throwed up enough today.”

“You should be nicer to me.” Percy calls.

She trots over, feet quick on the hardwood floor, and hugs him around the neck.

“Thank you.” She kisses his cheek, properly humbled and clearly pretty grateful.

“Am I the best?”

“No.”

She whines when he kisses her forehead and shimmies away.

“Don’t kiss me- see! They’re gonna do it again. Let’s go.”

Percy is on his feet dropping dramatic kisses on a laughing Annabeth’s face.

“They’re newlyweds, Stelle. Newlyweds kiss a lot.”

“No, Daddy, they're just weirdos.”

#mypjofic #six weeks at the blofis's #something new #percy jackon and the olympians #percy and annabeth #pjo #percabeth #lot's of estelle #and percy being a lovely brother

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itsukkie · 3 years

Text

On My Mind

Characters: Tsukishima Kei x Reader

Words: 3.1k

Genre: fluff :)

Summary: How long is it going to take for Tsukkishima to get over himself and finally confess to you? Five times Tsukki wanted to kiss you + the first time he did.

Edited?: nope

a/n: I’m new to tumblr! I’ve never written my own fic before. I mostly wrote this to cope with my own yearning... If you have any suggestions for how to improve my writing or formatting please let me know.

You never liked chemistry, but that’s why Tsukishima was there. You were fully capable of understanding the material by yourself but Tsukki didn’t have a great deal of faith in your patience.

You groaned slumping back into the kitchen chair and stared at the sheet in front of you. What were you doing wrong? Tsukishima could tell you were getting frustrated by the way your cheeks were flushed and the way your hands were tangled in your own hair as you racked your brain for the right answer. Tsukki briefly glanced at you, studying the way you furrowed your brows and pursed your lips while thinking before silently returning to his own work. Although his eyes were focused on his own work in front of him, he wondered why you hadn’t caved already and asked for his help.

“Tsukki-,” you looked over at him.

“Do it yourself,” he replied, not even glancing up from his English homework. You let out a small huff. Why did he do that? He wanted to help you. He wanted to lean over your shoulder and feel the warmth of your back pressing against his chest and smell the honey tones of your shampoo. He wanted to see if he could make you flustered by whispering in your ear. But more than anything he wanted to see up close the look in your eyes when he told you that you were correct. So why did he do that?

Maybe he could just walk to your side and lean over the table, using his hand to guide your face to look at his. How would you react if he leaned down and pressed his lips to your forehead, pulling you into his chest? Would your body relax under his if he whispered sweet affirmations, letting you know just how smart and amazing he thought you were?

But before Tsukki could act on any of his daydreams the front door thrashed open. You looked up to see Hinata and Kageyama panting, kneeling at your front door catching their breath.

“I touched the door first,” Kageyama uttered in between shaky breaths.

“I was first inside though!” Hinata yelled, getting up from the floor and walking toward the kitchen where you and Tsukki sat. “Y/N! Thank you once again for tutoring us on a weekend,” he said through a toothy smile.

Tsukishima sighed as he watched you close your chemistry textbook and greet his two annoying teammates. Pulling his headphones from around his shoulder and onto his ears, he tapped his foot to the sound of soft lofi music. But no matter how loud he set the volume, he couldn’t drown out the sound of your intoxicating voice.

Tsukishima will deny the fact that he was eagerly awaiting your call when he heard a new art exhibition opened up in town. Of course he’d never have the guts to ask you himself, he just always counted on you to make the first move.

That’s why both of you stood in front of a canvas encased in an elegant gold frame. Your eyes were fixed on the painting, and given the fact the tickets were 2000 yen Tsukki should’ve also been relishing in the beauty of the exhibit. But he just couldn’t take his eyes off you. The headphones that were wrapped around his head were silent, the calming voice of the tour guide on pause, preferring to hear you talk about how you read about this painting in an art history book.

He loved the way your wide eyes sparkled, even in the dim lighting of the exhibit. When you walk forward, hoping to get a better view of the detail work, a gold ray of light, reflected off the statue standing behind you, makes its way onto your face, and Tsukishima swears you are the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. With all the people crowded in the exhibit he wonders why no one has yet to stop in front of you to admire you the way he does. And when your mouth slowly curls up into a smile he basks in your magnetism.

He’s thankful you’re wearing headphones, listening to the virtual tour guide, because he forces himself to take a deep breath to stop himself from wrapping his hand around your waist and pulling you into him. He wants to tell you just how grateful he is that you always ask him to come with you to visit new showcases, even though he rarely pays attention to the actual exhibit. He thinks to himself that this is probably the most romantic place to kiss you right now. But he holds back, turning on his heels and walking to the next painting.

You were a smug little brat. Look at you smiling at him from across the classroom, your shoulders rolled back and your chest puffed up with confidence. Debate was Tsukki’s least favourite class activity given his natural aversion to public speaking. But in the moment Tsukishima barely realized that all eyes were on him as he stood at the podium, because how could he focus when you were right there, standing across from him, refuting his arguments one by one?

Tsukishima kept his usual cool outer appearance but he just wished he could let everyone know how proud he was whenever you delivered an especially cruel line. Look at them, that’s the one I love, and they’re smarter than any of you. Of course it was just as fun watching you get flustered, stumbling over your own words trying to formulate your response to his remarks.

Something about watching you argue ignited a fire under Tsukishima. You were throwing facts and evidence at him, smirking as the class banged their fists against their desks in support after every point you made. But Tsukki long forgot about his classmates, not even addressing them in his speech, he was only talking to you.

You kept looking toward your peers, staring them in the eyes as you spoke with charisma. Look at me, Tsukki thought. He wanted you to look him in the eyes while you demolished his arguments. Watching your self-satisfied smile, he wanted to shut your mouth the one way he knew would make you stop talking. What would happen if he snuck his hand into your hair, pulled you to his chest and forced you to look up at him? Would you still have all the confidence you do now?

Tsukishima let a small smile form on his lips. You were too smart for your own good.

Tsukishima doesn’t understand why you prefer studying at a library when home is so much more comfortable. Plus, if you guys had just stayed home he wouldn’t have needed to walk in the freezing cold winter air with you to get home. But he agreed to coming with you anyway because for some reason it’s just too hard to say no to you.

At least his hands were warmed by the coffee cups he held in his hands. You were beaming about how you heard this place sells the best hot chocolate when you guys passed it. Now you were putting your wallet back in your bag as Tsukki held both of the cups for you. He remarks to himself that one day he’ll pay for both of you. When you grab your cup you shoot him a smile as you keep walking down the sidewalk. You take a large sip and yelp at the scorching temperature of the drink, your tongue now feeling numb.

“Idiot,” Tsukki utters, watching you fan your tongue.

“Okay I probably should’ve let it cool down a bit, but it was so worth it, try it.”

Tsukki glances down at your eager eyes and reluctantly lifts the cup to his mouth. Closing his eyes he slowly takes a small sip, careful not to burn himself and that’s when he hears your roaring laughter. When he looks down he sees what you’re giggling over. His vision was impaired, his glasses completely fogged up from the steam of his hot chocolate. Of course he couldn’t see you but he was sure you were relishing in how stupid he looked in that moment, but hearing your laugh he thought to himself that it might just be worth it.

Still giggling you stand on your tippy toes and pull his glasses from off his face. Tsukishima is startled, although he doesn’t show it. He watches your blurry figure clean his glasses on your jacket before watching you slowly come into focus as you gently lay them atop his ears again. He realizes just how close your face is to him, he realizes how precariously you’re standing. If you were to lose balance you’d fall right into his chest, or maybe your lips might even collide with his.

“What’re you thinking?” You ask, stepping back to look up at him. What is he thinking? He was thinking of how stunning you looked with snowflakes lightly decorating your hair and your nose and cheeks dusted red from the cold air. He was thinking about pulling you back up to where you were, holding onto your cheek and your waist and leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips.

“It’s mediocre at best,” he scoffs and continues walking. You feign a hurt face and quickly catch up to him. He thinks that tasting the hot chocolate from your lips would make it infinitely better.

Tsukki wanted to kill whoever was knocking on his cabin door at 1am. He was already exhausted from all the hiking, climbing, and biking he had done the day before. Tomorrow morning his year would make their way back to school and Tsukishima hated sleeping on the bus.

He groaned as he stood up from his bed, walking past a groggy Yamaguchi who also heard the soft knocks at the door. He opened it, looking through squinted eyes, and was unsurprised when he was met with the wide awake eyes of Hinata and Yachi, and a yawning Kageyama who lazily propped himself against the cabin wall. But he was shocked to see you with them, standing in your plaid pajama bottoms and an oversized hoodie.

“Do you wanna go stargazing?” You asked, jumping up and down to keep yourself warm

Was that even a question? He hates to admit to himself how many times he has imagined a moment like this with you.

“It’s way past curfew, we’re gonna get in trouble.” Tsukishima heard himself reply in a raspy voice. Yamaguchi poked his head out from behind Tsukki, seeing what all the commotion was about.

“We checked the teachers’ cabin and they’re all asleep, and we’ll be quiet.” Hinata was beaming with excitement. He wanted to try playing on the beach volleyball court.

“Is it even possible for you to be quiet?” Tsukki glared, leaving Yamaguchi lightly chuckling.

“Please,” you pleaded, making the saddest puppy eyes you could. How could he not say yes to your wide and playful smile? Before he knew it, he had thrown on a sweater and was quietly running along the dirt path. The six of you giggled and hushed each other as you made your way to the open field.

Tsukishima felt his heart stop completely when you took his hand, making him run alongside you after you noticed him lagging behind. Your laugh was the most contagious thing he’s ever heard.

You two laid on the grass looking up at the clear night sky. You explained astrology to him while he rolled his eyes, and he explained the physics behind star formation. You had read about constellations and the Greek mythology behind them, and as you passionately ranted to him about the fresh-water serpent Hydra while pointing to the sky, he never lifted his eyes from your face. He noticed a few of your moles and freckles that dotted your side-profile, and in his head he created his own myth behind the creation of your constellation.

You felt his gaze on your side-profile and when you turned your head to face him, his heart dropped and his hands twitched as they longed to reach out and brush through your hair.

“What?” You smiled at him. Tsukishima wanted to tell you that you looked beautiful and that, despite all his best efforts, he had hopelessly fallen in love with you. Just look at you. You were so beautiful in the moonlight. He wished he could stare at you all night long, he wished the sun would never come out and he could lay there by your side forever.

“You have dirt on your face,” he coldly let out, wiping at your chin and pretending to wipe the dirt of his finger before turning away from you to look back up. You muttered an embarrassed ‘thanks’ not even noticing the way his fingertips lingered on your cheek before looking back up as well.

You both had turned silent, and Tsukishima was angry at himself for ruining the moment. He wished he was braver and bolder, he wanted the confidence to tell you how actually felt. But before he could think about it more, Hinata came running over, pulling you up from the ground and leading you to where Yamaguchi and Yachi found a frog.

As Hinata tugged you away, running at lightning speed, you barely had the chance to look back at Tsukishima, who had sat up, watching you talk to his teammates. He dug the heels of his hand into his eyes, sighing before looking up at the moon.

“The moon is beautiful isn’t it?” He whispered to himself.

Tsukishima wasn’t himself today. How was he supposed to be when you weren’t there? He stared out the window all day instead of teasingly kicking the back of your chair, throwing playful notes onto your desk when the teacher wasn’t looking. How was he supposed to focus on the lecture when you weren’t there to motivate him? Lunchtime was quieter than usual. He listened to Yamaguchi rant about this new anime he had started and stared silently at his shortcake. He missed the way you’d interject with your own (usually idiotic) opinions and whine on his shoulder, asking for a piece of strawberry. Sometimes you would make him feed it to you, and although he’d never admit it, he loved it when you did. The last straw was at practice where Kageyama just wouldn’t stop bugging him about his lazy decoy work. Tsukishima was supposed to be the sharp one, the one with the best game sense, so how come he kept missing spike after spike, serve after serve, block after block.

Coach Ukai let him leave early, today obviously wasn’t his day, and Tsukishima complained that if he was in the same room with Kageyama for another minute someone was going to get hurt. It was all your fault, he thought to himself as he stopped in front of your house. You were such a fucking dumbass. You just had to get sick today.

Your mother let him in, smiling at the familiar face and let him climb the stairs to your bedroom. He softly opened the door expecting you to be sleeping but you were sitting up straight in bed, sipping on a steaming cup of tea. He loved the way your hair was tousled and how you looked at him with tired eyes.

“You should be sleeping,” he said plainly, dropping his bag onto the floor by your desk.

“Did you miss me that much,” you remarked in a raspy voice. He wished he had bought cough drops for you.

“I just came to drop off the work you missed.” Tsukishima turned away to rifle through his backpack, hoping that with his back turned you wouldn’t hear how shaky his breathing was. Plopping the papers on the desk, Tsukki turned back around to see you with your arms stretched out.

“Can I have a hug?”

“No, you’re gonna get me sick.” Tsukki hated himself for saying that. Why couldn’t he just get over himself and his stupid pride. All he’s ever wanted was to lay in bed with you, tuck you into his chest, and feel your shoulders rise with every breath you took. He’s imagined the way it would tickle to feel your steady breaths against the skin of his neck more times than he’d care to admit. “Go back to sleep.” He said plainly before slinging his bag back around his shoulders and leaving you to rest.

Just as Tsukishima was about to leave through the front door, your mother bumped into him with a bowl of soup, asking him if he’d be so kind as to bring it to your room.

When he opens your door again he laughs to himself seeing you had already fallen fast asleep, in just a matter of seconds. He gently placed the bowl on your bedside table, gently nudging you to wake up. But you were out cold; even when Tsukishima said your name your body had no response. The soup probably needed time to cool down anyway, what’s more important is that you get enough rest.

Tsukishima took this opportunity to admire you. How your parted lips enticed him, how the skin of your cheeks flushed from your fever, the way your hair stuck to your forehead from all the beads of sweat that ran down. Tsukki decided to head to your bathroom, running a hand-towel under some cold water. He knelt down in front of you and gently dabbed the sweat off your face, careful not to wake you up. You looked so peaceful.

Tsukishima thought about the way you lived in his mind. You were everywhere now. Looking at your parted lips he thought about how your fingers brushed up against his cheek that one time drinking hot chocolate, how he remembers that moment every time he reaches to put his glasses on in the morning; about how he could never look at the stars without hearing your faint, siren-like voice echoing in the back of his head. You had slithered your way into every aspect of his life. He thought that maybe if he indulged a bit, you would stop showing up in every single one of his dreams at night. This was his chance to do so.

He thought of himself as a coward, he could never bring himself to tell you how he felt while you were awake. This was greedy self-indulgence.

He called your name again, and when you didn’t budge he whispered a faint “I love you”, pressing a long kiss to your forehead. Standing back up, he placed the towel by your bedside before picking up his bag and leaving.

A weak smile made its way across your lips, your eyes barely fluttering open when you heard the front door close.

You whispered in a raspy voice, “I love you too.”

#haikyuu!!#hq #haikyuu writing #haikyuu fluff #fluff #hq imagines #tsukishima #tsukki #tsukkishima kei #tsukkishima x reader #tsukkishima fluff #haikyuu #haikyuu x gn!reader #hq tsukishima #tsukishima fluff #haikyuu tsukishima #vez! writes

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random-mha-thoughts · 4 years

Text

Sleepless (LoV x Reader)

Pairing: League of Villains x Reader, platonic relationship

Shigaraki, Toga, Twice, Kurogiri, Dabi x reader

@riarora messaged me with the request: "So I was thinking platonic LOV x child reader (You can make them 18 if you're more comfortable, but I was thinking more like 14-15)The reader (I'll refer to them as she/her, but you can make it gender neutral) has really bad insomnia so every night, she would be pacing around, doing anything and everything to make sure no dark thoughts take over. Usually, none of the LOV would bat an eye, but considering the fact that she's a child, they feel sympathy, so they indirectly try to get her to fall asleep. Like, sending her on extra missions (always with protection of course) or changing her normal tea with sleeping tea, or maybe just straight up telling her to sleep."

Genre: Comfort

Word Count: 2,291

Tags: @yuki-osaki @liviitehe @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog

a/n: Thanks for the request sweetie! I hope you like it~

Wrote this while listening to a Shinsou playlist on Spotify and it was pretty chill to listen to, if y’all want the link you can comment or dm me and I’ll send it. Something different, but I like how it turned out. It's twice as long as I thought it would end up being, but I think it fits. It's a comfort story that I hope you guys will read even if you don't normally read stuff for the villains. I really like it, I hope you guys read it if you need some comforting. Enjoy~

Like a lot of people, I don't have the nicest thoughts. Most nights, I'm trying everything to block them out and find the sweet release of sleep, whether it's trying to consciously think of other things to block them out, escaping out of my sheets to pace or run in place inside this small room I was given, or getting up to get a snack. Unsurprisingly, none of it works. The rest of the League constantly tease me about my dark circles making me look more villainous all I do is smile, because at least it means I'm part of something now. I would ask them to get me something to busy myself, like a sketch book or a notebook to keep me busy at night, but they aren't my parents; they have no obligation to take care of me and they've already give me a roof over my head and a bed to sleep in.

Little by little, the perceived barrier between us broke down before I realized it.

It started when I took one of my late night trips to the kitchen only to see the light on already. Toga's crooked but innocent smile beams up at me as she twirls a knife in her hand, leaning against the counter. "You're up too, hmm~? Wanna take a trip with me?"

We ended up shrugging on our jackets and masks, walking into the dark, brisk night to the nearest grocery store. "You waited until 2 AM to get pomegranates?" I raised an eyebrow at her zipping straight to the produce section of the market.

"I didn't wanna go alone~" Toga casually responded in her singsongy voice. "A little girl like me shouldn't be out alone at night. Besides, late night shopping in a practically empty supermarket is the best time to go. It's super creepy!" She giggles, filling a plastic bag with three large fruits.

We returned to our hideout and she asked me to help her de-seed them. I slide in next to her, taking the knife out of her hand. Not like I had anything better to do. What was I gonna do, sleep? Sure, okay.

She sliced the fruits in half and held her hands over a large, empty container, using just her hands to push the seeds off the bitter white core, humming to herself. "Are you sure there isn't a more...strategic way to do this?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at the mess she was making of her hands.

Toga just giggled and held my stare with her cat-like yellow eyes. "When it gets all over your fingers, it kind of looks like blood doesn't it?" She shivered in ecstasy as she licked the scarlet juice running down her hands and the knife she cut them with. "Mmm, so sweet."

While I continued, trying to avail to be as clean as possible, taking sips of the tea she made for us while we work. I chanced a few tastes myself, chuckling at my own hands. "You're right, it looks like we've commit murder."

"Right?" she chirped with the widest grin, "Isn't it fun?"

I made a better point to get more juice on my fingers before curling my fingers grossly towards her. "I want your heart, Toga. Give it to me!" I growled.

She giggled and held one of my wrists so she can lick some of the juice off. "Too bad you can't have it."

After we finished gathering the seeds into the bowl, we sat on the couch, munching on them by the handful and finishing our drinks. My eyelids kept drooping as I drank my tea.

"We should go on adventures more often," Toga purred as I near the end, taking my cup, laying me down, and covering my body with a blanket before petting my head. Her voice singing, "Sleep well, (Y/n)" was the last thing I heard before drifting off. It was the best night's sleep I'd gotten in a long while.

A few days later, Kurogiri stopped me from heading to bed while the rest went off. "I heard you and Toga up late a few nights ago. Why don't you help me clean up before going up?"

I agreed, mostly because I would be awake with my thoughts anyway. He had me shining his glasses, climbing up a ladder to dust the top shelves of his bar, wiping down the counters, and organizing his liquor.

"Have some of this, child." He set down a cup of tea and saucer on the counter while I was organizing his top shelf liquor, the clock flashing 1:57 AM. "You've been a big help."

I climbed down carefully and stare down at the translucent, peach colored liquid carefully.

He noticed my cautiousness. "How are you adjusting?"

I tilted the cup around, swishing the liquid around before holding it up to my lips. "It's better than where I was before, thank you."

"I'm glad you're settling in and getting along with the rest."

"It's just Toga so far." I sipped a good portion of the hot liquid, easing down my through smooth as the honey I can taste that he added.

"It'll take time for the others to warm up to you. Shigaraki and Dabi especially don't take to strangers that easily, but they'll come around." His cold, portal enclosed hand rested on my head. "We're happy to take you in as our family, (Y/n)."

I smiled at his assurance of me, nodding in gratitude, but still hesitant about feeling that I fit in here.

We talked for a while more until I finished his tea and he sent me off to bed. Though reluctant - I even offered to do more cleaning up to keep myself there - he insisted I leave. I trudge to my room, the exhaustion in my bones and muscles more apparent than usual. I know this old trick; even when I'm fatigued, my thoughts still keep me up. But as I ease under the blanket and close my eyes, I feel myself pulled down into sleep without interference. I started thinking there was something in the tea.

It took a while for Shigaraki to come around, as Kurogiri said. He heard the rustling of me rolling around in bed on his way back from getting a glass of water from the kitchen. "Hey, you still awake?"

I turned over and sat up. "Am I bothering you? I'm sorry-"

"You wanna come play games with me?" It was an unexpected question. He never talked much to me so I figured he wanted to keep his distance.

But I still agreed, ending up in his dark room where only the TV cast its artificial light over us. He pulled up another pillow for me to sit with him, leaning back against the mattress and box-spring stack. He resumed his game, some kind of RPG with amazing art and storytelling. The main character had jet black hair and traveled with three other guys of varying talents and personalities. They seemed to have a great relationship together as they trekked across their virtual world in a fancy car. (1000 brownie points if you know which game i'm referencing)

There was a hilarious part in the game where the crew rode on the backs of these fluffy, yellow birds that were the size of ostriches. "What's the point of this part?" I asked curiously.

Shigaraki beamed at the screen, his chapped lips spreading in joy. "It's just something you always have to do in these games."

My eyes remained glued to the screen. Shigaraki wouldn't ask me if I wanted to play after one time, which I appreciated. I'm not too good at playing games, I prefer watching other people play them from the sidelines. I followed the complicated story line, impressed with how fleshed out the world is, the detail in the art, and the power system interface. If I were better at gaming, I'd understand how amazing it would feel playing it; I was immersed in it even as a spectator.

The game got to a cave-crawling segment. The eased up voice acting, ambient noise, and dimmed lighting made my eyes heavy. I didn't want to fall asleep in Shigaraki's room, but I also knew that I wouldn't be able to sleep if I went back to mine.

"You can sleep if you want. Get comfortable."

Though he didn't particularly use a motherly voice like Kurogiri, I understood he was trying to come off the same way. I ended up laying on my head on my pillow, sprawling onto the floor on my stomach, the noise of the game slowly lulling me off to sleep. In the morning, I would wake to a blanket pulled over my body. It somehow became a weekly occurrence; we wouldn't talk to each other, but the silence was comfortable. It was reassuring that I didn't always need that strange tea to put me to sleep.

Late nights with Twice are probably my favorite. He's like a huge dad, or much older big brother. I connected with him on a more emotional level than the rest. If I found myself in the kitchen rummaging for snacks, he'd come up and pick out a bunch and sit us at the table with some tea.

"I have trouble sleeping too sometimes," he admitted, popping some chips in his mouth. "I was lonely before I found these guys. I had no one but myself, and the many versions of myself weren't the most forgiving on me either."

I stared down at my glass of warmed milk. "So your thoughts were actually told out loud to you all the time?" I whispered softly.

"Yup." He blinked before waving his hands in front of his face wildly. "But that doesn't mean I had it worse than you, that's not what I'm saying at all! Your problems are just as valid and important and-!"

"It's okay, I understand."

He offered a sympathetic lopsided smile. "I know you've been through a lot, kid, and it probably feels like a lot and nothing at the same time. The times when it feels like a lot will hurt, and that's okay. You'll get through it and grow up to deal with it in your own way. And there is a light at the end of the tunnel, believe me. You can't see it now, but it's there. Keep fighting through it." He touched my hand over the glass. "I'm here for you, we're here for you."

I felt like crying, suddenly choked up by the bitter nostalgia of missing my parents. "You'd be a great Dad, Twice." I tried to cover for my tears and unsteady voice by clearing my throat and rubbing my eyes.

He hummed in response. "I've always wanted a kid. Things never ended up that way though."

I found myself finally sobbing at his misfortune piling on top of mine. "That's really shitty actually," I choked out.

He handed me a tissue to wipe my face with. "Let it out, kid. Sometimes it's good to just cry it out."

And I did, until I finally sobbed myself to sleep at the table, and Twice picked up and returned me to my bed, tucking me in like the soft dad he should've been.

Dabi remained the hard nose one, keeping his distance and looking down on me. Like Shigaraki, walked by my room while I was tossing around, but he stood over my bed. "Hey. If you don't go to sleep, I'm putting you to work."

Put me to work he did, sending me out to fetch him snacks, cards, or cigarettes. Once, he decided to join me and we ended up on the roof of our abandoned building after coming back from the convenience store. The stars already dusted the sky as Dabi lit the cigarettes with his blue flames just for fun, watching them disintegrate into ash in front of his eyes. I never knew how to get him to open up, he's too gruff for me to start a conversation with him, so I stuck to being mesmerized by his flames.

"What's on your mind that you can't sleep, kid?" he finally asked, breaking the awkward silence and cutting off his quirk to stare me hard in the eyes.

"N-Nothing." I hated to admit it, but I'm scared of Dabi the most. Both him and Shigaraki can end my life in a fraction of a second, but Dabi overall has the scarier aura. "Just...thinking."

After a few more moments of braving his stare, he looked up. "Yeah, we all do that a lot, don't we? Us damn human can't help but think. It'd be nice if we can pull the cord sometimes, yeah?"

"I guess," I answered carefully.

He studied me again out of the corner of his eye before flickering back up. "Do you ever think that's why none of us survive well alone? We need other people to distract us all the time because then we'd get stuck in our heads, and we all know how dangerous that can be if we're stuck there for too long. It never ends well." He adjusts himself, placing his hands behind his head to rest his neck. "We all got demons, kid. It's what makes us stronger, but you gotta grow from them first. And I guess that's what the rest of us are for, so if you need us, you know what to do."

It was with Dabi that I realized he had a point. I'm not alone anymore and none of the others seem to think of me as a stranger or a stupid little kid they have to be responsible for. I'm a member of this group now, I should rely on them as support, just not in the traditional way.

How I ultimately ended up here doesn't help any of the awful things I tell myself or what happened to me, but being here definitely helps, especially when I'm surrounded by people who subtly share solidarity with for now.

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #league of villians x reader #dabi #toga himiko #mha twice #kurogiri #shigaraki #request #platonic #gender neutral reader #comfort #league of villains imagine #league of villains scenario #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction

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heli0s-writes · 4 years

Text

simple math*

More smut because I’m a mess. Happy Saturday to all my sluts and I say this in the kindest way. Thanks for your patience! I know these prompts were sent in weeks ago :’)

Read this first

voyeurism: I’ll write my/your character watching the other having sex/masturbating // triolism: I’ll write our characters in a threesome. Please stop reading if you are not 18+

brooklyn born masterlist

Bucky gets it in his head after the kitchen incident. He’s giddy like a kid in a candy store with the idea that Steve fucking Rogers might be a pervy voyeur under all that perfect virtue.

“Shoulda known,” he says the next night, “I used to take girls back to our place in Brooklyn and he’d be asleep— bet he really wasn’t.”

“Stop.” You shove the heels of your palms to your eyes like you’re trying to blind yourself. You haven’t been able to look at Steve all day. It’s beyond embarrassing; it’s excruciating. Every time you think about it your stomach feels like it’s going to launch itself out of your mouth.

“Think about it.”

“What.”

“Think about it, darlin’. You wanna?”

He waggles his eyebrows and winks. Horny little boy? Yeah, Bucky Barnes sure fucking is. Newly discovered, so’s his other favorite person in the world.

Numbers are adding up. He’s counting his coins at the register and getting a nice little indulgence for himself.

“Very funny, Bucky,” your voice comes out shaky.

“Oh, honey,” Bucky corrects, “I ain’t laughing.”

Opportunity presents itself in the form of a shared hotel room and two queen beds a few weeks later. You’d forgotten all about his vile teasing—the suggestion he whispered into your ear that night as fingers danced up your belly, breath hot on your neck, invoking a newfound fixation.

You didn’t mind in the kitchen, baby. Bites at your earlobe and you melted into his hands. Maybe Stevie can watch, huh? See you all pretty like this. I know he’d like it. I would too—don’t you wanna make me happy?

Little deviant. Pushed all the right buttons and you mindlessly blabbered at something novel and vulgar and exciting. Uh huh yeah—okay—Buck—yeah, I wanna make you happy.

Bucky slots himself up behind you in the queen-size tonight, cleverly arranging your body so you’re facing Steve’s back in the dark. It’s not two minutes after you shut your eyes that he rucks the back of your shirt up, deliberately noisy. Warm hand splayed over your spine, he begins rubbing in small circles at first, then broad strokes following.

“You smell good, darlin’. Hmm… Feel good.”

Heat rushes up to your cheeks because what the fuck, Bucky.

“Go to sleep,” You scoot away until you’re nearly falling off, eyes faithfully shut. “Buck—swear to god,” you hiss, “You better stop.”

“Why? Stevie’s awake. He likes it, isn’t that right? You said you didn’t mind, pretty girl.”

It hits like a ton of bricks that yes, technically you said yeah sure, I’d like that—uh huh��letting Steve watch—but your last two braincells were obviously named stupid and shameless. Your heart feels like it’s stopped beating as you try to defend yourself.

“Th-that’s not what I meant--" but the prickle of gooseflesh running down your neck gives it away.

A quiet rustle as legs across the scant space move over sheets and beneath covers. You hear Steve turn, feel the warm air radiate from him. The bed only a stride away from your face squeaks quietly. Two feet touch softly on padded carpet.

“What did you mean?”

Slowly, you open your eyes, taking a chance to see his expression, tacking your hopes on the possibility that he’d be disgusted—it’d be a misunderstanding—and the heat in your cheeks, your belly, can all vanish with an apology.

Instead, he’s moved to the edge of the bed, leaning over slightly like he’s magnetized to your side of the room. He’s switched the lamp on, the backlit yellow obscuring his face, but you can see the flame in Steve’s eyes. Flickering. Hungry.

He’s still dressed as he was for bed—shirt, boxers—but his palm is over his thigh, fingers gently curling.

Cock hard.

Immediately, the heat in your belly rushes to your fingers and toes. Catches you on fire. A shudder and a shy nod. You guide Bucky’s hand to your pants.

With a delighted laugh, Bucky pulls down your sweats, your underwear, and then his own boxers. His other hand grips the back of your head, tugging your head until Steve can see your face. You must look a wreck with your heartbeat so jumpy and loud and your body shivery hot under his gaze.

Steve slides his palm over the tent in his boxers and you follow the motion of his hand, up, down, rubbing the tip. He thumbs the waistband, pulls it all the way off, and the sight of him, just as exposed, frantically turned on with that thick, heavy, incredible thing between his legs.

Fuck. Fuck. Oh, Jesus Christ in heaven. Fuck.

Steve’s ruddy face blurs pink when Bucky pushes his way in, agonizing and slow. Easy, too, because you’re dripping already. He works leisurely, panting in your ear, tickling your neck with until you writhe. He doesn’t give you all of it. Just a little to keep you needy.

“Isn’t she sweet?”

A hiss from between Steve’s teeth and he nods, the softest of yeahs cutting through the tension. You hear him say it again, louder and raspier, and good fucking god, it’s making you so thrilled to be wanted like this. Eaten with greedy eyes. Licked by the gaze of blistering yearning.

Bucky stills himself at your entrance, sliding his cockhead up and down your slit, slippery wet and messy. You try to push back onto him, itching for more—so ready for more—but he holds you still with one hand on your hip.

“Christ, Buck—" Steve groans when you mewl at him like he could do something about this situation. Thin cover around your shoulders, hair splayed out on the pillow—a perfect picture. He’d give you anything you asked for, but—he’s not in charge and Bucky’s an awful tease.

The air is heavy with damp breaths. You can smell yourself. Smell Bucky. Smell Steve. Electric and wanting.

Bucky moves. He lifts himself up, puts you turned-around on his lap, and scoots to the edge of the bed. You press your back flat against his chest, ground yourself on your palms, let him spread your thighs wide. Your head is spinning—it’s all too much. Opened up, exposed—and Steve, watching you with his cock in his hand, knuckles white from fisting so hard.

“Fuck,” Steve mutters, pumping himself, eyes fixed on the way you bounce with Bucky inside again, “Fuckin’ hell. God, you’re taking it so good.” Groans as he swipes at more leaking precome and smears it all down his shaft. “Fuck, I could watch you forever.”

Bucky is nipping at your shoulder, at the nape of your neck when he starts weighing his options, counting his coins, cashing in on as much indulgence as he can. Too much of a good thing? Not for Bucky Barnes. He’s gonna take all the good he can get, especially when you’re giving it to him.

“You want her, pal?”

And the blue flames of Steve’s irises blow out black.

“Y-You sure?”

Bucky grins, “Hey. My two favorite people? Doing my favorite thing to each other? It’s simple math, Stevie.”

Steve laughs, looks at you sweetly, chewing on his lip, “And you, honey?”

And what the fuck is it with Steve Rogers looking like he could swallow you whole while calling you honey in the kindest voice that gets you going? And Bucky, too, loving you and him enough to do something so new and exhilarating—so full of trust and care? The way you nod immediately must look shameless and stupid, but you’re nodding all the same.

So Bucky retreats from your quivery body—alight with enthusiasm—and Steve scoops you into his arms. It’s a bit awkward at first, rearranging limbs and getting it right, but he’s gifted with insight, having seen what Bucky does to you. You’re arching and gasping, pawing at his chest, eyes rolled up so high you’re seeing heaven.

“Fuck—” Steve grunts, dragging his cock in and out, hitting firm and deep, “—Fucking hell.”

“You kiss your mother with that mouth, Rogers?” Bucky teases until Steve kisses you, instead, “Oh—I like that.”

Steve’s tongue slips in, licking yours, wet and warm. He’s moaning raggedly, noises so foreign and similar to what you hear from Bucky, whispering your name, praising your body. You’re saying his name, saying good, Steve—feels so good like that—and it makes him even hotter.

“Gonna come—” Steve groans, finish line in sight, “Fuck, I’m gonna come. You’re so good—you feel so fucking good, baby.”

You hurdle through first, crying out as you convulse around his cock, milking him, squeezing him, throwing him over the edge, too. Steve slows after a few more rolls of his hips, burying his head next to yours, gasping between kisses to your neck. When the two of you look at each other, you can see astonishment and bashfulness alight in his eyes.

So naturally, you kiss him. And he kisses back.

“Buck,” you murmur playfully behind Steve’s soft lips, “What have you done?”

Bucky’s still sprawled out from his position when you peek over, smitten smile lopsided and goofy. His hands are benignly to his side, tissues balled up on the end table, boxers discreetly pulled up before anyone noticed.

“You like that?” He asks.

You nod. Steve does too.

“Good,” Bucky winks, satisfied. “Let’s do it more often.”

#marvel #smut #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #stucky x reader #fanfiction #reader insert

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peeterparkr · 3 years

Text

The Holiday.|Tom Holland

chapter two: Pride and Prejudice (Jane Austen)

↳ read Sophia’s version here and Tom’s phone call. (Tim fic) BY @jambrosemc

There’s two sides to the story, the Tom fic written by me and the Tim fic by @jambrosemc for thw full experience (though you don’t need to) be sure to check out both!

STORY SUMMARY: Two women troubled with guy-problems, one who’s in love with love and one who doesn’t believe in it are both suffering from a broken heart, with little reasoning and nothing left to lose, they swap homes in each other’s countries for the holidays, where they’ll meet a local guy who will probably change their destiny.

chapter summary: new beginnings and first impressions pairing: tom holland x y/n | warnings: Chad word count: 7.8k

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You had gone through every single stage of a broken heart before, every single one of them. Haircuts. Wine. Clubbing. Reading. New life. Sobbing on the floor. Denial. Sort of acceptance. Working out. Eating your feelings. Coffee shops.Bars. Sleeping all day. Not sleeping at all. But this? Exchanging homes with a complete strange and travelling to the other side of the world? This was crazy. Completely crazy, and yet, you didn’t want to back off. This was the one thing that, if it didn’t work, you were screwed.

This was certainly not what you had imagined you’d end up doing for the Holidays, yet it was better than any other idea you’d come up with, because maybe, though you tried to avoid the thought of knowing damn well you’d feel lonelier in a foregin place, it’d help you get out of your suffering.

“So, okay, we went through dog food already right?” You asked, as you were on the back of the Uber on your way to the airport, your dog was still your number one concern.

You were on the phone with Sophia, the british woman who had her life sorted up. “We did, yep.” She paused, thoughtfully. “And I told you everything about the shop and it’s hours?”

You were getting cold feet, honestly. “Yes, right, but… I don’t have to worry about opening right?” You asked her. “That guy…. what was his name?” You couldn’t remember. “Ted? Opens up right?”

“Tom,” she cleared up. Of course, how could you forget his name, his name was the same as your damned dog. “And no you don’t. He’ll take care of it all, or should. She got off the phone for a bit but then turned back to you. “If you don’t mind, keep me updated about him though?”

“Oh, of course, I wouldn’t trust a man either, “ you laughed. “I’ll check on him.” If you had the time, you were going to make yourself explore the city.

“Thanks.” She sounded relieved. “And I’ll of course update you on Tommy.”

You were so nervous of leaving your dog to a stranger, maybe you could tell your brother to go and check on him, too. Yeah, you needed to give Tim a call. “Please, I’ve never been away from my baby… “ You pleaded and then went through the basics on your head. “Uh, so the keys are under the porch thing I told you.”

“Right, and I put mine on that book,” she recalled.

“Right, right…. “ And then suddenly you were arriving at the airport. It had turned real. “Okay so we are doing this.”

“Apparently so… This is a good idea, right?” Sophia asked you.

In all honesty, it wasn’t. This was one of the-if not the craziest idea you’ve ever had, but at the same time it was thrilling. Exciting and inviting and it gave you the opportunity for a story, or time to write one, if you could.

“Having second thoughts now?” You asked, amused. “When we’re both on our way to the airport?”

That was a lie, you were already arriving.

“No, no. I just… I guess I’m just a bit nervous is all,” Sophia admitted.

You chuckled, nervously. “I’m kidding, I’m terrified, too.”

Because who wouldn’t be? This was the one thing that was incredibly terrifying.

“Well, I’m nearly there. I guess there is no going back at this point,” she said.

Because there wasn’t. You were having second thoughts, honestly. Wanting to give up and go back to your boring life. But then again, this was your chance to escape your boring life and this was your chance to actually make something interesting for once in your life.

You finally looked up, the driver was waiting for you as you got out of the car.

“I’m… actually here, so I’ll…” You paused, you couldn’t breathe, your nerves were tickling as you picked your bags and then faced the small airport standing in front of you. “I was gonna say see you on the other side but that’s stupid so… I guess this is a sort of goodbye?” You gulped.

This was it.

“Guess so… I’ll talk to you later?” She suggested.

You wondered if she was losing her shit as much as you were, honestly you wanted to jump and scream. You were excited, but excitement can often be confused with being scared, and you weren’t sure how thin this line was.

You took a deep breath. “Right, and please send me a picture of Danny so I can personally slap him,” you were only half-joking.

“Oh of course, and you’ll have to send one of Chad so I can slap him as well,” she answered with a sort of relief.

“Well, this is…” You were shaking, you closed your eyes. “I…”You paused again. Good luck, here’s to a well deserved break.”

“Good luck to you too.” Sophia on the other side sounded just as scared as you were. “I hope you’re able to clear your mind.”

You hoped so, too. You hope your mind could finally get out of the trance that having Chad was.

“You too, well here goes,” you said before heading to the airport.

“Goodbye then.”

“...Bye.”

You hung up, and suddenly the small airport had never looked any bigger. You were so close to changing your life. Big opportunities, big, big chances. You couldn’t possibly dare. But you were there, at the airport, so hugely standing in front of you. You felt very small, that was nothing new. You always did feel small, The world was waiting for you.

But you were not ready for it. You were going to back away, you felt fear invading your stomach, you stepped back, but then you saw a couple, kissing in the distance, you felt sorry for yourself. You couldn’t keep longing for that if you never risked anything. You couldn’t continue saying you were tired of being a secondary character if you didn’t risk doing main character things. This was just halfway to it.

You finally stepped in and made your way across it.

Because this was the first time you ever did anything, this was the first time you were getting lost in a dream, and letting yourself slip into time and actually going through with things. The day had been sunny. This was supposed to be your day. You wondered if people even turned to see you, you were nothing important, not really standing out from the crowds. But they didn’t know you were having the biggest adventure of a lifetime. Silly to think.

As soon as you were sitting on the plane, you knew you couldn't back away now and this was it. This was it, a new beginning, tarnishing every single fear upon you, you tried to mingle your feelings and calm down your nerves. You knew it was the right choice, otherwise you’d end up curled up on your sofa, digging your nose into each and every one of the books you’ve read already and staring at the ones waiting to be read, but never did for a reason or another. You couldn’t have another Christmas like that, this was it, not another one with you trying to avoid the question of why you were lonely again on Christmas and giving an excuse for each year. Sure, you’d be lonely but at least you didn’t need to answer questions about it. Besides, who knows, this was your chance, and you were already in the place so you couldn’t do much. You had an open window for freedom, for lessons to be learned and—Probably not that much, honestly. It was just a trip, how much can a trip change your life?

A handsome man had walked in, and smiled at you. He was around your age, gentle smile and blue eyes. This was your first sign, because you did believe in them, mo matter how stupid you believed life found a way to tell us we were doing the right choices, only you’d always avoided them. Yes, it had been the right choice. Who knows? Maybe you’d end up finding love in a plane. Oh who were you kidding, you probably had no chance, and you were proven you wouldn’t right away as you saw the man’s beautiful girlfriend sitting right beside him.

You wouldn’t find a chance like that, you were not a main character. You’d always known you were a plot device. There were main characters, secondary characters and plot devices. You were the last one.

Your phone dinged. And the sound made you shiver. A friend of yours had once advised to give a specific notification sound for Chad, so therefore you’d avoid it. Needless to say, it had been counterproductive since you would dream with that sound and hope you’d end up hearing it every day.

But this was different. This wasn’t him answering to another one of your lame attempts to start up a conversation. Chad had been the one who reached out to you.

“Hey, y/n! Couldn’t see you after the party, are you up for tonight?”

You only stared at the text. This was the reason why you needed to get out. Him reaching out and your heart jumping a little. You needed some willpower. You couldn’t let yourself fall again for the lie his lips were, you couldn’t let yourself be tangled against the sheets with a man who didn’t love you as he should, who didn’t love you for that matter.

“I’m going on vacation. London. “ you answered.

He texted back, quickly. That was a first. “First vacation in three years is turning point.

It was, for sure. “Yeah.”

He didn’t answer.

“Congrats on your engagement.” Though you did not mean it.

“Thanks xx. So, when can we facetime?” He asked.

With all the pain in your heart, but with the same courage you’d taken to finally go away you said: “We both know I need to fall out of love with you. Would be great if you would let me try.”

You sent it and then turned your phone off.

You didn’t need any more Chad. This was it, the one time you needed to escape and this was your chance.

A chance to finally get away from him for real, a chance to forget it. And to not feel deplorable on Christmas. You needed to forget him, you couldn’t stay with someone who didn’t celebrate your love. You needed to be loved and though you knew you wouldn’t find love in London, maybe you could learn to love yourself. It was the main reason why you knew you loved Chad, because you didn’t stand up for your own.

You slept for most of the flight, then connected to the other one and then it was real. You had left the US, and off to the other side of the water. Maybe it hit you until that point, the last person you’d ever gone on vacation with had been Chad and this--- No, this was the reason why you were leaving, your mind had to stop going back and forth with him.

Before you knew it, you were in London, the dawn welcoming you in all your esplendor. And it felt… different, and it hit you. For the first time you’d gotten out of your little cage and this was big. This probably had been the best idea, though crazy, the best idea you’d ever had. You were out, you were in a city that was giving you endless possibilities to wander, and to explore and endless possibilities to find yourself.

Someone had once told you that to find yourself, you’d have to be lost first, you had never felt more lost in your life, so this was your chance, to get even more lost in a city, and this was your chance, to get out there.

It was raining as you’d arrived, and as you’d ran out of the airport, small droplets had fallen on you. You could go straight to the house, but something about trying new things had gotten on to you.

It felt like Christmas, in a way. Everyone walked with their coats and umbrellas and scarfs around their necks, people who were busy, people who weren’t. People walking into shops, and people walking to their jobs, and drunken people walking out of the pubs, welcoming the sun.

The city lights felt magical, and you had always loved the feeling of being away from the ocean on Christmas. But now, this was a city, full of possibilities. This was exciting.

You’d seen places you’d seen in movies before, there was a nearby park, you thought about going there later, and exploring a nearby market. You’d be walking all day. Kensington, this place was absolutely gorgeous. And just 6 minutes away from Notting Hill, you still had the thought of the fantasy in your mind. But then… suddenly you were there, standing in front of the bookstore that would be your home for two weeks. Sophia had warned you there was a way in from the shop, and another one from the other place, but the key would be in the bookshop, inside this specific book.

You had walked into the bookstore, a bell had rang as soon as you’d opened the door, you had looked up, it was decorated, elegantly, christmas lights hanging on the shelves, the place was small and comfortable, topped with books here and there, taken out of your dreams, it was small, but it gave a sort of feeling that it was eternal. Infinite place where you could read books over and over. You’d seen the guy-Tom, you assumed, look up and hint a smile as he was talking to an old lady about a book, he was carefully listening to her, so attentive.

“Oh, eh, uh, morning,” he managed to say. He had turned to give you a second glance, you locked eyes with him for a brief second, he had smiled again and then turned away.

“Morning,” you answered.

You’d barely looked at him, but you couldn’t help but notice he was attractive. Very attractive. Had you… blushed? You quickly shook the thought away, this was no time to crush on an english boy, besides this was the guy who probably was in love with Sophia, and you were the plot device, you knew that, you couldn’t even bother to look at him. No, you couldn’t.

Besides, were you that desperate? So incredibly drawn to something you knew would lead nowhere. And how quick were you to jump to conclusions from barely a glance. A smile, a very pretty smile, that crinkled his eyes. No, you couldn’t keep staring

He kept talking to the lady, you could barrel and overhear the conversation as you, still with your luggage, strolled through the places, touching the books, books you’ve read, books you hadn't.

“Yes, I want to give this to my granddaughter, I love this book, Momo,” the old woman explained.

“Incredible read,” the british man answered with a grin. “Michael Ende is-”

Michael, he said Michael, not ‘Michael’, he knew how to pronounce it. Like it was supposed to be pronounced. In german, not like you’d pronounce your friend’s Michael name. Mi- cha- el. Not sure why that had made him even more appealing—No, you couldn’t do this to yourself. This was old y/n kind of thinking, to get out of a broken heart. You always did this, try to fixate on someone else to get over Chad. It never worked. But you were in London, but—No. He was Sophia’s coworker, Sophia’s friend and he was most likely in love with her. Someone like him had to love someone like her.

However, it didn’t hurt if you looked again. Or—did it?

You decided you could look at the guy once again, his eyes brightened up as he watched the woman ramble. He was so delicate, yet bold. Handsome, very. Under his sweater he probably was hiding some well defined muscles, you could tell, not that it mattered, but it did grow something more appealing to him. He was very handsome. Not in a conventional way for your taste, so different from the guys back home. He carried a certain sensuality, but was also heavy on being adorable. A very dangerous combination. His lips were small, his jawline defined, but his sight… As if that pair of eyes could paralyze you, tender eyes with a hint of joy and innocence. He wasn’t innocent, though, he could look, but he wasn’t. He was tapping his fingers, anxiously and he took deep breaths as he listened and gave the lady wider smiles and melodious chuckles. He had blushed at the old lady’s remark that he was handsome, you agreed. His lips were dry, probably from the cold, and he licked them too much while he was speaking to the lovely lady in front of him. His eyes were surrounded by some-not so heavy dark circles, but you could tell he hadn’t probably slept. You wondered why.

You liked to observe people, you were a writer so you liked those little details that people didn’t stop to look at, like the way he would bite his inner cheeks while listening, or raise his eyebrows with surprise every now and then. You liked those details, thinking one day you’d have enough to build up a person, made completely out of details.

You looked away once again, fearing he’d notice your staring and strolled through the books, the arrangement was impeccable, of course Sophia would have the place perfectly ordered. But there were some books here and there that didn’t—make sense for your taste. Or didn’t make sense at all, like an autobiography in a section that was definitely for fairytales.

You heard the bell ring again, an old man. Early 80’s, you guessed, he used a clutch. He wore a vest, a cardigan on top, and a very nice green beret on top of his head, a grey scarf around his neck, he had a coat, still covered from the rain. He seemed adorable.

“Good morning, Thomas!” He greeted him.

Tom smiled. Felt weird knowing his name without having met him yet.“Henry, good morning, I’ll be there with you in a second, I’m here with lovely Doris,” he announced, still listening to the lady.

The old man, Henry gave him a smile and then looked at you. “Good morning, young lady, it’s pouring isn’t it?”

“Morning,” you answered, shyly. “Seems to be.”

“Ah, american, interesting,” he pointed out, his voice was cheerful, old but you could tell he was a lovely human being. “What brings you here to a lovely bookshop in London?”

You smiled. “An adventure,” you said without thinking about it. It sounded better in your head.

He smiled, “I love that answer,” he pointed out. “What kind of adventure?”

You looked around the shop, “Don’t know yet,” you admitted. “I’m trying to find a good story.”

He grinned, “Hm what kind of story?”

“Don’t know,” you admitted again. “I’ll keep looking through the books.”

“Oh,” he nodded slowly. “I thought you wanted a story for yourself.”

“Myself?” you chuckled. “No, I’m good at reading someone else’s. Not good enough to be one myself.”

He stared at you, kindly. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” he declared, and then looked at the shelves. “What to read now.” It amazed you how big of a main character he was, too, you’d probably love to write about him. He turned to you. “You seem… Like a reader.”

“I am,” you said. Though, lately you’d been stuck reading the same ones, never wanting a new story.

“Do you have any suggestions?” He asked.

You grinned, “Well, I guess it depends,” you said. “What do you feel like reading?”

He shrugged and gave you a tender smile, his eyes were shining. “Romance, perhaps?”

“What kind of romance?” You asked, following the same path he had when asking you questions.

“Classic.”

You gave it a thought, he probably had read Shakespeare already, he seemed like a connoisseur. But, somehow, you looked him in the eye and knew your answer. “Love in the time of Cholera, have you read it?” you asked.

“Surprisingly, I have not,” the man seemed perplexed.

“Gabriel Garcia Marquez, it’s… about true love that endures and overcomes adversity for a lifetime, it is a tribute to love, adventure, time, old age and death, ” you said. “It’s an ode to true love.”

“Sounds lovely,” he said. “Well, can you help me find it, please? I’d ask young Thomas but he’s there talking to lovely Doris there.”

“Of course,” you grinned. You proceeded to walk through the store trying to find the book, hoping they would have it.

“What’s your name young lady?” Henry asked.

“Y/N y/l/n” you answered simply.

“Hm, a main character name,” he pointed out.

You shook your head. “You’re wrong about that,” your eyes kept looking through the shelves.

“I’m Henry, Henry Abbot,” he said. “It’s a pleasure to meet Miss y/l/n.”

“Pleasure is mine.”

You needed that book and... It was not in the poetry section, which had you perplexed, they had to have it. “Oh.”

“Is it not here?” Henry asked.

“It’s not,” you frowned. “It’s-”

“Hello, Henry, hi, hello, is there anything I can help you with?” Tom had asked as he had snuck behind, you accidentally stepped back and bumped into him, causing him to knock down two books.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” you said. You were an idiot.

“No, don’t be, it’s alright, it’s my fault, I should’ve announced myself,” Tom answered with a smile, that you knew was probably a fake customer service smile, as he picked up the books.

You then saw the old woman, Doris walk out with not only the book you’d initially seen her with, but other four, Tom was good at selling, you saw Henry had his eyes on her but proceeded to turn back at you.

You were definitely not expecting Tom, right in front of you, you could smell his cologne, it smelled good. Why the hell had you noticed that? You shook your head, before he could notice any sign of your stupidity.

“Oh, er-”

He only raised his eyebrows with a smile.

It was no secret that you were stupid around men, especially around men who were attractive.

“The young lady, miss y/l/n here is helping me,” Henry intruded quickly. “She recommended a book.”

“Oh,” Tom grinned. “Thanks for helping me out with Henry, did you not have trouble giving him a recommendation?” He turned to you again. “He’s read everything,” he said with complicity.

You only smiled and shook your head.

“She didn’t,” Henry pointed out. “Gave me an option right away, perhaps she should have your job instead,” Henry joked.

Tom brought his hand to his chest, hurt. “Henry; now why would you say that to me? Thought we were friends.”

You chuckled and turned to Tom, “Love in The Time of Cholera, Gabriel Garcia Marquez,” you said. “That’s the book—I thought it would be here.”

Tom turned to you, his eyes were even prettier than you thought they were. No, you had to stop. You couldn’t be attracted to him.

“Oh,” Tom was surprised by your statement. “Yeah, yeah, he’s… mexican, right?”

“Colombian,” you corrected.

“Yeah, yeah, it should be--” Tom recalled and then walked to the other side, he searched through the titles and then finally found it in the language section. “There, this one?”

“This is not in the right section,” you said.

“Why not I put it there myself this morning—“Tom chuckled, handing over the book to Henry. “Another one, or shall I help you check out, Henry?”

Henry smirked. “No, I want to know why she believes is in the wrong section.”

“This is romance,” you cleared up, as if it was obvious already.

“Oh?” Tom raised his brows.

“It’s in the Spanish section,” you continued.

“He… speaks spanish,” Tom said.

You only stared at him, in shock. Any kind of sign of attractiveness had been completely erased.

“Besides,” Tom smirked. “You were looking for it at the poetry section, not romance novels,” he pointed out.

“I…” You blinked. You had said that particular book for another reason. It was the book where Sophia had told you she’d hidden the key. She told you she’d moved the book from the romance novels to the poetry section.

Tom reached the counter, holding the book himself. You tried to reach for him,

“Ah, er, can I see it for a second?”

Tom furrowed his eyebrows, and grimaced. “Hm?”

“Yeah, let me see if it’s… The one I meant,” you lied.

He watched you skeptically. “Umm… why wouldn’t it be?”

Henry watched between you both, humored.

“I….please?” You begged.

“Oh, don’t be rude to the pretty lady,” Henry pushed. “Let her see the book.”

Tom opened his mouth but defeatedly handed you the book. You mouthed a quiet thanks and then skimmed through it, trying to find the keys. They were not there.

Weird. There was no key. You blinked with surprise and looked up at Tom, who seemed pleased.

“Is it?” Tom asked.

“Yeah—It is,” you handed it over. Tom had a mischievous look on his face, he was humored by this situation.

“She’s American, and looking for a story of adventure,” Henry said to Tom.

“We all are, aren’t we?” Tom mentioned.

Henry looked between the both of you. “Are you here for the holidays, ma’am?”

So formal. “I am.”

“Traveling with your significant other, I presume,” Henry said while Tom was checking the book out.

“I—Well,” suddenly you felt lonely. “That position hasn’t been filled at the moment.”

Henry smirked, and then looked at Tom quickly then back at you. “With family, then?”

“I—No, I came here alone,” you explained. “

“So, it’ll be £11.03, Henry,” Tom interrupted as he put the book in a bag.

Henry looked at Tom, “where’s lovely Sophia?”

“I’d like to know, too,” Tom answered. “It’s not like her not showing up. She hasn’t called me back.”

Henry nodded.

You were confused. Had Sophia not told Tom she’d left? It felt like it was your time to intrude, but before you could explain, Henry looked at you and said. “Go give this young lady a story, Thomas.”

The man left.

“I—“you coughed. “Sorry, uh—“

Tom had a wide smile. “So… what can I actually help you with? Miss y/l/n, Any book in—“

“I well, I—“ you couldn’t speak.

Tom chuckled. “Yeah? Or are you going to complain about another book arrangement.”

“I wasn’t complaining, I'm just… very observant, alright?”

He grinned. “Well, did you observe anything misplaced?”

“Well, I did see a fairytale on the autobiographies sections,” you admitted.

Tom blinked, perplexed. “Huh we did that yesterday,” he was surprised. “Oh right but--” He coughed. “So, well, you’re seeking for an adventure book-”

“Not exactly,” you answered.

“What then, romance?”

You blinked. What did he mean by that?

“You seem like you read romance,” he pointed out.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You questioned him, chuckling lightly.

He grinned. “Nothing, you just--suggested a romance book easily to Henry,” he pointed out. “It’s a good one, it broke my heart, in a good way.”

“You’ve read it?” You asked. He didn’t seem like someone who’d read romance. He… honestly didn’t look like someone who read, at all. Of course, you should never judge a book by its cover but of course the cover always tells us a lot, a name and an author at least. You knew his name, who was the author?

He smirked. “It’s ugly, and it’s sad-”

“But it’s love,” you finished his sentence, quoting the book. “Yeah,” you smiled, not believing he had actually read it. “Great book. You don’t seem like someone who’d read that.”

“I’m a sucker for those kinds of stories,” he admitted. “Don’t look like it, but I love that, soulmates and everything.”

You chuckled. “Me too,” you said.

“To think that two people are destined to find each other even when life pulls them apart,” he said. “And I mean he… waited 50 years.”

“Yes, he did, even when she’d made the mistake to reject him.”

“Sometimes that’s how love is,” he shrugged. And it was, you knew that.

“It is,” you said. “It’s complicated.”

“The book? Or love?” He looked into you, with a certain mischief.

“Both, I guess,” you said,calmly. “But I mean that’s the magic of that book, love is complicated and so is the book.”

“But also, it’s not-I mean, I loved it, don’t get me wrong but I couldn’t… I understood their love but I’ve-I mean it’s old love.”

You laughed. “Old love?”

He laughed softly to himself, “I mean, it’s not-Something I could relate to.”

“Well, no, because although love is something universal, not one love can be duplicated, love is unique.”

He watched you perplexed. You wondered if you had said something wrong, or if your way of talking about love with a stranger had bothered him. It bothered most people, most people were afraid of love and were confused by the way you saw it, and confused because you’d lost it so many times. Everyone wondered how you kept believing in it after so much pain, but that’s the thing about love, though there is one love, you can truly feel love for.

“I’ve never heard someone putting it that way,” he chuckled. “Love being something we all feel but at the same time… it’s different, yeah.”

Why were you talking about love with this man?

“That’s what I’ve gathered from all the romance novels you assumed I read,” you chuckled. “Love is universal but it’s personal.”

He chuckled and nodded in agreement. “No, I guess… You’re… right, huh, I’ve never seen it that way,” he said. “So do you want another romance novel?”

Was he flirting?

You shook your head. “No,” you smiled. “I’m actually-that book.”

“No, wait, actually…” He interrupted, as he shook his head, probably backing away from flirting. “Sorry...This is bothering me, care showing me where the misplaced book was?” He asked.

You had just told him, was he flirting? You’d never known how to flirt so you wouldn’t know. But you guessed it harmed nobody showing him, you lead the way, still carrying your whole luggage.

But why the hell had you talked about that with a stranger. It felt weird, but he didn’t feel like one. Probably because you’d already known his name. There was something so incredibly familiar to him. So easily had you blurted out the whole love thing, and he probably was scared of it. Most people were, you would understand if he was, too.

“So--here,” you headed and tried to reach for the misplaced book on top of the shelf, as you had some stray sticker had flown and landed directly on your eyes, for your own luck. “Ow!” You tried to get it out but you couldn't.

“Oh, wait, wait, let me help,” he said before. “May I?”

“Yes, please,” you said, You only looked up, he held your chin, which definitely made you nervous, but he stared into your eyes and finally got the sticker out of your eye.

“I’m so sorry, sometimes they get stuck and we don’t see them-“ He said quickly getting his touch out of you.

“No, you’re good, don’t worry,” you said. “So, here’s the lost book.”

He watched you with curiosity and for a brief moment your eyes were locked into one but you quickly looked away. You were not doing this. This was so stupidly cliché, the love conversation with him, having to directly look into your eyes, it was so stupidly cliché and obviously not as romantic as you thought it was going in your head.. You hated it. Because you were not a stupid main character, this was so stupid. This things, in novels, would lead to some kind of romance, but you were not the main character and this was just stupid.

“Yeah, right,” he coughed. “But uh, wait, so for Love in The--eh, the book, yeah, how did- Why were you looking for it in the poetry section? I mean it is… very poetic but,” Tom was confused as he watched you. Felt weird he was looking at you, his eyes had this charm that made you feel like he only was fixated on you.

“I—Well, there were supposed to be some keys in that book,” you explained.

“Hm? Were there?” He asked with fake surprise, but he actually seemed confused.

You frowned. “They were, in that book and it’d be on that section—“

“Hm, doesn’t ring a bell,” he shrugged with a smirk.

“Yeah, in that book, Love in The Times of Cholera,” you pushed. “So—“

“Yeah, I do remember some keys,” he coughed, shaking his head. “But I’m not giving them to you,” he mumbled.

“Sophia told me—wait you’re not—?”You blinked.

“Sophia?” he seemed doubtious.

“Yeah, Sophia, your friend, right she is—in America, at my place, we—switched homes and so she left me the key there—“

“She did now?” He wasn't buying it.

“Yeah,” you continued. “She left, we exchanged homes for the holidays.”

“I--” He chuckled. “What?”

“Didn’t she tell you?”

“Tell me what, exactly?”

“She went on vacation, to my place in America, we switched homes for two weeks.”

He laughed. “I don’t believe you, Sophia doesn’t go anywhere.”

“Yeah, we have that in common,” you pointed out. “But—But—okay, so she’s in America, in Oregon.”

“Why would she go to Oregon?” Tom asked. “Of all places—“

“Yeah, look,” you cleared your throat. Did seem suspicious. “I—we both needed to get away so we switched places, and well—Why don’t you give me the key?”

“So, tell me, miss y/l/n, sorry I’m calling you that it’s what dear old Henry called you, but you’re expecting me to give you the key, to you, a stranger, to my best friend’s home?”

“Yeah...” you heard how it sounded.

“You’re expecting me to believe that?”

Well, he did have a point. “Well, yeah—I— thought she’d told you.“

“Sophia would never do that,” Tom said. You’d learned he was also annoying.

“Yeah, and neither would I, but here I am in London in a bookshop talking to you while holding my luggage, you really think I’m lying?”

He stared at you. “Yeah.”

And there it went, the fantasy had ended. Because you were not a main character in a stupid romance novel.

“You—Look, I know she—But look, she broke up with Danny, and she needed to get away and we—“

“Yeah but this is mental,” Tom said.

“It is,” you admitted. “And I might regret it, alright but I’m already here, thousand miles away and please, can I just have the key? I need a break, I need to-”

“I’m not, I can’t… I’m sorry I just can’t give it to you.”

“Well—Why—Look, we can call her? I don’t know if she’s there yet? But she can prove we actually did this?”

“Still I… Look, I would… recommend you a hotel, I mean-Look. There’s this hotel right beside--It’s on Notting Hill,”

“Please, let’s just… I’ll call her,” you said, taking out your phone. This was stressful enough.

“Oh, no, no, I’ll call her, how do I know it’s not a crazy friend of yours-”

“Crazy?” You frowned. If you had been attracted to the man in front of you, you definitely weren’t now.

“I’m-” He knew he had screwed up. “This is mental,” he whispered. He took out his phone, “She hasn’t answered all day- so-”

“She was on a plane.”

“Uh, huh, for all I know you could be a criminal,” Tom pointed out.

Criminal, he had just been flirting with you second before. “Ah, yeah, I am a criminal,” you snapped. You didn’t like him anymore.

He seemed angry, you didn’t know why.

“If you’ll excuse me,” he said before walking away from you to hear. Of course. You technically didn’t blame him. Still he was rude.

You felt like crying. Again, this wasn’t right. This was the one thing why you’d left. Was this a mistake? It probably was, why else would you feel so small. He was right, this was.. A stranger, you were a stranger. And not in the way one would think, you were a stranger to yourself. Why were you there?

Honestly, you wanted to leave. It… was weird. You wondered why he didn’t believe it. Of course, he wouldn’t believe someone like Sophia would do this, Sophia seemed to be very calculated. Like someone who always knew what she was doing. You guessed you understood that.

But he seemed worried about her. Really Sophia had everything, at least someone was asking her what she was doing. No one questioned you. You watched him, he was angry, or worried or upset, or everything at once.

You could overhear him, just a few lines, you didn’t want to seem like you were intruding.

“The—Well, y/n? I don’t know her name—” He said and turned to you, he watched you from agair and you just nervously looked away. This was unbelievably awkward. “Henry called her—Whatever, no, she doesn’t have them, I have them, who is she?”

Henry had called you ‘Miss Y/L/n”, yes. But now he knew your name. He didn’t know you knew his.

You overheard again. “She is a stranger.”

And then it crossed your mind, Sophia was a stranger. Why the hell had you done this? How had you done this? And you felt it in your stomach, this wasn’t like you. You never did anything. This was risking everything. This was getting out of your shell.

“I… I don’t trust her. I’m… tell her to get a hotel,” you heard him.

This was just not it. You felt dizzy, and anxious and this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. This was supposed to be your fairytale and it felt like the worst nightmare. How was Sophia doing?

At least she didn’t have to deal with anyone closing the door to your place, she’d have Tommy and you were sure the pup received her well.

Tom watched you and turned to his phone and then you knew he was speaking at a lower volume, he probably knew you had overheard him.

Tom was not happy, you could tell. Maybe this was his nightmare, after all, you assumed, he was in love with Sophia.

He walked back to you, still staring at his phone.

“Well, she’s gonna kill me if I don’t give you the keys,” he said, not still sure of it. “Look, I’m-”

“I know you don’t trust me, I get it, but-Look, I am already here, I’m tired, I honestly feel like crap and I’m on a foreign country trying to remain as calm as I coul, look, I get it, I’m doubting it myself, but I trust her, she’s on my place, with Tommy-”

“Who-?”

“My dog, and I’m trusting her with that, so I know, I know, it is...mental or whatever fancy british ass word you used, and I myself can’t quite put my head as to why I did this, I don’t do this kind of stuff, I never do anything like this, and I know, it’s-Weird, and crazy but-You don’t have to be rude, alright? I’m not a criminal, I’m not- I’m just a girl whose heart was broken and needed to escape, and I-and Sophia was, too, okay? So maybe we just-I don’t know, I need to...” You knew your voice had broken a litte, and it surely pissed you off. “And Sophia, if she’s your friend, you’d understand why she’s doing this, she got her heartbroken, she was destroyed, someone made her believe it was her fault she was cheated on,” you pushed. “You know, when I talked to her-”

“You don’t know-”

“Maybe I just met her but I seem to understand her better than you,” you said. “And-and and before you say anything,” he had opened his mouth to complain. “I know, she is calculated, and I know she makes the right decision, but you don’t…Do you know how she feels with the breakup?”

He didn’t answer.

“Look, I don’t… That’s between you and her, alright-I-”

You’d been saved by the bell, literally. A customer had walked in and Tom had to help them out.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and then dug in his pocket. He hesitantly handed them to you, but he didn’t let go as you had your hand reaching for them.

“It—uh, the red one is—“

“From inside the bookshop and the blue one outside,” you nodded. “Yeah, she told me.”

Tom sighed before finally letting the keys fall on your hand. His fingers had brushed lightly, something you would’ve noticed and dreamed about 10 minutes ago, but you weren’t so fond of him now.

“Thank you,” you said and headed to the door where Sophia had told you it would be. At that point you realized, you hadn’t even properly introduced yourself to him.

You didn’t want to, honestly.

You had trouble opening the door but as soon as Tom had turned to you, you managed to open it. You walked in, and as soon as you’d closed the door, you wanted to cry, because it seemed like it was your only talent.

But you went upstairs and found the place, it was so neat, and organized and perfect and… Very office-like. Everything was where it was meant to be, so perfectly organized. Everything had a place. It was so clean. Nothing, nothing out of place. With plants, she’d told you about her houseplants. Elegantly and modernly decorated.

Perfect. So elegant, with a dining table that had stationery on top. Dining table that was used to work? Sophia really didn’t know how to separate her job from her life. You’d known it since she’d told you she lived above her bookshop. Which honestly, you couldn’t blame, your job was writing and you were sure all your writings were scattered around your house. Your place was a mess, really, compared to Sophia’s squared house.

Everything was so in place. The order you needed after the mess you had of a life. Just a glance and you felt… great. You’d even forgotten the whole issue with that random british dude, who, you’d avoid.

This was incredible. You dropped the bags in the middle of the place and ran around her house to discover every little detail, because you knew you’d get to know who Sophia was better by her place.

Her kitchen was impeccable, and her fridge was filled not with any comfort food that you’d been having since Chad, but everything was perfect. You loved to cook, and you’d end up using this kitchen, but you saw it was barely used, you could tell. She probably didn’t cook much.

There was another room, another office, you presumed, though the whole place seemed like an office, too formal and ordered, so organized again, with a small bookshelf, classic books and new ones, never opened. You wondered if she was like you, that couldn’t get to read them. She was a fan of stationery it seemed, and organizers, and post it here and there, color coded. Like everything was there for a reason.

Three pictures, one of her and her family, one with Danny and another one with Tom. He definitely was in love with her.

You explored a bit more. You even feared to be stepping on the floor, fearing you’d ruin it. The place seemed incredibly arranged. You didn’t belong there, but at the same time it was soothing. It was bright, and it helped. As if seeing so much order would help put some order in your own life. The place felt like it was cleaning your mind.

You headed upstairs to the bedroom, and a big bed welcomed you, with a perfect white duvet and plush pillows. You, excitedly ran and jumped to lay down on it.

This was just what you needed.

However, you’d noticed that even though she’d told you you lived with Danny, there was no sight of anyone else living here. It didn’t feel like a couple’s place. It felt… Lonely. There was no sign of someone else who lived there. No home.

But her bed was comfortable. And you were so, so tired. And then again… the bed was so, so comfy. Besides if the math was right, it was 2am back at home, so a nap wouldn’t be so bad. You stared at the ceiling, waiting for an answer. This was it. No, whatever doubt you'd had before, it was erased. This was your chance, sure it was completely crazy, but this… You needed to escape, and you were in a nice place, in Kensington, London. Not in boring Oregon anymore. What was Sophia doing? Was she going through the big mess you were going through?

She probably didn’t feel small. But you decided this was no time to feel small. Though, you were tired, this was no time to pity yourself. So you took a shower, put in some nice clothes and decided to enjoy the day. You were away, you didn’t have to feel sorry for yourself. You’d have time for that later, you were in London, you didn’t need to cry on the other side of the world. You’d done enough crying already. Over a guy named Chad.

You needed to explore London, for God’s sake, you were in Notting Hill, you were no Julia Roberts but who was to say you wouldn’t find your Hugh Grant?

You were sure to bring the keys and made sure to walk out over the exit that was not inside the bookshop. You didn’t want to face Tom. But when you’d walked out, you’d seen him, not as cheerful as the first time you’d seen him. He was pinching the bridge of his nose, and running a hand through his face. He did look out when he’d seen you, you decided, once again, to ignore him. Even though you were sure he had tried to reach for you. But no, you ignored him.

And you would keep ignoring him, this was not time to deal with a british man who was not Hugh Grant.

Timmy fic (Phonecall Tom has)

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