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teamatsumu · 6 months

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wrong twin? (miya atsumu x reader)

summary: you have a massive crush on miya osamu. so the plan is to get closer to him through his twin brother. it’s genius. it’s bound to work. right?

word count: 3008

warnings: fem!reader, fluff, slight angst, swearing, maybe a dash of humor, atsumu being atsumu, him and reader bicker a lot

tags: @keiva1000

When you handed in your application to join the Inarizaki High School volleyball club as manager, you had a very clear agenda in mind, but nobody needed to know about that. You had a good knowledge of volleyball, you had good organizational skills, and you were responsible. They accepted your application in a heartbeat, and were none the wiser of your true intentions behind joining the team.

It was only when you cornered their blond setter after practice one day that you actually said the words out loud.

“Ya want me to do what?” He raised an eyebrow, shoving his volleyball shoes into his backpack.

“Help me get close to him!” You whispered in a conspiratorial tone, looking around to make sure no one was paying attention to you two. Your eyes lingered on Osamu where he was helping Gin clean up. “You’re his twin brother. You’re closest to him. If we hang out more, that would inevitably mean I get to hang out with Osamu more too. And we can become friends. Eventually, I will get him to fall in love with me.”

Atsumu stared at you with a very distinct ‘what the fuck’ look, but you stared right back, determined.

“Yer insane.” He stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder and making his way to the gym door. You followed behind.

“Please, Atsumu!” You begged, following him out of the gym and down the path leading out of the school.

“No!” He responded, not looking back at you. “Ya wanna get close to him, just go talk to him! Why ya gotta drag me into yer crazy schemes?!”

“I can’t just go talk to him, it would be creepy! I need a way into his circle.”

Atsumu gave you another look. “Oh yeah, what yer saying right now isn’t creepy at all.” Sarcasm dripped from his words.

You huffed, scowling at the back of his blond head. Your eyes caught the lights of the corner convenience store, and you felt an idea forming.

“I will buy you an after-practice snack every day for a year.”

Atsumu stopped short, looking back at you. “Yer bein’ serious?”

You gestured to the store up ahead. “We could start right now. I have money on me.”

His answering grin meant you had a deal.

……………………

When you joined the twins for lunch the next day at Atsumu’s desk, Osamu raised an eyebrow.

“It was my idea.” Atsumu explained. “She’s cool so I said we should hang out more.”

Osamu seemed to buy it, shrugging and giving you a welcoming little smile. You felt yourself flush, giddy as you pulled up a chair and sat down next to Atsumu, opposite to his brother.

“Oh sweet, are those pancake rolls?” Osamu asked when you opened your bento. You nodded eagerly.

“I made them myself!” You replied, pushing the box closer to him. “Wanna try?”

You knew Osamu liked food (okay, maybe you had stalked him a little), and even though you sucked at cooking, you had meticulously made your lunch today for this very reason. You couldn’t help your grin when Osamu bit into a roll and moaned at the taste, saying it was delicious. You could feel how hot your face was, even the tips of your ears felt warm. Atsumu rolled his eyes in your periphery but you paid him no mind, striking up a conversation with his brother instead.

“Yer like a different person around him.” Atsumu commented later that evening, when you were sitting on the curb outside the convenience store and he was chowing down on a pork bun you had bought him. The rest of the team had gone ahead, most of them too tired to stop for a snack and just wanting to get to bed as soon as possible.

You sighed and shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you. He makes me feel things.”

Atsumu chewed for a little bit, watching you stare at the moth circling the streetlight.

“Gross.”

You slapped him hard on the bicep at that, making him let out an ‘ow!’. He pouted at you as he rubbed his arm, while all you did was roll your eyes in return.

……………………………

Lunch became a normal thing with the twins after that. You would wake up at 5am, cook something new that you thought Osamu might appreciate, and you would watch him devour it, praising you for how good it was. One time, Atsumu had gotten curious and tried to reach for a piece of onigiri, making you smack his hand away. He yelped and clutched it.

“What was that for?!”

“You already get a snack out of me every day, Miya. Keep your paws off my lunch.”

Osamu had snickered at that, and your heart had skipped at the sound, effectively forgetting Atsumu even existed as your focus shifted entirely to his brother. Atsumu grumbled but complied, saying something about ‘’s probably not that good anyway’. You paid him no mind.

You got to know Osamu a lot better during your little lunch sessions. He didn’t talk as much as his brother, but he was perceptive, and a great listener. He seemed to balance out Atsumu perfectly, and you could see how close they actually were. You would often giggle at their banter, witnessing the many foul names they would call each other, but knowing they didn’t mean it at the end of the day.

You often went to their house, under the guise of tutoring Atsumu. At first, Atsumu had told you no one would buy it, but you were adamant to try. And you were right. When you told Osamu why you were there, he snorted in response.

“Figures. This dumb fuck needs all the help he can get.”

Atsumu had yelled and tried to swat at his brother, but Osamu expertly dodged him. You had laughed at their antics.

Your study sessions were often spent with you stealing glances at Osamu from the dining table where you and Atsumu were located. He wouldn’t stick around much, preferring to camp out in their shared bedroom, but you still appreciated every glimpse that you got of him when he wandered down to the kitchen for a snack. Atsumu would nudge you with his knee under the table.

“Be a little less obvious, will ya?”

You stuck a middle finger in his face in response. He grabbed your hand and twisted it a bit, just enough to make you yelp and try to push him away.

“Tsumu, you jerk! Let go!”

“Say sorry!”

“Over my dead body!”

Osamu had to break you two apart sometimes, while you glared at each other from either side of him.

At practice, you would stay late when they needed help perfecting their quick attack, throwing balls so Atsumu could set them for Osamu. On the way back, you would buy Atsumu his daily snack and offer to pay for Osamu’s as well, which he always refused.

“Unlike this tool, I’m not shameless enough to let someone else pay fer me.”

“Hey!”

With every passing day, you felt that you were getting closer and closer to Osamu. Where you had barely exchanged words before, you two could hold long conversations now, and you especially loved when you ganged up to shit on Atsumu, who would be overdramatic as hell about the insults and act like he just got shot. You couldn’t remember the last time you had laughed so much.

Then, Osamu got a girlfriend.

You didn’t learn about it until you saw a girl at the gym on one random Wednesday. You had raised an eyebrow at her, watching as she looked around for something.

“Can I help you?”

She shook her head. “I’m just looking for Osamu. He left some stuff at my place last night.”

Your brain short circuited. Her place? Last night?

Then he ran over to her. Greeted her and thanked her for bringing his stuff. And then he kissed her.

You were mentally tuned out of practice for the rest of the evening.

When Atsumu walked up to you after practice so you could make your usual trip to the convenience store, you had just silently followed him. You had bought him some yakusoba bread, and you sat on the curb, waiting to walk home after he finished eating.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You finally asked.

Atsumu sighed in return. “Didn’t want ya to get hurt.”

You turned to look at him. His attention was on the bread. “Did you expect me to never find out?”

He shook his head. “I was hopin’ to tell ya after practice. Just couldn’t think of the words.”

For some reason, you felt anger boil up inside you. You stood up abruptly. Atsumu paused his chewing to look up at you.

“I don’t need you to coddle me, Tsumu.” You grit out. “That was not the deal.”

Atsumu didn’t seem fazed by your tone. “Sit down.”

You glared at him. “I’m going home.”

When you turned to leave, you were stopped by his hand reaching up to clutch at the hem of your jacket, pulling you back.

“I know yer hurtin’. Just sit.”

You don’t know why that did it. Tears that had been building up all during practice were set free, rolling down your cheeks. Silently, you sat back down next to him. He didn’t talk as you cried, only shuffling closer until his side was pressed to yours. An unexpected comfort came to you with the contact. You leaned on him, resting your head on your knees, shoulders shaking.

When you had calmed down enough, you wiped your face with your sleeves, sitting up straighter. Atsumu extended his bread to you. You raised an eyebrow.

“When have you ever shared with me before?”

He rolled his eyes. “Ya want it or not?”

The bread seemed to melt in your mouth. Food did make you feel a bit better, but your mind was still on Osamu.

“‘M sorry yer scheme didn’t work out.”

You laughed a bit, taking another bite. “When you call it a scheme, it makes me think it was bound to fail from the start.”

Atsumu shook his head. “Nah. Ya made an effort. I respect that.” He stretched his legs in front of him, leaning back on his hands. “Yer a real catch. Yer smart and yer pretty. Samu’s blind ta not see that.”

You giggled, nudging Atsumu a bit. “Careful, Tsum-tsum. I might think you were falling for me.”

If your emotions weren’t so over the place, and if you hadn’t just tired yourself out from crying so much, you would’ve noticed how the older Miya’s eyes softened.

…………………………

Getting over Osamu wasn’t easy. Especially after having chased after him for so many months. It didn’t help that his little girlfriend seemed to come around more often, sometimes joining the team during practice. At times like those, you tried to stay as far away from her and Osamu, and that often meant you would find comfort in Atsumu, the only person who knew about your crush.

“What does he see in her anyway?” You voiced out loud, watching her laugh at something Osamu had said. You were sitting on a bench outside the gym with Atsumu, watching the two interact on the other side of the path. The rest of the team still weren’t done with their run. As usual, the twins were the first ones to reach the school.

Atsumu ran a towel over his neck, setting his water bottle down next to him. “Ya need ta get over him.”

You rolled your eyes. “Easy for you to say. You’ve never loved anything except volleyball.”

“Damn right. Has volleyball ever betrayed me? No. So suck it.”

You dug your elbow into his side, making him yelp and grab your head, pushing you away. His hand was massive and covered over half your face, and you struggled to get him off, digging your nails into his forearm.

“Tsumu, you asshole-”

You didn’t even notice when Osamu stared at the two of you, too absorbed in your little squabble.

So yeah, getting over Osamu wasn’t easy, but having Atsumu around helped a ton. Everytime he would see your eyes linger on Osamu too long, he would make some sort of comment, or change the subject, just trying to get your attention anywhere else. Too many times, he would physically grab you and turn you away from his twin, saying something along the lines of how you should be looking at the ‘better twin’ instead.

“Sorry but which one of you decided to dye their hair the color of piss?”

“It’s blond!”

“You ever heard of toner, dumbass?”

And you would grab his hair, messing it up and tugging at it a bit, giggling when he whined about you ruining his ‘hairstyle’. You also knew that Atsumu would kill anyone else who dared touch his hair, and the fact made your heart skip a bit. It also made you think, and once the gears in your head started turning, there was no going back.

Now that the fog of your infatuation with Osamu was lifting a bit, you seemed to notice his twin more. You would watch how Atsumu seemed to almost shield you from anything that reminded you of Osamu. How he had made it a habit after that one evening to always share half his snack with you, no matter how small it was. He would often say out of pocket shit, but rather than annoying you, it seemed to endear you more. It was like these little quips were a part of his charm, and you would giggle along instead of telling him to shut up.

He was awfully touchy too. You suppose he had always been, and you had just never thought about it. But now it seemed like none of his moves went unnoticed by you. He had a habit of gripping your head with one hand and turning your face to his when you weren’t paying attention. It used to annoy the crap out of you but now it made you pause and blink, meeting his caramel colored eyes. He would nudge you and poke you, he would drape an arm over your shoulders and whine about how tired he was. And your cheeks would warm up every time. You were forced to admit it.

You had a thing for Atsumu.

Deep down, you cursed at your luck, almost laughing in incredulity. What a joke this was, having a crush on both twins. But you knew that this was different. You knew this wasn’t just a silly crush.

Atsumu was more. He had always been more.

“Tsumu?”

He hummed in response, indicating he was listening, even if he was busy stuffing a chocolate bar into his mouth. You two were in your usual place, sitting on the curb outside the convenience store, lit up only by the light of the store behind you and the lamp post across the street. You watched his profile, the way his jaw moved when he chewed, his eyes trained before him, his undercut, and his dyed hair falling over his forehead slightly.

He was so painfully attractive. And you had never noticed.

He looked at you finally when you didn’t speak, raising an eyebrow.

“Everythin’ okay?”

You nodded hastily, turning away from him. You heard him pause, wrapping up what was left of his chocolate and placing it next to him before shuffling closer to you.

“Yer lyin’. What is it?”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. “You can read me so well.”

He shrugged in response, draping his arm over your shoulder. You closed your eyes, mentally accepting how the action now made you feel.

“I did spend the whole year hearin’ ya whine about yer feelings, so yeah. I can read ya pretty well.”

You sighed, turning your head to look at him. At this proximity, you could see the brown swirling in his eyes, and it reminded you of milk chocolate. You were nearly nose to nose with him, and you weren’t nervous at all. With Osamu, you would always be on edge. Your insides would squirm, your heart would race, and oftentimes, you would stumble over your words.

With Atsumu, you felt every muscle in your body relax when he touched you. Despite his chaotic personality and his crude language, Atsumu was so tuned in when it came to you. When you needed it, he was as calm as they come. There was such unprecedented comfort in his presence. When you were around him, it felt like everything would be okay.

“I love you.”

It came out of you involuntarily at that moment. But you weren’t scared to tell him. You should have been, but one look at him this close and all your fears were melting away. When Atsumu gave you a little smile, you couldn’t help but return it.

“I love ya too, sweets.”

His kiss was expected. Soft, slow, perfect. His lips were plush and warm, and he tasted like the chocolate he had just been eating. His arm around your shoulder tightened, and his other hand came up to cup your jaw, tilting your head enough to deepen the kiss. You felt your head buzz, your hands fisting at the front of his shirt and trying to pull him closer, though it was impossible.

You whined in protest when he ended the kiss, making him chuckle slightly. The sound made your lips twitch up a bit, and you ran your eyes all over his face. He hummed in approval.

“There it is.”

You blinked. “What?”

He traced your cheekbone with his thumb. “Ya know how long I’ve wanted ya to look at me like that and not Samu?”

Right. Samu. You had forgotten about him completely the moment Atsumu’s lips touched yours. The thought made you giggle and pull at his jacket collar to tug him close, until his lips were meeting yours again.

#miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu fluff #miya atsumu angst #miya atsumu x you #miya atsumu x y/n #miya atsumu fanfic #miya atsumu imagine #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #friends to lovers #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu imagines

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honeydazai · 7 months

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୨୧·࣭࣪̇˖ 𝆬 pregnancy headcanons𝆬 𓏸

feat.: Dazai, Chūya, Fukuzawa, Fyodor, Poe, Nikolai, Sigma, Jōno, Fukuchi

content: f!reader, pregnancy and related symptoms, soft....

If you truly believe that DAZAI is anything but awfully flirty during your pregnancy, you're wrong. He constantly mentions just how gorgeous and breathtaking — or, in certain situations, outright hot — you look, making sure that you never have any reason at all to feel insecure about yourself, even if you gain quite a lot of weight. Like he cares; he's fond of all women, after all, but especially you, and, in his eyes, it's impossible for you to be anything but beautiful.

That also means, though, that he won't keep his hands off you, constantly fondling your now larger chest, your hips and stomach and everywhere he can reach, really. Deep down, he doubts he'll make for a good father, though he's determined to try his best for the sake of your small family. This includes shedding his usual lazy attitude and helping you with household chores, as well as laying off the alcohol, hopefully.

“You're terrible, bella. Honestly awful — how am I supposed to get any of those papers done when you're next to me, looking this irresistible? It's like you're trying to set me up for failure. Ah—, but I'm sure Kunikida will understand if I take a small break, hm? Get over here, darling.”

CHŪYA suddenly spoils you even more than he did before the announcement of your pregnancy, though, really, he's just awfully overjoyed. The thought of actually getting a child with you, a true family, still seems surreal to him, like a situation out of a dream rather than something that can happen in reality and, for a moment, he wonders whether he's deserving of something this wonderful. Unfortunately, he's rather busy, but, naturally, he makes as much time to be with you as somehow possible, rolling his eyes at Mori whenever another oh so “urgent mission” comes up.

To make up for him occasionally not being home, you get Kōyō, as well as Higuchi, Gin, Hirotsu and Tachihara who make sure to constantly keep an eye on you. Even if you're simply going out to get some ice cream, one of them accompanies you — and, luckily, they make for surprisingly great friends. While Chūya's life style, being a dangerous ability user who works for the Port Mafia, isn't the safest, he's fairly content that he'll be able to protect you and your child from any harm whatsoever — he'd give his life for yours, after all.

“Hm? I'm not mad. I just—, not at you, at least. I wanted to take ya out on a proper nice date tomorrow, made a reservation and everything, though the Boss just assigned me some apparently important mission. Yeah, I know. Sorry, sweetheart. I'll make it up to you, yeah? Ah, it's already paid for, though. You can take Kōyō or Gin, if you like. They should be free tomorrow. Sorry. I love you.”

FUKUZAWA never felt for anyone as strongly before as he now does for you, meaning he never imagined himself to eventually grow old surrounded by a loving family, with a partner and a child, even. It sounds too perfect to be true, not like a situation that'd fit into his current life, and yet he finds himself overjoyed after overcoming the initial disbelief, his smile dripping with love, with affection as he gently meets your lips in a kiss, arms immediately curling around your body to hug you close.

During the pregnancy, he's all the more protective of you, unwilling to ever leave your side. If things went his way, you'd accompany him to the Agency's office in the morning and would leave in the evening together with him, though he admits that he sees why that might be a tad boring. He simply aches to keep an eye on you, worried about what might happen to you when he's not around, though several Agency members assure him that they, too, will keep an eye on you.

“I'm afraid I can't accompany you today, dear. I'm sorry. An urgent meeting came up, but I'm sure Kunikida or Yosano would join you. Alright? We'll go there together next time. Just— be safe, yes? I trust you're in good hands. Still, don't hesitate to call me if anything happens.”

You best believe that FYODOR has made sure to inform himself as much as humanly possible about pregnancies the moment you announced that the multiple tests you did are positive. While he's the slightest bit strict when it comes to topics such as what you should and shouldn't consume, as well as anything else related to the yours and baby's health, he naturally makes sure to completely indulge most of your cravings, too — when you're the one to bring new life into this world, who is he to forbid you from having another pastry or a second bowl of ice cream?

He's so very gentle in everything he does, carefully caressing your stomach before cupping your cheek and pressing a soft kiss to your lips, his smile warm, like he can't believe his hands, tainted ones, are allowed to hold something this pure, this holy. It's safe to say that you've always had multiple security guards hovering around you to ensure your safety, though, now, Ivan makes sure to tend to your every need, too, often bringing you the meal you're aching for or even trying out silly yoga techniques for relaxation with you.

“Ah, now—, careful, dear. Allow me to get that for you instead — you should call for Ivan when I am not around. You mustn't overexert yourself. I would hate for you to hurt yourself. Simply sit back and relax, will you? .. Please, for the sake of us, of our family. It won't matter in the long run whether you or someone else got a snack for you, but it will matter if you climb atop a shelf, fall and hurt yourself gravely. Yes?”

POE honestly does not quite believe his ears when you first mention you're pregnant. When you end up showing him the positive test, however, his smile is blinding, the most sincere one he's had in what feels like ages. He, unfortunately, is the type to worry; while he's still more than delighted, he's almost tempted to create a pocket dimension in a book for you where you'd be safe and cared for, though he has to stop himself from doing just that. It'd be a little overbearing.

Given how he's more than wealthy, you don't have to worry about anything at all. Whatever you crave, it's yours immediately — as fast as premium online shipping works, that is —, whether it's new clothing to accommodate your changing body, furniture for the child's room, certain snacks only available in a foreign country; anything, really. He also makes sure to constantly check in on how you're feeling, asking multiple times every few hours and, when he's not home for whatever reason, he leaves you a surprisingly large amount of text messages, telling you to call him immediately if anything feels.. odd.

“Are you experiencing anything like cramps? Nausea, perhaps? No? That's a relief. Ah, I just—, that's merely what it said on the Internet, symptoms that could happen. I'm relieved if you truly are alright for now.”

Usually, NIKOLAI is a force to be dealt with. He's unpredictable, mood changing quickly, his smirk wide and his eyes sharp, though, once you tell him you're pregnant, he's surprisingly gentle in the way his hands move to rest on your stomach, his revealed eye sparkling with joy as he coos at the barely visible bump as if the baby is able to hear him. He keeps carefully running for once bare hands over the stretched skin, telling the child stories and that you're both excited to meet it; anything that comes to mind, really.

If you get odd food cravings during the pregnancy, he's not afraid to supply you with whatever you want, as well as to try them out with you. Perhaps ice cream with hot sauce and pickles will be a new family dessert; he's anything but scared of new possibilities.

“Ah, what are you having, doll? Allow me to try, please? Hm? I'm not stealing from you; now, now, don't be mean—, alright, alright. I admit defeat. At least let me say hi to our sweetheart then, yes?”

The moment SIGMA learns that you're expecting a child, his child, he's ecstatic. He'll make sure you have everything you might want or need, ranging from all kinds of different snacks you could possibly crave to a personal masseuse if you're feeling sore. The more your bump starts to show, the more often he can't help but rest his hands on your stomach, gently caressing, or even pressing soft kisses to it. There's nothing that gets to him more than the idea of having a family with you.

Despite his initial joy, he's another one who's prone to worrying and overthinking, his warm smile making way for a deep frown when he knows you're not looking. He borders on overprotective with how much he keeps an eye on you, even more so than usual, given how, now, he has two loved ones to protect, not just one anymore and, oh, he's admittedly stressed, constantly thinking that something might happen to you, to the baby.

“How are you feeling, love? Is everything alright? Promise you'll tell me if you feel anything odd, yes? I'm not worried. I just don't wish for anything to happen to you or the baby. Alright, I'm admittedly the slightest bit worried, but I really can't help it. I love you, after all.”

JŌNO honestly never expected to ever have a child of his own in the first place, meaning that the knowledge of you being pregnant is something he needs to process for a bit first. Nonetheless, he's happy, of course. How could he not be? It's an odd thought, one he'll have to get used to first, but, in general, it's a pleasant one. Naturally, his job comes with some dangers for you and your future

He's protective by nature, having found pleasure in saving people rather than torturing them, and you're no exception. Seeing you smile, knowing that you feel safe with him is the best feeling he could ever ask for, though his desire to protect you from all harm quickly gets overwhelming. It's less harm from outsiders he fears — he deals quickly and efficiently with criminals, thank you very much —, but more you harming yourself, perhaps by tripping and falling when he's not around, resulting in him preferring to take every little task out of your hands. Oh, well.

“My, my, stay seated, dear. I'll handle this. Hm? I'm not treating you like you're fragile. I know you're not sick, merely pregnant; you mention it often enough. Still, is it so wrong for me to care for you? Yes, that's what I thought.”

FUKUCHI is a busy man. Really, being a war hero and the Hunting Dogs Captain — as well as Kamui, but perhaps that's not something for you to know about —, you'd expect him to be busy with work even while you're pregnant with his child, though that's far from reality. Instead of prioritising work and his reputation, he makes sure to come to every doctor's appointment with you, constantly by your side, and spends as much time as possible at home with you, one hand of his ever so often resting on your stomach, even when the bump is barely visible.

He claims he's able to feel the child's heartbeat already — whether that's true does not seem to matter, not when he's busy peppering your skin in kisses, smile never leaving his face as he wonders aloud whether it'll be a girl or a boy, what their name should be and if their eventual first word will be “mum” or “dad”; his bet is on “mum”, by the way, even though he pretends to be heartbroken by the idea, all too dramatic.

“You look surprised to see that it's me picking you up rather than some chauffeur, sweet thing. Why's that, I wonder? I already told you I'll accompany you to every doctor's appointment you have. The rest of the Hunting Dogs can cover me for one evening. I wouldn't miss this for the world.”

a part of this was a commission! thank you so much again! 💜 Also the idea of Ivan doing yoga with you had me giggling..

tags: @irethepotato @beandaifuku , @the-foreigner , @ranpobb, @arixsux, @dei-lilxc , @atsyushi @satoruislove @pastelsbaby @marina-and-the-memes @texchou @shiggysredhead @savagemickey03 @rosepxtlz @nikolaiswife @okura-s @ladykatakuri @lunerenzo @berywritesstuff @alice0blog @xelia25 @yuuotosaka3 @double-black-dazai @fyodorstolenushanka @ttaiyaki @itsnovariella @black-rose-29 @fyodorscumsock @ayshaashaya @qxxstuff @serenareiss @atsvsh1 @dilucshandholder @reiikonee @1-800-mocha

@xvocadooo @hexiisexii @cupxfcxffee @jodidann @Happymoon16 @yumidepain @nchuuyahq @janeinerz @Aaronthegreatestsimp @fanfiction-waifu @KimxKiba @Morigumy @villainouspotential @ashthemadwriter @mrsdostoevsky @nikolaisgoofyahhhat @yeonwoomyheartbelongstoyou @hellgirlwhore @c4xcocoa @lyrstybsd @angelsrunes @wuaoqu @disa-ster @aspookyscaryghost @nikolaisboner @urgodmoon @polish-anon @arisu-chan4646 @eroscastle @somnobun @birbysaur @Senpaible @hyunlixie143 @dababyurmom @4nthonyyliving @Chxrry-doll

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inamagicalhallucination · 5 days

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the true-est form of love must be sharing food -- you need food (and water) to live, to take that and give it to someone else is like saying 'i need you to live', its like taking part of your life and placing it in front of someone saying 'here, this is me' and letting them have it

that must be why when atsushi gets a pastry from the cafe underneath the agency's office, he eats half and gives the rest to ranpo

it must be why he snaps his cookies or popsicles or anything of the sort in half and hands the bigger part to kyouka

it must be why he takes the best parts of his dish when the ada is together and places them onto the corner of dazai's plate instead

or why he gives kenji all the parts from his bento box kenji commented on

or why he lets naomi take a bite of whatever he's eating

or why he places his food in the middle of the table when it's him and juni and they eat together as if their separate meals r just one big one

or why he brings extras from his snack runs to gingerly place on the president's desk before bolting

or why he packs a small extra bento box just in case kunikida stays behind again or overworks himself

or why he always happens to buy yosano's favorite snacks to share with her

or why when he meets runs into the black lizard he splits his food further to give gin some too

or why he brings any 'new' and interesting snack he finds for lucy to try too

or why he splits everything when he's with aku between them, why he sees him in the cold and rushes over to give him his cup of hot chocolate and wrap his scarf around him

it must be why he packs dazai's lunch or invites him for breakfast

why he hosts or proposes dinner or lunch together with the ada

why he spends all night trying to perfect kyouka and kunikida's favorite dishes

or why he spent so long baking a funny looking cake that probably didn't taste too good but ranpo liked anyway

or why he keeps junichiro's favorite energy drinks in stock even though kyouka and him dont drink them

or why he learns all the cute food designs naomi eyes

or why he keeps an extra portion of everything to give to kenji

or why he brings the president tea in the morning

or why akutagawa knows that when he cant bring himself to eat -- too worried about what will happen if he runs out -- he can go to atsushi for a cup of tea now and meal later if he's up to it

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rafescurtainbangz · 2 months

Note

Frat Rafe heartbroken. Wanna see him suffering a little hehe 🤏

Heartbroken - Rafe Cameron Blurb

1k Fluff

Frat!Rafe x Female Best Friend

Ahhhh thank you for your ask. Poor baby 🥺🥺🥺🥺

Tags: @voyeurmunson @babyyraven @babyyraven @drewstarkeyslut @humanvampire13 @akashababy @dckweed @ashamedtobewhitemanswhore27 @joannamuns9n @marahgubler @h34rtsformilli @romaescapes @jayla @randymeeksistheloml @waywardsoul113 @redhead1180 @beautifuldisaster88 @rafedrewandjjs @xo-billy-hargrove-ox @cutielando

+18 content if you squint

She's perfect. Fuck… Everything about her is too good to be true. She's funny, intelligent, stunning, puts up with my shit, doesn't try to change me. She just likes me for me.

I watch as she lifts her red SOLO cup to her lips, taking a sip. Her beautiful eyes pinch shut, nose scrunched as she tries her best not to gag. “What-” She chokes out the word through a gasp. “What the hell is this?”

“Uhh… Everclear, Hawaiian Punch, and like gin?” I chuckle.

“It's so bad,” she laughs weakly, brushing her hand across her liquor-laced lips. I look down at her chest, catching a little dribble of booze, watching as it disappears between her tits, wondering for the nth time what it would be like to be with her finally.

Tonight. I need to make my move. We've been friends all semester, it's almost over… I've never waited this long for anything in my life. But this is so special I don't wanna rush. She's everything. And tonight, she's mine.

I step a little closer, resting my hand on her lower back pulling her in tighter to me. “Cig?”

She smiles and nods. I wrap my arms around her shoulder, leading her through the packed frat house, snaking through the mess. I catch the eyes of some of my frat brothers, the boys looking back at me with envy. How could they not?

We step through the doors onto the porch. I reach into my back pocket, snagging out a dart for her and me, watching as she pops it between her lips, following my fingers, catching the flame of my BIC. “I'm glad we could get outta there,” I smile.

“That was insane…” She chuckles as she looks at the sea of people littered on the lawn.

Just do it, Rafe.

I take a deep breath, working up the courage to ask her out. I've done this countless times. Why is this so fuckin’ hard? Just do it, Cameron. The fuck is wrong with you? I exhale a cloud of smoke before tossing my White Claw back, finishing it to ease my nerves.

RING. RING.

Her face brightens, causing mine to do the same, returning a little grin just seeing her smile. “Baby?” She asks. The rug gets pulled out from underneath me; my heart shattering as I hear that word on her mouth. She bites her lip excitedly, looking toward the road. “Yeah, we're at 119 Maple Street. We can just toss your bags in Rafe’s room.” My muscles tighten as I fight back the emotion brewing in me. “Oh, Rafe. He's just a friend. Sorry,” she laughs in my direction, slapping my chest playfully. “He's my best friend,” she corrects herself. My gaze falls to my feet as I nod in agreement. “You're a block away?” She squeals delightedly as she looks toward the 4-way for the Uber. “Love you too. See you in a sec!”

I stare ahead, physically unable to look at her, knowing that if I do, I won't be able to hold it together. She has a boyfriend? She has a boyfriend that she loves? Loves… How? I reach up, brushing the tears from my eyes before she can see.

She can barely contain her excitement, running down the steps toward the car. Her boyfriend opens the cab; stepping out, his smile matches hers, the other man equally as excited to see her as she is him. The sight of all of this makes me sick.

His lips lock with hers, piercing me like a knife to the gut. Her boyfriend's hands work down her perfect body, twisting that knife further. He's a handsome guy… I can't even deny it. They look good together. I've never seen her this happy. She's fucking glowing: her smile, the twinkle in her eye. I've never seen this side of her… I wasn't even close.

He rolls his luggage toward the frat house as the two chat and laugh. I catch the little emblem on his quarter-zip: Boston College Hockey. An athlete. He walks up the stairs, eyes locked on mine. A smirk spreads on his lips. He's just meeting me, but he recognizes it… I'm surprised. He can see this is not how I was expecting my night to go.

“Uh, hi,” I breathe as I extend my hand, shaking his. “I'm Rafe.”

“Nice to meet you,” he responds, not even half-focused on me as he looks down at her with a smile.

“You in town for the game tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Well, to see her mostly,” he cheeses, eyeing her with the same pride I had mere minutes before as I was parading her through the house.

“Can we set his luggage in your room for now?” She asks me.

“‘Course,” I assure. Her boyfried’s hand snakes around her lower back as he leans in, whispering in her ear, making her blush. Holy shit. My chest constricts as I put the pieces together, just knowing what’ll happen behind closed doors. I'm no idiot. Those two haven't seen each other in god knows how long… They're gonna fuck on my bed.

“Shittt,” he groans. “I forgot my backpack.” He looks down at his phone, opening his UBER app; toggling to the chat. “Be right back,” he whispers, kissing her on the temple before walking back to the road. I look up and out into the distance, trying my best to keep my tears at bay.

I feel her hand on my arm, giving me a little squeeze. “Rafe? Is everything alright?” She asks as she looks up at me. I nod fast, contradicting my own words with my rash response.

“I didn't know you had a boyfriend,” I press the words out, hearing my voice crack with emotion. Heat rises in my cheeks with embarrassment as well.

“Yeah. We just got back together like a week ago,” she breathes.

“I just… fuck. I,” I start, but the words are hard. “I thought there was something between you and I.” I feel my bottom lip wobble. I quickly fish out another cigarette, pinching it between my lips, flicking my lighter, struggling to get it to take.

‘Course there is…” She coos. “We’re best friends.”

Holy shit… I dig my heel into the ground, looking up into the night. Don't fuckin’ cry. Don't fuckin’ cry. Don't you dare fuckin’ cry.

Her boyfriend walks up the stairs, readily pulling her attention away from me. “We’ll find you later,” she ensures, tapping me on the chest before walking away. I watch as the two disappear into the mess of people, leaving me alone. Without her.

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whumpshaped · 3 months

Text

tw addiction whump, alcohol, past trauma, pet whump, rocky recovery, flashbacks, emeto, paranoia, self-blame, self-deprecation, dehumanisation

Once Whumpee had gotten out and was allowed to make their own decisions again, they decided it would be prudent to make as many bad ones in as short a time frame as humanly possible. Their first trip out of the hospital had brought them straight to the liquor store, and they bought as much alcohol as their court settlement could pay for. They wanted nothing but to forget. Forget the trial, forget their captivity, forget…

Sit pretty for me. There you go, good boy. Aren’t you a good little pet?

They swallowed and threw the money on the counter, then grabbed their beverages and left without a word. They didn’t give the cashier enough time to recognise them from the news.

The bottles kept clinking together quite obnoxiously as Whumpee struggled to bring all of them up the stairs to their apartment. They clinked even more as they tried to put them down one by one without breaking any so they could fish their key out of their pocket. They groaned when they realised they would have to repeat the whole thing again; pick up the bottles one by one, bring them inside, push the door closed with their hip, put them down one by one, lock the door.

They stared at the collection of all the different beverages they had laid out in front of them. Vodka, gin, whiskey, whatever they could find on the shelves, they’d bought. They had no idea what they liked. They doubted they liked any of it.

Whumpee glanced towards the window, shame immediately rising in their chest. What if someone saw them? Would the people judge them? Would the knowledge of their trauma make it worse in their mind or better? Would they accept them as just another failure of society, someone who had been too weak to handle the hand life had dealt them? Or would they scream and shout about the unfairness, the fact that someone as useless as them had been given such a large sum of money, only so they could blow it on substances?

They stepped up to the window and hastily closed the blinds. Nobody would see them like this. Not now, not ever.

Whumpee’s resolution to avoid others whenever they were wasted had crumbled in the first few days, because they’d thought it appropriate to go out and try to make friends. They had been so desperately lonely.

They’d woken up one day on a public bench, being watched over by a stranger. They had excused themself and rushed home, drowning out the memory with more alcohol right after having thrown up the last of the previous day’s shots.

But it seemed like their drunk mind wanted nothing but the tentative familiarity of that chance meeting to be repeated over and over again, because they found themself back on the bench every other day. Caretaker — as the stranger had introduced themself — was always kind to them, and always made sure no one else bothered them on their leisurely strolls. They were… different, odd, but a safe kind of odd, the kind of odd Whumpee felt comfortable inviting into their depressing little apartment after just a week of knowing them.

One week? Two weeks? Whumpee couldn’t remember. It hadn’t been a long time, probably, because their first supply of alcohol was still going strong.

“I don’t think I should,” Caretaker said awkwardly. “I mean… Are you sure you want me there?”

“Yeah… yeah, I… I don’t have anyone else, really…” they slurred, blissfully unaware of how much of a target they were putting on their back. It was nothing but luck that Caretaker didn’t jump on the opportunity to burgle the victim of one of the most famous legal cases, who, as everyone seemed to be aware of, was sitting on a pile of cash.

“Don’t say that,” they said quietly, and Whumpee instinctively assumed it was out of pity.

“Why? It’s true. Everyone knows, ‘cuz I walk around here every single fucking day, and I’m always fucking alone.” They gave Caretaker a lazy grin. “Not right now, I guess, but it’s not like you’re constantly with me, huh? And eeeeveryone hates me for it, they want me fucking gone, they want me off the public property, and away from their children, and they look at me like I’m no different than the pile of fucking trash they leave out every Tuesday!”

“Alright, alright, but don’t fucking tell everyone that you’re constantly alone. At least lie about it.”

That made Whumpee stop in their tracks, their dumb smile faltering a little. “Huh?”

“There are bad people in this world, Whumpee. You should know that better than anyone. Just lie and say you’re going to a friend’s place, or going back home to your family. No need to make it known that you’re easy pickings.”

Whumpee stared at them blankly, trying to process the words. “Huh…?” Was Caretaker… not saying it as a means to comfort them?

“I’ll explain one more time once we get to your place, if you still wanna bring me back.”

Of course they did. They wanted it more now than ever.

“Pet me?” Whumpee asked abruptly.

“What? Like a dog?”

Whumpee tensed. Even in their drunken haze, the comparison sent them back to the place they’d so painstakingly escaped. “I… guess so.”

Caretaker seemed to notice the change in atmosphere too, and they put two and two together. “Oh, fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I was just surprised—”

“It doesn’t matter.” They pushed their head against Caretaker’s thigh. Admittedly, the alcohol made it easier to forget, even if not to forgive. “Pet me?”

“Are you sure it’s okay?”

“I’m asking you.”

Caretaker hesitantly lifted a hand and placed it on top of Whumpee’s head. They carefully carded their fingers through the soft hair, gently scratching their scalp as they went. Whumpee had the feeling Caretaker was being overly cautious, so they nuzzled against their hand as a way of encouragement.

“It’s okay if you think of me as a dog,” Whumpee said before they could stop themself. It wasn’t okay, but they didn’t want Caretaker to hold back on the headpats just because they thought it might trigger something in them. Even if it might.

“It’s not,” they said anyway. “I’d never think of you as a dog.”

Whumpee huffed. “Maybe it’d make everything easier, honestly. You wouldn’t fault a dog for being useless. You’d just coo at it endlessly, everyone would. ‘Aww, look at that adorable, useless dog. Who cares what it can do for me? All it has to do is lie there and be adorable.’”

“Do you think of yourself as a dog?” Caretaker asked softly.

“I sank lower than a dog ages ago, I think. I’d have to work really hard to get back up there. I’m more like… a roly poly.”

Caretaker petted them mutely for a while, repeating the pleasant motions and slowly lulling Whumpee to sleep. “I like roly polies,” they murmured before Whumpee could’ve fully drifted off. “And I like dogs too. But…” Their petting stopped, and they let out a heavy sigh. “I like you so much more and so differently than any animal.”

“You’re gonna die of alcohol poisoning one day, you know.”

“I’m gonna die of withdrawal…” Whumpee made a half-hearted attempt to get the bottle from Caretaker, but they held it up and out of their reach. “You know you can’t keep it from me if you want me alive…”

“Oh, I can. We’re gonna work on it, bit by bit. And right now, you’re not getting any.”

“Are you a doctor?”

“Nope.”

“You’re gonna kill me.”

Caretaker rolled their eyes. “I know what I’m doing.”

Whumpee rolled over onto their back, trying to ignore the nausea. The ceiling was swirling and morphing, and they had no desire to ever see it come to a stop again. “I’d rather get alcohol poisoning than die of withdrawal, I think. I don’t know how either of them are, but I know I don’t want to be sober.”

“Hopefully, you won’t ever know how either of them are.”

Whumpee scoffed. “I didn’t want to know what being a human pet was like, and here we are. Not only do I know, but thanks to the fucking trials, everyone else knows too.”

“That doesn’t mean everything you don’t want happening to you will suddenly happen. You don’t have to run head first into a wall just because you feel like it’s coming at you and you want to strike first. Walls don’t usually move. Not when you’re sober.”

“Huh?”

Caretaker sat down on the sofa next to them, gently rubbing their arm. “I think you deserve a better life, Whumpee. Even if you don’t want any.”

“I don’t—” The nausea suddenly became unbearable, and they pushed themself off the couch to stumble into the bathroom. They didn’t reach the toilet.

They had no idea what they’d meant to say before the accident. No one would ever know.

#whump #whump drabble #addiction whump #alcohol #past trauma #pet whump #recovery fic #flashbacks #emeto #paranoia #self-blame #self-deprecation #dehumanisation #comfort

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starlightshadowsworld · 5 months

Text

Kunikida: Do you Akutugawa Ryuunosuke take Atsushi Nakajima to be your lawfully wedded husband.

Akutagawa: What?! No?!

Gasps echo across the room.

Tachihara faints.

Everyone: looks suspiciously at Higuichi who shakes her head wide eyed.

Atsushi: heartbroken, in tears What...?

Akutagawa: oblivious to all of this, glares at Kunikida I'm marrying the Jinko! Why are you blabbering on about this Atsushi person?

Atsushi:... Sadness turns to anger WHAT?!

One explanation and a revived Tachihara later

Akutagawa:... Oh...

Atsushi: That's all you have to say?! Oh?!

Akutagawa: Jinko... Erm, Atsushi I can explai-

Atsushi: This whole time... This WHOLE TIME?!

Akutagawa: Ji-

Atsushi: 10 YEARS!

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

Dazai: See I told you not to marry him, he's no good for you.

Atsushi: eyes blazing You're the one who told me to propose!

Dazai:... Oh yeah. Well who told you to listen to me. My ideas are terrible, right Chuuya?

Chuuya: already getting drunk with Yosano because this event can no longer be done sober Fuck you, asshole!

Yosano: no idea what they're talking about Yeah fuck you!

______________________

Akutagawa: He's not gonna let this go is he?

Tachihara: Nope.

Hirotsu: I mean at least you guys still got married.... Somehow.

Akutagawa: True, who knew he had a different name this whole time.

Everyone: sweat drops

Gin: You're making it very hard to defend you right now.

____________________

Atsushi: drunk talking about Akutugawa I hate him!

Chuuya: drunk talking about Dazai I hate him too!

Atsushi: Why did I marry him?!

Chuuya: It felt like a good idea at the time!

Atsushi: Right!

Chuuya: Than he blew up my car!

Atsushi: He didn't even know my name!

Chuuya: Why are men so stupid!

Atsushi: I don't know!

Akutagawa: Should we do something?

Dazai: Only if you want your marriage and death certificate issued today.

Akutagawa:...

Dazai: Thought so.

Akutugawa: Wait, you blew up his car?!

Dazai: uh uh, you are not giving me shit for that after this.

Akutagawa:... Touché

#atsushi nakajima #akutagawa ryuunosuke #Random idea #shin soukoku #soukoku #chuuya nakahara #hirotsu ryuurou #tachihara michizou #gin akutagawa #dazai osamu #kunikida doppo #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #Bsd #dazai x chuuya

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wrongplacerighttime · 6 months

Text

Hi!! This is my first fic that I’m posting. I wrote it loosely based on this love by taylor. I write for my own enjoyment usually but this is my first time sharing my work!! I hope you enjoy it <3

word count: 7.5k (got carried away lol)

tw: smut MDNI!!, hints at dom harry, fluff, angst, drinking, kind of feelings of regret, mentions of a cheating partner.…i think that’s it but lemme know if i missed any :’)

This Love Left A Permanent Mark

This was a terrible idea.

My inner monologue has been repeating the phrase through my head like a mantra from the moment I walked through the glass doors of the club.

In hindsight, I don’t know why I didn’t think this sooner. Why did I think coming to my ex-boyfriend's album release party was a good idea? In what world would that ever be a good idea? Especially the way we ended things. I mentally note to never let Ginny talk me into something like this ever again, even if she is dating a member of his team. I recall the conversation we had about it a mere four days before this moment.

“It’ll be fun! And he’ll be busy talking to people all night anyway. He won’t even know you’re there, probably.” she insisted

“I don’t know, Gin. I really don’t want to crash his night.” I mumble, twiddling with the menu on the table in front of me.

“You need to get out of the house. All you do is sit and read your books and play your guitar. It makes me sad and depressed.” her nose crinkles in displeasure.

“What’s wrong with that?” I shoot back, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing, I guess.” She shrugs. “I just think you deserve to have a good night. I won’t tell Joe you’re coming so he doesn’t mention it to Harry. You can just hang around and mingle and drink and dance with me.” She reaches over the table and takes my hand in hers. “Please. We haven’t had a night out in so long.” she gives me a pouty lip and I roll my eyes.

“We could go out any other night.” I point out and she sighs loudly.

“True…but this would be perfect. You don’t have to pay for any drinks or deal with sleazy guys at the bar. Just industry people doing industry people things and listening to the album at a big party.”

I contemplate her request. What’s there to lose? I weigh the options in my head for a moment. If I don’t go, she’s right, and I’ll just sit in my room all night flipping through the same romcoms and sitcoms that I’ve already watched 3 times over. I’ve been doing fine for a few months now. I’ve been going on dates again, and meeting new guys. On the other hand, no one will ever be him and I have no idea how I’ll react if I do end up seeing him…or if he sees me. But, there will be so many people there, he’ll be mingling, and he probably won’t see me, right?

“Fine. But if he sees me, I’m bolting. .” I mutter and she squeals in excitement.

Now here I am, sitting at the bar alone in the same spot for the past 45 minutes. Ginny is nowhere to be found, and I’m in an uncomfortable dress that’s too short for my typical comfort zone and the sequins are making me itchy. I twirl the straw around in my drink and sigh, holding my head in my hand.

On the plus side, I’ve avoided him for most of the night. The first time I spotted him was when he was walking into the club, making his grand entrance. I was hiding behind Ginny and he didn’t see me. But when I saw him my heart skipped. He’s wearing a cream colored suit, that looks almost a baby pink color if it’s in the right light, with a white tank top underneath that shows off his toned chest along with the two swallows tattooed on his tanned skin, and his cross necklace hanging from his neck. He’s got a pair of glasses with orange colored lenses perched on his head also. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wish I was on his arm right now.

This was a terrible idea.

It’s been over a year since I saw him last. I don’t even know what he’s writing about in his music because I avoid every single thing about him. Arguably one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do because he’s everywhere right now. If I see his name in the news, I don’t read the article. If he’s on the TV, I change the channel. I scroll past anything I see that his name associated with it. I learned my lesson the hard way in the beginning. I purposely searched his name in the weeks following our tumultuous end, and saw so many pictures of him with other women…and every time I saw him with them, the picture of him that I saw that night comes to my brain. So I stopped putting myself through that misery.

I hear a loud noise like someone patting a microphone. I turn my head to see Harry standing at the front of the room on a small stage. He’s looking out to the crowd of people who are now mostly turned to face him. He looks my way for a moment, and I feel my breath catching in my throat, but then he skips over me and continues skimming the crowd, and I let go of the breath I was holding.

“Hello, I’m Harry.” His deep voice sounds so smooth in the microphone and my stomach churns. It’s been so long since I’ve heard his voice.

“We know!” Someone yells back to him and the room erupts in laughter, making Harry chuckle into the microphone. So many thoughts are going through my head while I stare across the room at him, like the last time I heard him laugh like that. I turn back to face my drink so I don’t have to look at him. How good he looks.

“I just wanted to say thank you all for coming. It really means the world to me that I get to celebrate the release of my third album with all of you. I wouldn’t be here, in this moment, if it weren’t for every single one of you. All of you have played such an important role in making me the artist that I am. So thank you.” I sneak a peek at him from the corner of my eye. He brings his hand up to place over his heart in an endearing gesture. “Now, let’s get this show on the road and listen to it, shall we?” He says cheekily and the crowd sounds off with applause and cheers. The speakers in the room begin to play the tune of the first song and he walks off the stage making his way around the crowd of people, stopping to shake hands and chat with some of them.

I feel a hand on my shoulder and flinch in surprise, only to whip my head around and see Ginny hopping up into the seat next to me. I shoot her a look that shows I’m not happy with her and she tilts her head. The song changes and the next song is just as upbeat as the first.

“What? What’s wrong?” She questions and I roll my eyes.

“I’ve been sitting here alone for 45 minutes. You left me. You said you wouldn’t.” I pout, looking back down at my half-empty drink.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. Joe wanted to introduce me to some people and then I lost track of time. I won’t leave again. I’m yours for the night. Promise.” She wraps her arm around my shoulders and squeezes me into her and I smirk. She orders a drink and I turn to face the crowd again. I don’t see Harry anywhere, and I feel the tension I was holding in my shoulders release a fraction.

We sit for a while, drinking and chatting amongst ourselves and other people who come to the bar while they’re waiting for their drinks to be made. They mostly talk to Ginny and ask how things with Joe are going, while I just listen and add little bits to the conversation here and there. I’m turned to face her at the same moment the 5th song ends and turns to a slower one, not as upbeat as the others. And they’re all so good. His talent really shining through in all of these words he’s written.

The chatter dies down a little, everyone taking in the beginning of the song before it picks back up again. Some people are swaying to the music and others are standing in groups. While looking through the crowd I spot some of Harry’s famous friends and when one of them makes eye contact and waves at me, I wave back. I feel a little stab in my chest, thinking back to a time Harry and I would be over there talking to them together. We would talk about how their projects are going and their plans for the future. Harry would always have his arm draped over my shoulder, pulling me closer to his side and kissing the top of my head. I sigh and continue to look around the room, looking for anyone else I might know, but then I spot him.

He’s sitting in a large curved booth with three others. He’s leaned over listening to one of them speak. I watch as his jaw clenches, and a small piece of hair falls down over his forehead. His eyes crinkle the way I always remember when he smiles and I can feel my breath leave my chest, just looking at him like this stole it away. His hand comes up to push his hair back off of his forehead while he nods and I catch the rings adorned on all of his fingers. One of them in particular catches my eye though.

The lion ring.

I gave him the ring as a gift for our anniversary a few years ago. He used to wear it every time he performed, but I didn’t realize he still wore it. You would if you’d ever pay attention to him, my conscience informs me and I swallow the thick lump in my throat. Ginny taps me on the shoulder once, pausing before tapping again, I turn my head towards her, but my gaze was still on the ring on his finger. My eyes work my way back up to his face before I tear them away, admiring his features for another moment. His beautiful green eyes…but when I turn to look at Ginny, I have to do a double take back to him.

Wait.

His eyes?

After a single second my brain catches up and registers that he’s looking at me. He opened his mouth once, then closed it again, his brow furrowed and shaking his head. I see the confusion laced through his expression, and I’m cursing myself, but I can’t look away.

“Fuck.” I manage to squeak out, and Ginny follows my gaze over to Harry.

“Oh shit. Laine, don’t—” she starts to say something but stops when he’s holding up his hand to whoever is speaking to him, signaling for them to give him a moment, and his eyes never leave mine.

“Laine?” I saw him mouth my name. A sight I’ve memorized ten times over. My breathing, my heart, and my mind all stop. Everything stops. It felt like the entire world stopped turning.

Within two seconds he’s standing, pushing his way through groups of people towards me. As he stands, I’m running for the door. I don’t look back. I just keep moving forward through the groups of people, pushing myself through…in the same sense that I have been for 19 months now. Running away and never looking back.

“Run away like you have from everything else.” The words that have infiltrated every single thought in my head for the past 19 months.

This was a terrible idea.

I’m pushing to the door, the air suddenly thick with dread that clouds my mind. I can’t breathe and it’s suddenly so hot. The room around me blurs and I can’t see where I am because there are tears clouding my vision. I’m blinking fast to clear them and all I hear are the last words he ever said to me, and then I feel the familiarity of his touch, and the flashback of the fight comes so quickly that it hits me like a freight train. Coming to the forefront so easily after I’ve tried so hard to just forget.

“Laine! Stop. Please, you don’t have to do this.” His voice drops an octave on the last few words, desperate for me to stay, and I knew I couldn’t.

“No, H. I can’t. This isn’t working. I can’t keep sitting here waiting for you to care about this, about us, when you’re photographed necking a girl at a bar. I sit here looking like a damn fool, waiting for you to love me.” My voice trembles and I shove him away from me.

“It wasn’t even what it looked like! You’re being irrational.” He throws his hands up in the air.

“Me? Irrational? Don’t. We’re falling apart. You’ve been growing so distant. Every time you go out you’re photographed with some other girl…and this time you’re all over her? I know we haven’t been the best lately but this is too much. You’ve gone too far.” I argue back, throwing things into a bag.

“You should know the paps twist everything. Please let me explain!” He’s practically yelling now, and I turn back to face him, rage clouding my mind.

“You cannot explain away this one Harry. All I wanted was for you to look at me the way you look at them. You used to. I used to be the only one you looked at.” My voice trembles, the tears threatening to spill. “It’s time to stop lying to ourselves, this was over a long time ago.” I snap at him with a shake of my head. He looks at me, defeated.

“Fine, Laine. Just go. Run away from this like you have everything else in your life. You’re so predictable.” He shoots back and I visibly flinch, I never thought he would use my past against me.

“You don’t get to say those things to me after doing this. This is your fault. I’m done. It’s over. Go call your new girl, I’m sure she’s waiting for you.” I grit through my teeth. I don’t let him say anything else before I walk out the door, leaving the only place I've ever called home behind.

“Let go of me!” I yell, trying to catch my breath and gasping for air. Trying to push and pull my way out of the grip on my arm. I know it’s him. I’d know the feeling of his hands anywhere. My eyes are squeezed shut.

“Hey! Laine, calm down. Look at me.” He shakes me slightly trying to get me to come back down to earth. I feel his hands let go of my arms and he grabs my face. “Please. Look at me.” I shake my head.

“I can’t. Because if I open my eyes and you’re really standing there and it’s not a dream, I will pass out.” I say quickly, so quickly that my words run together and I’m not sure he even understood what I said. But what am I so afraid of? It’s just Harry. But then again, my mind is replaying his words from that night over and over again. Run away like you have from everything else.

“If you do, I’m right here. I’ll catch you.” His voice is deep and he speaks slowly. His hands are still holding my face. I don’t respond, my lips pressed together in a thin line. My heart is beating out of my chest.

“What are you doing here Laine?” He asks, so quietly it was almost a whisper.

“I-,” I stop myself, realizing I have no good explanation, to collect my thoughts. I realize that my eyes are still tightly closed, and I probably look ridiculous. But now that he’s here and the entire world hasn’t imploded yet, I’m beginning to come back down to earth. I realize I don’t hear the music, I don’t hear anyone else talking, and my back is against a cool concrete wall. I open my eyes slowly, and I’m outside, and he’s there. Right there in front of me, not a dream, not a figment of my imagination. His eyes are so green, his jaw is sharp with little bits of stubble beginning to grow. His lips are full and pink, and they look so, so kissable. His hair is perfectly wavy sitting on top of his head, and he’s just close. Closer than he’s been in so many months. I turn my head, looking away from him and down the alley. I take a shaky breath.

“Ginny invited me. I don’t think she told Joe I was coming. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come. I-I didn’t think…” My gaze travels back to his, and he’s smirking.

“Didn’t think what? That you’d run into me at my own album party?” He asks.

“In hindsight it was not the smartest decision.” I mutter and look down at the ground. I can’t look at him. If I look at him again I’ll want to kiss him and I can’t do that, not anymore. “I think I’m just gonna go home.” I add and look back up at him through my lashes.

“Don’t. Stay. I’m sorry that I scared you. I just haven’t seen you in so long, it caught me off guard. I didn’t know if it was really you sitting there or if my mind was playing tricks on me again.” He rubs his hands down my arms, stopping at my wrists and going back up again, keeping me warm in the cool night air.

“Again?” My brow furrows.

“Yeah. Again. See you everywhere I turn, have since…” He trails off, then shakes his head slightly. “Please, come back in…I’m sorry that I startled you.”

“I need to anyway. I ran out and left all of my stuff with Ginny.” I wrap my arms around my torso to try and shield myself from the cold. He moves out of my way and stands beside me. We walk back inside in awkward silence, and this feels like some terrible kind of walk of shame. He holds the door for me and I mumble a thank you. Someone catches his attention when we walk into the main area so he stops to talk to them and I take that as my cue to walk away before it’s even more awkward. I make my way back over to the bar and Ginny is still in her seat. Her eyes widen at me as she sips through her straw.

“Oh my god. Are you okay? I didn’t know what to do. I saw him coming this and then you were running and then he ran after you and I just froze. I’m sorry. Should I have come to save you?” she rambles on and I shake my head.

“It’s fine. I think I just overreacted. I haven’t seen him in so long and when I saw him coming towards me I panicked. Nothing bad happened.” I sigh and run my hands over my face. My mind wanders, thinking about what he said. He said he sees me everywhere, and he has since the night I left. I didn’t think he even wanted anything else to do with me. Thinking about what he said pulls at my heartstrings and I’m confused…I decide I don’t want to feel this way.

I order a drink from the bartender.

Then another.

And before I know it, another hour has gone by, and I’m drunk and on the dance floor laughing with Ginny. I have a drink in one hand and the other above my head, holding onto Ginny’s and swaying our hips together. I’ve not felt this way in a long time. I feel on top of the world, like I’m floating. She leans into me and whispers something in my ear but I don’t quite catch it. I turn towards her with a confused look on my face.

She gestures her head across the room and my gaze travels that direction. I look to find Harry, sitting in the same booth as before. He’s leaned back with one leg crossed so his ankle is resting on his knee. He’s got a drink in his hand, bringing it up to his mouth with a smirk on his face. Smirking at me.

“He’s been watching you for, like, the past 10 minutes. I know because I counted.” Ginny slurs in my ear and I look at her with an eyebrow raised.

“You counted?” I repeated back, skeptical. I don’t think I could even count to 20 right now.

“Um, yeah. It was for like two and a half songs that’s pretty much the same as 10 minutes right?” Her words run together and I turn my head to look at him again over my shoulder. A woman is sitting next to him, trying to get his attention and he’s nodding to whatever she’s saying, but his eyes are still on me.

I don’t really think my brain can comprehend why he’s staring at me in this moment. So I keep dancing with Ginny, and then eventually with other people too. I end up dancing with one of his friends that came up to talk to me, his arm around my shoulder and jumping around, singing the words to a popular song we’ve all heard repeatedly on the radio. I don’t remember when it happened because all my thoughts are running together and Ginny just keeps handing me drinks, and I’m so grateful for that. Grateful that he doesn’t come over to me. But why was he grinning at me like that?

Another hour goes by, I’m standing at a table talking to someone I’ve never met before, but Ginny knows them. Another one of Joe’s clients he manages, I think. I don’t really remember. I’m sipping my drink through a straw, slightly swaying to the music and listening to one of the women at the table speak when I feel hands on my waist, pulling me away from the table. I stumble backwards, feeling my back collide with a strong chest. I turn my head to see that Harry is the one pulling me away. His eyes are dilated and I can smell the alcohol on his breath. He grabs my hand, pulling me into the shadows of the club where no one can see us. He leans down and I can feel his breath on my ear.

“You look so tempting. It’s not fair.” He cups his hand around my cheek, running his fingers down my jaw line then holding my chin between his thumb and finger. He tilts my head up so my eyes meet his. He reaches up, running his thumb over my mouth, pulling my lip as he drags it down. He breathes a heavy sigh through his nose. Bravely, and not in the right state of mind, I gently bite his thumb between my teeth, closing my lips around it and sucking lightly. He chuckles and shakes his head. He just looks so good.

“You’re killing me.” He groans and drops his forehead to meet mine. “All I want right now is you and I can’t have you.”

“Who says you can’t?” I whisper back to him, looking up at him through my lashes, and our faces are so close. So close all I can see are his eyes. He grins and leans in, leaving a small kiss on my neck under my ear, and I feel tingling where his lips touch. I can smell his cologne. I would recognize it anywhere. He grabs my hand and leads me through the crowds of people towards the back door.

“My place or yours?” He asks, his eyes peeking at me over his shoulder.

“Yours.” I answer back without hesitation.

He opens the door and I feel the cold air biting my skin, instantly making my body shiver. We’re walking fast towards his car, his hand still wrapped around mine and pulling me along behind him. He walks me around to the passenger side of his car and opens the door for me. I slide into the seat and my teeth are chattering, when he comes to the drivers side he takes his jacket off and hands it to me over the center console.

We drive to his apartment in silence, his jacket shrugged over my shoulders. The air is filled with tension, both sexual and nervous. I don’t want to speak because I don’t know what to say. He grabs my hand and kisses my knuckles, making my heart flutter in my chest. Like he always used to. I don’t pull away. I let him hold my hand against his mouth.

We make our way up to his apartment with haste. The elevator stops and opens to his penthouse, and once we’re inside he’s pushing me against the wall, not wasting a single second, and his lips finding mine. He grabs my hips so hard that I’m sure there will be bruises. When my mouth opens he’s slipping his tongue inside and I feel my knees weaken. He kisses me like it’s the last time he’ll ever get to.

He’s grabbing my thighs and lifting me up, all without breaking the kiss and instinctively my legs wrap around his waist. My hands work their way into his hair and pull slightly, making him groan into my mouth. He carries me into his room, the room we used to share, and lays me down ever so gently. He’s hovering over me, his knee between my thighs and putting pressure on my center. His kiss and his touch feel so familiar that it hurts, and I can feel it in my bones. Something I’ve longed for since the very last time. I feel my muscles melting into the bed with the weight of him on my chest. I moan into the kiss and he pulls away slightly.

“Been thinking about this for so fucking long, Laine. Think about you every day.” He whispers, touching his forehead to mine. My brain feels fuzzy and somewhere in my mind my conscience is telling me not to sleep with him, that I’ll regret it, but I push the thought out of my mind and focus on him hovering over me, paying attention to me. The only thing I’ve ever wanted him to do. The only thing I’ve craved for the past 19 months.

“Just kiss me.” I say breathlessly, and he does. His hand travels to the nape of my neck and grips tightly, holding my face to his. His lips are as soft as I remember. My veins are buzzing with a mixture of pleasure and alcohol, and I feel the heat grow through my entire body. Before I know what I’m doing, I’m grinding my hips against his thigh that's still between my legs and I whimper into his mouth at the friction it gives and he pulls his lips away just far enough to speak.

“Needy girl.” He purrs and I nod, lolling my head to the side while still moving my hips against his thigh. “Look at you. Need me this badly? No one else than take care of you like me, can they?” He pushes his leg against me harder and I gasp. “Answer me.” He grits through his teeth.

“No.” I choke out, “Nobody but you.” I whine, telling him what he wants to hear. And it’s the truth. Nobody could ever make me feel the way he does.

His hands travel down my body and push my dress over my hips, exposing me to him. He pulls away and looks down at the lacy piece of white fabric settled on my body, biting his lip and running his finger across the waistband, his light touches making me shiver.

“Is this okay?” He murmurs and I nod.

In one swift motion he hooks his finger in the fabric and pulls them down my legs, kneeling in front of my knees. He hooks his arms under my legs and palms the top of my thighs. I close my eyes and feel his breath trailing over my thighs and ghosting over the spot where I needed him the most. He peppers small kisses on my inner thighs, teasing me. I reach my hand down and tangle my fingers in his hair.

“You’re dripping.” He grins and looks up at me through his lashes. “All for me?” His warm breath on my wet center sends chills up my spine.

“No one else. Please, Har. Need you.” I say breathlessly, and I feel him smirk against my skin, grabbing my legs and opening them so far I feel the stretch in my muscles.

“How much?” He mutters, his voice low and gravelly.

“Please. So much. Need you so much.” I whine and gasp when I feel his tongue begin to lap at my clit, barely letting me finish my sentence. My back arches off the bed and he uses his hands to grab my hips and force me back down. He groans against me and the vibrations travel through my body, making me writhe against the bed. My hand still in his hair tugs at the root slightly, making his eyes flutter closed. My other hand grips the bed sheets so tightly I can feel my nails digging into my palm through the fabric. He trails his tongue down to my leaking hole and thrusts it inside while his nose creates friction at my bundle of nerves.

“Fuck, Harry. So good. Feels so good.” I manage to gasp out between moans in broken phrases. He lifts his head and his chin is glistening with my arousal and he smirks. Going back in fervently he brings me closer and closer to the edge. I feel the coil tighten in my belly and he doesn’t stop.

“I’m so close.” I whisper between gasps and he moans against me again, and the vibration it provides is enough to send me over the edge. The coil snaps and my vision goes white, and I’m moaning his name over and over while he continues to move his tongue against me and working me through my high. I try to push him away from my body on his shoulders but he’s stronger than I am, and the overstimulation brings tears to my eyes and he stares back at me devilishly as he thrusts his tongue into me and my hips buck.

“Please.” I whisper breathlessly. “Hurts, Har.” I gasp as he licks against my now sensitive clit. Finally, he pulls his mouth away from me and stands between my legs at the edge of the bed. My eyes, barely open, travel down his body and stop at the outline of his hard cock in his pants. I sit up and hurriedly work on undoing his belt, not saying a word. I look up at him through my lashes and he’s watching me intently. He wraps his hand around the back of my neck and squeezes, letting me know what he wants. Once his belt is undone I push his pants and underwear down and his cock springs free and hits his abdomen. My mouth waters at the sight, a sight I’ve been dreaming of for months.

I lean forward, wasting no time and lick up his length and he tips his head back with a low groan. I wrap my lips around his leaking tip and suck lightly, then spitting. I pull him into my mouth until he touches the back of my throat and I swallow around him, causing him to curse and tangle his fingers in my hair. He holds my head there for a moment and then let’s go, and I’m coming back up for air before going right back in. I flatten my tongue around him and the tip hits the back of my throat again, my nose meeting the skin of his waist.

“Fuck.” He hisses between his teeth. “If you keep doing that I’m not gonna last.” He moans with his head thrown back, looking at the ceiling. I pull back and take a breath through my nose before repeating the motions over and over, his tip repeatedly hitting the back of my throat until I gag and that’s when something snaps in him. He grabs my hair and twists it in around his fist, moving his hips so he’s fucking my mouth. I moan, causing a vibration to travel from my throat through his cock and then he’s pulling me off, a string of saliva falling out of my mouth. He grabs both sides of my face, pulling me to stand and kissing me with so much force it almost knocks me over completely. “Don’t wanna finish yet. Not done with you.” He mumbles against my lips before pressing them against mine again.

He pushes me down onto the bed and climbs over me. He wastes no time settling himself between my legs. He pulls my dress off over my head and throws it somewhere in the room. He brings his hands up to cup my breasts, and then he tweaks both of my nipples between his fingers, making my mouth drop open in a small, quiet moan escaping. Then, he’s dragging his cock through my folds and pushing into me slowly. I gasp as my back arches off the bed and he grabs my hips to hold me down. I almost forgot how much I missed this. His hips meet mine and his eyes flutter shut and he groans. I writhe under him, needing more and a whine escapes my throat.

“Please H, need you. Please, please.” I whisper. He leans down, bringing his lips to mine and kisses me slowly, his tongue dancing with mine. I moan into his mouth and he grins as he pulls away from me, resting his forehead on mine.

“No. Wanna go slow, missed this so much. Wanna feel every inch of you.” He mutters, rubbing his nose against mine. His eyes are dark, his pupils blown out. He trails little kisses down my skin, finally moving his hips slowly. I feel every drag of his thick cock against my walls and the sounds that leave my mouth are almost pornographic.

Savoring the moment doesn’t last long. He picks up his pace, his fingers gripping and digging into my hips so hard I’m sure there will be bruises left in their place. Quickly he pulls out of me and flips me over onto my belly. With his hands still on my hips he brings me up to my knees and pushes back into me, quickly pounding into me without remorse making me cry out.

“Oh god, Harry.” I whine and he tangles a hand in my hair, and yanking so my head lifts from the bed.

“Take me so well, baby. The only one who’s ever taken me so well.” He grits through his teeth, the sound of his hips snapping against my ass echoing through the room along with his demanding tone and me moaning his name over and over. I feel the familiar warmth traveling through my belly as he continues hitting the right spot deep inside me.

“I’m gonna cum, please don’t stop.” I beg and his movements become sloppy. The familiarity of this scene gives me deja vu, back to a time when things were simple and all that mattered to us was each other. My brain is fuzzy, and I’m remembering the way he says my name through his gritted teeth and just thinking about it makes me feel euphoric.

“Yeah? Gonna cum for me? Go ahead, cum all over my cock.” He demands. “Shit, Laine.” He growls through his teeth, as if he read my mind and saw my memories and knowing how my name dripping from his tongue gives me exactly what I need to send me over the edge.

“Oh, I’m cumming. Fuck, H.” I gasp, and the warmth blossoms at my center and I’m a moaning, whining mess, my walls fluttering around his cock. He groans and stills, and I feel his warmth inside of me, spurting into me and painting my walls with his cum. His hips stutter before pulling out of me and he sighs heavily as he topples onto the bed beside me.

I roll onto my back, my head lolling to the side and looking at Harry through hooded eyes. His eyes are closed and he’s breathing heavily through his nose, both of us coming down from our highs. And he’s perfect. In every way I remember. My eyes trail down his face to his tattooed chest, the butterfly rising and falling with each breath he’s chasing. The muscles in his arms that flex and relax when he runs his hand down his face…and he’s just so perfect…and I missed him, more than anything…and I still love him, more than anything.

Somewhere in the midst of this, the cloud that hangs over my sense of judgment begins to dissipate and I feel my heart sink to my stomach. Why was I here? The first time I’ve seen him in almost two years and we fucked like it was just a hookup? I was doing so well trying to forget everything about him. But this…this puts me right back at square one.

“I-um…I need…” I stutter, trailing off and scrambling out of his bed. I look around and try to find my underwear and my dress strewn across the room, but it’s dark and I can’t really see well.

“What are you doing?” He sits up, propping on his elbows and watching me with a raised brow.

“I need to go.” I say quietly, bending over and pickup up my underwear, then walking to the other side of the room and looking for my dress.

“Why? You can stay here. This was your place once upon a time, too.” He stands up and pulls his pants back on, walking over to me. I’m frantically looking for my clothes, my heart feeling like it’s beating out of my chest. When I still can’t find it, my breathing picks up rapidly and I’m standing there with my hands in my hair, completely nude, about to have a panic attack.

This is so pathetic.

“Hey, Laine. It’s okay. Take a deep breath.” Harry says quietly, and I feel his hand on my shoulder. I drop my chin to my chest and I bring my hand up to cover my eyes.

“We shouldn’t have done this.” I mutter between my palms, desperately trying to calm my brain.

You’re irrational. Run away from this like you have everything else. You’re so predictable.

“Why?” He asks like he doesn’t know. Like he forgot. I’m clenching my teeth, wincing because I’m already trying to push it out of my head. “Don’t leave. I want you to stay.” He says softly, his hand trailing down to my waist.

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” I ask, nervously. He looks at me with a look of confusion, but doesn’t respond.

“Do you know where my dress is?” I ask, throwing up hands up in the air, gesturing around the room. I slip my underwear back on so I feel at least a little bit covered and he walks into his closet. He comes out with just one of his t-shirts and hands it to me. I slip it over my head. “Thanks but I can’t go home without pants on.” I mutter.

“Can we just talk?” He snaps at me, and I look at him and blink, not registering that he was growing impatient with me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to come out the way it did.”

“What is there to talk about, H?” I ask with a small sarcastic laugh. The nickname I always used for him slipping out like it’s an old habit recently rediscovered. I cross my arms over my chest and lean against the wall.

“Us. Please.” He begs and I sigh.

“There is no us. There hasn’t been for a long time.” I shoot back at him.

“Can I just say what I want to say and then you can decide what you want to do. Please just hear me out.” He asks and I hesitate for a second before agreeing. I’m not sure what he’s going to say, and I’m also not sure how I’m going to react. If I leave now, then what he said to me last time would be true. I’d just be running away like I always do. I give him a nod, letting him know that I’ll listen to whatever he has to say, and he steps closer to me.

He grabs my hand and leads me out of the bedroom and to the living room. He sits on one end of the couch and I sit on the other end facing him, bringing my knees to my chest and resting my chin on top of them, chewing on the inside of my lips nervously. He sighs and runs his hands through his hair.

“So…how have you been?” He asks, scratching his head and I furrow my eyebrows together.

“Really? Small talk?” I ask and he scoffs, shaking his head and looking away from me, averting his gaze to look out the large glass windows in front of us that overlook the city. This was always my favorite room. He stands and walks over to them, leaning his shoulder against them.

“I don’t know what to say. I thought I had it all planned out…what I was going to say if I ever got the chance…and now, I just…” he trails off, shaking his head again and sighing. “I never stopped loving you, Laine. Not even when I was being a fuck up, I think I just forgot…and then I got blindsided by the attention I was getting and I screwed up. But that was never an excuse to treat you the way that I did. I never apologized, and I sincerely am so sorry.” He says, glancing over at me. “If you don’t believe me, I understand. I just wanted you to know that I still love you. I think about you every single day.”

“I wanted to know that you loved me back then, too.” I whisper, hurt lacing my tone. “That’s all I ever wanted.” I close my eyes and try to control my breathing before I let my emotions talk for me. “I gave you everything, every piece of me, waiting for you to love me. I don’t have anything left to give. I’ve been trying not to think about the last words you ever said to me every single day for the past 19 months. It keeps me up every night and eats away at my thoughts, knowing that that was the way you thought of me at the end of our relationship, and using things I told you in confidence against me. When it was never me fucking anything up, it was you…and that hurt me. You said I was irrational for wanting to leave after I saw you with another girl pushed up against a wall, kissing all over her neck.” I stated, bringing back the memory of the night I left. He winces.

“I know, Laine. Fuck, I am so sorry. I would do anything to prove to you that I’m just so fucking sorry.” He strides over to where I sit on the couch and drops to his knees in front of me, pulling my hands into his. “At first, I tried to forget you. I couldn’t. You were in my dreams every single night. When I was with anyone else for the past five hundred ninety-seven days, all I ever did was compare them to you. They were never you.” He holds my hands against his chest. “It’s always been you. I am so sorry I didn’t realize that sooner. I should have fixed us instead of letting you leave.” His voice cracks on the last few words and he’s searching my eyes for any indication of my feelings. “When I saw you tonight, I knew. I’ve been begging to any god that was listening for a sign and then, there you were, and I just knew. It’ll always be you. I don’t want it to be anyone else.”

“Harry, I just…” I trail off, both sides of my feelings fighting each other in my brain. On one hand, this is everything I ever wanted him to say to me. On the other hand, I’m unsure if I can trust him, no matter how sincere his words sound. I look at him, here in front of me on his knees, and I feel the tears stinging the corners of my eyes. “All I ever wanted was you, and you betrayed my trust. How can I trust you again?” I ask.

“I’ll do anything.” He answers quickly. “I will work for the rest of my life to prove that you can trust me. I’m not the same person I was then.” He squeezes my hands. “I know my words aren’t enough, but I promise I will prove them to you. I know I was selfish then. I’m not anymore.” He shakes his head, looking into my eyes. I feel a single tear escape down my face, and he lets go of one of my hands to cradle my cheek and wipe it away. “I just want you to come back to me, baby. Please.” He whispers, bringing my hand to his lips and kissing my knuckles, his eyes closing and taking in a deep breath.

I’m silent for a moment. I know he’s waiting for a response. I know he won’t pressure me if I say no…he’ll let me walk away if I really wanted to, and I think that’s what he’s expecting. The thing is, I don’t want to. I don’t want to run away this time. I’m so tired of running…running from my thoughts, my feelings, from everything. I remember all of the good. Writing with him, playing board games with him, going to events with him, the way he used to stroke my hair in bed every morning, the way he would come up with silly songs to make me feel better when I was having a bad day, the way we would dance in the kitchen while we were making dinner together, the way he always made me laugh and knew the right words to say…and when I think about him, before everything came falling down, all I can think of is the good. Before I can think about it any further I decide to go with my gut.

“Okay.” I whisper. He lifts his head up to look at me, his eyes glistening.

“What?” He looks at me with an expression of disbelief on his face.

“I said okay.” I take my hands from his and grab his face, pulling him closer so I can kiss him. Our lips meet and it’s like everything fell right back into place. After a few seconds, I pull away, touching my forehead to his. “I never want it to be anyone else, either.”

—————

ahhh!! i’m so excited to post this. I think i’m going to write more of their story, like how they met and things leading up to the break up. idk though!!! i hope you enjoy. 🥹 it’s not my best work but i still just love them so much. <3

#harry styles blurb #harry styles x fmc #famous!harry #harry styles #harry styles fic #thisloveleftapermaentmark #taylor swift #this love #harry #styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles au

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overtaken-stream · 1 month

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α!Gagamaru Gin x Gn! β!Reader headcanon

Omegaverse is my guilty pleasure don't @ me.

Warnings: Gagamaru is a bit weird, Silly even(he's insane)

There is always that distinctive scent lingering on you, the smell that you try to explain but your vague ability stops you from pointing it out precisely. It must be strong if your nose can pick it out. So misty, cold, and incredibly familiar. No matter how many times you wash the school uniform and scrub your skin red, it comes back the next day, at what time you can never point it out, however, it's evident that it's from school.

Gin is all-natural through and through (except when it comes to his hair), and the perfumes often irritate his sensitive nose, same with sweet-smelling shampoos and body wash, he believes that they are artificial smells that stain people's true character, he has also found that those who use fake odors have many insecurities to hide, be it their second gender or their natural aroma is an unfavored one in society, it does not bother him, but he has never favored deceit. Gin believes that his smell is quite pleasant, probably influenced by all the time he and his family spent hiking when he was a pup. It reminds him of the scent of rain, petrichor was what the doctor called it when he presented. A compliment that his brain only remembered because of the correct adjective used to describe his recently discovered asset.

He remembers it all too well, the overwhelming mix of raw and false fragrances in his middle school class, packed in a classroom with no windows open. He couldn't help the scrunched nose showing on his face every day, trying to find clean air to breathe without the biological chemicals burning off his nose, for the first time in his life, Gin could clearly express his emotion all thanks to newly flowered instincts and his personal preference. It was a shame it had to be distaste. As a pup, he dreamed of having long limbs to hike with, cross the rivers, and climb on rocks without his father helping him, but if this is what it's like to be a grown-up, smelling all the smelly smells that smell bad or good, he would rather be a pup forever.

His keen hearing and eyesight are no match for his sense of smell, but now he could pick out his parent's residual odor on the school campus, hours after they've left.

Maybe it was his bias that made him favor Betas more than Omegas and Alphas, the natural and soft undertones in a society full of suffocating chemicals were liberating for Gin.

His nose was able to smell the uplifting aroma that you contained, weaker than ever hidden behind countless scents. It stayed like that between you and Gin, him enjoying your smell from the other side of the classroom while you took notes and never glanced in his direction, your nose is weaker than others, never truly being able to sense the intense pheromones swirling around.

His communication is not the best, however, he does not care enough to improve it anymore. Some view his nonchalant attitude and simple words as a negative trait. He wonders what you will think of it.

With a bag tossed over your shoulder, you stroll the chilly hallways, getting closer and closer to your destination. But just as you are about to grab ahold of the handle to open the door to the classroom, it harshly unlocks itself. An unexpected occurrence makes you softly jump on your feet before even noticing the figure standing on the other side, staring down at you with a curious tint in his round eyes, he casts a shadow on you.

``Oh I'm sorry, I didn't expect anyone...`` He says.

``It's okay...`` There is not a lot to say about him, even if you are his classmate, you don't know much about him and are not planning on knowing. As you make room for him to pass, you can feel his shoulder press against yours before he finally frees the entrance and walks away from the class. It was a confusing experience, but nothing to note of.

Gin figures that his favorite activity is scenting, his mother and his father were the first people he tried to scent, and kept their scent on him as an eleven-year-old pup up til the last year of middle school.

He is aware that leaving his pheromones on your clothes isn't the best strategy, but neither is leaving his scent on your skin while knowing nothing of you. He hopes that maybe he can change that, perhaps you will recognize that the cold smell comes from him.

Gin is a person who listens to his instincts, it's a skill needed for his beloved hobbies, however lately as you come to school without his scent, the active feeling of annoyance is hard to miss, he wants nothing but to drag you into his bed and cover you with himself, until your nose smells nothing but him on you the whole week, til someone can't differentiate Gagmaru from you. Gin wants nothing but to become one with you in those mornings. It's a shame he can only touch a part of you "accidentally" for it.

He wonders if his scent ever comforts you.

Gin will always find a way to scent you no matter what, so you might as well stop trying to clean it and start seeking him out since he is the only one whose scent matches with the one clinging to you.

The nonchalant alpha has never taken any bait thrown his way, so when his classmates start looking judgemental of his actions, Gin never remembers their words, he has already answered them once and Gagamarus don't like repeating themselves.

Maybe that's how you got to the bottom of your situation, rumors and rude words about him flying through the school until they finally got mingled with your name. So that's all he had to do to make you approach him? Hmh.

You speak so calmly when he left no roundabout way for you and made you go straight to the point.

You ask him to stop scenting you?

He likes you, maybe even loves you.

You don't believe in love at sight?

That's okay, he'll make you believe it.

The next day he puts his plan to work and brings only the best snacks for you to enjoy during lunch. Try to be nice after all, it's his first time courting someone.

#gin gagamaru #anime #anime x reader #bllk #blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock gagamaru #Gin gagamaru x reader #gagamaru x reader #gagamaru gin #bllk x reader #Bllk omegaverse #omegaverse #omega!reader #bllk x you #bllk x gender neutral reader #gn reader

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whinlatter · 4 months

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Hello!! First of all I wanted to say I’m obsessed with your writing ❤️ Your hinny feels so real and nuanced, and I really appreciate how well you address their trauma and struggles they might have in their relationship while also showing their deep love for each other. Because of this, I would LOVE to hear any thoughts you have on what Harry and Ginny would be like as parents, such as what their biggest challenges would be/how they'd get through it, etc (and if you have hcs about the kids that would be the icing on the cake 😁)

you are a true angel for this! although i do (of course, always) have takes on harry and ginny as parents, i'm going to save them for another day while i still have other writing bits to do. BUT what i do have is a WIP fragment of a dad!harry and james scene that i originally wrote for the orchards sequel and that i'll probably never do anything with but that i sort of like anyway, because james is my favourite potter child for no reason other than i love the idea of harry potter and ginny weasley having accidentally given birth to someone easygoing/ronald weasley 2.0. i really hope you enjoy!

In the kitchen, four o’clock, sunny day, warm. He takes the potatoes out of the oven, gives them a good shake in the tray.

‘It’s nice, our house.’

When he looks up, James is at the kitchen island, going to town on an enormous bag of crisps. It’s a source of professional anxiety how easy it is for his children to sneak up on him. ‘Glad you think so,’ he says to James, as he puts the potatoes back in the oven. ‘You’ve only lived in it your whole life.’

‘Yeah, but I never really thought about it before.’ Big bite, raspy crunch. When he turns back, James is looking out of the kitchen window, peering into the garden, like it's his first time seeing it. ‘When you’re little, you just think it’s your house, don’t you. You don’t think, hey, this house is nice. You just think, this is our house.’

‘I suppose not. Don't fill up on crisps, you'll not want dinner.'

His son scoffs at that - as well he might, the appetite on him these days. Gin says it's a Weasley birthright. With another munch, James starts examining the ceiling beams. 'I like it,' he says decisively. ‘It’s a good house. Big, loads of light. Homely. Good garden, plenty of bedrooms. Gets sunshine from all sides. Not far from Granny and Grandpa Weasley’s. Near the sea.’

‘Is this you telling me you’re considering a career as an estate agent?’

‘Nope. Just saying.’ James considers his next crisp clutched between his forefinger and thumb. ‘Reckon I’ll raise my kids here, too. Leave it to me in the will, won’t you?’

‘Not sure about that one. What about Al and Lil?’

Dismissive wave of a hand. ‘Easy. I’ll pay them off. There’ve got to be some perks to being the eldest son. First-come, first-served, that’s the rule.’

'And Teddy?'

'Easier still. He still owes me for running over my foot in that driving lesson. I've been limping whenever I see him, laying the groundwork.'

He looks at James, black birdnest of hair, bright brown eyes, scrum of freckles. He’s got quaffle blisters on the base of his palms.

‘You’re doing it again.’

‘What thing?’

‘What thing, he says. Staring at me. That sentimental thing you do.'

‘I don’t do a sentimental thing.’

‘Yeah, you do. Al and I take bets on how many times you'll do it at family events. Your eyes get that spaced-out look. You’re about to tell me you love me, aren’t you?’

‘I do love you.’

'Yeah, yeah.' Eye-roll from James, though he's grinning. Tosses the crisp packet in the bin with a Chaser's precision. They take love in their stride, his children: receiving it, giving it out in spades. 'Listen,' he says, 'about those roast potatoes - very important - '

‘Crispy. I’m on it.’

'Good man,' says his son, and heads for the door. 'Back in a bit. I'm going to go map out where I'm going to put my swimming pool.'

#writing #next gen #i don't know what this is but i hope you like it anon #just a dad roasting some potatoes for his hungry son #and the hungry son roasting him right back #that's parenting folks!#dad!harry has my heart #james sirius potter #potter family #ginny weasley #hinny #if you squint #microfic

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bloodmoonmuses · 4 months

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should've, could've, would've. | bang chan

genre: bang chan x reader with some good ol' angst! warnings: none!

I really could’ve picked a better time to have this conversation, you think as you saunter up to the familiar door.

Despite your intrusive thoughts, you knock four times and, almost as if he were expecting it, Chan opens the door promptly.

“Hey. You’re drenched.” You yank at the hem of your rain soaked sweater and recoil from the feeling of it clinging to your body.

“Didn’t check the weather.” A pause. “Also… I couldn’t sleep,” You add sheepishly. The epithet ends up sounding like more of an excuse than anything, but it’s true. You couldn’t stand staring at the ceiling, thinking of what you were going to say to him, for another minute. It was driving you crazy.

Chan looks down at his apple watch. It’s 2:09am.

“Evidently, I couldn’t either,” he says, rubbing his sleep deprived eyes.

“Well, I don’t wanna bother you so-”

“Oh, shut up. Get in here.” He gently grasps your elbow and guides you inside his apartment. It’s dark, save for the illumination from the two candles he has lit. You inhale. Bergamot. That’s new.

Chan quickly scans your face and you know he can tell you’ve been crying. He can always tell. You divert your gaze and, thankfully, he doesn’t say anything. But he knows. And the fact that he does gets more and more embarrassing each time it happens.

You’re finally made aware of how cold you actually are when you shiver in response to the body heat radiating off Chan.

“Shit,” he says. “Lemme get you some clothes.” Quick on the uptake, and so in tune with all things you. Sometimes it was exhausting. When he withdraws to his room, you take a seat on the navy blue couch you’re all too familiar with.

Maybe I should’ve just gone home. What am I gonna do when I move?

Chan returns with a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt. You thank him and go to the bathroom to change. When you catch a glance of yourself in the mirror, you almost gasp. It’s fine, you think. Chan is my friend. This is what friends are for.

Chan was the one who recommended taking walks to soothe your insomnia all those years ago, and here you are- still heeding his advice. What he couldn’t predict, however, was that every time you went on said walk, you’d end up in his arms. The first few times were a fluke- awkward, clunky. His embrace caused more anxiety than comfort, and you were under the impression that it wouldn’t continue. But as the years went by, it became routine.

There wasn’t an instant click, not even when your friendship began. Everything was gradual, slow, deliberate. That was what defined your relationship. So when your feelings began to morph into something more than friendship, you weren’t surprised. Because that meant there was only a matter of time before those feelings became bigger than a fleeting spark, or a hand held for hours at a time, or dreams told over gin and white wine.

Now, as you donned his clothes, smelling of detergent and something so distinctly Chan, you were anxious. Anxious to tell him you were leaving, anxious that even the slightest objection from him would make you stay, and anxious that he had that much power over you- even in your head.

But it was your dream. And you couldn’t wait around for your feelings to bubble to the surface. You had to squash them down while you still had the chance. This seemed to be your only chance, unfortunately.

“Wanna talk about it?” Chan asks with soft eyes, extending a mug of tea in your direction. You silently thank him for it with a nod, and go to sit on his couch. He joins you.

“I’m sorry for doing this so often. It must get annoying.”

“You’re not annoying. I’ll say it every time if I have to.” He takes a sip of his own tea, and looks at you blankly. You wish you could read his mind, like he can yours.

“Movie?” He continues, eyes boring into the side of your head. You fight the urge to return his gaze, but ultimately fail. Huge mistake.

Now you wish he'd stop looking at you like that- like this. Like he loves you. Like he’d do anything for you…

“Disney always cheers you up, yeah?”

He picks up the remote and turns on the TV, trying to ease you into some type of comfort. Usually, by now, you’d be divulging every problem to him. The air is suffocatingly thick.

I just wanna talk. Why can’t I say that? Chan, I wanna talk. See? It’s not that hard, you think.

“Princess and the Frog,” he says with a smile. “That’s your favorite.”

“I’m moving back to America.” Your mouth is moving before your heart has time to catch up. “It’s my dream job.”

His eyes meet yours, painfully, as he registers the words that have come out of your mouth. It’s funny, really, with the opening credits of Princess and the Frog revving up in the background… Chan realizes this too, and slowly, he turns off the TV. When he puts the remote back down, his mouth is slightly agape.

“Oh. When do you leave?”

‘Oh?’ That’s it? you think. Your heart is breaking. His tone is so… casual. Almost flippant. Anger flares in your chest for a second and then-

“Uh… in, like, two weeks,” you respond.

“Oh,” he says again.

And with your voice barely above a whisper, you say, “I should’ve told you sooner.”

“Yeah.” He looks down at his feet, shifting uncomfortably.

Now you wanna look away? Look at me. Say something. Anything. Please.

“Well, okay. I’ll see you around.” You get up to leave before the tears start flowing, but your vision is already blurred. “Thanks for the clothes,” You manage to mutter.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry…

When you reach the doorknob, Chan stops you.

“Hey. Let me drive you home.” He can’t even look at you, not really. Even now, his eyes are cast towards the hand that delicately clasps your elbow. Nothing forceful, just enough to keep your attention. “It’s raining really hard,” he continues.

“I don’t think I could handle that.” You say, voice breaking entirely.

“Can I give you my umbrella then?” He pleads.

“Uh, sure,” you say meekly. Chan retreats to his room and returns with a black umbrella.

“Here.”

You’re fully crying now, desperate for air, unable to take a full breath.

“Thank you. For everything.” You say between gasps. You reach to take the umbrella, but are interrupted by Chan pulling you into a hug instead.

“I’m gonna miss you so much,” he says, the end of his sentence catching in his throat. He holds you tighter than he ever has before. “I’m so proud of you.” He leans back a bit to look at you, and wipes the tears off of your face with the pads of his thumbs. “You’re gonna be amazing.”

Maybe it’s his messy, curly hair- or the pinkish tinge to his beautiful nose, or the overwhelming feeling of him touching your face- it’s too much. Too much to keep those simmering emotions at bay. And you want to touch him, transfer the heat from your body to his, let him know how much he means to you in ways that words just can't- and it’s painful. He’s still cradling your face in his hands. You silently beg him to let go- let you go.

“I love you.” That’s not enough. “I love you so much.” The confession escapes you in a squeak, broken sobs ripping through your chest.

“I love you too. Shh… it’s okay. It’s okay.” Another hug. This one is impossibly tight, like you could disappear at any moment and Chan is the only thing tethering you to the earth.

“No, you don’t get it. I love you more than anything Chan.” Then you kiss him, because the words don’t hold enough weight. You need him to understand- to feel your desperation and unspoken devotion.

It’s a gentle peck at first, so soft it could’ve been imagined. It’s timid and cautious, but it’s real. The fire it ignites in you only makes you want more. You don’t even look to see Chan’s reaction before you crash into his lips again, then again, and again- deepening the kiss and letting yourself indulge in the sensation. Toothy, clamoring, and unorganized. Feverish fervor that leaves your fingertips buzzing.

When you finally come up for air, meeting Chan’s watery eyes, your heart breaks all over again. How much time have you wasted? How many memories had you opted out of in fear? Fear of rejection? Fear of losing your best friend? Fear of being undeserving of a love so all consuming and white-hot? It’s soul crushing.

Chan speaks, voice slightly hoarse. “Two weeks?” It’s a question.

“Yeah. I leave in two weeks,” you say. Chan nods to himself, places the umbrella he’s been holding against the wall, and takes your hands in his.

“Any stretch of time spent loving you is time well-spent. No apologies. No “what-ifs”. No regrets. If this is how I come to love you-”

“But I should’ve-” you start.

“It’s worth it.”

He tucks you into bed that night, the rain and his warm embrace lulling you to sleep, and for a bit- in that space of limbo right before your body succumbs to slumber- you agree with Chan.

If this is how the chips fell, it was worth it. The years of confessions held at the tip of your tongue, the myriad of stolen glances, your quiet love- It was all worth it.

You don’t know what awaits you in the morning. All you know is that you love Chan and he loves you. For now, that’s enough.

#bangchan fic #skz fic #bang chan #skz x reader #bloodmoonmuses #bang chan x reader

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darklydeliciousdesires · 2 months

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La Dolce Vita - John Shelby/Cosima Changretta (OFC).

So, I decided to begin this new little series of mine, besties. It shan't be delivered in regular chapter form, but a series of one-shot parts that will tell the story of John and Cosima's marriage, beginning from their wedding day. I hope you enjoy it :)

Words - 3,682

Warnings - Each part will be adult only content, from swearing to eventual smut and violence. Minors DNI.

Part I - Inferno

The blood of a thousand men could stain a thousand streets, cold, hard warfare spinning out of control in a haze of spatter and gunpowder, yet sometimes all it took was the presence of a woman to end it all.

And it had.

It didn’t mean the woman in question had to like it, though.

“No.” The word fell from his lips with mild irritation as he took in the sight before him. “You will not wear black.”

Cosima didn’t even attempt to hide her distain. “Why not? This is a death, after all.”

Luca couldn’t help but feel entertained by her words, even though she was rapidly whittling him down to his very last nerve. “You are so dramatic, la mia sorellina.” She always had been. “It’s about time you were somebody’s wife, and you will make a good wife, too. Every man betrothed to an Italian woman should recognise how damned lucky he is.”

“And me?” Her cadence rose sharply, her voice bordering on shrill. “What about me, Luca?”

9:23am and already, he wished he’d had the sense to bring some aspirin with him. “You will do as you are told, Sima. And wear white while you do it.”

The silky drawl of her brother never rose beyond the smooth hush he spoke with, but his words packed the same punch as they would have had he yelled them. He was also the only person alive who she allowed to shorten her name. People had called her Cos in school, swiftly ending up with a slapped face for it. Her Italian fire had been lit pretty much since the day she’d been born. “I wish I’d brought mama with me now.”

His lip curled, a soft rumble of a laugh echoing his throat, sucking on the matchstick he pulled from between his lips as he pointed it at her. “We both know why you didn’t.”

“Yes,” she chirped, admiring her reflection in the mirror, “you’re paying.”

Again, she prompted his smile. Few did, really, save Anna Maria, his wife, as well as his sons, Joey and Guiseppe. “I am, cara mia. Listen, if you want the black dress, I’ll buy it for you. You won’t be married in it, though. Imagine if mama was here, eh? She’d be, ah, much more vocal than I about it.”

This was true. Audrey would have taken over rather than sitting quietly like Luca. “I’m beginning to think she’d fuss much less than you.”

He rolled his eyes. “Try on the next dress, for the love of god.”

Huffing and cussing in their native tongue, Cosima flounced back behind the privacy screen, getting herself out of the dress, the nearby assistant helping her into the white lace gown. Her face was a picture of utter contempt upon emerging, raising her middle finger when Luca quietly applauded her appearance.

“Perfect.”

“I fucking hate it,” she sneered, the assistant’s eyes bulging a little at her coarse language.

“Cosima, you would hate even the most exquisite of gowns, crafted by the finest of designers,” he pointed out, standing and walking to her slowly. He reached beneath her chin, raising it up, placing a little kiss upon her forehead. “You look beautiful. La belladonna. It is done.”

His word was final, and she knew this well. It did not mean she had to be quiet or graceful in her compliance, though. Being wed to a Shelby, after all they had done, the war that had seen the deaths of both her treasured brother and beloved papa, was not a fate she relished in.

Negotiations in order to cease the bloodshed and forge ahead in a new bond, running Shelby gin into New York with the assistance of her family and their connections had been sealed by a proposed joining of their families through marriage. Her marriage, to John Shelby.

How she had screamed and complained when Luca had informed her of this truce sealing union. Glasses and ornaments had been smashed in tempestuous fury, Cosima’s ire reaching the kind of decibels that had taken Luca and Audrey much effort and nips of gin to quieten, the youngest of the Changretta clan storming from her mother’s home, walking the streets, chain smoking in blind fury.

The only silver lining? At least Luca had not decreed that she marry the man who had killed her father, not that she actually could. For his sins, Arthur Shelby breathed no longer. Neither did Grace Shelby, nor Esme Shelby, the late wife of the man soon to be her husband, the gypsy beauty getting in the way of a hit meant for John on Christmas Day and lamentably not surviving it.

And Cosima thought her hand dealt was bad. For John, it was decidedly bleaker by far.

His brother was gone, his wife was gone, his sister-in-law was gone, and his fate was now bound to a person belonging to a family whom he couldn’t stand with any ounce of tolerance. Tolerance was what he had to show, though, in order to keep relations smoothed over, before anybody else ended up dead.

“It’s a fresh start for us all, John boy,” Tommy began, standing in front of his brother, straightening his tie. “I don’t expect you to be happy about it, but...”

“Good, ‘cos I ain’t,” he cut in with, his jaw tightening, refusing to meet his brother’s eye. “Esme is barely fucking cold, and you’ve got me marrying some wop bitch. Trust me, Tom. I ain’t fucking happy in the slightest.”

The elder Shelby truly had no comeback for that. He knew his actions were a slap in the face to John, to Arthur, to Esme and to the love of his life, but there was no other way around it. He didn’t plan on losing anybody else to a war that could be negotiated through. It had been tough to bargain, but peace had been restored finally, Tommy reasoning that scores had been settled upon both sides of the divide.

They were more than even. In fact, they truly weren’t, two lives on the Changretta side, three on the Shelby, two innocent women coming into the crossfire and dying because of it. He was not prepared to lose more. If he could also turn a very tidy profit while not losing more, then so be it.

Finally, he managed to catch the icy stare of his brother, Tommy squeezing his shoulders. “Give it time. At least you’re getting wed to an attractive woman. Could have matched you to a right scrag, but I didn’t.”

She could have been the queen of fucking Sheba for all John cared. Her beauty or lack thereof was neither here nor there. She wasn’t Esme, and that was all there was to it. “Gotta habit of this, you have, marrying me off to some bird I ain’t ever clapped eyes on until I get to the altar, all for the sake of keeping the peace.”

There hadn’t been an actual altar at his wedding to Esme, but this time there was no room for negotiation. The priest local to the district Cosima Changretta lived in had been given a hefty bung to marry them, regardless of the fact that John was a non-practising Catholic. Usually, Father David would have required he at least attend weekly mass for a few months prior to the wedding, but this wasn’t possible when the union had been set up to take place within the space of a week from its original incarnation.

Through his disesteem, John wasn’t blind to see the benefits of joining the families in order to broker peace, though. He just wished there was some other way, one that didn’t involve him forsaking his late wife’s memory, or literally getting into bed with a member of the very family who had taken three members of his.

With a red rose buttonhole pinned to his charcoal suit – those specific flowers at Cosima’s request – they headed out to the waiting car, ready to be ferried across Birmingham to the district of Bournville, to St Francis of Assisi.

“Holy shit, the waft of that bloody chocolate," Polly spoke from the back of the car, the famous Cadbury factory emitting the heady scent of it’s delicious confectionary. “Making my mouth water, it is.”

“Well, as long as the air smells like Dairy fucking Milk, all’s right as rain, ain’t it, Pol?” John muttered, watching the little black and white houses dotted along the main road pass them by. It was such a different landscape than the one he was used to, the village of Bournville so very picturesque and quaint.

Polly tutted. “Oi, less of your fucking lip, our John. Don’t make today any harder than it has to be by being a surly shit about it.”

“Yeah, but...”

She cut his protests dead with her usual blunt retort. “We know, for the love of god! You’ve vented your spleen so hard at this, I’m surprised you have one left! This isn’t ideal, but it’ll bring us peace and let me rest my fucking head easy at night, not worrying when the next of my fucking nephew’s is going to end up riddled with bullet holes. Now, put your fucking face straight. We’re nearly there.”

He could have begun his protests once more, vented at how it wasn’t right that he was being thrown into wedlock again just four months after his second wife had died, how at thirty years old, he shouldn’t have already had to attend the funerals of two Mrs. Shelby’s, but he knew it would serve him little good.

Arriving at the church, they made their way inside, John surprised to be greeted kindly by Audrey Changretta, who was standing talking to the verger.

“A lot of water has gone under the bridge, John. All I want going forward is for you to be a good man to my Cosima. Can you do that for me, love?”

His heartstrings were yanked upon hard, knowing how much his actions had devastated her. She looked weary from it all, the sparkle in her eyes non-existent. He’d never wanted her to be hurt in all of this, the teacher he held so many fond memories of, the woman he had steadfastly refused to murder in cold blood. “I can. I promise I will.”

She patted his cheek, smiling thinly. That smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, and for that he couldn’t blame her. “Thank you.” She exchanged nods with Polly and Tommy, the Shelby’s moving into the church, smiling to their family and friends as they passed the pews, the Changretta presence outnumbering them by about two to one.

He and Tommy stood to the side of the altar, Polly taking a seat at the first pew between Finn and Ada, the latter giving the groom-to-be a bolstering smile. It had little of its desired effect, John feeling a cold swirl of discomfort growing chillier by the moment. “Forgive me, Esme. I fucking wish this weren’t happening just as much as I wish you were still here, love.”

His deeply lamenting thoughts were banished by the sound of the organ keys pressed upon, the church filling with music as the congregation stood, Father David quickly shaking both his and Tommy’s hands before his focus shifted towards the doors, beaming as he watched Cosima escorted in by her brother. The bride looked exquisite in her white lace gown, her cascading veil shrouding her face, the dress very quintessentially Italian in fashion.

John didn’t dare turn around and watch her walk to him, only aware of her arrival at his side from the strong plume of Chanel perfume entering his nose, finally turning to see Luca gently lift her veil, kissing her cheek and whispering a few words in Italian to her. He then moved to John, surprising him by offering his hand.

“To famiglia, eh?”

“Yeah,” he coughed, shaking it. The Italian’s grip was like Iron, his face unflinching. There was no true warmth there. “To family.”

Luca moved to sit at his mother’s side, John finally letting his eyes fall to his left, taking her in for the first time. His throat tightened in an instant. He’d thought Esme to be the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, the guilt of the fact that Cosima Changretta was the biggest knockout he’d ever witnessed hitting him hard.

As for his soon to be wife, when her piercing blue eyes found his, the sensation of her heart skipping on three consecutive beats made her feel a little nauseous for a moment.

He was gorgeous.

Why did he have to be gorgeous? It would have made hating him so much easier if he’d been ugly.

“At least I will have something nice to look at, while I’m throwing plates at his head.” She thought, turning to the priest and smiling as best she could, given the circumstances.

The ceremony was a long, tedious affair, the bride wishing for a traditional mass that bored the balls off John. He did well to hide it, though. What he failed miserably at was looking in any way, shape or form happy when they were pronounced man and wife, offering her a chaste kiss to the cheek, a speedy peck of non-affection. Cosima was relieved he hadn’t leaned to her mouth. She wasn’t ready for that yet.

Taking his arm, she walked back down the aisle as the newest member of the Shelby family, her eyes sad as she looked at her mother and brother. They smiled at her with loving pride, Cosima dropping her chin, lest they see the tears in her eyes as she walked alongside her new husband, a man she couldn’t stand. True, she knew nothing of John Shelby, other than what he’d had a hand in taking from her.

With every step, she had to physically prevent herself from gathering the bridal lace swathing her slender curves and running, back to Acacia Road, back to the family home. This was where she desired to be, out in the flower filled back garden tending to her roses, taking cuttings of herbs ready to be brought into the kitchen and tutored by her darling mother in everything from Carbonara to baked Ziti.

She longed for the scents of her mother’s pasta, to hear her father’s key in the door, his whistled tunes filling the homestead as she’d wipe her hands upon her apron and run to greet him. Her papa, the man she loved and respected the very most. Gone.

“You erm, you look beautiful, Cosima.”

His face did not match his compliment, Cosima looking up at her new husband, her face stony. “I know. Shame my dream wedding didn’t come with the dream groom, though.”

John sniffed, his eyebrow tilting a fraction. “Ahh, you might still get it yet. We can get divorced and give it another go with other people. Who knows? I could nail it lucky the fourth time around.”

Her eyes widened. “You’ve been married twice before?”

“Ar.”

“And what the blinking hell happened to them?” she demanded, wondering just what her brother had gotten her into, marrying her off to a man who was on his third wife.

“They died, if you must know,” he frowned, reaching the end of the aisle, the door opening, a cascade of confetti hurled at them from the throng of guests exiting behind them.

“Lucky them.” Her mutter was drowned out by the sound of happy cheers, or at least she thought it had been. Her new husband had heard it, though, wanting nothing more than to slap her in her rude mouth for her coldly delivered statement.

“Great, got myself hitched to a stunner and she’s a right nasty little mare.” he spoke, certainly loud enough for her to hear, releasing the hold upon her arm and moving to receive congratulations from his family. Cosima narrowed her eyes at him in his wake, turning to smile brightly at her friends, her hands taken in theirs, cheeks kissed, her heart thrumming with waves of sadness. A right nasty little mare. That’s what he thought of her, Cosima’s indignance burning brightly for a while, not able to reflect upon the fact that what she’d said had indeed been very spiteful.

At twenty-three, she truly should have known better. With two dead wives behind him and a bitterness that still lingered beneath the surface between the two families, she guessed he was likely as thrilled to be married to her as she was to him. An apology perhaps wouldn’t go amiss.

Once they’d posed for a few photographs, the bride and groom were shown to the waiting Rolls Royce Silver Cloud, John holding the door open for her, following her in and staring stonily out of the window as they pulled away from the church.

She felt awkward and ashamed of her words, moving her thumb back and forth over one of the large thorns the florist had neglected to remove from the bouquet of red roses. “John, I apologise for what I said, about your late wives being lucky. I only meant that... I don’t know what I meant, actually.”

She was met by a cold, two worded statement. “Fuck off.”

Deserved, to be fair. Predictably, Cosima let it spark at her kindling rather than rushing for water, though. “That’s impossible, now I’m your wife. Don’t bloody pout at me. I said something regrettable, but because of your family I don’t have Angel or my father any longer. You yourself are directly responsible for the former. If you hadn’t beaten him within an inch of his life, he wouldn’t have lay vulnerable in hospital, ripe for the plucking. And let’s not forget that scumbag of a brother of yours, who killed my papa.”

He tutted, chewing his toothpick with hostility. “Don’t act like you’re the only one who lost somebody you loved. Fucking gone right over your head, ain’t it? Because of your family, I lost me wife, brother and sister-in-law. We’re in the same boat, Cosima.”

“You started all of this. You could have just let Lizzie be happy with Angel, but no! You had to burn his restaurant to the fucking ground. What is it you dumb Shelby fucks say, hmm? By order of the Peaky Blinders, that’s it! Your way or the highway!”

Bile began licking at his insides. “Your brother weren’t good enough for Lizzie. She’s a good woman, and he was a fucking duplicitous shit. Didn’t even have the balls to use his real name for half his dealings. At least we stand by who we fucking are.”

Her rage escalated by the second, staring at him incredulously. “My brother had the sense to be clandestine, and you will not speak of him like you knew him! So, he partnered with your enemies, so fucking what? The way you Shelby’s conduct yourself, you make enemies left and fucking right! You took my family away from me for nothing. Nothing!”

John eyed her viciously, his eyes losing any trace of warmth. “They fucking deserved it, and you, you spoiled little wop bitch? You deserve nothing less than every fucking ounce of my contempt. We’re married in name only, believe me. Ain’t no way I’m gonna be a good husband to you, no matter what I promised your mom.”

“Fine by me!”

The air virtually crackled with their mutual distain, Cosima shuffling as far as she could get away from him, muttering cusses in Italian.

“I know what testa di cazzo means,” he spat.

“Good!” she fumed, “I want you to know I think you’re a dickhead!”

The reception was being held at a small hotel local to the church, Cosima storming out of the car and not looking back, fixing a huge, fake smile to her face as she was welcomed by the staff. Immediately, her eyes locked onto a waiter carrying a tray of champagne filled flutes, taking one and knocking it back. A second was reached for, John arriving at her side.

“Whiskey please, mate. Fucking large one.”

The waiter nodded. “At once, sir.”

They stood together to welcome their guests, both repelled by one another’s presence, going through the motions of everything. Cake cutting, first dance, spending as much time as they could away from one another. It was while John was seeking the solace of quiet and fresh night air much later that evening, standing on the rear patio of the hotel smoking a cigar, that he found himself joined by the last person he expected.

“Can I give you some advice, John?”

Turning to Luca, he raised an eyebrow, the tall Italian continuing. “If you want a quiet life with my sister, you need to keep her in the lifestyle she’s become accustomed to. I love that girl to her bones, but she’s a fucking spoiled princess.”

His eyes widened. “You can say that again.”

Luca’s mouth twitched, removing the toothpick he’d been idly chewing on. “My father bent to her every whim, being his only daughter. She was daddy’s little girl. Roses, diamonds, furs, French perfume, she loves all of that. You treat her good and she’ll be sweet with you. And make sure she has a garden. That kid lives for horticulture.”

Luckily, he was wealthy enough to provide such luxuries for his new bride, not that he wanted to. Not that she deserved even one of them. “Noted.”

He nodded, turning to leave his new brother-in-law to it, pausing suddenly as he pointed the toothpick in his grasp at him. “Oh, and John? She’s got a thing for hurling plates. Learn to duck.” Laughing to himself, he carried on back into the hotel, while John felt a prickle of annoyance at his statement, or rather how much pleasure he’d derived from delivering the news that Cosima was nothing short of a bad-tempered handful.

Standing out there alone, he did hope that one day he might see her as something different. Whether that day would come swiftly or not was anybody’s guess, though.

#john shelby fanfiction #john shelby x ofc #peaky blinders fanfiction #luca changretta fanfiction #john shelby smut #john shelby fanfic #john shelby fic #john shelby x oc #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fic

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shadowbriar · 1 year

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Fred Weasley - Pick Up Where We Left Off

Pairing : (F/M) || Fred Weasley x Reader Word Count : 2.5k Warning : None. Let me know if I missed anything Synopsis : One last Christmas with the Weasleys, would she find her closure from his sudden withdrawal years ago? Notes : I’m trying to pull myself out of writing slump. Hope this is good enough of a comeback-ish post. Not proofread, I might edit this later. If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕

Perhaps she’s read one too many romantic novels that it’s started to blur the line of reality in her life. Perhaps Hermione has told her too many tales of happy endings that it’s started to dilute her idea of realism. Perhaps she’s taken Divination class too seriously that it’s started to make her believe that the Universe holds a better, sweeter, and dreamier ending for her and him.

It was no question for her on whose palms her heart belongs. Long before Snape taught her class about Amortentia, long before Trelawney taught her about crystal-gazing, she already knew whose magnetic force her world would revolve around. One look of him after being sorted to her house and it felt like the thin haze of uncertainty in her life was lifted. She might only be a child then, but she knew that this wouldn’t be something she could walk past from.

For the first few years of her school life, everything seemed to be falling to its place. It wasn’t hard for her to grow close with him, like how bees are naturally attracted to flowers, in no time he was always just an arm’s length from her. He was always around. Always had his hands on top of her head as they walked on the corridors, always saved her a seat in the Great Hall for every meal, and would always find her first to share the mischief he’s accomplished during the day.

Yet some day in their Third year, something changed. Like someone had just pulled the rug she was standing on, snapping her to the reality that things are simply too good to be true. She has misunderstood his affection and tender gestures. Fred Gideon Weasley has never held any romantic feelings for her.

She bites her lip as the memories of their once fond friendship slowly evaporates to thin air. He slowly distant himself, for whatever reason she still couldn’t decipher. His bright beaming smile turns into a tight line before eventually gone entirely from his handsome face. His fingers no longer play with her hair and the space between them during meals seem to grow further each day until he’s found himself eventually sitting on a different spot.

“Will you come and spend Christmas with us?” Ginny asks, linking her arms as they walk to the train “It’s been a while since we see you on breaks.”

She smiles, shaking her head lightly, “Not this time, Gin.”

“Is Fred still being an arse?” The younger continues with her questions “It’s been years, surely he’s warmed up to you.”

“He sure has.” She lied, giving the red head a squeeze on the arm “We’re just not as close anymore and I think it would be awkward for us all if I were to pop out of nowhere at your family dinner.”

“Nonsense! Everyone would be delighted to see you, I can guarantee that.”

She shows an apologetic smile, still not giving in.

“It’s been years,” Ginny continues to plead “You’re graduating soon and Merlin knows when else we could spend Christmas together. You know, Charlie’s back from Romania and it wouldn’t be complete still without you there.”

“I don’t know, Gin.”

“Please? I’ll hex and petrify Fred in his room if he’s making you uncomfortable.”

She chuckles a little before letting out a sigh, “Alright.”

—-

She tidies her skirt in nervousness, standing in front of the Burrow’s door as she wonders if coming here was a mistake. One last Christmas, she thought. One last Christmas before she could move on from the long attaching chapter in her life that is Fred Weasley. One last Christmas with the Weasley before she shuts the memory away. One last Christmas to say goodbye.

With a long inhale, she hesitantly knocks on the wooden door. Her grip on her purse tightened as the person who greets her first was the one she least wished to see. He looks just as surprised to see her, a light hint of rose tainting his cheeks. Perhaps from the cold breeze of air.

“Hi.”

“Hello,” She greets back “Your family invited me for dinner.”

He blinks, seemingly at a loss of words, “Right, of course.”

“Sunshine!’ A voice called behind him, revealing Bill who’s now coming to her with large steps “Oh, it’s been decades since I last saw you!”

She giggles as he pulls her for a hug, lifting her slightly, “Hello, Bill.”

“Oh, Merlin.” He says, staring at her beamingly as he puts her down “Look at you now! You’ve grown! You’re a lady now.”

“Still far shorter than you, though.”

“Nah, your height is the perfect one. It’s cute.”

Fred clears his throat, “I think you should let a woman come inside first before flirting with her, Bill.”

“Of course!” Bill says, pulling her by the shoulder and leading her in “Come on, there’s so many things we should talk about. How’s life, Darling?”

The warm happy smile is still plastered on her face, feeling genuinely happy as Bill starts to share the bits of his life that she’s missed about. He’s always been the welcoming big brother for her, always there to embrace her with such warmth and love she would never find elsewhere. Yet with all the joy and delight of hearing Bill’s pleasant stories, she couldn’t help but to notice the annoyed scoff and the louder slam of the door as they entered the house.

Perhaps her presence really is a bother for him.

—-

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” She curses with a sigh, placing her hands to hips.

To say dinner went pleasantly would be such an understatement. Everyone welcomed her as if she was the missing jigsaw the family has been missing for years. Bill was always by her side, Charlie sharing all of his adventurous tales from Romania, and Percy who blabbered about his new position at the ministry. The shared night felt like it went by too quickly that Mrs. Weasley persisted for her to stay the night, not ready to say goodbye just yet.

Perhaps it was the blissful warmth the house has always been filled in and the waves of emotions she hasn’t felt for years that made her struggle to drift off to sleep now. That or the fact that Fred was the only silent party on the table. He was the only one who didn’t try to engage in a conversation with her, yet she could feel his eyes boring into her like a tiger prying on their prey. The not so subtle, dare she say, jealousy he shows when Bill rests his arm around her shoulder, or when Charlie played with her hair, or when Percy give her a slice of their mother’s cookings, or when George made her laugh so hard she cried, or when Ron hugged her as he opens her present, or even when Ginny stole her to gossip about her little crush on Harry at the sitting room. All the little mundane things they used to do, she couldn’t help but to wish that Fred would miss it too.

But he’s made no effort to come to her, not even a step closer. He kept his distance, a tight forced smile decorating his face whenever their eyes met. It was as if her presence was torturing him.

“Need a hand?”

“Oh, Godric!” She yelps, turning to see the angel of her nightmares standing by the stairs “I couldn’t find where the sugar’s placed.”

He nods, not saying a word as he opens the overhead cabinet and puts the sugar to the table.

“Thanks.” She muttered with a small smile “I’m sorry, did I wake you up?”

“No,” He says short, now leaning to the basin “I couldn’t sleep.”

She nods.

The sound of her stirring her cup of tea is now the only thing breaking the silence between them. She could feel him staring, with his hands folded in front of his chest as if he was studying her. She dares not to look up. Merlin knows just how much of a shamble she would find herself in to lock their gazes. Even after all these years of separation, she knew that he’s still the one magnetism her heart belongs to.

But minutes passed and he still hasn’t spoken a word. Her tea was getting cold, untouched for she fears the slightest change of action would make him leave. Though the tension was ripping her apart, she would gladly be stuck in this situation forever if it meant she could keep him around.

“How have you been?”

She looks up, finally gathering enough courage to see him, “You mean lately or the past few years we’ve been apart?”

“Both,” He says with a slight frown “I suppose.”

“I’m doing alright. You?”

“Could’ve been better.”

“Lately or the past few years?”

He smiles, repeating his words, “Both, I suppose.”

She looks down to her tea. This would be the very time for her to find her closure, find the answers as to why he would leave her so abruptly with no warning. Yet now that the universe has aligned them their moment, why is she now feeling scared? Why does it feel like laying on the bed of uncertainty, the one thing she’s found comfort with over the years of his absence, feels like a better course of life than to have her heart broken for whatever reason he might have?

“I know that I owe you an explanation,” He says as if he could read her mind “But I fear that it would only make you hate me.”

“What makes you think that I don’t already hate you?”

He smiles painfully, “Silly of me think that you haven’t.”

“Say we live in a world where I could never hate you,” She whispered, fingers tapping on her tea cup “Would you give me the answer?”

“In that world, yes.”

She looks up, pleading for him to continue in silence.

“In that world I would tell you everything.” He continues “I would tell you everything, give you everything. Hell, I wouldn’t even leave in the first place.”

“Say that is our world, this world. What answer would you give me?”

His gaze softens, guilt and regret seeping through them, “That I was just a boy. I was scared of what our friendship could lead us to.”

She remains quiet.

“We were so close.” He reminisced with a sad smile “There were times when I felt like I was closer to you than George, and he’s always been with me since I first took my breath in this world, yet somehow you overthrone him and it scares me.”

She nods, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not something you should feel sorry for, Love.” He chuckles bitterly “I was afraid you would somehow, in my most narcissistic mind, fall for me. I know that there would be no chance in the seven hells for that to happen, a girl like you falling for a boy like me, hell that would’ve been the most dubious wish I could hope for.”

She frowns, not following where his confession is going to.

“But I was scared that that would happen. I was scared that our friendship would grow into something more and I could never forgive myself if you were to fall for me when I haven’t sorted my feelings out.”

“I see,” She speaks, taking gulps to try and suppress the growing lump on her throat “And have you sorted your feelings now?”

“I have,” He nods, a sad smile still plastered on his face “I have for years but it was too late already.”

“Too late for what?”

“To make you mine.”

Her head now spins. She felt like her ears had lied to her, that her mind had somehow misunderstood his words, for there could be no chance in every lifetime that he would ever reciprocate her feelings. Never.

“I’m sorry that I ruined everything.” Fred says with a shaky voice as if he was trying to bottle his emotions “I’m sorry that I left you, I’m sorry for realising my feelings too late, I’m sorry for making you hate me, and I’m so fucking sorry for being jealous at everyone who gets to spend their time with you because no matter how many times I tried, I can’t stop loving you.”

And there it is. The confirmation that she wasn’t just making the words in her head. That he indeed, is confessing his heart for her.

She places her hands to her forehead, trying to stop the dizziness she’s feeling right now. Everything Fred said was all she’s been praying for but now that she’s heard it, she wasn’t sure what to say. That, and the fact that she still needs to comprehend that this wasn’t just a lovely dream her mind’s playing.

“Please say something.” Fred begs.

“Merlin, I hate you so much.” She sighs, now looking up to meet his saddened eyes “If I had my wand with me right now, you would’ve find yourself in a casket already, Fred Weasley.”

He smiles, “That doesn’t sound like a very bad way to go.”

“Oh, it is.” She nods, scoffing “Because then you wouldn’t know that I’ve been loving you too.”

His smile dropped, blinking as he heard her.

“Now you can hate yourself even more.” She says sarcastically.

“You’re-” He stammers, now standing up rigidly “You’re messing with me, aren’t you?”

“I’m as serious as you are.” She answers, standing from her seat too “So tell me, Fred, am I being serious?”

Fred was at a loss of words. He stares at her with a conflicted look, like desire and restraint was fighting to take over his body. He hesitantly takes a step closer to her and when she doesn't flinch, he closes the gap between them, now standing in front of her with his hands resting on either of her cheeks.

“I’m sorry.”

She squints her eyes, confused, “What for?”

“For what I’m going to do.”

And with that he leans in, sealing their lips together in the most delicate way. The kiss was short but it was enough to fuel both of their aching hearts. They sigh as they break it off, eyes still closed for a few more seconds as they try to bath in each other’s presence. Something that they’ve longed so painfully long for.

“I love you.” Fred says, looking at her tenderly “I would do anything, and I mean by anything to fix us. We can start from the beginning, I could be a friend or anything you like. Just- Please give me a chance to fix this.”

“I don’t know, Fred.” She teases, faking a sad face “You’re cute, but Bill looks so hot now.”

His mouth was agape, gasping at her taunt, “And here I thought you were a loyal friend. Siblings are off limits, you know it!”

She smiles, kissing the palm of his hand.

“Please?” He asked again, whispering his plea “You won’t regret it.”

“Okay,” She nods, cheeks red from the bliss “But only if you promise you’ll kiss me at the podium when we graduate.”

“Yeah, about that,” Fred awkwardly chuckles, one hand now finds its way to the back of his neck “You’d still love me if I got expelled, right?”

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley scenario #fred weasley scenarios #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley oneshot #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley angst #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x oc

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nerdieforpedro · 1 month

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Fare Well

For @wannab-urs Hozier Song Drabble Challenge

Dieter Bravo x plus size female reader (Sweet Pea)

This fic is for those 18+ MDNI

Word Count: about 1.8k (Yeah so…I went past Drabble 👀)

Summary: Dieter has been working so hard. He still has an issue that might be because of his mind. What can he do about it? Do anything else.

Warnings: unhealthy coping, sexual dysfunction, sex work, teasing, pet names, sexual activity (actual and implied I think? I should know. 🙃)

Notes: I listened to this song 5 times in a row because I didn’t really listen to Hozier (now I do). The color this fic is purple or violet, whichever you wanna say it. 💜 I bolded lyrics I was able to put in the fic. 🤗 Thanks to Gin for giving me two Dieter fics to write back to back. ☺️ That little trash panda is always so giving.

Main Masterlist / Dieter Bravo Masterlist / Writing Challenge

Tapping his foot on his hardwood floors, Dieter Bravo is in an all too familiar place. He’s been purposely busy. Keeping occupied except for when he’s completely exhausted has kept him out of trouble, even in the tabloids. People are saying he’s changed for the better. He knows he’s keeping clean, keeping in the straight and narrow.

Bravo has run into a snag on his progress.

The last few paintings had done well in gallery showing, even selling for double than asking price, his last movie was well reviewed. These are both very good things, wonderful. He’s happy, proud even. Bravo is having plenty of sex, mountains of it. In his head. Reality has played out much differently. All this work he’s doing, he hasn’t been able to chase a different high. One he’s used to replace the drugs. It wasn’t that he couldn’t find people to have sex with. He’s been more careful about it, not something he’s been concerned about prior to his new leaf. In doing so, acts he’d normally attempt weight more heavily on his mind and keep little Dee from swelling when needed. Bravo knows the rumor that might be going around but it’s not true! Since his mind is clearer, he actually thinks about who he’s having sex with more and little D isn’t always on board. You know, one of those words his therapist mentioned – cognitive dissonance except it’s happening with his partner in pleasure little D. Big D when he’s feeling in the mood.

He knows he could just go to one of those discreate clubs, seek his needs out there, but he always assumed he wouldn’t need one. The Oscar Winner keeps looking for different projects, in his studio trying out new paints, trying to learn the saxophone (it was a bad idea, but sounded great at three in the morning when he called his assistant and told him what to buy), he then went to a spin class and damn near passed out after fifteen minutes and tried a cooking class but was kicked out for causing an oil fire.

Nothing was working so he called and asked to stop by, check the place out. The owner of course said that was fine – he’s Dieter Bravo, they’d love to have him. Dieter told the owner,

“I’ll take any high. Any glazin’ of the eyes. Any solitary pleasure that masks my sorrow. No drugs though, I’m not willing to backslide over it.”

The owner said they understood and had the perfect person for him.

So now Dieter waits in this room. It’s an array of different purples well violets since this is a more classy place. He wanted to undress to his boxers but was told by the front desk to leave them on. He did remove his shoes, socks and jacket, but otherwise he’s dressed. Simple black slacks and a white button-down shirt that had bellowing sleeves with a deep v-cut exposing his chest down to his sternum. He felt like dressing up a bit but still kept it simple, most of the clientele were in suits and dresses that Dieter saw. Soft guitar music played in the background, he closed his eyes as he waited curious who they might have matched him with based on what he asked for.

Dieter heard the clicking of heels first. Then smelled a deep woodsy fragrance, it approached slowly, matching the pace of the heels. They stopped in front of him and he caught hints of citrus and a flower. Using his aquiline nose to sniff closer to the source, feeling body heat radiating from whoever was in front of him. “It’s faint but you smell like a sweet pea.” He released a deep breath he’d been building from taking in and trying to identify the different components of their scent.

“Welcome Mr. Bravo. I hope my fragrance invokes pleasant memories. I’m told you want to rid yourself of sorrow. Correct?” The voice embraced him as soft fingers coiled around his neck, thumbs pressing into his chin.

“Yes, please. I need to forget, just for a bit. Then I might be able to get my body to function properly. Everything is fine, great even.” He kept his eyes closed and he felt them. Lips on his forehead, warm and plush. They lingered, “Can I touch you, please?” No answer was given as hands left his neck and were placed on each side of a torso. His palms roamed slowly tracing the lace that wrapped the body he had in his hands.

The lips left his forehead and he was tempted to reach for them, but kept his eyes closed, he would wait, trying to keep his breathing even. “Is this alright Mr. Bravo or do you want someone who might-“Dieter wildly shook his head.

“Don’t you go anywhere Sweet Pea. Stay right here with me. Just like this. Maybe more. Can I look at you?” He pulled the body toward him, sniffing more. “Call me Dieter. Mr. Bravo is the one having issues with his little D.” He made himself chuckle knowing what a stupid joke it was. Fingertips graced his cheek and tipped his chin upward.

“Look at me Dieter. How do you want me to drown your sorrows tonight? I usually go by Violet due to the room, but I like Sweet Pea when you say it. It makes me sound cute.” The giggle from this celestial being has Dieter wondering if she’ll still giggle if he’s buried between her legs. He wouldn’t need to come up for air, just search for what would be his reward: her moans and his tongue squeezed by her pelvic muscles. His palms ran around to her back, feeling the different rolls of her body.

“I want to see if I’m going to go into a coma from drowning in your nectar Sweet Pea. Can I be your first casualty? If I was going to go, I’d want to be surrounded by thick thighs and a woman’s cries I offer her.” Slipping her left heel off, Sweet Pea places her leg on the bed beside Dieter’s right leg. His hand slowly makes its way across the curve of her wide ass to her thigh, his large fingers dipping into the small holes of the fishnets, tugging on them. “Let me show you gorgeous.”

Smiling, Sweet Pea gives his lips a quick peck before bending to reach between his legs, “Seems just the thought is enough Dieter. Why come to me? I’m sure you’ve got many offers, especially if you’re asking like that.” She lowers her leg and stands back up, turning her back to him but looking over her shoulder to meet his eyes. The glint in them makes her lick her lips, she could ask him to do it, just to see if he will. Given how desperate he is, he might. He won’t say it, but his body betrays him, he said that ‘little D’ was having trouble but that didn’t seem to be the case at all from what she felt. Maybe it’s the scents, the atmosphere and that what happens here will remain here until he comes back. She crosses the room and drops her black thong, stepping out of it and her other heel, sitting on a violet velvet loveseat with her legs open wide. “This is what you want right Dieter?” Her elbows are on her knees with one hand beckoning him. “Come to me, but undress and crawl.”

Bravo doesn’t want control right now, nor does he want to think. He just wants to act, to perform. In this moment, he isn’t thinking about how lonely he is or how his career could crumble on some whim of culture or random video. There’s only this purple room he can melt into as he removes his clothes, making himself bare to Sweet Pea. Dieter’s actually hard, dripping onto her carpet as he lowers himself onto the floor on all fours. His knees are burning as he makes his way across the padded carpet. It’s worth his goal though, into her tender folds. “You like to see a man work, huh Sweet Pea? That’s more than fine.” Halfway there, his bobbing swollen cock made a mess of the carpet and his belly. Upon reaching her, he placed his hands on her knees and looked up to her, balancing himself on his knees so little D was at full attention. He wanted to show her what she’d been able to bring out of him so far. Something changed though, he was smiling but Violet recognized it. She used her fingers to rub circles into his biceps and shoulders before tracing the pronounced vein on his neck.

“You adorable man. This isn’t what you want. At least not now. You can’t seem to decide between the two Dieter.” Fingers run through his hair, and he knows she’s right but couldn’t she had said so after he’d had his fill, hear her cries?

“You’re not wrong, but I still need this. Need you.” He dipped his head to nibble on her thigh and she hummed but pushed his head back. In standing, she also helped him to his feet and brought him back to the bed, removing her lace corset and climbed on the bed.

“From behind, I’m not going to have your tears dripping where I can watch while you fuck me.” Now Sweet Pea was on all fours and Dieter’s sorrow returned. It was inescapable, but he wanted to see her face. He could block it off, just for a short while he tried to get the sunshine.

“No, I need to see how your face changes as you take me.” Crawling across the bed behind her, he pulled her back flush to his chest and turned her chin over her shoulder, capturing her lips. Slipping his tongue in, the warmth felt good. He hadn’t had it in months, he didn’t know why now, in this place with her, but he’d accept it. All of it. “Pleasure to mask my sorrow is why I’m here, Sweet Pea. Have me bask in the sun.”

Their kiss broke as Sweet Pea turned to put her arms around his shoulders, kissing his forehead once again as Dieter laid back on the bed, she fell forward as he took her hair out of the high ponytail it had been in. Her hair fell around her face, her wet folds grazed his shaft and he moaned. “I’ll be your dawn until the light shines on you Dieter.”

Coming unbound, feeling elated and devastated when he had to leave, Dieter had been able to bury his sorrow in pleasure for a time. Another appointment was made for later in the week. To quote Bravo, “I’ll deny me none while I’m allowed because I wouldn’t fare well.”

Bad ideas that Dieter could use: @katw474 @readingiskeepingmegoing @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @megamindsecretlair @pamasaur @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @sp00kymulderr @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @titlee78 @tinytinymenace @magpiepillsjunior @soft-girl-musings @morallyinept @rhoorl @survivingandenduring @missladym1981 @yorksgirl @heareball @laurfilijames @maggiemayhemnj

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