#sorry pap that name is already taken

[finelinevogue]

paparazzi nerves

summary - you get nervous around the paps

word count: >1k

pairing: boyfriend!harry x reader

You noticed the paparazzi before anyone else did

It had been easy keeping your holiday location a secret from fans, but somehow the paparazzi always seemed to be able to find you.

Harry’s tour had finished only days ago and now you were spending time together, relaxing and having fun. It had been hard to really dedicate time to one another when Harry had been touring every other day, but now it was time for rest.

Harry had rented a couple of small boats to drive over to a little island he had read about in one of his Italian travel books.

Now you were all arriving and soaking up the glorious sunshine, only to be rudely interrupted by the faraway lenses of the paparazzi.

Harry was on another boat, talking to James and Tyler, whilst you remained on a different boat with Gemma.

You and Gemma weren’t the biggest fans of the sun and the heat, so any opportunity to sit in the shade was taken instantly.

Gemma was sat in her pink dungarees, whilst you were sat in your yellow summers dress. The one that Harry said made you look like a summers dream.

As Gemma continued to read, you kept getting distracted by the paparazzi on a boat in the distance.

You’d never been one to really acclimatise to the constant clicking of photos. No doubt they would be focused on taking photos of Harry - especially when he’s sitting there shirtless, but part of you still remained uneasy.

“I might go and see if there’s a toilet nearby.” Gemma said, standing up and rocking the boat slightly.

You nodded, standing up too.

“I’ll go over there.” You pointed to where Harry was. “Just so I’m not alone.”

“Alright.”

Gemma wandered to the front of the boat, but before she can clamber out Harry has made his way over and is now standing at shin length in the sea.

“Y’alright Gem?” He asked and you couldn’t help but smile at how much of a gentleman he was. Always keen to help out and lend a hand.

He offered his hand for Gemma to hold and step out of the boat, which she took gladly.

“Yeah. Just going to the loo. Your missus needs company, though.”

“Oh does she now?” He turned to look at you once Gemma was out safely. He smiled brightly at you, checking you over and admiring how much you were glowing in the Italian sun.

Gemma kissed Harry on the cheeks before leaving.

Harry then jumped the boat and you bit your lip to hide a laugh when he nearly lost his footing. The idiot was trying to show off, not that he had to for you.

“Y’need me, do you?” he asked, walking over to you where you were still standing in the shade.

“Didn’t want to be sat here like a loner. I’d have been like that one photo of Taylor where she’s sat on the back of a boat by herself.”

Harry laughed at that, finding his arms wrapping around you to pull you in for a hug. He squeezed tight and you sighed into his warm chest. His hugs were always the best. Like your own personal teddy bear.

“Never would let you feel lonely, baby.” He kissed your head.

“I know.” Your lips kissed his chest as you spoke, due to how smushed against him you were. “Have you put suncream on?”

“Yes.” Harry whined.

“Oi, I’m just making sure you still look appealing when we’re older and not some wrinkly ball sack.” You explained, making Harry laugh again.

“Is that all I’m here for? Huh? Appeal for you?”

You tilted your head back to face up at him. “I thought you knew that already.”

Harry squinted his eyes and shook his head at you playfully.

What’s worse is that he brought his large hand down to your bum and gave it a pinch through your dress. The moment only lasted a second, but it was enough for you to step away and push him off of you.

“Harry, don’t.” You said sternly.

Harry knew you meant it too, because you used his actual name and not some other endearment.

“Hey, baby, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He said.

You sat down where you had been sitting before and huffed. You ran your hands over your face and tried to breathe slowly.

“No, i’m sorry.” You shook your head.

“What for?” Harry was confused. He sat down next to you, but made sure you had your own space until he knew what he was in for.

“I noticed the paparazzi here before and now I’m just paranoid. I mean, y’know I don’t deal well with them.”

Harry looked around you and only then noticed the small boat of about five photographers. Luckily he was wearing sunglasses to hide his dark stare, but he was severely pissed that they were here. Invading his private time.

What’s worse is that they were making his girlfriend uncomfortable.

“Hey, look at me. Y/N, honey. C’mere.” He twisted your legs to dangle over his and moved your body so that your back was to the paparazzi. “I’m here. Just us.”

You looked at him and noticed how he was only focused on you. You reached to move his sunglasses and pulled them down for a second to look at his eyes. His pupils were dilated slightly with the look of love he had for you. You pushed his glasses back up and settled in closer next to him.

“Just us.” You nodded.

Even though it wasn’t just you and the paparazzi would be taking photos of this moment no doubt, including the one of Harry pinching your bum, it was settling to know that Harry was here and he was doing this with you.

“Screw them. If I want to touch my girlfriend in public, I will.” You gave him a look. “W-with consent of course.”

You laughed then. “Harry I don’t care when, how, why you touch me. I.. I just… Let me know beforehand if we’re in public settings or if the paps are around. Please?”

“Promise.” He nodded seriously.

“Love you.” You reached for his hand and held onto one of his fingers with your entire hand. His hands are massive compared to yours - something the fans are always pointing out and crying over.

“Love you too.” He encompassed your hand with his and rubbed small circles into the back of your hand.

“Can y’kiss me now?”

“Never going to say no.”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfic #ask finelinevogue #harry blurb #finelinevogue #harry styles concept #harry oneshot #harry styles blurbs #harry styles italy #harry styles yacht #harry styles girlfriend

[storiesofsvu]

A Dangerous Game Ch 12

Emily Prentiss x reader Warnings: language, alcohol, mentions of smut.

I promise y'all I AM putting the read more's in, this hellsite is glitching still...

While Sacramento had once been on your list of travel destinations, you hadn’t wanted to be exploring the city’s streets solving a string of murders.

The upside: the team had taken down the unsub in a matter of days meaning you’d make it back home for the weekend.

The downside: the jet was being serviced and wasn’t available until late Friday morning and you were stuck another night.

Everyone had split off but with a little bit more energy left you and Morgan found the closest dive bar to the hotel with a pool table and cheap beer, alternating between who was paying. You’d just missed your third shot in a row, letting out an annoyed huff before swiping your beer off the side of the table and chugging half of it back.

“You’re off your game Wilson.” Morgan teased, easily sinking his shot, “ya pent up or something?”

“Oh I’m sorry did you already forget about the fact that you booted me in the ribs earlier today?”

“I was aiming for the unsub!”

“Well your aim sucks. And you should be picking up the entire tab tonight.” You scowled in his direction until he finally missed a shot.

“Tell me something, why’re you so grumpy? Weren’t you the one complaining about being stuck in DC? We’re in sunny California and you’re frowning. Or is this about your so called enrichment time?” He waggled his brows in your direction and you scoffed with a roll of your eyes.

“I get plenty of enrichment time.” You stated, stepping up to the table to unfortunately miss yet another shot. Your words were true, it was just that this week Emily was stuck back in the office with extra administrative duties. There was no point in Vegas being a thing if she wasn’t in the field with you.

“Yeah? What’s her name?” Derek grinned.

“Your mom.”

“Very funny Wilson.” He shook his head for a laugh, “and I’m serious, you need to get out more.” Extending the pool cue he went to prod at your ribs and you let out a shriek before he sheepishly backed off with an apology, having already forgotten again.

“I get out perfectly fine.”

“Yeah, coffee with Garcia, farmers market with Prentiss, babysitting for JJ and third wheeling my dates. How many phone numbers did you get that week?”

“Nine.”

“And how many have you called?”

“One.” You half confidentially replied, hoping he would drop it.

“Savannah doesn’t count.” He chuckled and a puff of air blew through your lips as you dropped against a chair behind you. “C’mon, I know a perfectly pretty girl who’d love to go to dinner with you.”

“Oh Derek… please… no.” You eyes widened slightly, shaking your head and he chuckled, pulling out his phone and firing off a couple of texts.

“Tomorrow’s Friday, you always say all you do Friday nights is take out and tv.”

‘And Emily.’ You thought, glancing away as you tugged your lower lip into your mouth. Your moment of distraction had Derek thinking you were considering it, clapping you on the shoulder when his phone pinged.

“Perfect! Look, six thirty at Monocle!”

“Ugghh!” Groaning you pushed off the chair, grabbing his arm to drag him off to the bar, “you’re buying me tequila shots.”

*

Back in DC Emily was working late, which honestly she wasn’t surprised at, extra admin duty plus signing off on any paperwork from the Sacramento case the team had sent over already. Not to mention she wanted to get it all done by the end of day tomorrow, to not have to drag it into her weekend, she had plans.

Since the floor was basically empty and she was in the privacy of her own office she figured she’d get comfortable, her blazer was tossed over the back of a spare chair, her sleeves rolled up and a couple extra buttons of her shirt undone. She’d also pulled her hair up and if you asked her what was in her coffee mug she’d be lying when she told you it was coffee. With a soft sigh, she scribbled a signature onto the last page of the case papers and went to flip the file closed when a loose piece of paper from the back went rogue, shooting across her desk. Picking it up her brow furrowed, quickly reaching out to her phone, swiping up to your contact.

‘Why is there an incident report on my desk?’

It took a couple of minutes, she glanced at the time to do the quick math in her head as she tried to figure out what time it was in California and finally her phone buzzed.

‘Cause Morgan doesn’t know how to aim his kicks.’

‘Where’d he get you?’

‘Ribs.’

‘Please tell me it was your good side…’

‘Oh but that would mean luck was in my favour.’

‘You okay?’

‘EMT’s did a check, should be bruised but fine, just wanted to cover all my bases in case something flairs up.’

‘He better be sucking up.’

‘He’s currently kicking my ass at pool.’

‘Dick. Tell him he should be letting you win.’

‘He can pay my tab. I really just want to get home. It’s weird without you here.’

Her lips curved up into a grin and she felt her entire body relax at the unwritten words in your sentiment and that you were un injured enough to be out and not curled up with an ice pack. Her mind began to wander, wondering if maybe this weekend you could go out rather than do the usual take out, she’d just opened a browser on her phone to look up fancy at home date night meals, her mind still full of images of you when her ears picked up the sound of high heels approaching her office.

“Hey.” Penelope greeted and Emily glanced up, shooting her a grin, “am I interrupting?”

“No.” She shook her head, locking her phone and dropping it onto her desk, “what’re you still doing here?”

“Lost track of time going through the unsub’s hard drive and then I noticed you were still here and I knew you weren’t going anywhere anytime soon, so…” She held up the bag of take out, “figured I’d order for two.”

“You’re an angel Garcia.”

“Oh I know.” With a proud smile she moved through the room while Emily cleared off her desk so she could unpack dinner. “Also I won’t tell if you won’t.” She pulled down the side of the bag to reveal a bottle of wine and Emily chuckled.

“Way ahead of you.” She gestured to her coffee cup, earning a laugh from the other woman. A comfortable small talk over took the office as they began to dig into dinner, little bits of playing catch up and almost gossiping about the team and most recent case.

“You have plans this weekend?” Penelope asked and Emily nearly groaned.

“I dunno…. I mean I’m still trying to decide between home cooked, take out or going on for dinner tomorrow. It’s not like it’s hard!”

“Well if you’re cooking, make sure you’ve got everything in your fridge already, cause you’re not gonna want to stop after work tomorrow to pick things up. I’d go take out, privacy of your own apartment but quality food you don’t have to worry about cooking and both of you can choose exactly what you want.”

“What’d you mean both? I don’t let Sergio order himself a human dinner.”

“You think I didn’t see you smiling like an idiot at your phone when I walked in? Not to mention you haven’t been in the field all week so I know the bruise on your tit isn’t from a punch.” Emily gasped, her hand shooting to clutch the sides of her shirt together, attempting to do up a button with one hand while Garcia chuckled, “and actually, now that your hair’s up I can see the fading one behind your ear. I’d place money down on the bet that there’s at least one on your inner thigh too.” She smirked and Emily blushed a deep shade because there certainly was one on her thigh, and it wasn’t exactly fading yet despite being a week old.

“Thought you weren’t a profiler.” She grumbled, finally admitting defeat and using two hands to redo the button.

“I’m not but I’m surrounded by them all the time, and because I’m not you guys have a tendency to let your guard down a little bit when it’s just little old me. So… who is she?”

Emily sighed, letting out a small groan but when she looked over at Garcia she saw her eyes full of hope and excitement, a warm smile on her cheeks. The girl loved love, and loved seeing her friends happy even more than that, she just wanted to be supporting, an ear to listen so Emily shook her head with a grin on her lips.

“Girl I met at a bar a few months back.” It wasn’t a lie, so why did she feel so flustered about the entire thing?

“You take her home that night or wait til the third date?” Penelope asked with a grin and she laughed.

“Technically we didn’t make it out of the bar…”

“Oho… you’re naughty.” She giggled over a bite of food, “so how long have you been together then?”

“Oh! We’re not— it’s not— uh… no.” She fumbled, “just sex, strictly sex.”

“Must be good then. Because you have been like, blissfully fucked recently.”

“Penelope!”

“You sure it’s just sex? That’s how all these things start off…”

“Yes.” Emily laughed, doing her best now to keep her guard up.

“How often do you two see each other?”

‘Oh only Monday to Friday nine to five not counting trips out of state, Saturday afternoons together and countless hours in the bedroom each week.’

“Once a week…” Emily strained, “dinner, drinks, you know… we usually grab take out, watch a movie or something.”

“And you like her…”

“Well obviously!” She chuckled once again, “it’s not like I’m going to let someone I hate into my apartment. And before we play twenty questions, she’s nice, sweet, gorgeous, a great cook with even better choices of take out, I’m pretty sure she’s Sergio’s favourite person—”

“Sounds like she’s your favourite person too.”

“I—” Emily bit at her thumb, if she admitted it to someone else it meant admitting it to herself and she wasn’t sure if she was ready for that yet, “she could never replace you Pen.”

“While I appreciate the sentiment I highly doubt you right now Agent Prentiss.”

***

Emily had managed to duck into the break room right in time to find you on your own, rinsing out a Tupperware container from lunch.

“Hey, glad I caught you.”

“Did I miss some paperwork?”

“No.” She laughed softly, “I know it’s your turn to buy tonight but I’m stuck in a craving of either Thai or Indian, what’d you think?” Her smile faltered on her cheeks at the way your eyes widened.

“Oh fuck me…” you muttered, “I totally forgot to tell you, I can’t tonight, I’ve got a… thing, tomorrow maybe?”

“A thing?” She raised a brow and you groaned, wincing when you spoke.

“Morgan set me up on a blind date…”

“That’s his way of making up for kicking you in the ribs? Good luck.” She teased and right as you opened your mouth to reply Spencer rounded the corner, greeting both of you before turning to Emily and beginning to ramble off about a theory for a case leaving you to freely slip out of the room.

*

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been on a date, or at least an actual date. After Skylar there had been a couple of girls here and there in Jacksonville but nothing ever stuck, nothing was ever meaningful or substantial enough to bother continuing on. You found yourself digging through your closet for almost an hour before you finally found clothes that were appropriate to wear. At the very least, Derek had given Maya your number and you’d been able to hash out the details for tonight and exchange pictures so you weren’t going in blind.

Monocle was by far fancier than what you’d expected, it was lavish, five star rating, and the prices on the menu were far beyond what you would normally be willing to pay. You couldn’t help but let out a tiny sigh, if tonight went well, if Maya seemed to be worth the effort, would you really have to be getting all dolled up for too fancy places for weeks on end? You already missed take out on Emily’s couch in sweatpants where you didn’t have to care about what you looked like, where you were completely comfortable with each other already. You knew each other’s history, flaws, favourite shows, preferred drinks, you didn’t have to sit through this boring awkward small talk over drinks. Entrée’s had been ordered, Maya had started on the appetizer while you chose to just continue to pick at the bread basket, doing your best to contribute to the conversation.

If she had asked, you would’ve lied, but you were a hundred percent profiling her right now. She was nice enough, she’d already insisted she would take care of the bill, her dress was well fitted, a high end brand, same with the jewelry, she held herself with confidence, almost too much though. She could hold a good conversation, but it was almost stale, like she was only spewing off things she knew would be impressive, things to show off with, there was no full bellied laughter, no smiles that crinkled her eyes, smirks as she teased you with a glimmer in her eye. At first you thought she was just lacking personality, and then it dawned on you.

No matter how hard she tried, she would always be lacking something.

She wasn’t Emily….

*

Emily thought that maybe a free Friday night would be a good thing, a nice chance to relax by herself, do some self care, have a nice meal. Instead she was reminded as soon as she got home about Garcia’s comment, there certainly wasn’t anything in the fridge she wanted. She didn’t have it in her to try and choose where to order from so she tossed a frozen ravioli into the microwave for dinner, pouring herself a hefty glass of wine. She settled at the kitchen island, blowing on the pasta in an attempt to cool it down when Sergio jumped up on the counter.

“I already fed you.” She grumbled but did give him a scratch behind the ears and he sat down on the counter, looking between her and the empty spot across from her before he let out a particularly loud meow. “What?” She laughed over a bite.

“Mrroooww.” He looked again toward your spot at the island and she huffed.

“Relax buddy, she’s not coming tonight.”

“Mow?” His head tilted.

“I know, it sucks.” She sighed once again, she knew there was a chance you’d gone on the date just to get Morgan to shut up, but something was still irking her, she was so used to having your company on Fridays. It helped the entire wind down for the week, not having to do it alone, not to mention it was your turn to pay this week.

“Meoow?” Sergio plopped down onto his side, baring his stomach as if he was demonstrating exactly why you should be there instead.

“I dunno, she’s out with someone.”

He let out an almost annoyed purr, rolling back onto his stomach as he glanced between the two sides of the island, meowing in Emily’s direction.

“Stop asking me questions I don’t know the answer to!” She mumbled, taking another bite of food.

This time Sergio got up, wandering over to her with an extra loud meow before he head butted her chin.

“Oof, jeeze bud.” She began to scratch at his head as he continued to yell “I know, I know, it’s not fair, she should be here. Friday’s are our days.”

And there it was, she had basically said it out loud.

“Fuck…” she muttered, Sergio mewling up at her once again, glancing between her and the ravioli she wasn’t eating. “You really want this? It’s disgusting…”

“Mow.” He nearly nodded and with an eye roll she slid the container in his direction.

*

You had your phone on the table just in case something happened, but to be polite you’d stashed it underneath your napkin. When you picked that up to wipe off your hand your eyes darted toward the screen, the only reason it was alit was the brief touch from the back of your hand, nothing was going on. Maya let out a little chuckle,

“Everything alright over there?”

“Yeah.” You mumbled, eyes still on the screen almost trying to manifest a message popping up when you realized you didn’t actually need a real message and picked up the device, “but, work…” you feigned a wince, “never ends.”

“Must be nice.”

“What?”

“Having a guaranteed get out of jail free card.” She stated with an amused grin, folding her hands under her chin.

“You’ve lost me.”

“With a job like yours, you can use it as an excuse to get out of basically anything you don’t want to be doing. You’re seeing someone, I get it.”

“No! I— that’s not, I’m just distracted tonight.”

“Because you’ve been thinking about her since you walked in the door.” She stated plainly, surveying you for a moment, “let me guess… it’s been going on for a while but you both insist it’s only casual, nothing serious, maybe even secretive. But now that you’re out with me on an actual date you’re realizing that you’re wishing it was her on this side of the table instead of me?”

You paused for a moment, your brow furrowing in her direction across the table, “I thought I was supposed to be the profiler…”

“The psychiatry degree comes in handy once in a while.” She shrugged, flagging down the server as they walked passed, asking for a couple of take out containers, “take your food to go, enjoy what’s left of your night.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” She smiled softly, “no point in wasting time, right?”

“I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t worry about it.”

*

Emily, completely unable to stop thinking about the fact that you were out on a date with someone else, that there was a chance you were going to spend the night with them, had decided to start deep cleaning her apartment in a feeble attempt to distract herself.

Rock music played through the apartment, a little louder than she would normally have it, trying to drown out her thoughts as she went. She’d finished the kitchen, clearing out the fridge and freezer, already having taken out a couple loads of garbage. Now that she was into the living room Sergio seemed to want to help, continually jumping up onto whatever surface she was trying to polish no matter how many times she dropped him back to the floor. Clearly she wasn’t the only one affected by your absence tonight. She sprayed the tv with Windex as Serg began to slink between the picture frames and artificial plants on the television stand, meowing and purring as he went. He reached the end, turning around to do it again and gave a little extra sway of his back leg, effectively kicking off one of the plants and sent it to the floor where it shattered.

“Sergio!” Emily yelped, scolding him again before she scooped him up to lock him in the bedroom while she cleaned it up to make sure he didn’t step in any broken ceramic.

Letting out a weary sigh she grabbed the broom and dustpan, starting to sweep up the dirt and little pieces, she was sure she was just sweeping dirt and faux leaves when something clinked against the metal dustpan and her brow furrowed. She tilted the dustpan a bit, shifting the dirt and a piece of silver buried amongst the black caught the light in the room, glinting right back at her. Her body shifted into high alert, her heart jumping in her chest as she shifted it again, metal glittering back at her and she was thoughtful enough to keep her mouth shut. Squatting down her fingers shifted through the dirt until she managed to pick it out and her suspicion was confirmed.

It was an audio bug. Someone had been in her apartment, more importantly, someone had been listening in to everything that had been going on in her apartment. Letting out an internal swear she suddenly remembered the night at Rossi’s when she’d found her window cracked open. Whoever had planted the bug had been listening in for months. She practically jumped out of her skin when her phone rang, ringtone blaring through the apartment effectively stopping the music and she dropped the bug back into the pile of dirt.

“Hello?”

______________

@ssa-sapphic @mickey-gomez @clarawatson @cabotfan42 @momlifebehard @melindawarnersgf @itisdoctortoyousir @emilyprentiss4life @somethingimaginative17 @temilyrights @alexxavicry  @anya-casablanca @daddy-heather-dunbar @evilregal2002 @aliensaurusrex @rustyzebra @ilovemycrayons @mandy-asimp @thegrantwater @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @m00nkn1ghts @augustvandyne @supercriminalbean @daffodil-heart @msvenablesbitch @its-soph-xx  @going-gray @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @hopelesslyfallenninlove @peanutbutterprincess  @kdaghay @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @awolfcsworld @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @s1ut4nat @midnight-sapphic @scorpsik @thisisraes @prentiss-theorem @unsubologyy @strongsassysexysloane @svushots  @lavenderhoney94 @overtrred28 @borg-queer

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #a dangerous game

[punsmaster69]

8/DEC/20XX

a deep breath, and i feel a sense of nostalgia.

weird nostalgia. wouldn't go back, but i still think fondly of what happened.

the crispness of the cold air in snowdin takes me back- and i'm already reminiscing about random memories.

point to almost any rock formation along the walls of this place, and papyrus can probably tell you exactly how he's climbed it.

kicking the snow with my slippers a little bit, i remember how he used to warn me about wearing 'em outside.

—-

"YOU'LL SLIP AND FALL IN THOSE!!"

"naahh. i'll be fine."

"......"

"SEE? EVEN GRILLBY AGREES IT'S A BAD IDEA!!"

—-

for the most part, i always was fine; just had to be careful around the ice.

fortunately, it's not an issue using shortcuts; really only ever slipping a few times.

—-

"I SAID THIS WOULD HAPPEN."

"you've slipped even in your boots."

"THAT WAS A ONE-OFF ACCIDENT!"

"so was this."

sliding me across the ice until we were close enough to the snow to stand again, papyrus lifted me onto my feet once more.

"I TOLD YOU THIS WAS A TERRIBLE IDEA."

"you've gotta admit that over two weeks without slipping in these is pretty good."

"THERE'D HARDLY BE SLIPPING AT ALL IF YOU WOULD JUST PUT ON BETTER FOOTWEAR."

"these are way better."

"OBVIOUSLY NOT?! YOU 𝘑𝘜𝘚𝘛 SLIPPED!"

"but with snow boots, you have to tie 'em and whatnot."

"YOU DO THAT WITH MOST SHOES, SANS."

"not with slippers."

"YOU'RE GOING TO WEAR SLIPPERS ALL THE TIME.."

"JUST SO THAT YOU DON'T HAVE TO TIE THEM?"

"yep."

"that's the plan."

"YOUR ABILITY TO CONSISTENTLY FIND THE LAZIEST ROUTE IN EVERY ASPECT OF LIFE CONFOUNDS ME, BROTHER."

"IT'S ALMOST IMPRESSIVE."

"thanks. that's the one thing i do put effort into."

"...BEING LAZY."

"it's hard work, doing this little."

—-

ahh.

back when new bad habits of mine still surprised him.

...speakin' of bad habits.

grillby's looks like it hasn't been touched since the day we took all the important stuff up.

the most one'll find in there now is a fine layer of dust only disturbed by me brushing against some stuff.

not that the jukebox ever worked before, but i'm pretty sure it wouldn't turn on if you tried at this point.

——

already knew the librarby was empty; they gave away all the books before leaving to the surface.

took the sciencey ones, myself.

wanted the joke book too, but a certain old lady got to it first.

officially, it is hers.

unofficially, the book keeps bouncing between being in either of our possession for months at a time.

it's gained a few pages over the years, a lined-paper section at the end with a lotta skeleton and snail puns.

think paps split the cookbooks with someone, and hoarded the puzzle books.

(not like anyone else was readin' those, anyway.)

there were a couple on monster history i'm almost certain i've seen frisk with a few times, so they must've gotten those.

as charming as this little place was, the new library's got way more selection.

sorry, not library.

still librarby.

they kept the name. too iconic to change it.

even if it had been changed, we'd all continue to call it the librarby anyway.

——

many of the folks who had shops down here have taken up that same role on the surface.

the two bunnies running the inn and shop moved somewhere closer to new home city for better business.

——

in the snow, i did what i'd done a million times in the past.

i parked myself at the foot of the door which separated snowdin from the ruins.

—-

"knock, knock."

"Who's there?"

she'd say.

"cash."

"Cash who?"

"no thanks, i'm more of a walnut guy."

and i'd heard her burst out into laughter from the other side.

"Knock, knock."

"who's there?"

"Hatch."

"hatch who?"

"Oh, bless you."

then she'd laughed at her own joke hard enough to be contagious.

"knock, knock."

"Who's there?"

"canoe."

"Canoe who?"

"canoe come out here? i'm gettin' bonely."

she got a good kick out of that one, but her laughter had a tinge of sadness to it.

"...But, I am afraid not."

didn't expect any different of an answer.

always thinking it better not to ask quite why, i shrugged.

"one day, maybe."

"or not."

"you could just be mysterious door lady forever if you want."

"....."

"Knock, knock."

"who's there?"

"Peas."

"peas who?"

"Peas excuse my secretiveness. I know it can be a bit off-putting."

"everyone's got their secrets, 𝘴𝘯𝘰𝘸 problem to me if you keep a few."

"Ha! I am glad that you are so 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘭 with it."

"It is a joy to hear your 𝘤𝘰𝘰𝘭 jokes every day!"

"nice to have someone with an a-𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳-able laugh to tell 'em to."

my slight regret about that pun immediately washed away upon hearing the laugh in question follow after it.

—-

....welp.

as fun as reminiscing has been, i've definitely left papyrus alone for far too long.

gotta spend at least a little time in the snow with him.

that's what we came back here for in the first place.

——

"WHEN DO YOU THINK IT'LL SNOW ON THE SURFACE?"

"it's supposed to get pretty cold soon, so probably not too long now."

"besides."

"if your desire for snow gets too awful bad, we'll just come down here again."

"WE SHOULD BRING FRIENDS WITH US NEXT TIME!"

"would be cool to re-visit the whole underground with everyone after all this time."

"OH!"

he sat straight up in the snow, scattering the powder around as he did so.

"YOU KNOW WHAT WE SHOULD DO?"

"what's that?"

"COME, COME! QUICKLY!!"

——

from that very same spot we all first looked in awe at our new future, me and him watched the sun set.

golden light poured over everything; sun beams warm in contrast to the town we've left once again.

"WHEN WE FIRST MOVED OUT FOR GOOD, I REALLY THOUGHT I'D MISS IT MORE."

"THOUGH, I DIDN'T EXACTLY HAVE THAT FEELING OF TRAPPED-NESS ON THE SAME LEVEL EVERYONE ELSE SEEMED TO."

"IT'S HARD TO GET BORED WHEN YOU'RE THE MOST ENTERTAINING SKELETON AROUND!"

"WITH THE COOLEST BROTHER AROUND."

"aww."

"...MAYBE I DID FEEL TRAPPED A LITTLE.. BUT IT DOESN'T MATTER ANYMORE."

"WE'RE ALL ON THE SURFACE TOGETHER, AND THAT 𝗜𝗦 WHAT MATTERS!"

when he turned to look at me, i couldn't tell whether his face was lit up more by the sun or the smile he had.

"I'M REALLY HAPPY HERE."

"me too."

#undertale #journal #sans #papyrus #skelebros #sans and papyrus #toriel #soriel #sans x toriel

[tea-with-evan-and-me]

[Y'all I need to get this off my chest pls quoi. Evan eventually learning French... Enjoy!!!]

“Hi… um… bonjour – excuse me? I’m looking for… um…” Evan scanned his call sheet again. It was in French. “Sorry… I can’t read it…”

“Ah, Evan Peet-air?” the lovely French-speaking lady made his name sound like chocolate. He smiled nervously. “Yes, you come with me. I take you there, is quicker.”

“Thanks.” The woman led him to an open field, reachable only on foot for the day since it had rained pretty badly overnight, and the dirt paths had become mud pits. But, with wellies on, they made it.

“Voila. Madame Sharpe is over there, under the tent.”

“Thanks so much, I appreciate it.” Evan followed the path the woman had pointed out to her, and sure enough, huddled around a screen, was Amelia. The first round of shots looked incredible. “Um… hi, Amelia…”

“Evan! You made it! I was starting to get worried!” Amelia stood, moving to the back of the tent with him. “What happened?” He was a good half-hour late, not at all like him.

“I… everything is in French and I can’t read that.” He pulled out the itinerary he’d been given, and the call sheet. “My phone’s not working over here so I couldn’t use Google Translate, and the three people I asked what you said to ask didn’t speak English at all.”

“How did you say it?”

“Parrlay voow Onglay.”

“Close enough…” Amelia smiled up at him, but she took the call sheet and itinerary from him. “But I’ll find out why these are in French. I’ll give you mine for tomorrow, since we don't have the full studio out here. It’s miserable.”

“Belgian weather, though, right?” Evan grinned.

“Sure is!” Amelia sighed. “How are you finding it, anyway?”

“It’s nice. A little different to what I’d expected, but nice. Actually, no-one recognised me in the street earlier – and there’s no paps?!”

“Why do you think I moved here?” Amelia chuckled again. “It’s heaven on Earth and no-one gives a shit about who you are. It’s perfect!”

The scenes they were filming were mainly in the forest, where the ground was thankfully solid and they had cover from the trees if it did start raining. Evan, as was his typecasting, was playing a lover who’d turned out to be a psycho killer (qu’est-ce que c’est, fafafafafa… ) and Amelia was playing the girl who’d gotten away from him, but now was on the run. There was a bit of a magical twist, though, which would take them some time to get done. But by the end of that first day, Evan felt like he’d relaxed fully into the role, even though it was already exhausting.

As the first month wore on, Evan discovered a love for Belgium that he’d never expected to have. Not least because he’d been able to walk down the street and have virtually no-one know who he was, he really felt like he could turn off his brain and just exist. Amelia had taken him around Brussels to show him the sights, but he’d been content to sit in a random bar with a beer and a book and just… be. It had allowed him to relax so fully, he genuinely didn’t want to get back on the plane back to the States, and he still had two months left there.

His friends in the States, however, had identified another possible reason why he didn’t want to go back home: Amelia. It was obvious to the whole world that, if Evan were to have a little more courage, and Amelia were to believe someone could and would want her, that they’d be an unstoppable power couple that would rule the entire cinematic universe. After all of Evan’s failed relationships, and the trauma he’d been through with each (in their own different ways, of course), someone like Amelia would be perfect for him. His friends had tried to tell him that she was perfect because she’d also known trauma. She’d known abuse. She’d known the desire to just fade quietly into the background. She also had her own empire of fame: dance schools across Europe, several in the UK, and a few in the States all generated from her success as a dancer growing up. An Oscar tucked under her belt for a movie she hadn’t thought she was any good in. An actual billion in her bank, but she gave millions away to charities across the world so that she wouldn’t ever end up on the Forbes 30 under 30 list. She couldn’t really go anywhere in the UK or the US because everyone knew her – much like Evan. She understood what he needed. And she didn’t need him for his fame, either.

But Evan couldn’t bring himself to say much more than the basic conversations they’d shared. He’d wanted to open up to Amelia, wanted to tell her everything… but he couldn’t. He couldn’t risk that his heart would be broken again. Besides, Amelia deserved someone far nicer… far better. A decent actor, maybe.

Yet he found himself often sprawled across her sofa as they read out rewritten scenes together, or sitting quietly in the same room as her while she worked, and he worked or read or something. She was happy to sit with him in silence, or scrolling TikTok together, or Instagram, or watching something… he adored her company, and she clearly enjoyed his…

It was Amelia’s lifelong best friend, Charlie, who came to the rescue. Charlie organised a dinner in Brussels with her husband Brendan, Dave (Amelia’s cameraman and content editor) and his husband Tom, and one of their dancing friends, Lotta, and her partner Michel. Charlie invited Evan, and Evan accepted, because he had nothing else to do. What neither he nor Amelia realised was that the evening was actually a moment for Dave, Tom, Lotta, Michel and Brendan to see whether Charlie was insane for thinking Amelia and Evan had something, or not.

And the result was unanimous: they had fucking chemistry.

“So,” Brendan took a seat beside Evan at the dining table. Evan liked Brendan. A chill guy. “Are you going to invite Amelia to that bagel place she’s mentioned three times tonight?”

“What – no? Should I?”

“None of us like bagels, Evan.” Brendan’s eyes betrayed his excitement. “Do it! Ask her out!”

“She won’t want me.”

“How do you know?”

“Because… she deserves someone better.”

“After tonight, I think it’s clear you are better, Evan. Try it. Ask her out.” Brendan touched his shoulder lightly.

Evan was thinking about it. God, how he was thinking about it. Of course he was in love with her. That day, they’d been doing a scene in which Amelia’s character had to lose her shit and hit Evan’s character in the chest repeatedly, in that overdramatic ‘no, no, NO!’ kind of way. But Evan had flinched back when they’d been choreographing the scene out, and Amelia had immediately stopped everything and told him they’d rewrite the scene to have her character react differently.

“Why?” Evan had asked, holding himself.

“Because I’d rather rewrite a scene in a couple of minutes than have you relive whatever you’re currently reliving every time we do a take.” She placed a gentle hand on his arm. “It’s no bother, Ev. I promise. You can trust me.”

He hadn’t needed to tell her about the abuse. Hadn’t needed to explain why he didn’t like being hit, or why he had such a visceral response to women lashing out at him – even when it was scripted. She’d heard the stories. She’d put two and two together, spotted his warning signs, and taken them in her stride and fixed it for him.

Her friends were right. She was perfect.

“Alright,” Evan murmured. He smiled at Brendan tightly. “I’ll do it.”

A little while later, when they’d all gone home save for Evan and Amelia, they went for the metro.

“I’m glad you came out with us today, Evan. I think sometimes being around people who aren’t arseholes is good for you.” Amelia shuddered a little in the cool air. “Do you remember the way back to your hotel?”

“Yeah.” He looked down. A broken person. Amelia pressed her lips together.

“Tell you what,” she smiled. “I’ve got a sofa bed. You can stay with me tonight if you’d like? Then we can maybe figure that shitty couple of scenes tomorrow, over breakfast?” Evan’s face lit up a little. “Oh, and there’s this brunch place close by actually – we’ll head out, grab brunch, and you can practice your Duolingo French.”

And just like that… Evan was completely and utterly on her hook. It’s a dangerous game to play, man, said the little voice in the back of his mind. But he didn’t care. Amelia made him feel safe… and, that night, as he curled up on her sofa bed with a gorgeous view of the stars from the skylight in her rooftop apartment… he realised that he really didn’t want to leave Belgium at all.

End of Part One

oh hi!! 👋🏼 we have another story tweam. lemme read this after i leave the gym 👀

#fics

[persephoneflouwers]

i used to go here a while back even though i wasn’t rlly a proper larrie (complicated lol). at one point i started talking mad shit about them and everyone hated me only for me to come back and see how different people move now. womp womp :/ i genuinely feel like everyone dislikes them a teeny tiny bit, it’s weird to see. back then it was a big deal if you got away with a tad bit of criticism and anyone who was proper bitter was ousted into a small corner of this site where they stayed bitter with their anons. and it was also like 3 people. now im checking random blogs and literally everyone has some shady thing to say. DESERVED tbh. leaving before I say more. sorry if this is annoying or unnecessary. i just wanted to say it 😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️

I mean… if you’ve been following closer, they have been clearly very hard on larries for a while. Take Harry for example. This past summer he made his life purpose to destroy all things larries used as… something lol blue bandana? Here, X*nder have it. Sweet creature? It’s for Gemma and he said it in front of 90K people which was very humiliating imo. Umbro shirt? Listen, he’ll have it for a pap walk he will have to promote his brand and yall like bluegreen nail polish. And the last one, the one people willingly ignore, he has O*ivia name tattooed on his INNER THIGH. I dont think it gets worse than this lol do I even have to mention the biking sessions to promote a theatre play or…?

Louis has been a dickhead on twitter since he was in the band. Yesterday he was even more of a dickhead than he used to. If he wants to be the third Gallagher brother he should be asking them first. He was unnecessarily rude with everyone and with the chicken parmesan thing he showed to me he doesn’t even read the tweets or whatever issue with reading comprehension he has going on.

The good thing about social media instead of live or interviews is that you can take your time to write down some articulated response and that you happen to choose what you reply to.

He announced he was going to do this thing 24 hours prior, went online and treated everyone with sufficiency. Totally unprovoked. Can you see how prepared this was? That makes it even worse because he is acting like this on purpose and everyone knows it. Like what’s the point of doing that speech on stage everyone gets so emotional for if you go online and bicker with your fans? They’re not taken for granted when they buy your tickets, but when they tweet constantly about you and keep you relevant on social they’re? This tells a lot to me.

The problem is he wants to deny what he created (he mentioned the recipe even for walls promo) but he puts a target on larries’ back as always, because his fans can be unreasonably nasty and the pop world hates larries already they don’t waste a minute to start alienating them, insult them and bully them out of the safe space they have created for themselves. It’s the marketing they have chosen, their propaganda.

It’s weird when accounts with huge following interact with this part of fandom, because they never do it to “protect” them. We’re talking about a loud, mostly queer and young side of his fandom… I wonder what would happen if larries finally decided to turn their backs at them (which I encourage to do). Yes, there still might be a target on them but at least it wouldn’t be like that. I’m pretty out of the fandom, barely talk about them but I still follow some blogs so I know a few things. I’ve realised I’m not comfortable anymore here. I still want to write a few stories because it’s fun and I like the exercise but that’s going to be it.

#it is very deliberate to not mention Palestine and the genocide #and honestly they can get fucked for that #casella di posta numero 32

[goldencherryhazz]

oh my goddd your dwd fic was < a m a z i n g 3 🤩🤩🤩🤩

Idk if youre taking reqs rn but if you are, how about a one-shot/hc/imagine ( whatever you feel like ) with reader being harassed by the pap? Like they invade her privacy and take some indecent photos of her? I feel like harry would go ballistic on them 🥵

Tysm for putting your works out for us to read!!!💖

I love this request, sorry it took soo long. I hope it is okay for you, (sorry if the ending is a bit shitty) there’s a bit of implied smut, fluff and a tad of angst, but lmk what you think. Thankyou soo much for reading and supporting me, it means the world!! If anyone else has any requests please send them in, I would love to see them!! 💗

‘Baby, m’just gonna go for a run okay’ Harry whispers to you, you eyes were still half closed and you still felt as though you were on top of the clouds after the way Harry had just taken you.

‘How do you still have energy after fucking me like that’ you groan remembering the feeling all to well, Harry can’t help but smirk at how you literally had no filter around him.

‘What can I say darling, I’m a man of many talents’ his ego increasing ever so slightly.

You shake your head at him, trying to contain your laughs.

‘Why are you shaking you head, you know you can’t deny it, not by the way you were screaming my name earlier.

You look away from him bashfully, your cheeks going slightly red ‘Guess you’ll have to prove your many talents to me when you get back from your run’

‘It’s a deal baby’ he slips his shirt over his body and you miss the sight of his bare torso already.

‘Gimme a kiss’ you lay there pouting ready for Harry inevitable arrival. It’s a mere threes seconds before his lips are on your one and you can’t help but sleepily smile into it.

Harry pulls away after a minute of so ‘gotta stop cause if I carry on I will not be able to leave that door’

‘Maybe that was my plan’ you smile sadistically at your boyfriend.

‘You are such a little minx you know that’ he smiles, fighting the urge to jump back into bed with you.

‘I know, and that’s why you fell in love with me’

‘Dam right baby, now I need to go because the sooner I do the quicker I get back’ he edges towards the door to the bedroom.

Okay, I love you, don’t miss me too much’

‘Don’t worry I will, love you my darling’ he says and with that he is out the door, and you shut your eyes wanting to contain this dreamy feeling inside of you.

Yourself and Harry were currently in Italy after landing there yesterday, from the airport you travelled down to the Amalfi coast, a favourited and regular destination for the two of you.

You just loved the fact that you were right near the ocean and could practically go to the beach whenever you wanted and it didn’t help that Harry always booked the most amazing villas, you felt like you didn’t ever want to leave.

You lay with your eyes shut and bask in the Italian sun seeping into the villa bedroom for around a quarter of an hour before you decide that it was time to get up and shower because you felt a little sweaty from the heat and we’re still recovering from your and Harry’s shenanigans even though you did it over 40 minutes ago.

As you walk to the bathroom the door to the balcony caught your eye and you can’t help but open both of the doors to reveal the gleaming ocean, the balcony itself being made of glass so it didn’t obscure the beautiful image of the Amalfi coast whatsoever, you stand then for a few minutes before rushing to the bathroom because you had seemingly forgotten the fat that you needed a wee.

From there you take a shower, brush your teeth and manipulate your hair so that it flowed down your back, looking ten times more presentable than you bed head before. You decide to slip on a pair of panties and a bra, that were both lacy and a light shade of blue and left little to the imagination, you felt sexy in them and you knew that Harry would love to see you in them, before inevitably ripping them off of your figure. You hadn’t brought any other clothes into the bathroom with you because you were soo indecisive when choosing what to were, sometimes Harry would even choose something out for you to make the process quicker.

Once you were back in the bedroom it seemed as though you were drawn back to the balcony, maybe it was the heat or the ocean breeze that drew you but before you knew it you were stood on the balcony, leant on the glass in just your lacy underwear. Not having a care in the world because why should you have, you hadn’t seen anyone near it and it was pretty secluded, or so you though.

Ten minutes was all it took for you day to turn upside down, you had actually made a decision of what to wears before you heard you phone pinging with a lot of notifications, you wished you hadn’t clicked on them because when you did you realise that pictures of you on the balcony in your seemingly innocent baby blue underwear were spreading like wildfire all through the internet. You were mortified, not only at the pictures but the fact that the people, more likely paps, could still be near the villa.

You didn’t know what to do, you didn’t dare go near the doors again even though you were now dressed, you just didn’t know how paps thought it was okay to just invade peoples privacy like that, and some of the comments you had seen from internet trolls saying how they basically wanted to fuck you made you feel disgusting on the inside. You can’t think of anything else to do so instantly go to you contacts to ring Harry but he beats you too it, and you are relieved to just see his picture light up your screen.

‘Harry-‘ you say but he interrupts you instantly.

‘I know baby, I am running as fast as I can, promise I am two minutes away’ and you can hear how out of breath he is.

‘I think they are still here, I don’t know what to do’ you try and hold back tears, also wondering if he’d seen the pictures or if Jeff had told him what was happening.

‘are you still in the bedroom’

‘Yeah’

‘You stay right there, okay baby, I can see the villa now, I promise I will be there in a minute’

‘I’m gonna stay on the phone’

‘That’s fine baby, know your scared’ he speaks breathless words of comfort to you but in the inside he is absolutely furious, not at you obviously, but at the fucking paps that were invading your privacy, he absolutely hated it, he wanted to get to you as quick as possible because he knew the lengths that some paps would go to get a picture to spread around in return for money. If that meant trying to break an entrance, more than they already had, they would do it.

You are sat on the bedroom floor still, not even speaking to Harry letting him concentrate on getting back, his breathing alone is bringing comfort to you.

‘Okay baby, I’m at the door so don’t panic it’s only me’ he hangs up the phone and seconds later you hear him unlocking the door and opening it.

‘Y/n’ he shouts loud enough to be head throughout the whole villa.

He doesn’t get a response, instead it’s your body crashing into his sweaty one ‘im here baby, I’m here’ he kisses your forehead.

‘Im so sorry, didn’t think anyone would be there, I’ve ruined our trip’

‘Will you shut up, you have done absolutely nothing wrong my darling, it’s those bastards out there that are the fucking problem, thinking it’s okay to invade out privacy’ he says trying to keep his anger at bay, you know that it wasn’t directed at you.

‘Are they still there?’ You sniffle into his shoulder.

‘I don’t know, didn’t see anyone, I just needed to see if you were okay first before anything.’

‘This is awful, cause those pictures are everywhere, people are saying stuff about me on the internet’

‘Hey, hey I promise that Jeff and the team are doing everything they can to minimise the spread, think they’ve banned some accounts already’

‘It’s not going to get rid of it though’

‘I know baby, I know it’s not that’s the horrible reality of the internet these days’

You pull your phone out again and open instagram, and now you see not only pictures of you but pictures of Harry entering the villa aswell, confirming your thoughts over the fact that the paps were in fact still upside your villa.

Harrys sees the pictures aswell and at that point he’s had enough with these paps, he just wants to enjoy his holiday with his girl. So he decided that he is going to confront them which was probably a bad idea but he really didn’t care anymore.

‘Im gonna go and tell them to piss off’ and before you can stop him he is opening the front door and the sight before him almost makes him laugh because a few of the paps had emerged from wherever they were hiding before and now they looked like deer in a headlight, Harry startes talking and you think some of the mean and women are Italian and can’t really understand anything Harry is saying but he didn’t need to switch languages for them to know how angry he was, his facial expression and the fury in his eyes were the tell tale sign that they should probably leave and never come back.

‘I want you to leave right now, or I will call the police, and if you thought that I wasn’t going to sue every single one of you, you were very wrong, trust me I will be able to find out your names and what company you work for.’ Harry says quite calmly.

From you position peeking through the ajar front door you can see someone trying to argue back with him and that’s when he slightly looses it ‘I don’t give a shit if it’s your job, the fact that you have found me on holiday and invaded mine and my girlfriends privacy is disgusting, and the fact that you took pictures of y/n and spread them on the internet just so that your wallet is a bit fatter, you should be ashamed of yourself. My girl should be able to stand on that fucking balcony naked without any of you fuckers trying to take pictures, that’s what a private villa is supposed to be’

Harry is seething by now, a few look quite startled at his outburst and that’s when they start dispersing out from where they have somehow managed to sneak in, probably scared of the consequences they could face and Harry stands there till every single one of them leaves.

‘H you okay?’ You walk up to him now knowing it was safe and all the paps were gone.

‘Im okay now, fucking hate it’

What baby?

‘Just that paps never leave us alone, sometimes feels like I’m trapped, I know it comes with the job but it’s still shit either way, i hate it even more when they involve you, you don’t deserve to be exploited like that, not fair’ Harry is close to tears now because he feels like a shit boyfriend from not being able to protect you from happening like this, but you know that they are out of his control.

‘Hey, it’s okay they’re gone, Jeff’s doing everything he can to get those pictures down I know he is, I think all we should do now is call the police just as a precaution to make sure there definitely is t anyone else on the property and then we can forget about it, yeah, enjoy our holiday’ the roles are reversed and now you are the one comforting him having calmed down a lot since the paps had gone.

‘Yeah, wanna enjoy are holiday, wanna enjoy you’ he says cheekily.

‘You know what, you look so hot when your angry’ you flirt trying to lighten up the mood, referring to the way his muscles were tensing and glistening under the sun.

‘Swear I’m obsessed with you’ he smiles down at you ‘and those baby blue panties and bra’ he grimaced at the joke he tried to make out of the situation worried it was a bit too soon, but you can’t help but laugh and you kiss him straight on the lips.

From that moment you and Harry make it your mission to forget about the whole incident, because you knew that most of his fans would be on your and his side and hopefully stop spreading the pictures of you and then that could be put to bed, you spend the rest of the day chilling, making out which then led to more frisky activities, and ending the day eating your favourite Italian cuisines and cuddling, and before you knew it the morning events was a mere dot in the distance.

You both loved being inside your little Italian love bubble and you knew that as long as you had each other, you would be absolutely fine.

#harrystyles #Harry styles asks #harry styles request #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles pictures #harry styles updates #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic rec #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff imagine #harry styles smut imagine #hs1 #fine line #harryshouse #hs3 #hshq #love on tour #harrystylesisgolden #harry fic #harry edward styles #harry oneshot #harry styles fanfic #watermelon sugar #love harrystyles #loveharry #harry fluff #harry smut #asitwas

[joe-moi]

https://www.tumblr.com/joe-moi/733979010960441345/httpswwwtumblrcomjoe-moi733977930117611520b

Yes, the info dump is odd too. No random person will care that much about these two, I'm sorry. If it was a big name I can understand, but they're C/D at best and JK is the only one more well known and even then, he's such a normal dude, most people don't really recognise him (as we know by the amount of sightings where people tell him he looks like Steve and he's like ah yes that's me actually). I just don't see the point I guess because this doesn't really get her name out there imo. I think it's a last resort because pap pics aren't his thing. But anyways, very weird behaviour, but that's celebs for you I guess. Especially small ones

C/d list is accurate or c/b depending on how you view them lol! It keeps her name out there though, even with dm. Like it’s not an article that was already taken care of with the pap walk, so this is like a reminder and a “keep the name circulating” thing.

and again, it’s not a bad thing. Its just a choice

#anonymous asks #🛼answers #jk

[piquira]

How famous was pique or would he have been without shakira in his life? I know obviously he’s a famous player or Barca and Manchester before that but was he super well known like paps following him everywhere? Or did he fly commercial back then or did he have a private jet to fly on even before her? He still seems humble like no body guard and all, drives himself around no chauffeur in that sense but fame got to his head I think

Fame and success are two completely different things in the football world though. Pique was already successful and earned significant achievements in his career without Shakira. And none of his achievements as a football player, are influenced by his association to her. But fame in football is all relative. There's football famous where their fame is relative to their club and country and then there's famous famous (sorry but I don't know what other way to put it lol) where the name is known beyond the sport and those names are known in popular culture. Very few footballers are part of this group (Messi, Ronaldo, Neymar, Beckham) and that's because they are phenomenons. They're part of something that's bigger than just the team they play for, they've been marketed and gained popularity in pop culture whether because they're that good, have had heavy PR, or because of their nationality. Pique's brand as a football player was a significant as any other player who had been part of that 09-12 Barca team that also won the world cup. He was known mostly in Spain and amongst Barca fans. However, Pique initiated a relationship with a high profile celebrity and his fame and brand become more recognizable. Also after he got with Shakira he started to make more connections with important business people and initiated his career as a business man. He was taken more seriously because he had a powerful person living with him and together they were thought out to be a "power couple" with many influences. Which I begin to suspect was his biggest motivator in maintaining a relationship with Shakira. Not the fame or popularity (that is irrelevant for his needs) but the connections and reputation of being with somebody like her.

[softtdaisy]

Hello did you see tick tick boom? if you saw it, it could be a request from andrew garlfield where the reader was his girlfriend, all good, love, but they separated due to agendas, just like it was with emma. And they meet again in the movie, the reader plays Susan. in the scene where susan and jonathan fight, and susan says when is later jonathan? She says andrew's name

And since I like angst but with a happy ending, could it be that they reconcile when they film the green dress scene? and as a good cliche when the director says cut, they keep kissing

ONE DAY

DESCRIPTION I after breaking up with andrew, you end up in the same movie as him: tick tick boom, as susan, his love interest

PAIRING I andrew garfield × fem!reader

WORD COUNT I 3.7k

A/N I Hi!! I'm obsessed with this request ever since I received it. Now that I feel better and I can write again, I wrote this in...one day? Thank you so much for requesting it I hope you will love it 🥰

You loved Andrew. You really did. With your whole heart. And losing him was probably one of the hardest things you ever had to go through.

You weren’t even mad at him. You were an actress yourself. You knew how hard it could be to maintain a sane relationship in this world. It still hurt to know you couldn’t save yours.

You started dating almost a year ago. You and Andrew officially met at an award show after-party. You knew about Andrew, who wouldn’t? He was one of the best actors of his generation and probably one of the most beautiful too. You were a massive fan of his work and wished on playing with him one day.

Andrew knew about you too. You had just started your acting career by playing in a musical…nominated as best pictures in different ceremony. Yes, no less! He had heard your musical numbers and was very impressed by you. He knew you would do great things. Plus, he had a kind of crush on you. You were so pretty, many magazines asked for a photoshoot with you.

You had run into each other multiples times before that night. But awards shows weren’t always the best place to discuss. You were with your cast; Andrew was with his.

It wasn’t until a mutual friend of yours decided to put you in front of each other’s. A mutual friend to whom both of you confessed having a crush on the others.

“Andrew!” He was holding your hand and was making sure to bring you to Andrew. “I want you to meet my lovely friend [y/n]. But I think you already know her, right?” He winked at Andrew. And disappeared. Just like that.

Leaving you two alone.

“I’m sorry, I just told him I was excited to meet you and he was even more excited to bring me to you.” You explained, laughing from the embarrassment of the situation. Andrew was laughing too, but not from the situation. He was surprised to see you this close and didn’t even know what to say. It was like his crush had taken over his body.

“Don’t worry.” He started, putting a hand on your naked shoulder which made you shivered. “I’m excited to meet you too, [y/n].” He looked into your eyes. And you knew from that moment that you will never be able to forget about this.

You and Andrew spent the whole night together. Sure, you went to your co-stars and him to his from time to time. But you never stayed away too long. One of you would always find an excuse to come back to the other: bring a drink, something to say, stealing Andrew’s jacket to use the excuse that you have to bring it back… it was obvious to everyone in the room that something happened that night.

And it did happen.

You and Andrew started dating not long after that to everyone’s pleasure. Yours, of course. Your friends too, who were glad to see you this happy together.

And the paps, that would never miss an opportunity to picture you two together. It was quite easy for them: you were so happy in love that you weren’t hiding. You were always out for dates or just for casual trips like shopping. You were always holding hands and close together like you were only one person.

It was something you understood pretty early in your relationship: Andrew’s love language was physical touch. He would always find a way to touch you: holding your hand, putting an arm around your shoulder, putting his hand on your tight when you sat next to him or around your waist if you were sitting on his laps. He would kiss your check every time he could, kissing your forehead when you’re hugging or kissing you on the lips when he was sure no one was watching. It was the only thing, with sex of course, he wasn’t willing to do in public. “It’s too precious for me for the whole world to see.” He explained.

Everything was perfect for at least a good six months. Until work called you. You had to move to LA while Andrew had to go to New York. You were mad at the universe for putting you though this but at the same time, you always knew it would happen. You were two high selling actors now so of course you would have to work.

Being away wasn’t easy. You would call Andrew every day, you would go see him when you could, and he would travel back when he had a day off. But it wasn’t enough. You wished you could spend all your time with him. But one of you would have to give up on its project and it was unfair. So, you accepted your fate.

Specially because every time you met Andrew again was more beautiful than the last. It was always so magic you were ready to go through this all your life. But Andrew didn’t really feel the same way.

Not that he didn’t love. Andrew fell in love with you so hard. He hadn’t felt that since Emma, and he loved her a lot. But he was facing the same issues as his relationship with her. And he suffered the first time. Was he ready to suffer again?

When you had to leave again only a few weeks after coming home, Andrew knew the honeymoon phase was over. It would be lying to both of you to say everything was alright. You noticed how different he looked: he was tired, his smile was less shiny, and he wasn’t touching you much. You thought Andrew had fallen out of love with you.

When in reality, he was loving you so much, he was ready to lose you to protect you.

“You know I love you [y/n], right?” he said with a low voice. You had spent the night at your apartment, and Andrew said he couldn’t stay. Usually, he was staying every time he was coming. Just another proof that something was wrong.

You nodded, even if you weren’t so sure of that. “I’m not sure it’s good for us to be apart that much. I wish you the best in your career; and you know I won’t give up on mine. And I know you’re not asking me that! But I just think that maybe…we should call it quit for now. And see when things can work. I mean, if…I…”

“If it ever works.” You finished with a small voice. Andrew couldn’t resist and hugged you so tight that night that you felt his touch on your body for days after he left.

You barely saw Andrew after that. You both worked very hard, and you didn’t get invited to many awards shows that year. You didn’t even want to go, in all honesty. It hurt to know you met Andrew there just a year ago and then you would have to go through the same events without him.

Andrew had a hard time too. He wished he could have you on his arm with him. He needed you, but it would have been unfair for him to come back to you after leaving you like this. You were both so in love you couldn’t imagine a day without the other. And having to live with this was terrible.

It took you a few good months to go over your breakup with Andrew. But fate was a bitch. You understood that when you got cast as Susan in Tick Tick Boom.

The new movie Lin Manuel Miranda was producing.

The new movie in which Andrew was playing the leading role.

The new movie in which Jon, Andrew’s character, was dating Susan.

The first day of shooting was pretty weird, you had to admit it. You had no idea how you were supposed to act around Andrew: should you grant him, should you ignore him, should you wait for him to make the first step?

You didn’t have the time to really think about it in the end. Because Lin, who always knew everything, anticipated the meeting. When you came to set the first day, Lin immediately grabbed you by the hand. “You must meet everyone!” A funny flashback from the night you met Andrew, you thought. As if people didn’t want you to stay away from him.

So, of course, the first person you saw was Andrew. He looked so different with his new hair, that was the excuse you used for not talking. It was so difficult to see the man you loved again and not being able to kiss him or hug him. You had so much respect for Andrew that you wished you could at least take him in your arms.

He was the one who started the embrace. He wrapped his arms around you and hugged you as tightly as he did when he left you. “Hello [y/n]” he mumbled against your cheek. Your hands were running on his back. You ended gripping his shirt with your fingers to keep him against you. You didn’t want to break the hug. You wanted it to last for hours.

Everyone was silent around you, not wanted to break your moment. Lin was proud of himself; he knew how stressed Andrew was about seeing again. “You did a great job at casting her, she’s perfect!” He kept saying, in case someone thought he didn’t want to play with you. Andrew was only asking for that. He just wished it would have happened sooner. “I’m just scared…what if she hates me now? What if she doesn’t want to play with me? I don’t want to ruin this movie for you…”

Andrew Garfield, always thinking for the others and never for himself.

This first day could have paved the way for a great shooting…but it didn’t stay like that. After that, things got weird again. Andrew was working a lot so of course you couldn’t talk. It wasn’t like you planned on talking about your relationship between two songs. You just wished you could at least have a normal conversation about life, like friends. But he didn’t have the time.

The only moments you were talking were when you were shooting. But it was more Jon and Susan talking than you and Andrew. At least you gave anticity in everything you were doing. Love scenes were just you and Andrew acting like the couple you used to be. The couple you wished to be again.

And you loved singing with Andrew. “I can’t say I didn’t know you had a beautiful voice; I remember when you lulled to me at night…” you said one day in rehearsal. You were being honest and opened your heart. Of course, it changed something in the atmosphere because you reminded him of something that was over. But after that, it was the time he sang the most beautifully. Even Lin had a small tear in his eyes.

But some scenes were harder to film. Like the scene when Susan and Jon break up because he was obsessed with his unwritten song.

“I need you to talk to me.” You said as Susan. From this moment you knew things were going to be difficult. It was hitting close to home. You wished Andrew had told you before about the issues he was having with your relationship before breaking up with you.

When your eyes met, Andrew understood you were speaking with your heart. And he knew it was going to be difficult for him too.

“Thank you for being so supportive of my job.” He snapped. It was Jon, it was Jon…you kept repeating yourself. You couldn’t take personally. You respected Andrew’s work. “Oh, because you’re such a champion of mine.” And he was so supportive of yours. That was the reason you broke up: because acting came before you.

“I’m sorry, I’m not allowed to talk about my needs.” You said and you felt your heart beating faster and faster. You never talked about it. Andrew decided to leave and never asked what you needed. Maybe you needed to hear about his needs too. Maybe you could have made this work if you talked.

“Can we talk about this later? Please?”

“When Andrew? When is later?”

And then. Silence.

It took you a few seconds to realize you said the wrong name. Andrew looked hurt, when in reality you didn’t mean to attack him. But maybe he realized that you were suffering from this. As much as he was.

He was feeling sad for you, not because of you. But he was so shocked from the situation he couldn’t move.

“I’m sorry…” you said before running out of the set. You ran outside and let the tears run down your cheek. You didn’t care about ruining your make up right now, you didn’t care about anything. You just wanted to hide. You didn’t mean to open your heart that much. If only you could have talked with Andrew before filming…

You heard steps coming behind you and you were not surprised when you recognized the perfume. “[y/n]…” Andrew whispered. You didn’t think more and fell immediately into his arms. Andrew hugged you and tried to calm you down with his touch. He missed touching you so much and to be able just to caress your skin like that was melting his heart again. How did he manage to survive without you for so long?

“I’m so sorry…” you said against his chest. He only heard it because everything was silent around you. And it broke his heart to think you were sorry for something you didn’t plan on doing. He hugged you tighter, kissing your hair slowly and repeatedly. “You don’t have to be love…”

“I should have come to you sooner; I should have talk to you before leaving. I didn’t offer you the chance to say you didn’t want me to leave. It wasn’t fair for you. I’m the one who’s sorry.” You shook your head to say he was wrong, but Andrew put his hand on the back of it. So, your head ended up against his chest and you were unable to move it. “I thought you wanted me to talk…” you tried to say with a little laugh. And no matter how much Andrew tried to keep his tone serious, you could feel his little chuckle.

“Not now because you are wrong. And I don’t want you to embarrass yourself.”

You didn’t fight it. It was too good to be in Andrew’s arms again even just for a few minutes.

The filming took another turn after that night. It was lighter and more friendly. There were still some tensions. It was obvious to everyone that you and Andrew were still madly in love with each other. But you didn’t talk about that, to the cast biggest disappointment. They were hoping you would confess your love, so they could celebrate it with you.

Yes, they were a little too committed to your relationship.

After the fight scene, there was still one scene you were quite scared of: the green green dress one. Fighting with Andrew was a thing, but it was acting. Dancing seductively around him and kissing him was another. You weren’t so sure you would be able to consider this acting. You didn’t want it to be just acting.

Recording the song was already a challenge. How were you supposed to react when Andrew asked you if he could tie you up? Of course, you wanted to say yes.

“I always knew green was your color…” you heard Andrew said in your back. You had just put on the dress. You had to admit it looked really beautiful on you. But hearing Andrew saying it was even more satisfactory. You turned around to see him and you noticed how his eyes were shiny. He stayed like that for a few seconds, just looking at you without saying anything.

Andrew was too mesmerized by your beauty to even consider talking. He saw you in beautiful dresses before. You met at awards shows of course, he did. But seeing you like this was different. You looked like you were going on a date with him. It made him want to take you out immediately and forget about the shooting.

“That man is crazy about you…” the stylist said once Andrew had disappeared, in silence again. You ignored her. But deep down you recognized the look he gave you. The same one he used to give when you were dating.

You were now on the rooftop, ready to film the scene. You were shivering. Not because it was cold outside. But because you had no idea how your body was going to react from all this. Lin explained to both of you how he pictured the scene. You didn’t want to disappoint him, just like Andrew. So, you knew you were going to give all your efforts in making this scene magic and unforgettable. But it was special to flirt with your ex you were still in love with.

Andrew had to confess something: knowing you like that helped him being this touchy. He was a tactile person. So, it wasn’t like he minded touching someone else. Sex scene was never a real problem for him. He just had to create a trustworthy relationship to make sure everything would be ok. You can’t touch someone’s chest if they don’t want to.

Andrew knew your body by heart, and it was quite easy for him to know where he could or couldn’t put his hand on. He just had to remember all the time he got to touch you before.

You weren’t even that surprised when he started putting his hand around your neck or when he played with your chest. It was Andrew’s thing. He was like that when you were dating. You were not surprised he used what he knew for the scene. You just wished his hands would stay a little longer, he would hug you a little tighter. That he would kiss you a little faster…

You moved to the apartment to film the rest of the scene. Your world stopped moving when Andrew grabbed you by the neck and the hair for the scene. It was so hot, you felt like you were back in your own living room. Back when you were having the most amazing nights of your life with your boyfriend. When he was too excited after a night out and he couldn’t resist holding your neck in a kind of dominant way.

You had so many flashbacks from these days. You had to remind yourself it wasn’t a good time to be horny.

You ended up in the bedroom to finish the scene. Andrew went on top of you, and you put a hand on his neck, bringing him closer. You were still singing; it was still part of the filming. But right now, in your head, nobody was around. It was just you and Andrew, in a bed together.

Andrew was trying his best to hide his excitement. But he could see in your eyes that you were just as excited as he was, so you probably wouldn’t notice. He hoped, at least. Not until this was over.

When the last lyrics were sung, Andrew was only a few centimeters away from your mouth. Did you push him a little with your hand on his neck? Yes, probably. Did Andrew want to kiss you so bad he was going to do it anyway? Yes, absolutely.

Andrew put his lips on yours and it was the most breathtaking kiss you ever experience. Of course, most of your kisses with Andrew were amazing because he was a good kisser. But you waited months to be able to kiss him again. His lips tasted incredibly good, just like you remembered them. He was holding your face with one hand, still maintaining his weight above you with the other. You grabbed his hair with your finger and pulled them a little. You wanted him to stay as close to you as possible.

It was magic.

So, magic you didn’t even hear the multiples “cut” Lin was saying. But it wasn’t really like anyone was trying to stop you. They were so happy to see you two follow your feelings that they didn’t want to interrupt it.

It was Andrew who stopped it, he needed to breathe if he didn’t want to fall on you. When he freed your lips from his, you both realized what was happening. “Oh shit.” Andrew whispered before getting back on his feet. You stayed on the bed, hiding behind his back while everyone was clapping. Clapping?

“It took you a whole shooting to finally kiss?” Lin asked, crossing his arms. He wasn’t even mad at you, how could he? You managed to shoot this whole movie without a problem, and you did the green green dress perfectly. That’s why he was smiling like that. It was like watching his favorite characters getting together.

Andrew looked back at you, and you smiled at him. You couldn’t do anything else. You were too in love with this man. He grabbed your hand and kissed it. “We needed time.” He said to Lin. But you knew he meant more than that.

It took you some time to realize you couldn’t live without each other. Some time to realize you loved each other so much. Some time to realize there was no one else you would spend your life with.

Andrew kneeled beside you. “Is it ok for you if later…is now?” he asked with a small smile. Scared you would say no. You could, he was the one who left you. Andrew thought that maybe some scars were still opened, and you won’t be ready to take him back.

But the way you kissed him, slowly and sweetly, convinced him that you still wanted him. “It’s ok for me.” You answered against his lips. This time, the kiss wasn’t capture on camera. Kissing you was still too precious for him. He didn’t want to the whole world to see him give his love to you.

#andrew garfield #andrew garfield imagine #andrew garfield fic #andrew garfield x reader #my writing

[kodzukyan]

better with you (until it kills me)

notes: it's always missing baji hours here </3 fluff, angst; alternative ending: always, always you

summary: four times you think you are in love with baji keisuke, and the one time you tell him.

wc: 3.7k

You're reasonably sure the only reason he chooses you to pair up with for the Japanese literature project is that you sit next to him, but it surprises you all the same. You don't think you have much of a presence in class, but you don't think you can say the same about your new partner, Baji Keisuke.

His slicked-back ponytail and thick frames make his presence seem like a poindexter, but there's something about his bruised knuckles and his fierce aura that makes him feel ferocious. You've noticed him hang out with the school delinquent on multiple occasions. You also think you've seen him laugh wildly as he beats up some of the local thugs who crowded around the said delinquent he's friends with.

He isn't who you expect him to be at first glance, and that intrigues you more than you like to admit. You're too nervous to openly ask, so you settle for stealing glances at him from the corner of your eyes.

So, when he really decides on you and submits the partner form, you don't know what to think.

In the time that you two are partners, you've discovered a couple of things about him. First, his handwriting and kanji absolutely suck. Despite that, he writes a letter addressed to someone named Kazutora every week without fail. As if that isn't endearing enough, it gets even more so when he pouts at the complex characters that he often gets wrong and the inevitable smile that breaks out whenever you show him how to write them correctly.

("Oh, thanks! I would probably fail my kanji tests without you and Chifuyu. Kazutora probably can't even understand what I'm saying," he laughs rambunctiously.)

Second, he's genuinely an unexpectedly good partner in terms of being punctual about meeting up. However, despite being on time, there is little progress on the project. Your work times often end up in discussions about random life topics rather than the project itself.

(“Do you like cats?” he asks out of the blue one day, head on the table and books already forgotten.

“Uh, yeah, I guess so,” you humor him because you’re also tired of researching Japanese literature.

“Wanna see my cats? They’re all strays,” he sits up suddenly, eyes lit and smile bright.

You nod, and he proceeds to take out his phone to show you pictures of his cats. You note his lock-screen is a picture of all his cats, and his camera roll is just full of his friends and mom, motorcycles, and the said cats. With shining eyes full of excitement, he tells you their names and their personalities in detail.

"Do you think cats recognize their names but choose to ignore us whenever we call them?" he resumes the conversation after he finishes showing you his gallery. He leans back as he balances his pencil on top of his pursed lips.

"Maybe. Depends on the cat? Maybe they just hate you?" you mimic his pose. You suppose thirty minutes of work is enough progress for the day.

"Ouch," he grimaces as if it shatters him directly in the heart.)

Third, sometimes he comes with his hair down and without his glances, with stains on his clothes that he claims are ketchup, despite it not smelling like that at all.

("Uh, hey, sorry I'm late today," he offers sheepishly as he runs a hand through his unbound hair.

"Oh, it's okay," you finally say after you take in his shaggy appearance. You try not to think about how handsome he is despite the bruises forming on his face. "Are you… okay?"

"All good! The ketchup bottle just randomly exploded," he laughs nervously and awkwardly. "Anyways!! The project!!"

You stare at him dubiously but nod anyway. "Okay, if you say so…")

Fourth, he has an extremely charming smile, especially when his fangs are in full display. To some, it may look fierce and menacing; to you, it looks cute, especially when his eyes are always brimming with life and his laugh is full of vitality.

More often than not you catch yourself staring at him because he's just so intriguing.

You try to ignore your racing heart when your stolen glances become shared ones, and he flashes you a grin softer than the smiles you've seen.

-----

“Uh, hi.” You say shyly as you enter through Baji’s window. It’s not frequently you seek out Baji at his own home, especially through the window he keeps open almost exclusively for stray cats to seek shelter.

“What the fuck?” Baji drops the stray cat he's cuddling as you give a slight wave, causing the cat to meow loudly at the sudden change in demeanor.

“Sorry to drop by unannounced. I, uh, just wanted some company.”

You feel vanishingly small as you awkwardly laugh and piece together some words that make sense. Home is supposed to be full of warmth, but your home is more of a house with people than a home with love. It’s a truth you’ve long accepted, but some days, it feels a little extra cold.

Therefore, you run, and somehow you end up here, in the comforts of Baji’s room.

Maybe you are currently a stray cat, feeling a little more lost than found. Maybe you find that he’s the sort of comfort that warms you a little when your heart feels heavy. Maybe you are just a little bit in like with him, and he is the first person you want to see whenever you’re feeling down.

The room is silent aside from the soft paps of cats moving around and the periodic meow. Then, he pats the spot next to him, and you make your way there. As soon as you sit down, he hands you a cat.

“Here, hold her. She’s nice,” he comments as he places the calico cat he dropped earlier in your lap, petting her as she adjusts to her new position on you.

She narrows her eyes and softly purrs in your lap as Baji pets her, and this makes you feel more in the moment than in your head like you’ve been. Your initial baffle turns into a smile as she purrs louder when you pet her, and just like that, you feel a little more found than lost.

You lean on his shoulder as you continue petting the calico cat in your lap. You keep your eyes on her as she climbs onto his lap and nuzzles him in an attempt to hide your burning cheeks and your drumming heart from your proximity.

“Thanks for giving me a home when I don’t want to be in my own,” you tell him softly, airly, almost as if you’re letting him in on a secret.

He stops playing with the cats for a moment and pauses. Feeling his intense stare, you peek through your lashes up at him. His broad grin and sharp canines are in full display, and his smile looks a little more boyish than wild. He tousles your hair as he laughs aloud boisterously before he props his head on top of yours.

“You’ll always have a home here.”

-----

It all started when a group of thugs looked at you inappropriately and made some comments that made you uncomfortable. You grip the ends of his sleeve just a little harder and press yourself behind him, trying to make yourself impossibly small. Baji, seeing your small form and downcast eyes, removes your hand from his sleeve and places it in his hand. Knowing Baji and him knowing you and your every mood, he does not stand for it. He simply flashes you a reassuring grin before he squeezes your hand and runs straight at them.

He throws the first punch, and you could just stand there in shock as he pummels through them and beats them up. He has cuts and bruises everywhere, and you’re certain he’s taken on a few nasty hits on his ribs. Though you’re equally confident that these thugs are absolutely 100% in worse shape than he is.

“Oh my god,” you sob frantically as Baji wobbles back to you, ferocious smile on his face softens as he sees you. He pats your head when he notes your teary eyes. You’re not even sure when you start crying, but the tears just don’t seem to stop. “Are you okay? Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Are you -”

He clutches your tear-stained face in his hands, “Look at me.”

Your eyes meet his, but you can barely see him over your tears as you continue your incoherent rambling.

“Hey,” he tries once more, voice more frantic as he struggles to find words. He finally just squishes your cheeks and yells, “Do you think I care about anything else but you right now?”

Your eyes widen, and the tears forming fall freely onto his hands. Oh, oh, oh, you think to yourself as your beating heart rapidly thumps at an exponential speed, maybe he’s also falling. When you meet his steady gray eyes, the shocking realization that maybe you’re not the only one dumb and possibly in love stops your tears.

He sighs in relief when your tears gradually stop, and as if all the tiredness accumulated in his body hit him all at once, he falls down onto the ground.

You try to catch him as best as you can, and with the combined effort of mostly himself and partially you, he breaks his fall. He lays sprawled out on the ground. After you check for wounds and find none too serious, you sit with your knees tucked under you by where he lays and moves his head onto your lap.

All around you are the battered bodies of the thugs you’ve encountered, but all you can see at the moment is him and his gray eyes that disappear into crescent moons as he flashes you a grin. He’s too tired to move, but he raises a fist up into the air in victory anyway.

“I got you.”

-----

"Wanna go on a ride?" he texts you.

It’s almost midnight when he texts you, and it’s probably way past when you should stay up. But your heart flutters at the thought of adventure, at the thought of him, so you quickly respond, “Okay, but be quiet! Don't wake my parents up again, stinky!!!”

You can already imagine his sheepish smile when he sends you a "that was once!!! my bad" back.

After sending him a quick ":p", you silently put on some clothes more fitting to go out than your pajamas. The sound of his motorcycle announces his greater-than-life presence long before his text does. Grabbing two scrunchies, you sneak out your window.

He only greets you with a goofy smile and a wave, hair free-flowing in the wind. Under the moonlight, his gray eyes twinkle with vigor and youth. It knocks the air out of your lungs as you glance at him because he's beautiful, ethereal, and alive. He smiles smugly when he catches your stare, but he holds his hand out for you to take.

"Hi," you whisper under the twinkling stars as you put your hand in his.

"Hey," he whispers back as he curls his fingers around your hand before adjusting to interlace your fingers together.

The quietness and intimacy of this moment drown out the world - the sound of cars driving by, of cicadas flying, of the world standing still. The only thing keeping you from floating is his hand and the sound of your heartbeat.

"I got you a hair tie." You offer softly with an equally soft smile, eyes pointing to the scrunchies on your wrist.

"I got you a hoodie," he responds as he nods to his motorcycle. "Because I knew your dumb ass would, once again, forget to dress for the winds."

"I'm dressed decently enough. You, though… please tie your hair… It hurts like hell when it whips in my face," you laugh lightly.

He rolls his eyes. "That's also what you said last time before you ended up stealing my hoodie, and I ended up being cold!" he complains, but there's a certain fondness in his voice.

You only stick your tongue out childishly at him. You would rather bite your tongue than admit that you are always slightly underdressed for the occasion so he would keep giving you his hoodies.

He tugs your interlaced hand and pulls you closer, and as you stand so close to him, you think close isn't quite close enough. The two of you linger in that position for longer than what should be appropriate for friends, but you think you have been tiptoeing around that line for a while now. Your heart races, and you're sure your erratic heart is beating fast enough to generate heat to keep you warm against the cold winds.

He pulls away first, moving to grab his hoodie before he roughly puts it on you. He laughs when you complain about your ruffled hair, but as his hoodie and scent engulf you, you could only shyly smile. He takes a scrunchie despite complaining about how poofy it is. As he settles in his bike and you settle in behind him, arms tight around his waist, you think this is probably what holding the universe in your arms feels like.

He rives his bike loudly despite your warning, but you find that you could care less right now as he takes off. You are young and dumb, but the wind is running through your hair as the two of you are chasing the moon, and it makes you feel so alive. Neon lights and starlit skies blur together as he speeds through familiar roads, and the brisk winds drown out your loud laughter. It feels like you're feeling everything at once, but your head is so clear.

You think you can understand why he loves riding so much because the only thing that you can hear is your loud heartbeat, and the only thing that matters is you're living.

He finally stops at a local 24-hour diner. The moonlight shines through the window by your table. You are still feeling the wild wind in your hair, cold air on your face, and the warmth of Baji’s back on your arms. It's way past midnight now, and the yellow lights of the diner feel a little more homey than dingy. He’s munching on some fries, occasionally waving one in your face whenever he’s trying to make a point about something. As you watch the various expressions on his face, a smile makes its way to your face.

“Hey Keisuke,” you grab a fry and jab it at him in the middle of his sentence. He stops his mid-word as he stares at you, head tilting slightly and mouth still gaping. There is a particular word that you keep thinking of whenever you think of Baji, a feeling that lingers and fills your heart up. You know what it is. You think you know at least, and in moments like these when you’re just watching his goofy self munching on fries while boisterously laughing at something dumb, all you can think of is those four letters.

“You’re my best friend,” you whisper before you eat your fry. Best friend, you think, encompasses a lot of things and feelings as you stare at his childlike grin, heart fluttering and mind blanking because all you see is him. You hope he knows, hope he gets that best friend is a loose term because he is so much more.

When he meets your eyes and his gray eyes crinkle in mirth and laughter rolls off his lips, you think he does.

“I know,” he smugly nods before he drops another fry into his mouth. “I guess you’re pretty cool too.”

You stick your tongue out at him and feel a warmth in your heart that matches the pinks of his cheeks. Maybe it’s adrenaline still in your blood, maybe it’s the moment, but it makes you devious, brave even, as you lean over and chomp down on the fry he's holding.

He stares at you with his mouth wide open, looking absolutely flabbergasted and offended. “Hello? That was my last fry!”

“Sorry,” you giggle, not feeling all that sorry at all. You know he’s not truly that offended because he has that stupid grin on his face, because he’s always soft with you. A part of you does feel a little sorry when you see the small pout that arises on his face. “I’ll treat you to yakisoba later?”

He turns away from you, face still slightly sulky as he huffs silently.

“No? You don’t want yakisoba?” you ask. You still find it amusing that Baji Keisuke, the first division captain of the Toman Gang who would punch someone on the streets for no reason other than just because he feels like it, is pouting because you stole his last fry. If anyone from any rival gangs sees Baji Keisuke now, they probably wouldn’t believe this is the same person.

“Fine,” he huffs softly, “But don’t think one yakisoba is enough.”

“Then,” you begin, your heart pounding loudly in your chest as you work up the courage, “What about this?”

He turns to you in confusion, and before your courage runs out on you, you crash your lips onto his before you pull away.

“Repayment,” you mutter meekly, eyes avoiding his because you’re sure he can feel the heat radiating off your cheeks from where he’s sitting.

“Hey,” he tugs on your hand under the table. When you finally look at him, he continues, “Just one isn’t enough.”

He kisses you again.

-----

Home is supposed to be the place you come from, but you think it's more like a place you find, pieced together from scattered bits of feelings, emotions, people along the way. Somewhere along the lines, home becomes less of a place and more of a person. Your home becomes the boy with the sharp canines and long hair that gets tangled by the stray cats he keeps, the "I love you" declared loudly with kisses and the longing looks in between, the comfortable warmth of his body next to yours as you chase sunsets and live in your own infinity. Your home is Baji Keisuke and the constant image of him in your mind and the infinite pieces of him in your heart.

Infinity, though, is awfully short, you think, as you see him lay surrounded by bouquets, eyes closed in eternal slumber. He's always looked good in white, but when his tan complexion is nearly as pale as the white roses surrounding him, you think white is an awful color on him. His eyes always shine with possibilities and promises, and while you've always joked that his sleeping face is cute because he always looks so innocent, adorable even, all you want now is to see him awake.

His heroism and love for his friends are always something that you love about him, but in turn, it feels so incredibly cruel to you now. For as short as he has been in your life, he becomes pieces embedded so deeply in it that it makes you whole. You cannot imagine a world where there is no Baij, where he isn’t there to punch a hooligan on the streets or feed stray cats at night or hold you when your world is crashing. You cannot imagine a life where he isn’t here to shine a bright light in your life without his laughter and goofy personality. Suddenly the world blurs around you, and you can't breathe as droplets of water hit your clenched hands on your lap.

You hold his hands. Cold, cold, cold, when they used to be warm enough to light a fire in you. There are so many things you want to tell him, say to him, but the speech you prepare in your head drowns in silence as your voice gives out on you. All the words in your head just come out as broken sobs. You feel the sympathetic and equally broken glance of his mom as she embraces you, but all you can think about is that he won’t open his eyes.

Baji Keisuke has always been bigger than life, you think, because he becomes a part of everything in your life. There are traces of him everywhere - him with his cats on your lock-screen, the random memes he sends you at night, the little notes he leaves you written in his ugly penmanship with love. When you think of these things, you feel like your heart is breaking all over again.

People tell you to be strong, and while you want to retort because how can you when he’s gone?, you find that you cannot say a word without crying. You’re tired of crying too because your eyes are already so, so raw, but it seems like all you can do is cry. When you think you've finally run out of tears and your tears finally stop, a new batch takes over even at the slightest things that remind you of him. You feel so pathetic because you can't do anything without water leaking from your eyes, and you hate yourself for being so weak.

You tune out the somber tone of his friends and the broken tone of his mom because you don't want to accept a reality where he isn't here. But luck is never on your side because he never opens his eyes again, and you never get to tell him how much you love him. All you get are flashbacks and memories of him and emptiness in your heart and soul. You tell yourself you have to be strong and smile and live for the both of you, but you can't. Not when he isn't here, not when he isn't with you anymore. Every time you think about that fact, your heart breaks again.

"Hey, stupid," your broken sobs ring loudly in the deafening silence, "I love you."

The words you’ve wanted to tell him for so long are finally in the open, but there is no answer.

#baji keisuke x reader #keisuke baji x reader #baji x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x y/n #tokrev x reader #baji fluff #baji angst #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revengers fluff #tokyo revengers angst #i... i just really miss baji :( #come home you stinky head </3 #i'm sorry if he's ooc :(( in my head he's just really dorky and soft w his s/o HAHA #rissa told me to make it angst so i made it angst 👍 #sometimes i write things

[wizkiddx]

living and reviving II

yep when I said three parts I think I meant 4 oops

summary: an overdue conversation that has to happen - like it or not

warnings: cheating, swearing, pregnancy talk, lots more angst, think thats it?

tomhollandxreader

/////////////////////// prev

So with a new sense of dread and fear and complete and total isolation you uttered three single words before hysterically running away.

“Don’t follow me.”

Not now, not ever.

That had been three weeks ago.

And it still fucking hurt like hell.

It had ended up that Yamna had taken you back to hers, where you had stayed for a couple nights. During that couple of days, Tom had tried. He had tried to apologise, tried to explain, tried to fix things. But it just wasn’t that easy.

Whatever he said, it didn’t take back from the fact that he had in that moment meant it. So no amount of sorrys could ever take that back.

After everyone had realised just how serious their situation was, Tom had moved out of your shared flat - so you could at least be in the place you were comfortable. Afterall the nursery was built in your flat and clearly it was you doing all the baby stuff for the moment. Thankfully Yamna, having been cut loose so without job, offered to move in with you. Which was probably the only thing keeping you going.

Well, that and ben and jerrys ‘phish food’. Honestly the shop must think you’re running some sort of ice cream black market at the rate you’re getting through their tubs.

Everyone kept parroting that it wasn’t good for the baby. Too much ice cream . Too much heavy lifting. Too much stress.

And yes, it probably was. But that was out of your control . The stress and lack of man in the household meant you had to do the heavy lifting of shopping from the car up the stairs. Shopping meaning ice cream, which you only depended on so much because of the stress.

It was a vicious cycle of hell.

Even Yamna, the person you were relying on keeping you sane had started walking on eggshells. It was as though you were literally about to pop, she always had to have at least half an eye on you. You were even banned from locking the toilet door - just in case.

It felt like you were a captive animal, people kept coming to observe you, giving sad looks before gleeing the scene.

You hadn’t been sleeping well either. Of course, being 3 weeks of your due date didn’t help - but neither did the lack of Tom. In fact, for the first time since shit had hit the fan, you had actually been managing to get some decent sleep when Yamna knocked on your bedroom door, quietly calling your name.

“I’m asleep” Groaning, you pulled the covers further over your head, praying to god that she’d leave you alone. But of course that wasn’t happening, she just lightly chuckled before you felt the bed dip - she had perched on the edge… Toms side.

“You never normally sleep talk.”

“I’m never normally this sleep deprived.” She sighed, whilst you still stubbornly kept your eyes closed.

“I’m sorry I woke you…. but this is important.”

“What?” Almost grunting, you threw the covers down looking up at her in anticipation. That was another thing about pregnancy - you were always on high alert, always worried.

“Toms here.”

“Tell him to f off.” Quickly you stopped caring about what your bestmate had to say.

“He’s saying that he’s the little ones dad and that he deserves to be involved and…. and I think I might agree.”

“I deserve a boyfriend who stays loyal to me so clearly neither of us are getting what we want.” You weren’t angry at Yamna and snapping at her wasn’t the answer. And yet you still did it.

“Y/n….I love you and I am completely on your side. I just think that maybe, perhaps, you should at least manage to be civil before baby arrives. Otherwise… thats going to be a lot to deal with all at once.”

It was your turn to sigh, deep and heavy (or at least as deep as the baby let). Most infuriatingly she was right. The conversation had to happen at some point. With a baby there too it would only be even more traumatic.

“He’s here now?” It only dawned on you how broken you actually sounded when the words croaked out of you.

“Yeh hunny… I didn’t let him inside so he’s standing outside the door looking like a dickhead right now.” The image cheered you up a little, enough to sit up in bed and be wrapped in Yamna’s arms. Her actions said it all, she really only meant the best for you and knew how hard this would be. After a moment she leant back. “I almost considered calling the paps so they could get a picture and label him as a groveling dick.”

“You should of.” Of course you didn’t mean it, but the answer had you both laughing. It took a minute to calm down before she changed subject slightly.

“You want me to make myself scarce? I can hide in my room or go to the shops or-“

“Text the guy from the bar - you deserve a night off ‘babysitting Y/n’ duties.”

“I’m not babys-“

“Yes you are. Go out with him and have some fun, I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeh”

That was a bare face lie - but Yamna had been almost too good to you. She really really needed a break. Especially as the current plan was she’d be helping with the newborn too. Right now you wouldn’t have wished a baby on yourself - never mind your best mate.

“Okay, get ready then babe - but do it slowly, leave him waiting outside in the cold for as long as possible.”

“Obviously.” You laughed, hauling yourself out of bed, where she gave you one more encouraging hug before leaving.

After hearing Yamna leave, and brushing your hair and throwing on a new pair of trakkies and hoodie, you slowly walked towards the door. It felt as though impending doom were on the other side and every fibre of you wanted to scream and run the other way. But it just had to happen at some point. Why not now?

With a final sharp exhale, attempting to pull yourself together, you opened the door. Immediately your heart sank, seeing nothing. Had you really been that long? And even so, was a 10 minute wait enough for him to give up? You could already feel the hormonal pregnancy tears starting to spring, when a grunt drew your attention.

What you hadn’t considered was the fact Tom was ready to camp out, sitting on the floor beside your door. Springing to his feet, he seemed shocked you’d actually opened the door - makes two of you. When Yamna left she had told him you were coming, but seeing really is believing.

“Y/n! I-I… I wasn’t sure you were ever going to answer.”

“You and me both.” You replied dryly, still leaning on the door. “Do you er…. do you want to come in?” Again he seemed shocked, as though he wasn’t sure you meant it.

“Is that-that okay?” Shrugging you just nodded, stepping back so he could get in. He did pay half the mortgage afterall.

“You want a drink?” He quickly declined your offer, not vocally but instead rushing past you to the kitchen and turning the kettle on himself.

“Your the pregnant one. Go chill on the sofa, I’ll bring you a cuppa.”

And a bit taken a back by his forcefulness you followed instructions, from the sofa watching how effortlessly he danced round the kitchen. It wasn’t shocking, it was technically his kitchen too. But seeing him there felt so alien, almost transporting you back to much much simpler times. Seemed a lifetime ago.

After a couple of minutes, he rounded the sofa with a hot chocolate in one hand for you (because caffiene is bad for the baby) and a cup of Yorkshire tea in the other.

“So… how have you been?”

“Ate a lot of ben and jerrys” You answered without really answering, except he knew you all too well.

“That bad?” He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his brow “how about the baby?”

“I don’t tend to carry an ultrasound on me but she’s been keeping me up all night kicking - so normal I guess.”

“Thats good” He spoke before realising what he said. “Sorry no I um-I don’t mean it like that!” You all but laughed in the face of his flusteredness, only making the tips of his ears go pinker.

“I assume you had something to say and that you came here for a reason rather than just pity me?”

“I want to make things right Y/n - I-I mean your having my kid.”

“OUR kid”

“ Exactly! And-and I love you too and-“

“Bullshit” You may have murmured it under your breath but you had intended for him to hear.

“Oh come one Y/n, you know that!”

It was like the man was asking to be yelled at.

“Don’t sit there trying to patronise me! I THOUGHT i knew it but then I saw you all over another girl. So yes, I’m calling bullshit.”

“Ugh I… If your not going to even try to hear me out then…”

“Then what Tom? You gonna kick me out. I mean this is your flat after all! Maybe you’d like to dump the mother of your unborn child homeless on the street and forget about us - how’d that sound? I’m sure your fans would blindly applaud you.”

“Listen! Please would you just listen to me.” His voice was loud and tone harsh, making you flinch a little. Not because you were ever worried he’d hurt you - but how this wave of uncomfort shuddered through your body, baby even squirming in discontent. So focused on that you just nodded, shifting back into the sofa.

Tom had noticed your reaction and seeing you seemingly scared of him like that, well it broke his heart. Even more.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to shout, I just…. I really need to try and fix this.” He leaned closer, letting out a thankful breath when you just nodded, as if to say go on.

“I’ve really really missed you… these past couple of weeks I’ve never felt so gulity in my life. Not because of what I did! Well yeh that but-but more how much it hurt you and-“

“Fuck.”

You couldn’t help but let out that little curse of pain as a new wave of pain, which seemed to originate from your lower back, shuddered through you. Tom looked up from where his eyes had been nervously wringing his palms whilst he spoke. Rubbing a hand over your belly you shook your head and motioned for him to continue.

She was just kicking really really hard. Right?

“Uhm yeh so I just wanted to properly tell you everything that happened that night so at least we are on the same page? A-And I’m not going to try and use this an excuse but I had been drinking so-“

Seemingly baby disliked the end of that sentence too, causing another rippling wave to echo through your body, feeling as though a band was pressing tightly round your stomach. With another small curse it forced you to stand up, in the hope that’d ease her. Clearly she was as done with his shit as you were.

“Need a water.” You muttered, already waddling to the kitchen, where you heard Tom follow you immediately - like an inpatient dog.

“Y/n sit down I can-“

He was silenced by you freezing and grabbing his arm tightly - a physical contact he hadn’t been expecting from you.

“Tom… get your phone.” You spoke slowly, still not having dared to have moved an inch - fingers almost white from how tightly you were squeezing his forearm.

“Wha-are you-are you okay?”

“I think my waters just broke. Get the phone. Now.”

~~~ feedback is really appreciated + would love to know what u think as still in the process of writing so can be guided / helped by asks !!! ~~~

taglist: @maraudersandco @@minejungwoo @sippin-on-tea @thegirlintheswivelchair @lovehollandy12 @hollandlover19 @thefernandasantana @hunnybunimdun @hallecarey1@cedricdiggorysimpp @msmimimerton @hollandfanficlove @pandaxnienke @crossyourpeter @thegirlwiththeimpala @tom-softie @sunwardsss @spiitfiiires @radcloudenthusiast @ladykxxx08 @prancerrparkerr @wildxwidow @arctic-monkcys @ownbauer13 @tomhollandlol @marvelsbitch8 @peterr-parkourr @lizzyclifford13-blog @user1683 @elishi03

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland angst #tom x reader #peter parkqueue #tom holland oneshot #tom holland x reader #tomholland #dad!tom #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x pregnant!reader #Tom Holland fluff #tom holland fluff

[arvinsescape]

A lover to a stranger

A/N: This one is pure angst! It’s based on a request i recieved!! I won’t be writing a part two because i don’t think that would work! I enjoyed writing this because it’s quite different from what i would normally write and i hope you enjoy!!

Request:  So Tom and the reader have broken up, but the world still thinks they are a couple. Tom have a radio interview, and he gets asked a question about y/n. But he doesn't say anything about them having broken up, only that she is amazing and that he misses her really much. Then after the interview, he goes out of the building like in the video, but when he gets in the car, he starts balling his eyes out, and the pap gets it on video. And the reader both sees the interview and the pap video, and she gets really sad. You choose how it should end

Warnings: Swearing, cheating.

W/C: 3K.

You’d been unaware for months, blissfully unaware, but unaware all the same. It was Harrisons girlfriend that had taken pity on you and decided that enough was enough, someone was going to have to burst your bubble and make you painfully aware.

“Y/N, we need to talk.” She said as she watched you furrow your brows.

“About?” You were so blissfully unaware that Bonnie almost wasn’t sure she could do it.

“Tom.” Bonnie sighed and watched as your brows furrowed deeper in worry.

“What about him?” You bit your lip, you were worried about him. He’d done the worst possible thing to you and you were worried about him. Bonnie’s heart was aching.

“Listen, I’m so sorry I have to be the one to tell you this, I wish I didn’t.” She sighed. “Tom’s been cheating on you, with Georgia.” She whispered out and she hoped maybe you wouldn’t have heard, maybe she could forget she ever came here and was the one to break your heart. No such luck, you’d heard.

“What? I don’t… I don’t understand.” You stuttered out and Bonnie felt her heart break as she watched you swallow back tears and keep yourself composed.

“I’m so sorry. It started a couple of months ago.” Bonnie felt her own tears.

“Did everyone know?” You asked and it was so quiet and the heartbreak was so evident that Bonnie felt her tears fall, she didn’t want to answer this question.

“I’m so sorry, we found out last month. Y/N I wanted to tell you, I did but he said he was going to and I thought he had but he hadn’t.” Bonnie rambled as she watched you slowly nod as tears made their way down your cheeks. Georgia had been your best friend, Bonnie couldn’t think of anything worse.

You had this look about you that was enough to break anyone’s heart, you realised in this moment that the two people you would rely on the most, run to for any problem were the cause of your pain. You sniffled as you looked at Bonnie and sighed.

“Thank you for telling me, I think. Well thank you for growing a conscience after a month. I think you should go.” You weren’t angry, you were hurt. You had no one left you could seek comfort in. Bonnie nodded.

“I’m sorry Y/N. I wanted to tell you, I really did but I couldn’t, you were so happy and no one wanted to hurt you. I will still be here if you need anything.” Bonnie said with a sad smile as she left and heard as you slammed the door shut.

You broke down, you cried for hours. The pain in your heart was unbearable, your best friend and your boyfriend. How do you come back from that? You knew he’d been staying out a little later or taking longer to do things than he normally would. It was almost like Bonnie’s words had made you realise how blind you’d been. Everyone knew, except you and it hurt that everyone kept that from you. You didn’t think Tom or Georgia would do this to you, they both knew about your past relationships, hell Georgia had comforted you through them.

You felt like you’d been stabbed in the back by every single person you’d put your trust into. You knew this was it, when Tom eventually came home that it was the last time you’d see him before you left the house for good. You’d told him earlier on in the relationship that you were a forgiving person but cheating was something you could never forgive, no matter how hard you tried and you’d tried with past boyfriends, you had but you couldn’t ever see past the betrayal.

You cried and screamed into your pillow as you wrapped yourself in your duvet, you were so heartbroken that you didn’t have it in you to fight tonight and you hoped sleep would take over before Tom came home and you could deal with this tomorrow. But of course the real world was cruel and tended to step on those who were already down. You heard the front door shut and you cried harder, you were going to have to face him and you didn’t want to.

You didn’t want to face him right now, you wanted to sleep and you wanted to deal with the further heartbreak tomorrow, your heart couldn’t take anymore pain right now. Of course he heard you, heard your cries of heartbreak and you wondered for a moment if he knew why but he had no idea, he’d gotten away with it for so long he stopped worrying, probably stopped caring.

You heard as his feet rapidly made their way up the stairs and you wanted to hide, you wanted to curl up into a ball underneath the bed and just hide from the world. You’d given him so much, you’d done everything for him, been as supportive as you could and it wasn’t enough. You weren’t enough and you tried so hard to be.

You heard the bedroom door open and you curled further into yourself, you would allow yourself to show him how much he’d ripped your heart out, you wanted him to see how open and vulnerable this had left you so that tomorrow morning when you confronted him maybe he’d care. Maybe he’d do the one thing he hasn’t for months, maybe he’d care.

“Fuck, sweetheart are you okay?” He sounded worried. He was a good actor though, he’d pretended to love you for months. He made his way around to your side of the bed and crouched down next to you, you stuffed your face further into your pillow as he smoothed out your hair. “Hey, what’s wrong? What happened?” He sounded like he cared but he didn’t, he can’t have cared otherwise he wouldn’t have done this to you.

You couldn’t answer, you just cried harder and you cried because it wasn’t the first time this had happened to you, someone better always came along and no one cared how that left you. How it took a part of you every single time it’d happened. You’d thought Tom was different, of course you did because you were naïve and stupid and too trusting with your heart. Sometimes you wondered if it was your own fault, you willingly handed your heart to these people.

“Baby are you gonna tell me what’s happened?” He asked as he moved so he was behind you on the bed and you shook your head. You hated the fact that he couldn’t put this level of heartbreak down to his actions, did he really pretend to love you and to care for so long. He pulled your back against his chest and tried to soothe you. Every sweet nothing he whispered felt it was killing you in the slowest way possible, it had the opposite effect it usually would.

At some point you fell asleep, he’d asked countless times what had happened and you’d cried until there were no tears left, until exhaustion had completely consumed you and you allowed yourself one last night in his embrace. Of course the little sleep you’d had was horrendous, you still felt tired when you woke the next morning.

You pulled yourself from Tom’s grasp and made your way downstairs as you looked at your phone.

Bonnie: I’m so sorry Y/N. Please let me know you’re okay.

Harrison: Bonnie told me she told you. I’m sorry, I’m here if you need anything.

Georgia: Hey girlie!! Wanna do something today?

The text message from Georgia made your blood boil, she knew what this would do to you and she couldn’t give a fuck. Had she done this before? The thought of her betrayal was the worst one, she was your childhood best friend, she’d been there through everything and now she’d left you alone. You almost screamed in anger as you slammed your phone onto the kitchen counter. You’d deal with her later but right now you needed to think about what to say to Tom.

You were aware you looked like shit, aware that it wasn’t over yet, you’d cried your heart out until it was dry and now you were about to take the final step and rip it in half. The world really was a cruel place, you wanted to think about how you were going to approach Tom but you were robbed of that as well as everything else as he entered the kitchen, rubbing his eyes.

“Can we talk about last night baby? Are you okay?” Tom said as he eyed you carefully and you felt the anger rise for the second time that morning. How dare he.

“Do not ‘baby’ me. I don’t want to hear another single fucking pet name out of your lying mouth.” You gritted out at him and he looked taken aback, truly taken aback at your anger.

“What’s wrong?” He asked cautiously, you could see the gears turning in his head as the panic rose, he knew you knew. He gulped.

“How’s Georgia? It would appear you’ve been spending far more time with her than I have.” You seethed and he swallowed hard as he looked at you. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone look more heartbroken and angry at the same time.

“Y/N, I love you, okay. It was a mistake.” He tried calmy and you flared your nostrils as you felt your anger boil over. It was easier to focus on the anger, the heartache had been too much.

“Bullshit, you don’t fucking love me, let’s get that straight. A mistake? No Tom, a mistake is forgetting to pick up milk not sleep with my best friend.” You shouted and he hung his head.

“Y/N, please. She came onto me and I don’t know it just happened. I don’t love her, I love you.” He suddenly looked at you frantically.

“I don’t really want to hear it Tom. This has happened to me before remember. I’ve heard all of this before. It’s cliché at this point.” You snapped and he felt his tears leave his eyes. The truth was he didn’t love her, he really did love you and she had come onto him. He has no real excuses for what happened, the sneaking around was fun he supposed, maybe he’d not fully thought about what this would do to you. But he could see it now, he saw it last night as his own heart broke watching you break down in a way he’d never witnessed before and he caused it.

“I’m sorry. Please can we talk this through?” He asked as he tried to step closer as you took a step back.

“Talk? There’s nothing to talk about. You cheated on me and I don’t forgive that, there’s nothing to save between us.” You said and you felt the anger wash away as you said the words, this was it. A two and a half year relationship gone with the click of some fingers, the man you loved was now a stranger with the click of some fucking fingers. You felt the tears again and when you looked at Tom he was already crying.

“I’m sorry, I love you though, I really do. She means nothing to me.” Tom said desperately as he watched you make your way towards the door. “Please don’t leave, stay and we can talk this out.” He pleaded and you sniffled as you turned around to look at him.

“Tom. Hearing that she means nothing to you is worse. It confirms the fact that I wasn’t enough, I made you bored, or I didn’t love you with enough of me to make you feel complete and that hurts worse. At least if you were in love with her I’d understand better why you carried on betraying me, but I don’t. You’ve brought all of my insecurities back to life and I can never forgive you for that.” She smiled sadly as you opened the door to leave. “Do what you want with my stuff, I don’t want any of it.”

That was two months ago, you’d not spoken to Georgia, you’d just completely cut her from your life because you couldn’t bring yourself to face her. Tom had rung you non stop and you’d blocked his number, as for the boys and Bonnie, you’d not spoken to them either, they texted you occasionally but you didn’t read them. You’d felt betrayed by everyone and you couldn’t bring yourself to be around them. You were slowly healing yourself, reminding yourself it wasn’t your fault it was his and you were trying not to keep up with Tom at all. The world still thought you were a couple though.

He’d not told everyone about the breakup and you’d removed yourself from social media almost instantly in fear of the hate that would be targeted at you when they found out. It was your brother that had told you the world still thought you were together. You’d been on YouTube when you saw it, it was a video regarding one of Tom’s recent interviews and curiosity got the better of you as you clicked it.

He was doing a radio interview and he’d been asked a question about you, you could hear the waver in his voice as he spoke.

“Y/N is amazing, I miss her so much. Being away from her is something I find incredibly hard, I love her so much you know. It’s hard not being able to see the person you love.” He didn’t say anything about you having broken up. The video then cuts to Tom walking out of the interview, hood pulled up as he tried to avoid the media and as he got into the back of the car he cried, someone had caught it on camera and you could clearly see the tears.

Your heart sank because of course you still loved him and maybe he did still love you but that wasn’t enough, you’d never be able to look at him the same. You’d never be able to forget what he did, your phone buzzed in your hand and you looked at the contact Harry.

Harry hadn’t tried to contact you in the last couple of months and maybe that’s what possessed you to answer the phone when you did.

“Hi Harry, what’s up?” You tried to sound as normal as possible.

“I know it’s a lot to ask and I’m sorry but can you please talk to him? I can’t get him to calm down, I think he needs closure.” Harry said sadly and you sighed but agreed. You heard as Harry approached Tom and you heard a small conversation take place before Tom’s voice filled your ears.

“Y/N?” Tom sniffled and he sounded so heartbroken that your heart ached.

“Hey, Tom.” You whispered and he sobbed.

“Y/N, please can we talk? Please can we work it out? Baby I miss you and I love you. I haven’t seen her, she meant nothing to me. I want you, I love you.” He stuttered out through his tears and you sighed as your own heart broke all over again.

“Tom, I explained to you why her meaning nothing to you hurt more. I love and miss you to, more than you can ever understand but I can’t forgive you for this and that’s why we’ll never work it out. I’ll never be able to look at you the same no matter how hard I try. I won’t be able to trust you and you’ll suffer for that. We both need to move on. Tom you need to move on, this isn’t healthy, the world still thinks we’re together and we’re not. Tom, we are over and there’s no going back.” You were crying now as you sniffled and continued.

“I need you to do something for me Tom.”

“Anything, it’s yours, anything.” He rambled out and your heart shattered.

“I need you to move on. I need you to tell the world the truth so that you can move forward.” You said and you heard him sob louder.

“Can we at least still be friends? Can we at least see each other?” He asked and you sighed again.

“Tom, that’s not a good idea and you know it. I can’t be your friend Tom and I think deep down you understand that. Nothing is going to change what happened and what that did to me okay. You’ll always have a piece of my heart but I’m running out of pieces to give. You need to move on, I need to move on. Tom, this is the last time you’ll ever hear from me, okay. Just promise me you’ll move on.” You said and you heard him quieten his sobs to sniffles.

“I promise.” He sniffled.

“Goodbye Tom.” You said sadly.

“Goodbye Y/N.” He sobbed and you put the phone down. Your heart was aching thinking about the pain he was in but you couldn’t stop the thoughts consuming you as you remembered that he’d done the same to you months ago and that was the problem. You could never forgive him because you would always treat him as if you didn’t trust him and didn’t trust his motives and that wasn’t healthy for either of you. Tom Holland had gone from being your lover to a stranger with the snap of some fucking fingers.

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland x reader #tom holland angst #tom holland x y/n

[necros-writing-stuff]

Leighton and Kylar (separate, both male) fucking a delinquent who's been making his life hell into submission?

Concerning the younger au: Leighton taking pity on Kylar because when they see Whitney bullying them they get flashbacks to Bailey shoving them around, like Whitney being taken under Bailey's wing.

NSFW below (tw for non/dubcon, Kylar's breeding kink disregards gender, mostly hurt no comfort)

Kylar

They're sick of it.

The shoving, mocking, yelling.

Kylar has put so much effort into showing their love - they fucking stole expensive chemicals just to make blow-darts to keep you safe and yet you still call them a creep.

You still threw him in the pool, stuffed him in lockers. One time you had leaned in like your were about to kiss him, only to turn and bite his cheek.

You wanted to play rough? Kylar can play rough.

You can't fight back bound like that. Even as you squirm on the floor of your bedroom, hogtied and gagged, you look at him in disgust.

But he'd timed it well. No one was around to help you, just the two of you in this private space. It would be enough.

Cutting your clothes from your body had sent a rush up Kylar's spine, not really caring if it knicked the skin underneath as he did so, just excited to finally touch you unabated.

You keep screaming, mouth stuffed by your own underwear and a tape covering.

"Shhhh, you'll like it, you'll see," he coos, gently rubbing his hands up and down your thighs and spreading them wide so he can see your sex fully on display.

It's wonderful. So inviting and perfect for him.

"Oh!" Kylar yells out, before rushing to a bag and bringing back lube, "I almost forgot! Silly me."

He's generous with the load as he fingers you, small hands slickening you up in a reluctantly pleasant way.

He can't wait, can't stop himself getting his cock out and lining it up with your hole. He doesn't have time to be gentle, you could be interrupted at any minute.

Your body goes stiff from the stretch as he pushes in, back arching even further off of the floor in an attempt to create distance between your hole and the freak's length.

It's not meant to be like this, he's not meant to be able to abuse you.

But here you are, being used as a human fleshlight by the guy you mock daily.

Little shocks of pleasure shoot through your body, the friction good.

His dick feels huge, invading every inch inside of you. He won't stop babbling about how you just need to be shown your place, how you just need to be shown that being bred and stuffed by him is how you should be.

He's delusional, kissing your skin as he hammers away, even claiming he loves you and that you love him back, he knows it.

"This is my first time, you know?" he breaths into your neck, hugging your limp, aching slightly turned on body close as he fucks into you. "I always knew it would be you, ever since that school trip to ice rink all those years ago."

The ice rink? When you'd been fucking eight? You'd grabbed him as he fell and said "Be careful," before skating off. That was it? That's when this all started?

How long has he been planning this?

You start crying now, reality of the situation setting in. You're completely at his mercy, he could hurt you so bad if he wanted to. He already was.

"You're crying because you're so happy, right? That I'm going to fill you up? You're gonna make me a Daddy, you know?"

What a delusional freak.

You whimper when you feel something warm fill your insides, Kylar yelling out on top of you before his sweating body collapses over yours.

Theres a tiny moment of disappointment that you didn't finish, but you push it down as soon as it registers. You can't think like that, no matter what.

"I'm going to take you home, so we can be like this forever," he strokes your cheek, kissing your chest. He looks so reverent.

The last thing you see is him pulling out some needle and jabbing your arm with it.

Leighton

What a brat you are, stood on top of the dinner tables riling up the other students.

A smaller kid was lying on the floor, holding their face and crying after you'd sucker-punched them for groping.

Right in front of Leighton.

Now you're trying to hide behind your fellow students, but they're not looking happy to stand in his way.

The crowd parts as he approaches, letting him reach up and snatch you by the collar, dragging you from the table even as you claw at his hands.

You don't stop struggling even as he pushes you into his office, calling him every name in the book as you do so.

"Let me go! You old, perverted, ugly-"

He fists your hair, shoving you face first into his desk. It's hard enough to hear the slap of your cheek hitting the polished surface.

"You really need to learn to be quiet," Leighton stands behind you, rubbing his crotch against your ass. You can feel his hard-on through your uniform.

No amount of squirming gets you loose from the grip on your hair, nor the one bending your arm behind your back.

"Fuck you!" you spit, kicking out. It's useless.

Leighton lets go of your hair and starts shuffling your uniform down your legs, exposing your tender flesh. You hear the shuffle of his belt, feel him press back into your skin and rub.

You're breathing is hard, you might be hyperventilating, you just want to go.

You hear a hacking noise, then feel fingers press against your hole, wet with want you can only presume is spit.

"Say you're sorry. Tell me you're sorry and I'll be gentle," Leighton whispers into your ear, teasing you with his long digits.

"N-no," you defiantly whimper out, trying to fight off the shudder that shoots up your spine.

One finger pushes in, then another, slightly aided by the saliva. There's a brief sting, but the rough petting of your insides feels good.

Why does it have to feel good?

Your hips jump, pumping against the wood you're pressed to. Then the third finger is added and it burns.

"Last chance. You're going home limping either way, choose whether it's from pleasure or pain," it's a horrible ultimatum.

But you don't want to be hurt. You don't want to cum, either. And you don't have to, you can just have it so he gets what he wants in a way that doesn't hurt.

"... 'm sorry."

"Louder," he demands.

"I'm sorry!" you lift your head from the desk and look him in the eyes, hoping to sound as convincing as possible.

The green stare looking down at you is sharp. It's like a hawk, a predator watching prey.

"Good."

Leighton spits more into his hand, using the foamy liquid to wet his cock before he spits on yoru hole as well.

You clench your eyes shut as he pushes in, biting your lip and trying not to cry out.

It still burns, but its not bad. You can adjust, if he let's you.

And he does, for a few brief seconds Leighton seems happy enough to simply enjoy your heat.

But his hips start snapping into your ass regardless, pap-papping echoing through the office.

Heat blooms in your stomach, you're still not sure if that's good or not. But its better than bleeding.

Hot breath hits your neck, the headmaster panting like a dog from the fast pace he keeps.

That heat builds, muscles tensing in your stomach. The drag of Leighton's length tantalising even as you're wishing him dead within your own mind.

You're moaning. You're letting him use you - being good, so he let's go of your stiff arm to keep your hips still.

The pace only increases now Leighton can shift his weight, man jackhammering into you with no regard for your poor hips slamming against his desk.

It's shameful of close you are to cumming, horrid that that old pervert is the one drawing it from you.

You finally snap, trying to hide that you're having an orgasm by going stiff and biting your lip. Leighton isn't fooled.

"That's it, good girl/boy. I'll have you addicted to my cock by the end of things."

Leighton pulls out, pumping his dick in his hand as he sprays his hot seed all over your ass and back.

"Don't forget you have detention tonight, too."

#degrees of lewdity kylar #degrees of lewdity leighton #degrees of lewdity #spill your guts #anonymous #tw noncon #tw dubcon

[duskholland]

The Fame Game (Part Nine) - Tom Holland

Summary ↠ Breaking up is hard. But breaking up with your fake boyfriend, with whom you’ve fallen irrevocably and painfully in love with? It’s almost impossible.

Warnings ↠ Angst, Y/N’s being stubborn but can we blame her? Cursing and crying. All the good stuff. 

Word count ↠ 5.2k

A/N ↠ This part? Emotional rollercoaster and a half. We’re almost at the end of the story, though! :((( Only part ten and the epilogue to go, and I am not okay. Crazy crazy crazy. Anyway, buckle in and enjoy part nine :)

NINE: Expiration Date (Y)

It’s raining in London. Tracks of grey, miserable water stream down the dirty window, obscuring the view of the city beyond. Your fingers are cold as you hold a mug of stale tea, the liquid pale and long-past its best. You’d poured it an hour ago, intending to throw it back and pull yourself out of your stupor, but you’d failed.

Today is the end of your relationship with Tom - the expiration date, as your team likes to call it. In a move of obscene pathetic fallacy, the weather curled across London seems to emanate your innermost thoughts. It’s cloudy and grey, darkness settled across the sky. In the distance, the clouds grow blacker, and a part of you wonders if it’ll thunder later.

You feel a tear slip from one of your eyes, and the warm line traces down your cheek as you sniffle. With slow movements, you finally put down the mug, crossing your arms over your chest as you continue to stare out of the window, vacantly. You’re in your London flat, your belongings in boxes around you. With the conclusion of a final filming project comes the end of your lease, and when you leave London tonight on a plane, you leave behind your flat, your job, and your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend.

Your fake boyfriend, who sometimes acts like your real boyfriend, but has made it all too clear that he is only, only, only your fake boyfriend.

A scowl springs out across your face, and your fingers curl into fists at your sides.

You thought you’d been hurt by Tom before. For years, you’ve felt anger towards him - resentment, irritation, burning frustration. You’ve cursed him out on countless occasions, publicly denounced him, and watched on as he’s returned every move you’ve made against him with equal ferocity. At almost every given opportunity, Tom has launched blow after blow at you, but you’d taken it. You had accepted that that was just your relationship - that sometimes two people don’t get along, and sometimes they thrive off irritating the other. His insults didn’t touch you - not really, not like this. They’d riled you up and they’d made you seethe, but they were just insults - just empty, irritating insults, which you’d returned with a smile on your face. But now…

For the first time, Tom Holland has actually broken your heart.

It’s painful when you think about him, as you cast your mind back to your last day together. You’d been so excited, so hopeful, when you’d turned up at his place in LA, and as he’d laid you down and you’d held one another, you’d felt the love you have for him grow. Each time he’d kissed you, you felt your love deepen. Each pass of his hands over your skin made your heart race, your mind shake. You’d been waiting on the right time to open your mouth, say the three golden words, and then propose giving your relationship a real shot, only for Tom to jump the gun and tell you that he, in fact, loved you.

To have Tom stand opposite you and tell you that he loves you - only to immediately follow it up with a retraction - has shattered you. You can’t stop thinking about the moment that you’d let yourself believe, for one brief, shocking second, that Tom reciprocated your love - that Tom had softened out, and grown to love you, too. His words had knocked you off-guard, but fuck, if they weren’t the sweetest three words you’d ever heard. You’d been fully prepared to drop everything and jump into his arms, only for him to add--

“No… Wait, no.”

You are upset. You are so fucking angry. You are a whirlwind of tears and clenched fists and stiff jaws. The more you contemplate it, the hollower you feel. You have never known heartbreak as pronounced as this.

You hate the power that you’ve given Tom. Hate that you’d walked straight into this, eyes open. You can’t even blame it on blind infatuation, because you’d been aware at every moment how dangerous your budding feelings were, just you’d chosen to ignore the warning signals, too distracted by Tom’s easy smile and his kisses. You hate that you let him break your heart, hate that he’s emerged from this unscathed when you feel the weakest you’ve ever been.

But above all, you hate that you don’t hate him. It would be so easy to slip back into old habits, to return to that blind, festering hatred that used to roar through your veins at the mere mention of his name. You can’t return to that, and every time you try to drum up some anger towards Tom, you’re instead reminded of how nice, and funny, and sweet he can be.

You release a shaky breath. It’s your expiration date, today. All that’s left of your relationship is a visit to Tom’s house to collect your things, and a few pap photographs of you leaving his place, in pieces. There’s no doubt in your mind that the paparazzi will find it convincing: you’ve been a mess for days, your tears will be real. You’re full of apprehension and rattled nerves about seeing him again, about walking back into his house knowing it’ll be the last time and having to act like he hasn’t reached into your chest and ripped out your heart.

You are an actor, to your core, but your role within this relationship has been your hardest performance to date - and you have the sinking suspicion that not even you can pull off the denouement.

The paparazzi are already outside Tom’s as you walk down his front path, raindrops bouncing off your jacket. The flashes from their cameras illuminate the garden, and your eyes hurt as the light glints off the collection of small garden gnomes Harrison and Tom keep in front of their house. You’re quick to drum your knuckles on the front door, tugging on the chords of your hood and trying to shy away from the yelling journalists.

After what feels an eternity, the door is opened. Tom stares out at you, eyes widening as he takes in the pouring rain.

“Shit, it’s wet today, isn’t it?” He mutters, quickly moving aside. You hurry into the house, sighing contentedly as the warmth envelops you. You kick off your shoes, but your fingers are frozen solid and you can’t quite tug the zip of your coat. “Do you need help?”

You glance up, seeing Tom eyeing your shivering fingers as you try and fail to release the slippery zip. “Yeah,” you mutter, quickly glancing away. It’s not your intention to stay long, but you’re not so inconsiderate that you’d traipse through Tom’s entire house in a dripping jacket.

You stay very still as Tom steps forward, one of his hands holding the bottom of your jacket as the other goes up to the zip. His tongue slips out between his teeth, and a deep crease appears between his eyebrows as he grasps the zip and carefully tugs it down. A smile splits over his face, and you sigh as the coat releases.

“There you go.” Tom doesn’t stop there, though. He goes so far as to help you wiggle out of the jacket, and even hangs it up on the peg for you. The same peg you’d used when you’d stayed with him a few months ago. Your peg. “So.” Tom rocks back on his feet, looking at you through narrowed eyes. “Why haven’t you been answering my texts?”

You clear your throat, crossing your arms over your chest. “What?”

“Y/N.” Tom steps a little closer, his eyes wide with hurt. “My calls, too. I really needed to talk to you.”

“Sorry,” you fib. You’re not sorry, not even one bit. Every time you’d watched your phone go through to answerphone, you’d felt a little stronger. “I’ve been busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Oh, you know. Stuff.”

Tom frowns at you. “Well, I needed to talk to you.”

“Yeah, you said that.” You clear your throat, shaking out your arms as you try to lighten the air between you. You hadn’t meant to come into your last encounter with Tom with so much hostility on your shoulders, but being so close to him again makes your chest ache. “Sorry,” you mutter. “What did you want to talk about?”

Tom nods his head. “Well, it’s… It’s complicated.” Now he’s hesitant, with reluctance clinging to his features. You feel irritation stir inside as you watch him fluster. All you want to do is get this over and done with, so you can leave his house before you start crying again. You don’t want to drag this out.

“Well, can we talk about it as I pack my things?” You ask, your voice clipping a little at the edges.

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” Tom moves out of the way, letting you into the main body of the house. “What do they want us to do, again?”

You bite your lip as you see the photograph that hangs from the wall in the hallway. It’s new, and it shows you, Harrison and Tom, laying out together on one of their sofas. You remember the night well: Harry had taken the picture, teased Tom for the way he’d got you wrapped up in his arms and refused to let go for the duration of the scary film you were all watching. On your other side is Harrison, glaring at you and Tom, mock outrage on his face. It was a good night - near the end of your trip to London, back when things were better.

“Did they send you a box?” You say, voice vacant. You can’t stop looking at the photo, at the way Tom has his face buried in your neck. You look so happy. “They want me to put all my stuff in a box. Apparently, paps just need to see me leaving with all of my things, and then they’ll get the picture.”

“Pretty simple, then?” Tom drops down to his knees, beginning to rummage in the cupboard under the stairs until he procures a big red box. “This is the one they sent.” He passes it up to you. “Will that be big enough?”

“Yeah. I only have a few things here, I think.”

“Cool. Do you want to start upstairs?”

“Why not.”

You feel awkward as you slowly climb the staircase. The air between you is unsettled, and you can tell Tom’s hurt that you’re clearly less than enthused to be here. Part of you wants to soothe him, but the other part wants to run, run, run.

“Harrison not here?” You ask as you walk past his empty bedroom. You enter their spare room, which you’d been crashing in back when you’d stayed, and quickly start pulling out the odd book and bottle you’d left. Management had instructed you to leave a few things back when you’d left, and now you understand why.

“Nah, Liverpool,” Tom says. “It’s just me.” He sits on the edge of the bed, watching as you quickly pile everything into your box. “Look, Y/N, can we please talk?”

“I’m listening.”

“No, no.” Tom stands up, and you freeze as he reaches out for your arm. The second his warm fingers touch your skin, a lump comes to your throat. “I need to- we need to talk.” You stay completely still, closing your eyes as you feel him slide his hand up your arm. His palm rests on your shoulder, weighted and familiar, and the contact makes your heart pang.

“What do you want to talk about, Tom?” You ask, voice hoarse. You keep your eyes shut. The scent of his cologne is so familiar it brings back the tightness in your chest. You aren’t sure if you’re so upset because this is the last time you’ll be together, or if it has more to do with the fact that you can’t look at Tom without being reminded that he doesn’t love you.

“Come and sit down. I can make tea.”

You suck in a deep breath. “You know that I’m walking out of your house in ten minutes and probably never coming back again, yeah?” You mutter. “What’s so important that it deserves a cup of tea?”

Tom only chuckles, not seeming to mind the bitterness of your voice. “I’ll tell you. Over tea.” He squeezes your shoulder, and you finally open your eyes. Your vision swims with tears, but if he notices it, he doesn’t comment on it. “You can pack your stuff up here, and I’ll meet you in the living room. Okay?”

You nod. “Alright.”

You try to delay your conversation for as long as possible, which takes you on a short trip into Tom’s bedroom. In your defence, you don’t mean to snoop - you did, in fact, leave your favourite book on his desk - but you do also take the opportunity to have a little look around.

On Tom’s windowsill is a line of very dead plants, their leaves shrivelled and broken. You roll your eyes as you peer into the empty watering can, chuckling softly. Typical. On his desk is a pile of scripts, dog-eared and stained with the round marks of spilt tea, and crumpled clothes hang everywhere, shoved over various armrests and laying in heaps on the floor. Tom’s entire room is organised chaos.

What catches your eye, though, is the large shelf hammered into the wall. You’ve been in Tom’s room before, hell, you’d spent your last night in London in his bed, but you’d never taken the time to look up and examine this shelf. Settled in the middle of it, gathering dust, is Tom’s BAFTA. You sigh, and instinctively, you reach up and take it.

It’s heavy in your hands. You’ve felt it before, but you’d forgotten the weight of the blue glass trophy. When you’d last touched it, it’d been on the night of the show, and Tom had thrust it into your hands mockingly, making some flippant comment about it being a mark of his success. You’d immediately tossed it back at him, almost dropping it in the process, and shut him down with a snide remark.

Now, you run your thumbs over the award. The curves are smooth beneath your fingertips. You blink a few times, and two tears splash out onto the thing. As you rub them away, you take a deep, shuddering breath.

Pull yourself together, Y/N.

You swallow, and when you release a deep exhalation, you feel steadier. The award goes back to the shelf, and you pick up your box. Just ten more minutes. One conversation, one cup of tea, and ten more minutes. Then you can leave him behind.

How much can change in ten minutes, anyway?

There’s something melancholic about the way you find yourself sitting on Tom’s sofa, facing him again. You’re in the same position that you were in back when you’d customised your shoes together, before everything had gone to shit: you, leaning up against one armrest, Tom against the other, both of you with your legs outstretched and meeting in the middle. Tessa has staked her claim sitting on your feet, and as you sip nervously at your tea, you keep your eyes on her.

“So.” Tom’s fidgeting. If he’s not drumming his fingers over the ceramic of his mug, he’s picking at the strap of his watch. “I need to talk to you.”

You wince a smile. “Yeah, you keep saying that.” You take a sip of your tea. It’s still hot, and it burns the tip of your tongue, but part of you wants to down the whole thing just so you can leave. Being so close to him makes your chest sting.

Tom takes a deep breath. “I said something really stupid the last time we were together. I was… I was just going to leave it, but then I realised that doing that would be even more stupid,” he starts. Immediately, you feel yourself bristle. You can’t have this conversation again.

“We don’t need to talk about it, Tom,” you mutter. “What’s the point? I’m leaving soon.”

“Which is exactly why we need to talk about it, love.” Tom’s eyes are wide, a hint of desperation swirling in them. He sets his tea down on the coffee table and sits up straighter. “I didn’t mean it.”

You sigh, rubbing at your forehead as you feel another stab of pain in your chest. He’s really twisting the knife, now.

“I know,” you remind him. “You’ve already told me that you didn’t mean it.”

“No, no.” Tom shakes his head, running a hand through his curls. “No.” He’s visibly anxious, but you’re too perplexed to consider offering him any comfort. “I mean… I said I didn’t love you. Well, I said I loved you, and then I took it back.”

You release a sound somewhere between a whimper and a groan, and it brings on a fresh set of tears. “Yes, I remember, Tom.”

“Well, I was wrong.”

Very slowly, you look up at him. You put down the tea and bring your knees to your chest, staring at him through hard eyes.

“What?” You say, voice dull.

“I was wrong. I shouldn’t have taken it back.” “Tom.” You’re exasperated and confused. “What are you trying to say?”

“I love you, Y/N. I’m in love with you.”

Your eyebrows pull together. “What?”

“I love you.” Tom’s lips quirk into a soft, warm smile. “And- And I know you probably don’t feel the same way, and you probably don’t want to hear it, but I had to tell you before you leave. You have to know how I actually feel.” He sits forward, and his foot nudges your knee. “I love you. I’m sorry for being a dick, I just… I panicked, I guess.”

Your brain feels like it’s running slow, wading miles behind the rest of you. You’ve spent so many days coming to terms with the fact that Tom doesn’t love you that the evidence for the contrary isn’t sinking in.

“What- but you said that you didn’t love me?” You puzzle.

“I was wrong.”

You look at him. You look at him long and hard. Your eyes dissect the soft smile on Tom’s lips, the eagerness in his eyes, and the blush on his cheeks.

You don’t believe him.

“How can you get something like that wrong?” You ask him, frazzled. “Tom, I- I don’t know if I can trust anything that you say.”

Tom raises an eyebrow. “So you want it to be true?”

“What? Shut up, this isn’t about me.” You have a lump in your throat. “Tom, this is- this is about you, not knowing how you feel.”

“But I do know how I feel. I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you-”

“Stop.”

You can’t take it. With every repetition, it feels like Tom’s rubbing it in your face.

“Y/N?”

You stand up from the sofa, displacing Tessa who whimpers in response.

“You’re so cruel, Tom.”

Tom scrambles to his feet too, hopping as he regains his balance. He stands in front of you. “What? What do you mean?” His eyes are wide with hurt. “I’m being honest, Y/N. How is it cruel to love you?”

Tears form in your eyes.

“You don’t get to take it back. You… First, you said that you loved me. Do you… Do you know how happy that made me?” You screw your hands into fists, voice hoarse. “I thought, for a second, that you loved me. I really, really did. I thought that we could end this stupid thing and just be happy. But then, you turn around, and you take it back. You’re not allowed to take back a declaration of love, Tom. Do you know how- how crushing that was?”

“-But-”

“No, I’m talking.” The end of your nose tingles, and you reach up to brush the wetness from your cheeks. “You… You broke my heart, Tom. Because I-” You break off, and you meet his eyes. You speak directly to him. You finally bare your soul. “I love you, Tom. I fell in love with you, and so for you to turn around and take it back-” You break off, waving a hand through the air. “It broke my heart.”

“I’m sorry.” His voice is raw, and you watch as Tom rubs at his eyes. “I didn’t know, Y/N.”

“How am I supposed to believe you?” You look at the floor, vision blurry. “How am I supposed to believe that you aren’t going to turn around in two minutes and take it back again?” You rub at your arms. “Why do you get all of the power?”

Tom steps closer, but you just move away. “Y/N, please. I don’t want to hurt you. I would never, ever want to hurt you. I was confused, but I know now more than ever how I feel about you.”

“But you have hurt me, Tom,” you say, finally looking back at him. “Our entire relationship has been us hurting each other. Why should it be any different now?”

Tom clasps his hands together, his cheeks red and ruddy. “We both know it’s different now.”

“Is it?” You release a dim laugh. “Because I feel, just now, exactly as horrible as I used to feel when we’d argue, Tom. All we’ve ever done is hurt.”

“That’s the past.” Tom’s voice is picking up now, growing in strength. When he looks at you, you see his jaw flexing. “I’m sorry for the ways I’ve acted, Y/N, but I can’t change it now. All I can tell you is that you’ll be making a bad decision if you walk out of the door.”

“I have to.” It’s too much to process - too much to think about when Tom’s looking at you so desperately. This morning you’d woken up expecting an awkward visit and then a plane ride far, far away from him. This revelation upends all of that.

“No, you don’t.” Finally, you let Tom take your hands. He runs his thumbs over the back of your palms and you whimper. “Stay. Stay here with me. Fuck PR, fuck the paps. We can be together. We can love each other.” He smiles again, softly. “Let me love you. Please.”

It’s very tempting. As Tom holds your hands tightly and stares into your eyes, you want so desperately to cave. You want to throw yourself into his arms and tell him that you love him, that yes, yes, of course you’ll stay with him. But you think back to all the tears that you’ve shed, and you look at his face, and you’re reminded of the night at the BAFTAs when he’d thrust his polished trophy into your face and bragged about it. You think about all of the times he’s made moves against you and tried to trip you up. You think about your last day together, and how easily he’d retracted his statement.

How can he stand here in front of you, and ask you to forget about all of that so easily?

“I can’t.”

You step away from Tom and instead grab your big red box. You walk quickly into the hallway, your eyes full of hot tears. He follows.

“Yes, you can.”

You sit on the stairs and start lacing up your shoes, staring at Tom angrily.

“I can’t.” Your fingers shake as you tie your laces. “I have a flight. I have a life in LA that I need to get back to. This was never part of the plan, Tom. You’re my fake boyfriend. You aren’t supposed to be my real boyfriend.”

“But you love me.” Tom’s blocking your way, his biceps bulging from his black t-shirt as he stands in front of you desperately. “You told me. You said that you love me, Y/N, and I’m telling you that I love you too.”

“Love isn’t always enough, Tom.” It hurts to look at him, to think about how easily and foolishly he’s handled your heart. “Let me go.”

“Love can be enough.” It’s his final attempt; you can see it in his eyes. “Don’t let us end like this, Y/N. Please.” He takes your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips. His mouth moves over your skin, dropping kisses to your cold skin.

You feel trapped. You know the car is waiting outside, and it’s all come on too fast, too soon.

“Tom,” you say. You pull your hand from his grasp. “Let me go.”

Tom steps aside. He finally slumps against the wall, pressing his head into his hands. “Is this what you really want?” His voice is raw, broken, and his eyes are red.

You tug your soaking jacket from the peg on the wall as you shrug haplessly. “You can’t drop these feelings on me ten minutes before I’m out the door and expect me to change my life for you.” You look at him. “It isn’t fair.”

“Fine.” Tom stands up straighter. “You should take off your hoodie, then. It’s mine. Wouldn’t be the best impression of the paparazzi to be seen wearing my clothes, would it?”

You drop your jacket to the floor and start shuffling out of the pink hoodie. It’s an oversized fit, and it comes off easily, but you chuckle bitterly. Tom’s taken everything from you - your heart, your sanity - even the very clothes from your back. What more could he possibly want to take?

“There.” You shove it into his hands and angrily pull on your coat. The sleeves are cold and damp against your skin, making you shiver. “Happy now?”

Tom looks down at the jumper. “No,” he says, voice soft. His eyes are round again, widening further as you reach for the front door. “Y/N, please.”

Your fingers linger on the doorknob, cold to touch. You hesitate. When you glance back at Tom, your resolve crumbles. As frustrated and bemused as you are, you love him. You love him, and he’s your best friend, and you’re leaving him.

“Tom,” you whimper. You step away from the door, dodging the box, and fold into his arms, crying with your face on his shoulder. Tom’s arms wrap around your back and he pulls you in tightly. “I’m sorry.” You aren’t sure what you’re apologising for - your departure, your broken heart, your tears staining his shirt. You just know you are so overcome with every emotion that it’s overflowing now, leaving your mouth in ugly sobs.

“Shh.” Tom rolls a hand over your back, patting in large circles. Your jacket crinkles at the action, and you think you can feel his chest shake. “It’s okay.”

You stay in his arms, your face buried in his neck until you stop crying. Even then, you feel clogged up and weakened. He’s so warm - his embrace strong, and comfortable. You feel protected, and when you step back, you feel your heart break again.

“I’m sorry, Tom.” You wipe at your eyes and pick up the red box. Tom’s face falls in response. “I just… I need time. I’m not- I’m not saying that we can never be together, I just… I can’t stay just now. It’s too fresh, I don’t...”

“It’s okay.” Tom steps forward. One of his hands goes to the doorknob, the other rests on your shoulder. He’s near to you - so near that you can see the flecks of pain in his eyes and the freckles on his face. His gaze flickers down to your lips. “I can wait.”

You lean in and kiss him, softly. His lips taste of salty peppermint.

“I… I’ll see you later.” You want to say it, want to tell him so desperately that you love him, but the words choke in the back of your throat.

Tom just smiles, the action not stretching to his eyes. He tilts his head towards the door. “Are you ready?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

Tom looks at the box in your hands and reaches up. He tugs up the hood of your jacket and tucks your hair into it carefully. “Safe flight, darling.”

“Thank you.”

He opens the door and steps aside, and then you’re on your own.

London Heathrow Terminal 5 is very empty. You’re sitting alone in the back corner of the waiting room, hood drawn around your face, sunglasses resting heavily over your nose. You haven’t been able to stop shaking since you left Tom’s house. Feeling numb through bag drop, security, and duty-free, it’s a miracle you’ve made it to your gate on time.

You close your eyes, and you see him. You open your eyes, and you expect to see him. He’s everywhere.

Is this what you really want..?

It plays on loop, lilted in his voice. Is this what you really want? To be sat alone, crying in Heathrow airport, when Tom is waiting back at home, finally willing to take you into his arms?

You sniff as you wipe at your eyes, furiously trying to stem the flow of tears. It had all happened so quickly; it felt almost unfair.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket, and you’re grateful for the distraction.

Tom <3: Have a safe flight. I’m sorry for being such a dick. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I love you. I love you and I’ll wait for you. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to figure it out. I love you. Xxxxxxxxxx

You put the phone down, sucking in a deep breath. Your eyes fall to your feet. You notice, for the first time, that you’re wearing your special personalised Converse.

With shaking hands, you pull off your sunglasses and stare at your feet. The ink has run a little, obscured by the pouring London rain, but you can still make out some of the shapes Tom had drawn over them, all those weeks ago. A love heart, a flower, a couple holding hands. The lump in your throat grows bigger.

Is this what you really want..?

“Now boarding, Flight BA0269, London Heathrow to LAX. We now invite our platinum club to board.”

You sigh. You stand up and pull your backpack over your shoulders. You look back at your feet.

The love heart is wobbly and uneven, and you remember the look of concentration on Tom’s face as he’d tried his best to doodle over your shoes. The room had been so warm, back then. Just the two of you, together, finding comfort in one another’s company. It’d been simple, and you can remember looking up at him and feeling warmth for him in your heart.

Is this what you really want..?

No.

Your relationship has felt like a series of rash decisions lately, and you aren’t about to make the final, irreversible choice of leaving London. You can’t leave - not now, with the path finally clear. You can’t leave Tom, who’s finally told you how he feels. He’s messy, and complicated, and being around him makes you feel like your heart is on fire, but you love him. You love him, and maybe he’s right - maybe love is enough.

You know that you have come too far to throw it all away without giving him a chance.

You’ve never been a fan of bold, romantic gestures, but as they call your gate again, you turn off your phone and you turn around. You turn around, and you run. You run back to him.

↠ next part

#sob #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland #tom holland series #crying on main time #y/n #y/n use #self insert #self-insert #tfg #ahhhhHHHHH screaming truly #what am i gonna do with my fridays when im finished with this series!! #:((( anyways #please let me know what you're thinking :))) #almost didn't include the final scene in this part but :)) i thought it deserved to make the final cut

[tennessoui]

oh my god literally every single prompt on that list is gold and i'd love to see your obikin take for all of them. hmmm... if i had to choose i guess first 13. co-stars au?? thank you lots of love !!!

ah bless!! thank you so much!! i'm slowly working my way through most of the prompts on that list so you might see many many more before I'm done with my ask box. I think after two more, I'll put em on ao3 to keep em more organized too. this has been soooo fun!!

13. Co-Stars AU(/7. Fake Relationship AU)(2.5 k)

“No.”

“Ani, darling, you can’t say no.”

“Don’t call me that. And secondly, I can. I just did. This is my personal life, the company has no control over that.”

“While you’re filming its movie and it’s giving you money, you’ll actually find that it does, Anakin.”

Anakin sits down heavily on the bench outside his trailer, leaning forward until he can put his head in his hands. He wants to run his fingers through the mess on his head, but they’re in between takes right now and the make-up department will definitely kill him if they have to fix him up again.

“Asajj, please. You know how hard it was to get to come out as bisexual. If the first person I date after that is a woman, no one will remember! It’ll just be completely erased, and I’ll be Anakin Skywalker, Playboy Actor again.”

“But you do like women,” Asajj points out. “So either way, you’d be confirming your sexuality.”

Anakin sighs and leans his head back against the metal of the trailer. “And it would be different if I was actually in love with Padme, but she’s just my co-star and--”

“Anakin, she’s your co-star. You’re in a blockbuster movie where you dramatically save her life and then kiss her as the credits roll. This is just business. You like her. You’re friends. Think of it less like dating, and more like going to grab lunch together. And coffee. Maybe a fancy dinner. Several times a week.”

“For how long?” Anakin asks, resigned and despairing and hating the fact that he ever got into acting.

Asajj sounds relieved. “Just until the movie’s out and sales are doing well.”

That could be months. That would be months. “And I have to?” he asks.

“Yes,” she says. “I’m sorry.”

Anakin doesn’t say it’s fine. It doesn’t feel like it is fine.

“They’re not looking for anything to be confirmed. If asked about your relationship with Padme, tell them you think she’s a great woman and you’re enjoying spending time with her. No comment on any sort of serious relationship.”

“Because a break-up afterwards might hurt the chances for a sequel?” Anakin asks drily.

“Exactly! We’ll get you a head for the business yet, Anakin. Okay, I have to go, but I’ll send you the information now, just so you know what you’ll be expected to do. We’re thinking a dinner tomorrow to start things off strong, and then slow afterwards!”

She hangs up before he can say anything else and he slumps back boneless against the metal trailer. God.

It’s not that he doesn’t like Padme. Ventress is right. They were friends before this project and Anakin knows they’ll be friends after as well. They genuinely get along, and it’s probably one of the reasons Anakin was cast in such a big name production: the chemistry between them when they’re acting is undeniable. She’s one of his favorite people in the entire industry.

“Anakin?” One of his other favorite people in the entire industry asks hesitantly from in front of him. “Are you alright?”

“No,” he says.

“May I sit?”

“Yeah,” he says.

Like he’d ever turn Obi-Wan Kenobi away.

“Are you wearing your costume?” he asks, without opening his eyes. Obi-Wan’s playing the villain of the movie, and Anakin has a hard time focusing on anything else when Obi-Wan’s around him wearing that skin-tight white turtleneck and cape combination, with his hair slicked back and fake glasses perched on his nose.

Obi-Wan sounds amused. “No, I’m finished for the day. Heading home now. You don’t have to see how silly I look today.”

Anakin smiles slightly, despite everything. In one of his better acting moments, he’d told Obi-Wan that his costume was distracting because it looked so funny on him. Really, it was just hot.

(Of course, Obi-Wan had taken his criticism seriously and gone to the director and the costume department. They had decided that it would make Obi-Wan’s character more threatening if he pushed up his sleeves in almost every scene to reveal heavily tattooed forearms. Anakin had hated himself and his big stupid mouth for days afterwards.)

“Is...there anything I can do to help, Anakin? I hate to see you like this,” Obi-Wan places a hand gently on Anakin’s knee, and Anakin has to fight a shiver at the touch.

They’d met at the script-reading for the movie, a handful of months ago. Anakin had set two clocks in his head the moment their hands grasped each other and Obi-Wan smiled charmingly up at him. “So you’re the one to kill me?” He’d winked. “Tall order.”

One clock signified the weeks it would take for him to fall in love with the older man. The starting number was pitifully small, but Anakin had been watching Obi-Wan’s movies and interviews for years before meeting him. He’d known something about the man, which of course had paled in comparison to knowing the man himself. They’d spent two weeks choreographing the steps of the final fight scene, just the two of them in a repurposed ballet studio.

Looking back, Anakin isn’t sure how he’d survived. And he had never wanted it to end.

Which is the other clock, still ticking down in his head. The moment filming ends, and they go their separate ways. They’ll probably keep in touch, but Anakin won’t see him constantly, won’t be able to lean into the weight of Obi-Wan’s hand on his shoulder, his knee, sometimes even on his cheek when he leans down in between takes to tell him how good of a job he’s done.

“Anakin?”

“Sorry,” Anakin snaps to the present. “Sorry. I was in my head. I. I don’t think so, no.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan says, tensing his hand as if he’s planning to remove it, which Anakin wouldn’t appreciate in the slightest.

“My agent says that the executives want me to date Padme. To drum up hype for the movie. Because I guess people will think it must be good if the co-stars start fucking each other?” He runs a hand across his face. “Um. Sorry, excuse my language.”

“Anakin, I’m forty-one, I think I’ve heard someone say fuck before,” Obi-Wan sounds amused again.

“Yeah, I just. Don’t want to? I guess maybe--I mean you probably didn’t see, but I came out as bisexual a year ago, and I haven’t dated anyone since, and I just know the way the rags will write about me and Padme if we’re seen together. And it’ll be like I just. Never came out.”

Obi-Wan makes a sympathetic noise but doesn’t interrupt. It’s one of the reasons Anakin loves talking to him.

“And my agent just sent me this contract, or I don’t know, list of things I have to do because there’s no way for me to get out of this and it just makes me feel trapped. But they don’t even want me to confirm if we're dating or not dating, they just want to create rumors about it, but it’s my life. I want to do what I want to do with my life, date who I want to date.”

“Do you...have anyone you want to date?” Obi-Wan asks, hand stilling from where he’s been casually rubbing circles on Anakin’s knee.

“No,” Anakin says too quickly and then grimaces. Does he really get paid for acting? He’s always so terrible at lying.

Obi-Wan hums. “I could...take a look at whatever papers your agent sent you?” He suggests. “I’m obviously not really an expert, but I have been in the business a fair bit longer than you.”

“You’re not that old,” Anakin responds by rote, but hesitates, curious despite himself. “You wouldn’t mind?”

“I’ve nothing planned tonight except to have a glass of wine and pet my cat, Anakin. It would be a pleasure to help you any way I could.”

“Okay,” Anakin says, reaching out to lay his hand gently on top of Obi-Wan’s. He’s never done that before, never responded so openly to Obi-Wan’s touches. It’s an amazing thrill.

Obi-Wan flips his hand around until they’re holding hands, basically. In the middle of a public area. God, Anakin’s letting his crush get the best of him when Obi-Wan isn’t even gay. “Thank you,” he says, standing up and pulling away from the older man. It’s the right thing to do. The last thing he wants is for Obi-Wan to think he’s...predatory.

A harried looking crew member spots him as he stands and gestures to him to get back to the set. He smiles ruefully at Obi-Wan who gives him an unreadable expression but also a soft goodbye.

Later, in between takes, he forwards Obi-Wan the emails Asajj sent him, both the papers and the message at the top that says “dress nice for tomorrow at Delfino’s!” followed by a little smiley face he can’t believe she’d ever mean.

He knows nothing’s going to come of it, but. But he has to try.

----

Padme’s dressed to the nines in front of him. He’d compliment her outfit, but he’s already complimented her hair and her make-up, and he thinks she’ll scream if he continues to act as stilted as he’s being now.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs quietly after the waiter leaves with their drink orders. “I know I’m being--awkward. I just.”

They’re seated in the middle of the restaurant, and Anakin knows there’s two paps already outside, taking pictures through the windows. The rest will have arrived by the time they pay the bill and leave. It’s a circus and he’s the main event.

“I understand,” Padme responds, the angel that she is. “I don’t particularly want to be doing this either.”

Anakin presses his hand to his chest, jokingly wounded. “What are you trying to say, Padme, my beloved, my dearest?”

She laughs and he does too, but in the back of his head he can hear the sound of a camera’s shutter clicking. Everything feels fake, and he feels like he’s about to crawl out of his skin.

A hand lands on his shoulder with startling familiarity and for a second he thinks it’s a very brave member of the wait-staff, before Obi-Wan Kenobi is swinging into his field of vision, pulling up a chair from god knows where and sitting right in between Anakin and Padme, never once removing his hand from Anakin’s jacket.

“Sir--” someone says in distress, “This is a two-person table.”

Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow and looks down at the table. “Well it certainly can fit three, so I would go as far as to say that tonight it can be a three-person table. Anakin, what did you order to drink?”

“The house white,” Padme supplies when Anakin makes no move to respond, instead choosing to gape at Obi-Wan like a fish out of water.

“Excellent choice, darling,” Obi-Wan says, rubbing at his upper arm absent-mindedly. “I’ve never been here, tell me. Do you serve a good seafood dish?”

The waiter stammers. “We have an acclaimed oyster platter, sir--”

“Oysters?” Obi-Wan smiles at the man, all teeth. “The aphrodisiac? What are you trying to get these kids in the mood for?”

Anakin blushes. “Obi-Wan!” He hisses, aghast. Obi-Wan’s eyes cut to him for a second before he smirks back at the waiter.

“I’ll take the oysters for the main course,” he says dismissively.

Somehow it’s that sentence that tips Anakin off, more than anything else he’s done tonight. Obi-Wan spends hours talking to the people that run the crafts table. He would never be so cold or rude naturally. He’s...playing a character, one that Anakin recognizes as being the villain from their movie (although without all the blood and murder).

Anakin only recedes into personas when he’s nervous about something. Can the same be said for Obi-Wan?

Padme, at least, looks amused. “Hello, Obi-Wan,” she says. “I see you’ve decided to crash our very romantic date.”

“Well that’s interesting, isn’t it?” Obi-Wan replies, turning to face her but keeping his hand on Anakin, although it slides down to rest on the crook of his arm. “I had Anakin send me the paperwork, mild curiosity, you know how it is, and I realized the strangest thing while I was reading over it.”

“Oh?” Padme asks.

“It never states which co-star Anakin should be seen with, just that he must be seen with a leading actor. And I don’t want to focus on the numbers here, of course, but in the rough-cut of the movie, I have thirty-four minutes of screentime. And you, my dear, have thirty-two and fifteen seconds.”

“Tragic,” Padme says, taking a sip of her water. "You may be considered more of a leading actor than I am."

“Certainly,” Obi-Wan gives her a friendly smile. Anakin is still stuck on the fact that Obi-Wan is here, that he read the paperwork, that he’s arguing semantics for the purpose of--of--

“And I suppose you’re here to offer yourself as a replacement?” Padme asks, leaning her head on her hand as she watches the two of them.

“Only if Anakin wouldn’t mind,” Obi-Wan says, turning to face him.

Anakin isn’t sure what he’s thinking right now. “But you’re not interested in men.”

“I am,” Obi-Wan says.

“But...you’re not interested in me.”

“I am,” Obi-Wan says.

“You are?”

“Excuse me,” Padme says. “I’m going to go to the restroom.”

“We’ll wait to order until you come back,” Obi-Wan reassures her, without taking his eyes off of Anakin.

Anakin bites his lip and hesitantly brings his hand up to sit palm up on the table. Obi-Wan doesn’t hesitate to intertwine their fingers again, like they had been just yesterday.

“I’m a very private person, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says quietly, all traces of any sort of persona dropped from his voice. “I’ve never come out, never wanted to. But I was so proud that you had when you did. And I--well. I suppose. You already get to fake-kiss Padme on screen, I thought that perhaps you’d like to try to fake-kiss someone else for a change.”

Anakin ducks his head and gathers his courage. He can’t not ask. A fake relationship with Padme would be awful, but one with Obi-Wan? That would be torture. Cruel and unusual punishment. He’s still reeling from the information that apparently Obi-Wan does like men and apparently he likes Anakin enough to come out for him.

But does he like Anakin enough to touch him and mean it? He has to know. He looks up at Obi-Wan’s earnest face from beneath his eyelashes. “What if I want to real-kiss you?”

Obi-Wan blinks, and a smile breaks out across his face. “Then you don’t even need to have to ask, darling. Kiss me all you want, if you’re okay with a clingy old man in your bed.”

“Not that old,” Anakin argues, smiling so hard he’s afraid his face will crack in two. “But I don’t want to kiss you tonight.”

Obi-Wan turns solemn, although his grip on Anakin remains tight. “We can go as slow as you’re comfortable with.”

“Oh, you can have me later,” Anakin says, waving his free hand in the air. “I just don’t want our first kiss to be for the cameras.”

Obi-Wan catches Anakin’s palm and brings it up to kiss lightly. “You’re right, Anakin. That should just be for you and me.”

The rough brush of his lips over his skin causes Anakin to shiver. He’s never felt so on edge, as if his body is a live-wire. “Good thing you ordered the oysters,” he mumbles, blushing bright red as Obi-Wan laughs loud enough to fill the whole restaurant with its sound.

#asks #my fics #obikin #the next prompt is gonna be wayyyy more angsty so enjoy the fluff rn is all im saying #prompt fill

[1ddiscourseoftheday]

🚨Thurs 17 Dec ‘20🚨

No one will argue, this year has been the worst and I'm not really into that whole 'silver linings to bad things' bit, but... BUT! If the demise of live shows and rise of livestreams meant Zayn deciding to perform for us?! Well. I would be willing to reconsider my whole ass philosophy on life! Unfortunately, despite the excitement (or was it hysteria?) he inspired last night by getting all our hopes up, it might just be a music video? We'll see though. He definitely did register a new song, UNFXWITABLE (!), and then, and THEN: slid a single photo into his instagram story, a truly beautiful old baroque theater stage, fitted with live show speakers and a tantalizingly closed red curtain. The stage lights are on, the seats are empty... prepping for zomething?? It was discovered to be the St George Theater in Staten Island, very exciting, but today more video of them working on whatever they're working on surfaced (a snippet at the theater with a bit of an unknown song audible) that makes it seem more likely they're working on a music video than a livestream set up. Still, we can DREAM. At the very least we're getting a new song any minute now and at best-- Z3 and a video AND a liveztream?? (or prerecorded, that's FINE.) The pap pics the other day were him leaving a menswear boutique (sorry I said home, my bad, it was the usual 'front door to car' walk though) leading to speculation he was getting fitted for zomething zpecial... maybe we'll get to see it soon!

Likely on account of the added European show tickets going on sale today, Louis came online to check in, and also to laugh at old videos of himself, send larries into a tailspin, and best of all, weigh in on and shut down discourse left and right THANK YOU SIR! Louis is happy to walk us all through how not to get Live In London video taken down (“do it on a burner account haha?” tips from the master truly, no one would know better so listen to him); he denies having such an account himself (“maybe I should”) though unlike Liam (see below) HE doesn't go that extra step into obvious lie territory and say he's NEVER had one. On how he deals with comments about his height (which are up again these last few days due to a video circulating that uses math to conclude once again that he is in fact, as documented, 5'9”), “I rise above them,” he zings back, and in appreciation of someone who actually got the joke, “you're on my level,” DOUBLE PUNNING, BOOM but that's not all: he finishes off with the comment that finished ME off, “such a peculiar debate.” REALLY. Peculiar specifically, not like strange or weird or annoying you just... went right in for the Eroda copyrighted word huh. OKAY. Also: no, probably no collabs on LT2 (“doubt it”), yes he loves twitter “in doses, no better way to talk to you lot” (you mean even better than via t shirts?? sounds fake but okay), tells us he is “100% for sure” is gonna get the vaccine, and that “cucumber is shit” which isn't really a discourse we needed him to solve that I knew of but like, okay! Sorted! Antis seethed about him talking to larries and larry UAs and picking a video of him and H singing You and I to reply to, and probably cucumber enthusiasts and anti-vaxxers were unhappy too, but the rest of us? WINNING.

Liam is all over, first appearing in a fisherman's cap that nicely sets of his full and fluffy beard, then demonstrating answering questions for the Naughty List insta filter. He says he has never made a fake social media account, so I guess he's not lurking here reading these or I would guess that if I believed THAT for one second, he also says yes I have lied to my best friend so I'll just chose to believe he means us by 'best friend' since here he is, lying away. Dixie is absent from the recent promo, which is a blessing not just because they don't mesh particularly well but also because she's gotten even more terrible on main, moving from simply allying herself with racists to producing her own racist content- if we're lucky she'll simply fade away along with xmas and we can move on without any of that thank you very much. Liam is still a good BFF to us though: today he's offering himself up as prize in a raffle, you can enter to win a 'once in a lifetime VIP Experience in 2021 with Liam' for a low low £5, funds going to Stagehand's #ILoveLive campaign to support industry workers. And on the 17th day of christmas, my LP Advent Alarm woke me up with... Roman Kemp leading us through a weirdly peppy breathing exercise, backed with both soothing spa music and a sample of Liam's voice taken from the sleep story played over and over at near random intervals! I said it before and I'll say it again, they REALLY should have recorded all the material at once last month, but tbh I am enjoying the chaotic daily scramble to find something to put on the thing that's come of them being caught short maybe even more than I would normal content, it's getting downright experimental and I'm fully here for it. It's got that classic janky af for no reason 1D feel you know!

Rob Sheffield found better things to say about Watermelon Sugar, naming it his number one song of 2020 and calling it “a lost Stevie Nicks/ Stevie Wonder duet” plus gifting us a Harry quote: “that one we reworked a bunch of times, and it died a couple times, then it just kept coming back. We fully killed it a few times, but it kept coming back in. So I thought, There’s a reason it’s surviving.” And Chris Pine- who also says that he's all done shooting his part of Don't Worry Darling- said, “Harry Styles is an absolute delight. He's one of the most professional people I've ever met. Couldn't be kinder, more gracious, I mean, really, I was stunned by this kid. He's off-the-charts cool.”

And finally, as 2020 draws to a close we are being flooded with a barrage of our guys being declared winners of incredibly narrow categories (Harry on a list of 'groundbreaking magazine covers' for example), but I think the winner of MY list of 'Highly Specific Accolades' is sewn up for the year already; Heartbreak Weather is officially “the first [advertising] campaign to utilize weather-tracking technology to target content to users”! I'll definitely be keeping my eye out for competitors but beating that for reaching for a category will be TOUGH.

#zayn #zayn malik world domination!! #as they say on the twits #louis tomlinson #harry styles #niall horan #i guess #Dixie deets in intern's tags but I abstain on the basis that's she's irrelevant and soon to be history #but if you're looking for that full story head over to her reblog #note her url has changed!! #the intern is now 1DdotdHQ! A promotion!! you can still call her intern if you want but she also answers to Hot Oli #other HQs are welcome to join my internship program if they wanna learn a thing or two #working conditions are bad and pay is worse! get in! #so like I'm not suggesting Zayn would schedule his life around anything so silly but if he did a stream that HAPPENED to be before the end o #of the year #he would totally knock Louis out of his record holding spot? Like I don't want to see that specifically but #if that would tempt his petty ass maybe we should wave it as a motivator #don't think he wouldn't be able to either Louis said about his louies 'they never see us coming' and how right he is #but even the FANDOM never see the zquad coming and it is a FORCE and has even harries beat for sheer numbers #anyway #Roman Kemp's breathing exercise sounds like its led by Arthur Shappey #rich spirit #dixie d'amelio #roman kemp #Rob Sheffield #chris pine #this account is so weird the people who I'm like huh THAT person has a tag now on my 1D update account OKAY THEN #17 dec 20