#they all have bows in their hair that match their uniforms

[phatcatphergus]

Omfg in another life tubbo is the coach for Sunny’s soccer team. The PTA moms don’t like him bc he’s basically like a child (why ft does he have a kid???) and shows up late to practice sometimes in his old ass “fixer” car that he built from scratc but every girl on the team LOVES him bc he lets them wear whatever color uniform they want. They all respond with “YES COACH” during drills and gets them fruit snacks for after the game. He’s super intense and screaming like it’s the World Cup during the 7am Saturday games but the team wins every game back to back. He also has a pink jersey that the girls made him with the word “coach” bedazzled on the back.

#tubbo #qsmp tubbo #qsmp #qsmp sunny #sunny #sunnysideup #YES COACH #they all have bows in their hair that match their uniforms #they all look like a pastel box of paint on the field but absolutely slay #the pta moms are mad they don’t have a team color and the beige moms are mad they HAVE a color

[stars-for-circe]

Hot To Go

Song inspo!! - HOTTOGO by Chappell Roan

Tags / cw: headcanons, cheerleader!reader x dropout!ellie, fluff, Highschool au, Ellie is older by 1 year, reader is in senior year, 90s era

Dropout!Ellie who always does her best to show up and be supportive of your cheerleading

She always makes sure to pick you up every Friday night after practice, long after the sun has set and dew had started to form on the cold grass field.

She makes sure to wait by her pickup truck in the parking lot, leaning against the drivers side door and listening to music on her walkman until you come over to meet her.

She always greets you with a kiss on the cheek and one of her jackets to keep you warm in your thin uniform - the smell of her wrapped around you makes you feel so cozy.

Dropout!Ellie who lets you hangout with her in the back of her truck after practice, eating the worst junk food known to man as you gossip about people from your school

You’re sitting in the back of her truck, cuddling her under a shared blanket as you share a greasy cheese pizza - your legs intertwined as you try to feed her a slice with her eyes closed, making you both giggle as she fails miserably.

While she dropped out a couple years ago, she was still in the grade above you, so you have some shared memories about school. There are certain people she knows about, but most of them that you gossip about are complete strangers.

“No fucking way, he still goes there? Dude’s like a super duper senior at this point!”

Dropout!Ellie who won’t let you go home without a proper goodbye, leading to giggly make out sessions in her truck as you both try to hide from the automatic nightlights in your driveway.

Dropout!Ellie who sneaks into your school to watch your routines during matches, and somehow never gets caught.

At this point, you’re 99% sure she’s bribing the office ladies not to rat her out because they still have a soft spot for her.

Ellie never fucking tells you when she’s gonna show up, so every single time it takes you by surprise when you see her hiding behind the bleachers and cheering you on as you balance at the top of the pyramid.

And every single time, you almost fall from how distracted you get.

Dropout!Ellie who tries to involve herself with your schoolwork and be helpful, but is the exact opposite of what she attempts to do.

You’re studying for finals at the park while Ellie swings upside down on some random tree branch, blasting rock so loud that you can hear it all the way on the bench.

All of a sudden you hear her run over to you, leaves crunching under her feet, and two heavy hands landing on your shoulders

“So whatcha doinggg??”

She immediately regrets asking, because now you’ve trapped her next to you and planted a massive textbook in front of her to help you study.

“Babe- I dropped out in grade ten there’s no way I can help with any of this shit-”

Secretly, she gets a little sad sometimes because she can’t connect with you about school or share classes with you since she dropped out.

Dropout!Ellie who tried doing your makeup once, and you never let her go near it again because of how bad it was.

“No- Ellie it’s meant to be sparkly on the inner corner-”

“Stop with the fucking medical terms and just let me-”

“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO-”

You were 27 minutes late to practice that day because of how much Ellie insisted she do your makeup even though it wasn’t necessary.

You spent those 27 minutes desperately trying to wipe off the bright blue glitter she’d spread all the way up to your eyebrows.

Sometimes you still find pieces of glitter in your carpet from the whole fiasco.

You help her feel better, though, by letting her pick out which bows to put in your hair and which colours you can use for eyeshadow during games.

Dropout!Ellie who makes sure she’s always there with you during games, even when she can’t make it herself.

While you were busy getting dressed into your uniform, she was fiddling around with you pom-poms, eyeing all the pretty colours and sparkles.

She wanted to stay as long as she could until you had to leave for the game, because this time she couldn’t go with you.

But a sharpie on your desk caught her eye, and she suddenly had a small idea on what she could do.

And hours later, after the game, when you went to grab your stuff to leave, you noticed a tiny little black smudge on the handle of your pom-poms. And upon taking a closer look, a small smile made its way to your face after you saw your girlfriend’s faded initials hidden behind all the ribbons and plastic.

Dropout!Ellie who cannot wait for summer, when she can finally have you all to herself without school or practice or homework getting in the way.

Half of the summer you aren’t even sleeping at home. Instead, Ellie sneaks you out of the house and drives three hours into the middle of nowhere to look at the stars.

She puts up some blankets and pillows in the back of her truck, brings out a radio softly playing nirvana, and a Tupperware box of cookies she made to share as you lay in the back of her truck to stargaze.

She points out the bigger ones, and the ones making constellations to you as you wrap your arms around her and listen to her nerdy mumbling, slowly lulling you to sleep.

“See? That one there’s called Ursa Major. I uh, read it somewhere a while back in one of those astronomy books you got me.”

“…mhm…”

She giggles at your quiet chirps to her explanations as your slowly fall asleep, before pulling a blanket over you and lets you drift off under the stars.

And when you wake up - still outside in the back of her truck - resting on her now sleeping chest, you glance at Ellie and her resting expression. You watch how it becomes blanketed by the early morning sunrise, and you listen to how the radio is playing some indie country artist you couldn’t name.

And after a while, you decide that, despite the fact she’s a dropout and your a straight A cheerleader, and despair the fact that it is the most random pairing ever, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Taglist: @happysparklingshadows @irelandzo @r3starttt @iamaboringrattat @genderfluidlesbain999 @slut4mascss @rxreaqia @kylorey25 @massivepeacefemme @elliewilliamsfavborderhopper @ratdungeon @elxarw @mariasabanahabanabana @vvynia @abbyshands @littlegingerperson5 @flowersforvi

#tlou2 #the last of us #the last of us 2 #tlou #Ellie Williams x you #Ellie Williams x reader #Ellie Williams #Ellie Williams tlou #Ellie Williams the last of us #Ellie Williams tlou2 #Ellie Williams the last of us 2

[moonchildstyles]

rosemary

rosemary part one: harry has a lot of secrets and has perfected the art of being alone. y/n likes to wear bows in her hair and tries harder than anyone harry has ever known.

wordcount: 14.5k+

—————

The sound of the lock clicking in place as Harry twisted the deadbolt on his front door had his shoulders relaxing. The kind of comfort a locked door brought was something he'd never take for granted. 

He kicked off his shoes beside the door, the dingy carpet making his beaten Vans look a lot cleaner than they really were. His keys clamoring atop the rickety side table he had set up next to the door had him wincing at the volume. He didn't like loud noises much anyway, but especially not after one of his longer shifts. Harry bypassed the single curtained window in his apartment, leaving the drapes heavily closed despite the morning light crawling over the horizon. 

First order of business was changing out of his work uniform. He hated nothing more than relaxing in the same pants he had worked all night in, even if the dress code of the grocery store was on the lax side. He flung the maroon collared shirt into his hamper, followed by the set of stiff, dark pants he wouldn't wear ever in his daily life. He could have melted as soon as he threw on a heather grey t-shirt and tattered sweats. 

The second he sunk into his bed, springs creaking under his weight, he felt the knots in his muscles begin to loosen. He'd never worked over nights before at any of his previous jobs, and he hadn't anticipated how hard it would be to adjust to falling asleep when the sun came up and the challenge his body would pose over working when he should be resting. At least, he was home. 

His studio apartment wasn't heavily furnished—or even lightly furnished, if he was being honest. This was his seventh home in the last handful of years, and after a while the idea of lugging furniture around and anything other than the essentials made him just as exhausted as the actual process of moving. It was easier to pack up and leave when there wasn't much for him to miss. Instead, he often bought secondhand, or anything cheap whenever he settled in a place that seemed good enough for the time being.

This particular move left him with a plain bed frame, the legs uneven but fixed with the help of a couple of old books. His pillows were thin, matching the frayed sheets he had stretched across his mattress and the threadbare comforter topping the whole thing. Like with most of his past apartments, the carpets held stains from before he moved in, walls yellowed from cigarettes he didn't smoke, and the kitchen appliances worked at their convenience. The only things that were truly his, that he never parted with in any of his moves and made this place less of a crash pad, were the few well-loved books under his bed that weren't being used to prop up the frame, and the small photo of his mother and sister sitting on a shelf he was lucky enough to have found at a garage sale when he moved in. 

Despite it all, Harry liked this place. 

The town he'd landed in was on the quieter side, too small for much trouble to rise up. He hoped that would make it an easy place to stick around for a while.

His body felt heavy when he forced himself to stand from his bed and pad over to the tiny kitchen tucked in the corner of the space. As exhausted as his body was, his brain was still very much awake and urging him to eat something before he settled any.

His kitchen was made up of limited cabinet space, a trio of stubborn appliances, and a square of loosely-laid tiles marking the confines of the space. The flimsy cabinets were barely hanging onto their hinges, from before even Harry moved in. The shelves were sparsely dotted with canned food and boxed snacks. They were the easiest and cheapest things to grab, even if they weren't necessarily bites that he liked. Plus, they were easy to travel with if he needed to leave in a split. 

The stubby refrigerator manning one of the walls held only the bare essentials, leaving the shelves and door more bare than not. The appliance mostly held the frozen meals he was able to get a discount on through his job. The microwave embedded in the wall stunk like burnt hair every time he ran it for longer than ten seconds. The stove was the most reasonable method of heating up food in this apartment, Harry had found, even if only two out of the four burners operated on more than a simmer. He had never used the oven in the three months since he made this his home, despite the fact it had been cleared by his landlord on move in day. The exposed wiring sticking out of the back looked like it would cause a house fire instead of just heating a lasagna. 

Harry bypassed it all as he rifled through his near-empty cabinets. To be fair, this wasn't the worst place he'd ever lived, so he'd take it if things were on the rundown side and carried an odd smell if he paid close enough attention. It was a routine the way he pulled out a can from his cupboard, a Spaghettio's label wrapped around the tin, before reaching for the misshapen pot he kept in a lower cabinet. His movements felt robotic as he went along, forming his meal out of habit more than any conscious thought. His brain happily turned onto autopilot as he stirred the runny tomato sauce, noodles floating through, until boiling bubbles broke through the surface. 

Taking it off the heat, Harry scooped it into a bowl. This was good enough for him. 

With the pot in the sink to be washed and the can in the trash, he moved on tired feet back to his bed. He didn't have a dining table to eat at, and he didn't really care if he was honest. It wasn't as if he was hosting dinner parties or entertaining guests. He was happy enough with nestling into his blankets and eating on his bed. 

Tucked underneath his pillow, Harry pulled out a well-worn book. A dog-eared page marked his place in the oil-softened pages. The spine no longer cracked when he folded open the pages, the stiff set in the glue having settled somewhere after his fiftieth read. The bent and frayed cover no longer phased him anymore, nor did the name inscribed in the inside cover that wasn't his. No matter the state, this book followed him through every move, every change, and every sleepless night.

He knew this love story like the back of his hand; the pages one of the only constants in his life of transiency. 

Harry wasn't even that much of a reader the first time he had picked up the volume. He had only been looking for something to escape into when he first started going on jobs, the stress and guilt beginning to warp his mind. These pages still hadn't lost their shine in his eyes, this story having been one of the only bright points when he swore he was digging himself to rock bottom. 

Absentmindedly spooning bites of his meal into his mouth, Harry slipped into the familiar story. The comfort was almost enough to have him lulled into something safe enough that he could have fallen asleep where he was sitting, memories of every sleepless night when he had turned to this book hitting his system. It was a feat little else had been able to achieve, and Harry was grateful for that. He couldn't keep staying up at all hours now that he had the challenge of flipping his days with this new job. 

Sitting on his well-loved bed, a well-loved copy of his favorite book in hand, and something that could pass as breakfast if he squinted hard enough, Harry felt at peace for a moment. 

He didn't mind being alone, not when it was like this anyway. He hoped he wouldn't have to move on from this place for a while. 

—————

Cardboard scraped against Harry's forearm as he reached into his box, digging through the packages of cookies and crackers that filled this specific shipment. The fluorescent lights above him felt especially fried now that the sun had gone down, washing out his skin and paling the ink of his tattoos. 

While the rest of the night crew were paired off and working together to stock the shelves, Harry was commissioned alone. He worked better by himself, he knew that, and it was nice to have his boss know that now too. It only took almost two months into his employment until everyone realized he wasn't the kind of person that enjoyed idle chatter or wanted to get close to any of these people around him. Now, he was able to enjoy his music in peace, the white wire connecting the buds hitting his chest as he moved. 

Harry had a system with the way he worked. He wanted to finish as fast as possible, and not waste any more energy than he had to. He tried to organize his boxes as much as he could on the cart before he was stocking each line of product as quickly as he could, extras being cast aside until he could make a trip to the back room. It was all a system, something he planned out without even thinking. If not for the fading ache in his shoulders and knees he would feel at the end of his shift, he wouldn't even really remember his movements. 

Given this focus, there wasn't much that could distract Harry as he worked. His goal was to finish as fast as possible and move onto something else to fill his mundane nights, not to linger on the guests of the grocery store or fill the silence with small talk he didn't care about. There was a reason he gravitated towards the operations side of this job and not the customer service aspects.

That's why he didn't give it much of a thought when he saw a pastel streak flash in the corner of his eye. He continued doing his job, organizing his box some, as he filtered through the packages of biscuits and sweet crackers, soft sleeves of cookies, and bags of other products. It wasn't until the pastel streak drew closer did he instinctively glance in its direction. 

Her back was to him as she held her gaze upwards. She was scanning the shelves, this woman, complete with an overlarge cream sweater and a peach colored bow in her hair that shone in the light like the velvet fuzz of the color's namesake. One of the grocery store's signature maroon baskets was at her side, the handles tucked in her elbow. There was barely anything in her basket, but that isn't what had Harry's brows knitting in the middle by the time he stitched his attention back on his work. 

It was way too late for anyone to be doing any menial shopping in his opinion, especially not a girl who looked as if she might deem throwing flower petals in the face of an attacker to be sufficient self-defense. But, that wasn't his business, he reminded himself. It didn't help soothe the tears in his mental health to imagine the worst possible scenarios starring those around him. 

A centering breath was sucked in through his nose as he flicked the switch in his brain that had him thinking only of his body's movements. He curled around himself, stepping out of the way as much as possible so the pastel-peach girl could go about her business and disturb Harry as little as possible. The less approachable he looked, the less he'd be approached. 

He didn't know if she wandered that aisle for the next couple of minutes or traced down the shelves on the other side before coming back, but that telltale shift in the air around him told him she was now behind him. The static told him she was right there, at his back. 

Harry didn't acknowledge her presence, instead making it clear he was working and didn't want to be disturbed. He hoped she could see the wire of his headphones that much clearer against his dark shirt. He wasn't inviting her presence; if she needed help, Brett and Fawn were just a couple of aisles down and much more friendly. 

As with some attempts at camouflage, it didn't work in Harry's favor. Some people didn't always see what was clearly in front of them, he knew that. 

A small hand, complete with pearl polished nails and skin smelling of something sweet like honey and the savory bite of herbs, landed on the crook of his elbow. "Excuse me?" her voice leaked through his headphones. 

With a tick appearing in his jaw and a pace of breathing he was sure looked just as forced as it was, Harry halted his work with a sleeve of graham crackers in his hand. His features felt stiff when he turned towards this girl. 

He spoke as he twisted in his spot with a hand yanking his headphones out of his ears, her touch falling from his arm just as quickly. "What?"

When Harry's gaze brushed over her, cataloguing details to add to the pastel streak he had thought her to be before, the same attention that went into his work was now employed in keeping his features stoic and muscles hard. This woman... was very pretty. 

Her cream sweater he had seen from behind was actually a cardigan, buttoned loosely over her torso with a pale peach top underneath. The buttons were pearls, matching the shifting light that characterized the varnish on her nails. Her jeans were high waisted, ripped in places that lead to a pair of pristine white tennis shoes, complete with a set of pink laces threaded over the tongue. The bow held back pieces of hair that would have normally fallen around her face, leaving small strands fluttered as if matching the tendrils of her bow that drifted down her back. 

In the time he was trying to figure out who was standing right in front of him, she blinked at his harsh tone, almost recoiling as if she'd been struck. Her hands became a bundle at her middle as he squirmed under his gaze. Harry swallowed harshly. 

"Sorry to bother you," she started, recovering some with a short smile on her lips, "I was just wondering... God, this sounds so much more dumb out loud than I thought it would." She cut herself off with a soft laugh, dropping her gaze from his to settle on the cardboard box on his cart. "Do you have any of those white chocolate raspberry cookies that come in the bag in your box? The soft ones?" she tired again, shuffling her toes against the linoleum, "I didn't see any on the shelf, so I was hoping you might have some in one of your boxes. They're my favorite so..." 

Harry wanted to be annoyed, he really did. There were hundreds of less offensive situations he'd been in that bothered him more than he knew his mother would be proud of him for, but this just couldn't be added to the list. And that annoyed him. Though, there was something in him that felt a bit contented knowing that there was still a heart buried somewhere inside of him that wouldn't allow him to get upset at someone like her. 

"Let me look." His voice was gruff as he brushed a knuckle under his nose. 

He knew exactly what she was looking for, the packaging coming to mind. He liked this brand too, though he rarely ever felt as if he could spare the cash to indulge. He'd never tried the raspberry variation, though. 

Working stiffly, he rifled through the box until he found the bottom layer of product. A white, rustic looking bag was tucked in a corner. The brand name stylized as if it were embedded on a wooden board was printed on the white bag, with the name of the cookies and the variation underneath. 

White chocolate chunks with bites of real raspberry in a soft cookie. 

That's the one. 

Fishing it out, Harry unceremoniously presented it to her. He made a point to keep his eyes from lingering on her for too long. He needed to keep his clear head. 

"This one?" 

She lit up in a way Harry couldn't ignore. Her eyes had to have been holding glitter behind her irises the way the color brightened, matching her smile. Creases appeared around the corners of her eyes, soft lips stretched and complemented with laugh lines. 

"Yes, yes, those ones!" she chattered off, reaching out to take the bag from him. 

Harry shoved the crinkling bag into her grasp, watching as she stumbled back some before placing it in her basket among what he could now see was a bundle of rosemary and a package of noodles. Nonetheless, her smile didn't falter as she turned towards him again.

"Thank you..." she trailed off, her gaze dropping to his chest where a name tag was pinned to the breast, "Harry." 

There was a lag in between the second he heard her voice wrap around his name and the beats of Harry's heart resuming at a rapid pace. His throat went dry for a moment, something he couldn't believe was happening to him over something like this. When was the last time someone learned his name just because they wanted to know him? 

He swallowed that line of questioning down as soon as it popped up. "Um, yeah," he told her, turning back to his box as soon as he had the words out. 

His headphones he had dangling in his grasp were replaced in his ears, his music still playing on, a different song now filtering than the one that had been when he ripped them out. Harry pushed his objective to the forefront of his mind, leaving little space to keep up with the way his stomach tightened hearing this girl's voice saying his name. He didn't want to focus on the fact he could still feel her presence for a moment after he had dismissed her. He wasn't going to let any of this fluster him—or whatever it was that could happen to a person who barely had any feelings left. 

Calculating his movements was the only viable distraction until he could feel that static of her presence flitter away. It was only then that he dared to indulge himself in a short glance aimed in her direction. He caught the barest view of her wobbly bow and the edge of her loose cardigan before she disappeared around the corner, leaving him alone once more. 

He was going to forget her, Harry decided. Whatever reaction he just had, wasn't going to happen again. 

—————

Gazing down at his hands, Harry only saw red. It wasn't his blood that tainted his skin, but there was a pain in his body that made him want to argue that there was no way he wasn't injured. From somewhere far—but not far enough—away, a crashing sound rumbled through the warehouse. He felt his bones vibrate and his head go fuzzy. More blood dripped from his skin. 

Another crash sounded, this time much closer to where Harry couldn't move his feet. It was as if he were bolted to the spot. More blood, more scars. 

From the corner of his eye, he saw someone. They were walking with a purpose, heavy on their feet. 

His hands still shook even when he took his eyes off of the thick crimson dripping from his fingers. The person coming towards him looked familiar. Too familiar. 

The second they were close enough, Harry recognized that it was himself. There was a gun in the clone's hand, the barrel pointed right at his head. 

Another loud crash.

Harry woke with a start, rocketing up in bed. His breathing was heavy, thick and humid, with his hands shaking where they were clutching the thin bedding askew over his form. There was a sheen of cold sweat covering his body, his hair clinging to the back of his neck.

Looking at his hands, untangling from the bedding, Harry felt his heart rate go down a notch when he no longer saw blood coating the appendages. His vision still blurred at the edges as he came down, his lips mouthing a mantra he wanted so badly to believe: 

It's not real, it's just a dream. It's not real, it's just a dream. It's not real, it's just a dream.

He didn't live that life anymore, he reminded himself. That was a part of his past, but it's all over now. Those scars would never reopen and his hands would never be stained that way again. He would make sure of that. 

As he talked himself down, the rest of his apartment came back into view. The edges of his vision sharpened, showing him the rest of his full bed, rumpled sheets, and the book he had dropped when he finally managed to fall asleep in the middle of a passage. He busied his hands as fixed his book, righting the bent cover and smoothing back the crease that folded into the page he left on. With that sweat on his bare chest and thin comforter falling to his lap, he realized just how cold his apartment was.

Taking a deep breath, his lungs shuddering as he fought to regulate the pacing he lost in his sleep, he swung his legs over the side of his bed. He worked slowly as he replaced his book back to his rightful slot underneath his bed. Lethargy weighed down his limbs as he searched for his phone somewhere on the floor as he sat with his legs crossed underneath his bottom, the scratch of the carpet dragging across his ankles from where his pants rode up grounding him. 

The screen of his phone was far too bright when he powered it up, the time being of no surprise to him even if he was disappointed. He only got a few hours of sleep before that dream woke him up into the real world, plenty of time left before he should begin getting ready to go to work. 

This was how it always was for the past handful of years. Harry was lucky to have slept at all really, as some days he wasn't that fortunate, but there was no way he was going to be able to drift off again. But, he'd gotten rather good at finding ways to fill his time. 

Standing on wobbly legs, Harry took his time stripping his bed. There was time to get through some laundry, he figured, hauling both his bedding as well as his full hamper to the rickety washer and dryer stationed in the hall closet. 

Every movement was a distraction: separating the colors of his clothing, the measuring of the detergent, and the three times he had to set the cycle before the machine finally came to life all did their part to keep him from obsessively staring at his hands as if they would do something bad if he wasn't watching. It was routine the way he didn't allow himself to dwell on the dreams he could no longer forget like he could when they first started sporadically. 

Harry felt like a shadow as the hours passed, even after a cold shower shocked his nerves and a bland meal had warmed his stomach. But, at least he was awake. 

—————

Watching his hands as he stocked and stocked the shelves in front of him, more and more of himself came back to Harry. This was the perk of the more manual of jobs he had. He could use his body and keep track of every movement he made, every stretch of his muscles coming from his own volition. 

It felt like a ritual the way a pastel flash struck the corner of his vision. 

It'd been almost a month since the first time he'd seen her, and she made more trips with a basket tucked into the crook of her elbow than he had seen most other patrons. Maybe he only noticed her now that he recognized her and the phantom ache that touched the muscles of his stomach every time he saw her wander close to him. Nonetheless, he saw her more often than not, barely anything in her basket but small items and snacks, never once with a full shopping cart or a list in hand. 

In an odd way, he'd almost begun to expect her—look for her. It was a part of his shift to see her drifting through the aisles in something comfortable, a ribbon in her hair, and that ever-present smile on her face. He'd never admit that though, even to himself. 

Instead, when he saw her drift into his aisle—the frozen meal section tonight—he kept to himself. Harry didn't even bother to look up at her for more than a glance, even when he paused his music as he listened to her footsteps padding over the floor. Just like she always did since the first night she went out of her way to read his name tag, she offered him a soft smile of recognition as she passed by. Even though Harry hadn't reciprocated a single one. 

Just like that, she kept moving, Harry's ear trained to hear her pad off until he couldn't distinguish her footsteps against any of the other noises filtering through the grocery store. He played his music again then, allowing something else to fill his head before she could wiggle her way inside. 

Though he would rather not acknowledge it, there was something about the fact that the haunted feeling that had clung to him since his nightmare earlier in the day, finally began to dissolve. That turning in his stomach every time he saw one of the thin scars of his hands turned into the residual flaps of a butterfly's wings, even if he didn't dare give the feeling a name or even think of the cause. 

Despite the fact there was something loose in his muscles now as he worked, his head a little bit more clear with that dream tied up in a peachy bow in the back of his mind, Harry was going to ignore it all just as he had every time he saw that girl. 

—————

"Thank you, Harry!" 

The bow girl's chirping gratitude only had Harry looking at her stiffly with a grumbled Yeah falling from his lips. Just as she had done the last couple of months since she made herself a presence during his shifts, she simply gave him a smile before bouncing away with her basket only containing a carton of banana milk and her favorite cookies. She was no longer perturbed by the standoffish responses he gave her. Harry couldn't decide if he liked that or not. 

It was like this at least a couple of times a week. She never did a big shop, only stopping by at later times to pick up individual ingredients for a dinner she had chatted to him about, or little snacks she couldn't seem to go a day without. During at least one of her trips, she found an excuse to talk to Harry; she asked him about his day if she was close enough to feel comfortable starting a question (Harry never gave her a good answer, honestly), she told him about her own day and what she was shopping for if there was anything specific she had in mind. She almost always had a bow pinned to her hair, fluttering behind her and matching whatever soft piece of clothing she had cinched around her form. Harry had even begun fishing out a pack of her favorite cookies from his boxes if he was stocking that aisle, just to make it easy if she came in and asked him for assistance. It made the interactions quicker and less bothersome—at least that's what he told himself. 

He knew more about her and her routines than he had any of the hundreds of people he'd met in the last handful of years since he started moving around. Even if that did make him feel a bit guilty knowing that she didn't have a clue about who exactly she was sharing these parts of herself with; she didn't know the mess she was tiptoeing around every time she interacted with him. 

Tonight was no different, her leaving a rattling in Harry's bones that he wanted nothing more than to ignore like every other part of his life. If he was superstitious, he would think she could have cast some kind of spell on him with the way she and her little bows lingered in his brain long after she had checked out and gone on her way home. 

That rattling followed him as he made his way into the backroom, his empty box needing to be replaced. An exasperated sigh fought to leave his chest when he saw almost half of the overnight team huddled in the area, puttering about as they chattered and pretended to work. He didn't like being roped into their conversations, and that almost always happened when he ran into more than two of them at once. 

Harry didn't say a word as he broke down the cardboard box on his cart, pushing it off to the pile of the other flattened boxes before he reached for another. The conversations had quieted some when he walked in, but he could still hear what sounded like Brett and Fawn flirting in the back corner with a cart of refrigerated items that needed to go on the opposite end of the store, and Theo talking to two of the other guys that Harry hadn't bothered to remember the names of. 

"Busy night, huh, Harry?" Theo started, dropping whatever topic he had been rambling to his friends about just a moment before. 

"Yeah," Harry answered, voice stiff. It wasn't any more busy than any other night as far as he was concerned. Besides, he had other things he needed to worry about than to be making conversation with a coworker he barely knew. There was still a peach colored ribbon tying his stomach in tiny knots that he needed to fix. 

Soon enough, a silence fell through the backroom when the others made their way out. Only Harry and Theo were left, Harry doing his part to semi-organize his chosen box before heading out on the floor again. 

Maybe it was the rattling in his bones, or the vision of a peach colored bow that he saw every time he blinked, but something in Harry felt a little reckless when he peeked over at Theo focusing on his own box. 

"That girl," Harry rumbled, feeling odd in his skin as he spoke, "The one with the bows in her hair... She comes in a lot." 

Theo looked taken aback for a moment, his eyes wide with furrowed brows as he looked in Harry's direction. He even glanced over his shoulder as if there were anyone else there for the conversation to be aimed at. Harry had to keep from scoffing, dropping his gaze back to his working hands. 

Floundering over his words, Theo tried to catch up once he realized Harry was voluntarily talking. "Um, the—uh—the one with bows in her hair?" 

Harry hummed in response. "She's in a couple of times a week." 

"Ohhh," Theo sounded, familiarity touching his tone, "You mean (Y/N)?" 

Harry swallowed at the sound of her name. He'd never asked for it himself. "If that's her name." 

From the corner of his eye, Harry could see Theo nodding his head. "She comes in a lot, yeah. She's not good at keeping a list and always forgets stuff if she tries to do big shops, so she just comes in when she wants something or runs out." 

Though he didn't want this information to mean something to him, Harry felt a part of himself slowly being fulfilled the more details he learned. She didn't tell him these kinds of things when she rambled about her dinner choice for the night. 

Keeping his gaze tacked to his hands, Harry kept his words measured and calculated. "Oh," he started, "Is she from here?" 

"She's lived here forever, yeah. Why?" 

A beat passed as Harry opted to ignore the second part of Theo's response. He didn't need to have any details as to why Harry was asking after someone after working together for five months with only a handful of interactions. Even if he did want to share that, Harry didn't have any real answers to that why, anyway. 

"Does she... What does she do?" Harry asked, the phrasing of his words feeling awkward falling out of his mouth. He was lucky he was so used to shielding his emotions and staying stoic, otherwise he would have cringed where he stood. 

"Like for work?" Theo asked, his eyes warm on Harry's profile. 

Lifting his shoulders, Harry only shrugged in response. It was probably a good idea to keep his mouth shut. 

"She—uh—she works at the bakery over on Windsor. She and my sister work there together," Theo told him, acting as if Harry was supposed to know what bakery he was talking about and who his sister was. "(Y/N)'s pretty nice, though." 

"Right," was all Harry offered by the time he finished organizing his box. He didn't bother to give anything more in response or wait for Theo to elaborate before he was walking out on the floor again. Even when he could feel Theo's eyes stuck to his back.

No doubt would this interaction make its way to the rest of the team before the end of the shift. 

It was harmless curiosity, Harry argued. He just had to believe the harmless part. 

—————

It's funny the kinds of things that happened in the day that then were transported and highlighted in a dream. Stranger's faces, odd conversations, a passing thought, things that normally wouldn't have been catalogued at all by a waking brain but were held tightly in the middle of sleep. 

Despite the fact Harry made it home from work at three in the morning, he still ended up waking in the early morning after a lingering dream. He didn't remember much about the scene the longer he was awake, but he knew there were swaying bows in pretty hair. A soft voice could have been there too, along with a subtle smile, but he couldn't remember. All because he had seen those ribbons and heard that voice the night before. 

For a split second, when he was surfacing from sleep, he wanted so badly to just roll over and continue whatever play was running in the back of his mind. But, sleep didn't come easy for him; he'd have to take whatever small amount of hours his body allowed him and be grateful. 

That left Harry to lay in his bed and stare at the ceiling above him, peeks of sunshine beginning to filter through the heavy drapes on his single window. He pretended as if he wasn't waiting for flashes of the dream to come back to him, even as he reluctantly found his footing in the real world. 

He was off work for the next two days. Forty-eight hours he would have to fill with the kinds of tasks he dreaded almost as much as actually reporting in for a shift. 

Grocery shopping was at the top of the to-do list as well as the hated tasks list. He hated going into his work on his day off just so he could shop the canned food aisles and dodge small talk from the dayshift coworkers that pretended as if they had met him more than once during his training shifts. A trip to the library was due as well, his borrowed books packed away under his bed and read from cover to cover in the week since he'd last visited the building. There was also always cleaning and laundry to be done, more things to keep him busy before he would undoubtedly retire to his bed for the rest of the day and read as much as he could to keep his brain from going to mush. 

Harry sighed at the day's agenda. This was the life he wanted, though, so he was going to appreciate every day of the boring tasks and the mundane dredge. 

By the time he had a load of laundry running in his machine and his hands buried in the sink, doing dishes he put off until his weekend, Harry's mind was already wandering somewhere outside of his apartment. 

Theo had been complaining last night towards the end of the shift about how his sister needed him to pick her up from work today. She was opening and had stayed the night at her boyfriend's before, but he wouldn't be able to drop her off and pick her up. That left Theo to take up the job in exchange for gas money and whatever treats his sister could sneak from the bakery. Theo kept droning on about how since it was Sunday, the bakery opened up early, leaving him to have to fight to stay awake after going home so he wouldn't miss picking up his sister. 

Throughout all of the petty complaining and meaningless rambling, the only thing that stuck out to Harry was the hours of this bakery being narrowed down. He didn't mean to pay attention, not now after knowing who else worked there, but it was just another one of those things that stuck in his brain like a dreamy detail. 

An early opening could mean that his bow girl—(Y/N)—might be there as well. 

Harry's hands flexed under the soapy water. It wouldn't be such a bad thing to go to a bakery on a Sunday morning. No one would think anything of it—and neither should he. He liked pastries as much as the next person. Even if trying out one of the town's baked goods wasn't necessarily his goal for the outing didn't mean that it would be a bad idea. He had more self-control than most people—a bit of indulgence wouldn't break him. 

Before he could get too far ahead of himself, Harry focused on washing the dishes in the sink. He laid each piece gently out on the tea towel flattened out beside the sink, taking extra care as if his slow pace could prove that he still had all that control he was boasting about. If he was really on the edge of breaking—about to make a bad decision—he wouldn't be so in control, he argued. He even waited for the load of laundry to make that erratic beeping noise that notified him that he could trade into the dryer. 

Still clad in only a pair of sweats that acted as his pajamas, Harry lazily reached for his phone before looking at the time. Just before nine a.m. According the Theo, the bakery opened at eight in the morning today, right when he was picking up his sister after her early morning shift. Harry held onto that air of nonchalance as he looked up the open confectionaries around him, finding a link at the top of the page for The Flour Pot. 

They were marked as open, hours laid out on the same popup. Only a handful of miles away from the grocery store and on the same block as his library. It wouldn't take him longer than fifteen minutes to get there. He could even stop by the library on his way back or do his grocery shopping. 

There, he cemented. That just proved this whole thing wasn't just to see a fluttering bow or hear a soft voice. He had other things he needed to do, and after hearing so much about this bakery, he could try it out while he was in town. 

With his laundry rumbling in the dryer and his dishes laid out to dry on the counter, Harry changed out of his sweats and threw on a hoodie to keep him warm against the chill in the morning air. He tucked his library books under his arm and started out the door, locking up behind him just like any other day. 

Just as he figured, he was back in town in less than twenty-minutes, the directions on his phone taking him just a few buildings down from the library. With the early hour, he couldn't see the bakery being especially busy, but when he found a parking spot across the street from the building, his hands clenched around the steering wheel. 

Through the lit windows, he saw a line inside. Morning sunshine kept the glass especially translucent, even through the decals pasted to the panes boasting the bakery's name and pots of leafy plants to play on the pun of the title. He could spot glimpses of patrons lounging in the few tables provided while others were waiting in line, the queue long enough to have others shuffling aside when the door behind them swung open. 

Harry's heartbeat quickened at the sight. He never liked being where so many people were crowded. It was hard to keep track of so many and what they were doing and saying when they were packed in a tight space. He thought—hoped—that with the early time he'd be beating out the crowds. 

Taking a deep breath, Harry reminded himself that there was no harm in having more than ten people in one space. This was something he needed to work on anyway—something he was working on. There was no point to becoming so nervous over something like this. The odds of someone recognizing him or something out of his control happening were slim to none. 

The whole point in leaving those years ago was to have a normal life. This was part of that. 

Before he could dwell on the sound of his heartbeat in his ears, Harry swung open his door. He planted his feet on the solid ground, stuffed his hands in the pocket of his hoodie, and trekked on. 

Keeping his eyes on his feet as he walked, Harry didn't look up until the entrance to the bakery was right in front of him. He had his phone gripped in one hand, prepared to pull it out and fiddle with it in an attempt to sate his nerves, while the other reached out for the golden handle embedded in the glass and wood door. 

One peek through the crystal had his hand falling from the handle. 

Behind the counter was (Y/N). 

She had her back to the door, but he knew that bow. She'd worn it before. He knew that silken pearl color, the slightly lopsided loops, the fabric nestled in with the mess of hair on the top of her head. He knew that if she turned around, even spared a glance over her shoulder, what kind of smile would be painted over her features and the soft set of her features that was practically her trademark. He wanted her to turn around just so he could compare that smile to the ghost of the one in his dreams

It's the fluttering in his stomach and the pacing of his heart behind the cage of his ribs that had Harry turning around. He didn't care if anyone saw his reaction, if anyone noted just how weird the whole moment was. He wasn't able to make those extra steps to go inside. 

He shouldn't be that happy to see her. That wasn't the kind of reaction someone in control would have. That only showed him the kind of weaknesses the walls around him had, the bits of crumbling stone that he was going to have to solidify before he could boast about all of his self-control. 

This was the reason he never allowed himself to grow attached to anyone. The fact that she was the only person in five years to even bother attempting to penetrate those stone walls should have no bearing on how he conducted himself. He knew better than to let her soft smiles and fluttering bows and gentle conversations get to him. He was the one who knew better in this situation; (Y/N) didn't know what kind of person she was offering those niceties to, and it would be wrong of him to accept and even seek them out. 

She didn't deserve what could happen if he let this loss of control continue. 

Slamming his car door shut behind him with a reverberating rattle of the frame, Harry vowed that whatever had caused that flutter in his stomach and the clench of his heart would stop now. He can't feel that way about anyone or anything. He was taking back control now. 

With his hands tight around the steering wheel and the thought of the bakery wiped from his mind, Harry hoped he never dreamt of bows again. 

—————

Harry pretended as if he couldn't hear the conversation happening at the end of the aisle from him, a couple loudly wondering where they could find the artisanal bread. He didn't want to help them. 

This was why he hated coming in any earlier than the call time for his overnight shifts. Even with the fact he was only covering a couple of extra hours—coming in at six instead of eight—the difference in clientele was too stark for his comfort. It was too early in the night even to justify sticking in his headphones and drowning out the noise of others. 

Instead, he hoped that the slight frown on his features and the furrow in his brows would be enough to warn people away from him as he continued his stocking of the soup and other canned goods he was tasked with for the time being. The outfacing shelf gave him the advantage of leaving his back facing most of the customers that walked through, though he made a point to drift away whenever a patron stalked a little too close to his personal space. 

Despite it all, a part of Harry was grateful for the distraction of work and the extra people around him. That was why he had been picking up hours here and there throughout the week. Anything to keep his brain busy since he had recoiled from the bakery a week ago. 

He'd done a good job in his opinion, of keeping (Y/N) and all of the bows in her hair off of his mind. His resolve was being rebuilt brick by brick, reminders swirling in his brain of why he's never experienced those kinds of butterflies and the anticipation in his heart before. He wasn't the kind of person that needed that kind of feeling—deserved that overflowing of joy in his veins. He kept himself tucked away for a reason, and he needed to remember that. 

His shifts no longer held a current of anticipation, waiting to see if this would be the night she would wander on by, sparing him a smile and a breath of her attention. Her place in his brain had been corralled to a back corner that he was adamant on keeping the barriers to steady and clean. 

That was why when he saw a pair of white sneakers with pink shoelaces threaded through, he pretended as if his brain didn't go to one person immediately. It could be anyone in the world—should be anyone else. He shouldn't be able to recognize her from such a minute detail, but there was already that beat against the ladder of his ribs that told him everything he needed to know about how poorly he had maintained that corral in the back of his mind. 

With a tick in his jaw, Harry reminded himself of his resolve. He kept his focus on his cart, taking more time to dig around while he waited for those shoes to disappear from the corner of his eye. 

Of course, he couldn't be so lucky. 

"Harry?" that soft voice asked him. 

A slow breath was sucked in through his nose as he stood to the full of his height. He turned to find her looking at him with those eyes he could only remember glimpses of from the haze of his dream. Her face was clean from makeup, hair twisted back into a clip as she had forgone a bow for the day. Comfortable clothes adorned her body, slouching and stretching with pastel hues stitched through her top and flowers adorning her leggings. In her hands, nails sparkling with a pearly white polish, she had a solid block of cheese. 

Harry didn't bother to offer a response. (Y/N) was used to it by this point, though. 

"Do you know if this is any good?" she started, emphasizing the cheese with a flick of her wrist, "I googled a recipe for a grilled cheese today, and it wants this kind of cheese, but... I don't know. I just want to make sure I'll like it before I buy it, and all. Have you tried it before?" 

If Harry could draw his eyes away from the dewy planes of her face and the glimmering sheen of her eyes, he might have been able to read the label on the block she had in her hand, but that didn't seem to be an option his body was willing to follow. 

He knew he had been following the line of her nose and pillows of her cupid's bow for a beat too long when she tipped her head, a crease appearing in-between her brows. Clearing his throat, he dropped his gaze from her eyes to fall in the neckline of her top. He schooled his features, keeping himself in line as he brushed the tip of his nose with the knuckle of his index finger. 

Skimming his gaze over the white cheese in her hand, he shrugged some. "Um, probably," he mumbled, voice a rumble.

That glimmer in her eyes flashed to amusement. "You've probably tried it before?" 

Under layers of the stoic front he put up, Harry could feel himself cringe. He knew he wasn't giving her a smart answer, but he didn't anticipate sounding that stupid. 

Again, he shrugged. That was as much of an answer as he could formulate at the moment. 

That same part of him that cringed at the lame answer he gave her, curled in on itself when he saw for the first time, (Y/N) grow crestfallen. She had always been very stubborn in her sunny disposition, only having been taken aback the first time they had met. Other than that, no matter how much of a downer he acted, there seemed to be a smile on her face she didn't mind offering to him, even if he didn't deserve it. 

This time, he watched her brows pinch in the middle, her smile falling some to leave a barely there, lopsided curl that didn't reach her eyes. She dropped her gaze down to the block in her hand. Even her body seemed to shrink under his gaze, drawing her limbs close to her body in a recoil. 

"Well, thanks anyway," she got out, the tone the same chirping pitch as usual, but there was no current. Nothing authentic sat beneath. 

He watched as she lingered for a moment longer, her eyes attached to the label pasted to the cling wrap fitted around the cheese, before she began to head in the other direction. He'd never seen her so dejected before, even if she was only matching the energy he constantly gave her. 

Guilt pooled in his stomach. It wasn't a nice feeling to see a light like her's becoming extinguished, especially from his own hand. 

Before she could trail too far away, he peered over her hand and read over the label attached to her cheese. He recognized the French name from when he would help his mother in the kitchen. He knew this as one of the ingredients she would use for her macaroni and cheese; shredded and added to a pot to melt before being added to the spirals of noodles. He remembered how his main job when he was too young to properly help was to stir the cheese sauce, his eyes following the swirls and strings tracing through the cream. 

Harry wasn't even aware he was taking a step to follow after her until he felt his toe push against the linoleum. "Actually—um," he started, watching as she turned to face him, features lightening, "That's a good cheese. Melts really nice. It'll probably be good for whatever recipe you found." 

Instinctively, he wanted to curl back into his work, give himself a distraction and soothe some of that rattle in his bones. Instead, he forced himself to stay firm in his spot as she made those few short steps back to him. 

(He couldn't help but to feel a bit silly, if he was being honest. All of this over a conversation about cheese. It verged into the territory of ridiculous if he wasn't actually experiencing it). 

"Really? Thank you!" That genuine contentedness he had missed from her voice before was back, lilting and molding her words. "I read that it was good for melting, I just wasn't sure if I should slice it or shred it. The page didn't really tell me much on that." 

Shrugging, Harry pretended to care about the box left on his cart he still needed to sort through and stock. "Shredding is good," he offered, "It melts easier that way, I think." 

(He actually knew that, but he didn't really want to get into the story of the time he had tried to make his comfort meal shortly after he was separated from his mom. He had gone about it all wrong, having sliced it without thinking only to have to go through the too-long process of watching it melt in a puddle of milk. He would have attempted it again after that, but money was especially tight right after he left home and the ingredients for a single meal were too expensive. Besides, it would never taste as good as the one his mother made, and he didn't need to break his heart any more with the attempts).

Decidedly, (Y/N) dropped the block in her sparse basket. "I'll try that tonight and I'll let you know," she told him, the stray tangles of her hair swaying as she spoke, "Thank you, Harry." 

Harry nodded his head, reaching into the cardboard box piled with different soups. "Yeah." 

It was hard to breathe when she heard him say his name with that smile on her face. 

But, (Y/N) didn't leave right away. She lingered for a moment, a step between leaving him behind and staying right there with him. He couldn't decide which outcome he was hoping for. 

A beat later, she swung back to face him. "Have you ever been by the bakery a few blocks over on Windsor Ave?" 

He swallowed. The vision of The Flour Pot immediately came to mind. 

"No, I don't think so." 

(Y/N) looked at him with a smile with shy edges, rocking on the balls of her feet. "Well, we have these cheesy breakfast soufflés that we only make on Friday mornings, that are really good. I bet you'd really like them if you like cheese and stuff." There was a slight wince and a huff of a laugh falling from her lips as (Y/N) finished. 

She must also realize how silly they both sounded, too. Breakfast and cheese, the great unifiers, Harry supposed. 

With the faint amusement bubbling in the back off his mind, Harry still felt something in him catch. Her recommendation felt something like an invitation. An invitation to go somewhere she would assumedly be. 

Harry checked his expectations as he dropped his gaze to his hands, rolling a can of loaded potato soup so the barcode faced him. "I usually work all night Thursdays, so Friday mornings can be a little hard to make when 'm tired." 

That nervous rocking continued even with the bright smile molding (Y/N)'s features. "I work there, so you can let me know when you have time to stop by and I can make sure we have an extra one for you," she told him, hands bundling together at her middle, "Or, just pop by whenever. Everything we have is really good, so." 

Around him, Harry could still hear the annoying couple from before complaining about the layout of the grocery store. The overhead lights were mismatched on this section of the store, leaving some amber spots to combat against the stark fluorescents. There was a buzzing to the left where the refrigerators were keeping the cheese section where she had shopped from cool. But all of his attention was placed a few paces before him. 

Harry spent years pushing people away. Not once had anyone ever been able to wiggle through even one layer of the protective walls he had around him. He made a point of that; it was the way it was supposed to be for everyone's safety. He didn't invite anyone into his life, and no one invited him into theirs. 

Of course the first person to do so would be someone like (Y/N). She would be the one to dare to cross that line, offer a hand out to someone so adamant about not wanting anything of the sort. He knew those butterflies in his stomach were a warning; they were creatures to be heeded, not cradled. 

Despite it all, Harry nodded. He looked at her, leaving his idling hands to play around without him. "I'll see what I can do." 

It was the smile that bloomed across her lips that had Harry remembering that there were flowers that were meant to unfurl in the night. 

"Cool," she said, something giddy replacing that authenticity, "Have a nice night, Harry."

"Have a nice night," he got out before he turned on his heel, pinning his attention straight on the box awaiting him. It was an abrupt ending to the conversation, but he couldn't look at her any longer if he wanted to keep some of his head. She was driving him mad again already. 

When Harry looked up, he found her turning the corner of the aisle. Their eyes matched for a moment when she looked back at him too, a ghost of a smile stretching her cheeks before she was gone. 

Taking in a deep breath, he centered himself. 

Harry can not go to that bakery. 

——————

As much as Harry loved his comfort reads, the volumes that became like classics to him, he couldn't read them all the time. Besides, he liked libraries. 

While every building was different, the librarians with their own rules and nuances that ran the shelves, the spirit was always the same. Even the smallest of towns he travelled to had their own shelves to peruse. The crackle of the covered spines, some old enough to still be sporting checkout cards in the front cover, with pages loved by others, made him feel less alone. The library in this town was no different. 

A quiet librarian manned the front desk or puttered through the shelves, offering Harry a quiet kindness he appreciated more than if she had given attempts to get to know him any more outside of the process of getting his library card. All she wanted to know was what kind of genres he liked so she could recommend books when he came in the more regular he became. He was left to ghost through the shelves, fostering books as he went before returning them home once their time was up. He was able to be comfortable there. 

But, this town had to be mocking him at this point. 

While he's been making a point to keep his head down and focusing on only himself and definitely not (Y/N), old habits die hard. A hefty portion of his life was spent with his eyes sharpened, taking in every detail and every person and every place around him. Even with years away from the circumstances that had him looking over his shoulder with every step he made, he couldn't shake every habit. But those habits made it way too hard to ignore what was going on just down the street from the library. 

The Flour Pot was busy as usual when he stepped out of his car, library books held at his side with his fingers flexing around the plastic covering. A line was trailing out the door with as many people walking out with the brown paper bags or cake boxes as patrons were walking in with hunger in their eyes. Harry could almost hear the bell chiming above the door every time it opened, just like he swore if he listened close enough, he could hear a familiar laugh. 

It took effort for him to keep his eyes ahead of himself, fingers tight around his books. He didn't allow himself to linger on the sidewalk or his gaze to stray, heading directly into the library. 

Harry could feel his features twisted into frustration even as he stepped in the substantially quieter building. But even with his furrowed brow and the tight line of his mouth, Ms. Klarke didn't bat an eye. She had to be used to it at this point. 

A lined smile had her lips stretched, showing off white teeth. "Done with this week's, Mr. Styles?" 

He only nodded with a hum as he approached the desk, dropping the trio of volumes on the glossy wood. It was instinct the way he worked, pulling out his green library card. 

Ms. Klarke worked with familiarity, scanning the code on his card before clicking through his profile. Her eyes didn't move from the computer screen as she spoke, "We got some new books in yesterday. I saved a few that I thought you'd like in the back." 

Perking up at the prospect of the new arrivals, Harry felt his features smoothen out, a light falling into the usual rumble of his voice. "Really?" 

She looked at him from the corner of her eye, a short smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she slid his card back. "Mhm. I'll be right back." 

Taking his returns with her, she stepped into the backroom positioned just behind the front desk only to come back a moment later with another set of books. The volumes were freshly wrapped in the crinkling plastic, the covers still vibrant underneath without any smudging or scratching marring the art. 

"I've heard good things about these," Ms. Klarke said, spreading out the trio on the wood for him to look at. "The descriptions sound like something you would like." 

They were romances—the genre he had divulged to Ms. Klarke all that time ago. He recognized the covers and the authors, having read his own reviews and takes on the literature. Bright colors were splashed across, with the hallmarks of the genre coming in depictions of flowers or the minimalistic art that was becoming the norm. A twitch itched the corner of his lips seeing the pages she saved for him to have first. 

"Thank you," he told her, looking at her through the lashes as he kept his hands at his sides, "I've seen a lot about these, too." 

Ms. Klarke's lined features brightened at his words. "Gonna take them home with you this week?" 

"Yes, please," he answered in a rush, "If that's alright." 

Her brows pinched in the middle, already grabbing the books to scan them onto his profile for the week. "Of course it's alright. I saved them for you for a reason." 

Harry was struck then. He stood, listening to the sounds of her hands clicking the keys on her computer and the beep of the scanner reading the barcodes, his hands shoved deep in his pockets with his fingers clenched in tight curls. 

While Ms. Klarke didn't know really anything about him, she still had him in mind when she read these titles and made a point to save them off for him. She only knew him as far as the kind of literature he liked to spend his time with and the kind of care he treated each book with, but she knew him enough to trust him with these new reads. 

She knew him enough. 

He forgot what it felt like to be known. He missed the feeling of being known. Even if it was his fault that he was pushed into that forgotten corner in the first place. His impact wasn't supposed to be felt, even if he still felt the absence of the familiarity he had in a past life. 

Two people now, in this town, had given Harry more than a passing thought. 

The feeling was overwhelming. 

"Thank you," he repeated when Ms. Klarke passed back his books for the week, a ghost of a smile on his lips. 

With his books in hand, he exited out onto the sidewalk. Down the block he could still hear the faint commotion from the bakery, but his stomach didn't sour like it had only ten minutes prior. In that kitschy shop was the one other person who was trying to know him, even when he insisted on being alone. 

The thought of walking in didn't sound so bad, even if he still kept on his path to his car. 

—————

Harry had a plan. 

Days after visiting the library, he had been tucked away in bed reading one of his new books when he couldn't get his mind off of (Y/N). The main female character was a baker with a softened heart, a bubbly demeanor shining through. Given the nature of the book, every peek into her heart was romanticized, especially in the first handful of chapters he was still working through. He couldn't help but to picture (Y/N) the more he read, disregarding whatever physical description the character was given. 

She hadn't left his mind since. 

Maybe it was the fact there was a scene written where the lead male character visited the pseudo-(Y/N) at the patisserie she worked at, but there was a niggling thought in the back of his mind that it might not be such a bad thing to take up her invitation from the week prior. While he was nothing like male lead—not in demeanor nor backstory—, he couldn't ignore the want he had for a moment like the one inked across the page. 

It felt entirely reckless to give into that want, the kind of idea that would come to him after too many hours spent awake and too many romance cliches floating through his thoughts, but he'd done worse. Indulging in the pattering butterflies and bruising beats of his heart would land at the bottom of the list of the most dastardly things he'd ever done.

Besides, if this Sunday morning was anything like the last, it wasn't like there would even be enough time for his defenses to weaken enough for an impact to be made. If anything, he would see her in passing, the flutter of the bow in her hair as she bustled through the shop, and that would be it. Maybe a smile in his direction, but he couldn't imagine any more being spared for him. 

He didn't need anything more than that, anyway. 

Harry would be careful. Butterflies weren't strong enough to break stone.

—————

His hands were clenched into fists in the pockets of his coat, the sign to The Flour Pot gleaming on the glass window from the corner of his eye. Though he knew well that there were just enough patrons inside to create a hustle within the shop, Harry kept his resolve strong as he stepped over the pavement. He didn't skip sleep for the last handful of hours since his shift ended just to run home without even taking a single step inside. 

Slipping inside, Harry forced his gaze to lift from his feet, a deep breath filling his lungs. Those small tables he had spotted from the windows were twisted wrought iron, the backs outlined with intricate shapes of flowers, hummingbirds, and shining suns. Cushions padded the seats of the chairs, a charming combination of mismatched patterns that all seemed to work together to make the space that much cozier. Customers Harry could recognize as some of the people he saw at the grocery store were littered about, though they looked decidedly much cheerier in this environment. Even with the chill in the air, hints of spring lingered within the confines of the shop. 

Butter and sugar kissed the air, twining with notes of lingering herbs and spices, different ingredients that made up the confections filling the display case up front. Tiny lights were embedded in the trim, shining right on the flaky crusts of croissants, glimmering glazes on sticky buns, and the golden skin of homemade baguettes. More intricate cakes and laborious treats were held in glass cabinets behind the desk. Warm wood made up the front cash register area, the grains twisting and curving in the way only real wood could. Hanging from the ceiling behind the desk was the menu with every treat laid out and priced, twirling descriptions following just underneath with every add-on available. A note on the bottom recommended talking to the bakers about seasonal specials and their favorite combinations. 

Everything looked new but second-hand at the same time. Harry didn't know what to compare the space to other than a home opened up for visitors. The treats in the case were just a bonus of being invited into such a home. 

The flapping of the cafe doors leading to the back caught his attention, pulling his gaze from tracing over the space that felt as if it lived within candlelight. (Y/N) emerged from what he assumed to be the kitchen, a pan in hand full of something golden brown and filled with herbs. She dropped that pan onto the back counter before disappearing again, a pearly gold bow pulling her hair back. Her uniform consisted of a long sleeved brown top with The Flour Pot printed in yellow lettering as if the words were dripping in honey. He felt like a moth the way his eyes followed each of her moves, her being the flame he didn't want to lose track of. 

That smile he pretended to not care about had her lips stretched with smile lines bracketing the curl. He watched on as she spoke to the dark-haired girl and the shorter boy working behind the counter, nodding her head with the tendrils of her bow going flying before she seemed to count out certain items in the case all before leaving to the back once more. In her hands, another pan reemerged with her.

As his eyes followed her, he was grateful for the first time for the amount of patrons occupying the building. The line in front of him gave him enough time to watch her—to get his fill to quell the battering ram made of butterflies in his stomach. Even if he wanted to keep his eyes to himself, drop them to his feet or find a blank spot to fix his eyes too, he didn't think he had it in himself. 

With the line moving, Harry shuffled forward a pair of spots. At that same moment, the cafe doors swung open once more, (Y/N)'s arms empty as her eyes scanned across the guests in her shop. She found Harry in an instant, her eyes brightening and smile blooming. She brought her gloved hand up to wiggle her fingers in a quick wave for only him. 

Before he could even lift his hand to wave back, she had sidestepped behind the desk and whispered something to the dark haired woman working the register. A quick conversation played out while Harry watched, (Y/N) whispering while the other woman gave small reactions. The conversation lasted only a couple of beats with the line still waiting before them, (Y/N) disappearing into the back after shooting Harry a look with bright eyes and a wide smile. 

In (Y/N)'s wake, the cashier gave Harry her own look. It was something quiet and knowing, a short curl only on the corner of her lips before she slid her gaze back to the patron waiting in front of her. 

(Y/N) and her bow didn't return again as the line slowly moved forward. Only the dark haired cashier and a shorter boy were working the counter, working as a team with the boy picking the pastries with gloved hands and the woman taking orders and collecting payments. The line dwindled as they worked, guests leaving with small paper bags and smiles wider than the giant muffins that took over the bottom shelf of the case. 

While Harry felt like he could breathe better with every person that exited, it all moved too fast. By the time he reached the counter, Harry's brain was filled with nothing more than a buzz. In all his distractions of watching (Y/N) and being a little too aware of the others around him, not once did he really examine the menu. He didn't have a plan of what he wanted to order, every quick glance at the menu hanging above was more panicked than the last, nothing being absorbed. 

The last patron in front of him worked quickly. The chatter of her voice was almost drowned out by the blood rushing through his ears, her order being rattled off in an instant out of practice before she was stepping off to the side to await her own brown bag of treats. 

Stepping forward to the counter, Harry couldn't help but feel a little silly. The amount of high stress situations he's been in in his life, the kind that warranted the kind of panic and fight-or-flight reaction he could feel himself building to was more than any person should ever go through. But in all of those moments, he remembered moving through them like an expert, not thinking before doing. 

This—ordering from a bakery—was going to be the one thing that broke his brain, it seemed. Figures. 

The dark-haired girl behind the counter held that same guest service smile on her face when Harry approached, only the ends curled that much more when she saw it was him. "Good morning! What can I get you today?" 

Harry's mouth dropped open, words intending to come out before nothing actually did. He barely recovered in the way he instead said, "Ummm." 

From the corner of his eye, the cafe doors to the kitchen swung open. A pan full of stacked baguettes were in (Y/N)'s arms, eyes trained on the pyramid before she chanced a glance up. That same wide grin pulled at her lips the second recognition filled her eyes. 

"Hi, Harry!" she chirped out over her shoulder as she deposited the pan onto the back counter, "How are you?" 

His dry throat finally began to work again when he swallowed, his nervous hands beginning to pluck at his cuticles in the pocket of his hoodie. "'M good, thank you," he mumbled, "You?" 

"I'm doing good, thanks!" She spun on her heel to take over the spot by the register. For a second, he saw the dark-haired girl bump (Y/N)'s hip with her own, before taking over the second station just to the left and tending to the line from there. It was a move that had to have come with a plan. "I wish I knew you were coming in today, I would have made you one of those soufflés I was telling you about." 

"Oh, sorry," he told her, shuffling on his feet as the rest of the line behind him meandered around him to the available register. 

The tail of hair she had pinned back with her bow bounced as she shook her head. "No worries at all! What did you come in for?" 

For the first time since she stepped out, he pulled his eyes from hers to the sign above her head.

Maybe it was the noise around him, the chatter of other guests, the way he was hyperaware of every inch of space around him and how close others were getting to him before hiking left to the other register, or the fact he knew (Y/N) had her eyes on him, but the letters didn't make any sense when he tried to take them in. He knew the words, could associate them with different treats, but there was nothing that connected his thoughts. 

Silence fell from his floundering mouth, the kind that felt too loud in a busy place like this. 

In a second, (Y/N) sidestepped to the case at her right, her eyes bright and still on Harry as she nudged the sliding door to open for her. "My favorite at the moment are the raspberry and almond scones," she bubbled off, using her gloved hand to grab the pastry from the tray, "I just finished a batch, too. They also come with this lemon cream kind of glaze, if you wanted to try it that way." 

Her energy didn't deplete as she spoke, showcasing the scone for him to see. She saved him from the way his throat was beginning to tighten the longer it took for him to come up with an answer. 

Chunks of raspberries were visible in the pale base of the scone, sprinkled with almond slivers. It reminded him of the cookies she so favored at his own place of work. 

"I'll try that," he told her, the even pacing of his breathing returning, "Thank you." 

"Perfect!" she chirped, looking genuinely pleased at his response. Nothing inauthentic touched at her features as she gazed at him. "Do you want the glaze and everything?" 

"Um, sure," he said, a nod of his head throwing a curl over his forehead. 

He saw as (Y/N)'s gaze tripped upwards, trailing along the length of that stray hair brushing the bridge of his nose. A glittering sparkled in her irises. 

The rest of the transaction went quickly, (Y/N) shedding her gloves and taking his cash as she asked about his work. Noncommittal answers were shared from Harry (he barely remembered the shift if he was being honest. His brain had been too fixed on this morning's plan). 

"I'll have that ready for you in a second," she told him, toothy smile and all, "You can wait over there in the meantime." 

A mumbled, kay... fell from his lips as he exhaled a deep breath. He nodded his head before he followed her direction and stepped off to the side. He half expected her to continue helping the line that had dwindled behind him, instead watching as she stepped off the side with his treats in hand. 

Dropping his gaze from her, Harry pulled his hands out of his hoodie to inspect the sore cuticles he could feel beginning to sting with every touch. Spots of blood had spread to the plate of his nails, skin frayed and irritated at all the picking. 

Harry expected to hear his name called when his bag was placed on the pick-up counter just as it had been for every other patron, only to have (Y/N) bounce around the entire case when she had finished puttering behind. The tendrils of her bow flowed behind her, skimming the length of her hair before she stopped in front of him.

For someone who didn't like mornings that much, she smiled a lot. 

"Here you go," she beamed at him, offering him the small paper bag with the business's logo inked on the front. Beside the picture was his own name written in looping script, a smiling heart printed beside it. "You have to tell me what you think the next time I see you, okay? These really are my favorites, so if you don't like them I don't know if we'll be able to be friends anymore." 

A breath of air caught in Harry's throat, his Adam's apple bobbing as he tried to swallow it down. Anymore, she had said.

"Got it," he forced out, taking the bag from her hand with their fingers barely brushing as he slipped his own under the handles, "Thank you, (Y/N)." 

At the sound of his voice wrapped around her name, her smile only widened. "Of course. I'll see you around, Harry." 

Before he could get too far ahead of himself, the indulgent butterflies in his stomach urging him to linger longer than he knew would be good for him, Harry spun on his heel and moved to the exit. He swore he could feel (Y/N)'s eyes on him up until he disappeared through the doors. 

There wasn't a thought in his head other than getting back to the safety of his car as he rushed over the pavement, loose rocks in the old concrete kicking up in his wake. The slam of his car door behind him left the cab going still. The air was silent finally, leaving him sealed away with the ticking of his heart evening out. 

Instinctively he locked his doors before reaching for his seatbelt. In that split second he seemed to forget the bag in his hand until he felt the warmth of the pastry in his lap. 

He hesitated. 

It would probably be best to eat it now while it was still warm, he decided. 

In his parked car across from the rush of The Flour Pot, Harry carefully extracted his treat. His fingers brushed a slip of paper clinging to the side of the bag, the end trapped under the cup containing the lemon cream she boasted to him about. Laying the boxed treat on the center console, Harry plucked out the slip of paper. 

It was a length of blank receipt paper, only to turn the page around and find that same looping writing that printed his name on the bag. 

Come by next Sunday and I'll have a souffle for you :) 

(Y/N)'s name was signed at the bottom, another smiling heart drawn beside the final letter. Another invitation.

Harry didn't need to take a bite of the scone to know that it was going to be his favorite too.

—————

Maybe he had been too giddy to see her again after those moments at the bakery, but Harry couldn't help but notice her the second (Y/N) walked through the glass doors. 

It was as if he had it all planned the way he had been stationed in the herb and spices section of the store tonight, an aisle that was conveniently situated by the entrance. He had a bundle of basil in his grip when he saw her walk in, a clip dripping with crystal flowers holding her hair back with a The Flour Pot crewneck on. Fatigue coated her movements as she reached for one of the maroon baskets stacked by the door, the handles tucked into her elbow before she started towards whatever aisle she was shooting for. 

There was a moment of her slowing on the front mat, eyes scanning through the shelves until she saw him, cart and all, and her expression changed. Her features softened and rounded, creases appearing by her eyes while her lips stretched into a smile. Her lips were soft and chapped, hair a bit messy, and sleeves dulled by a dusting of what had to be flour, but Harry still felt that knot in his stomach he did the first time he saw her all those months ago. Even more so, when his heart got carried away thinking that she may have been looking for him, too. 

Harry dropped his gaze when he saw her begin her way over to him. He didn't want to look too eager to speak to her again, especially not when he couldn't even admit to himself that he was looking forward to see her. 

"Hi, stranger," she greeted, voice lilting as the toes of her white shoes came into view of his downturned gaze. 

Swallowing around his dry throat, he slowed his work and looked up at her again, features schooled into something stoic. "Hi." 

Ever-pleasant and unperturbed by his attitude, she only looked to him with raised brows and expectant eyes. "So?" 

A pinch drew Harry's brows together as he looked at her. So what? 

When the beat of silence lasted too long for her liking, a teasing huff fell from (Y/N)'s lips. "What did you think of the scone?! You promised you'd tell me about it, remember?" 

For the first time in a long time, Harry could feel one corner of his lips twitch, the beginning of a titled smile. He thought of the length of receipt paper he still had folded away in his wallet. 

"It was really good," he started, shifting his weight on his feet, "The—uh—the lemon cream was really nice. Thank you." 

The look on her face at his compliments could rival that of the waning sunshine outside the windows. She was bright and shining, warm like the sunset colored sky. 

"I'm so happy you liked it!" she beamed, her shopping put to the back of her mind as she gave every bit of attention to him, "There's this recipe for a lavender version of the scone I've been wanting to try, but every time I tell the other girls they don't look as excited. They said it sounds like I'm trying to make soap." 

Harry didn't even realize what he was saying before the words were falling from his lips: "I'd try it." 

As much as he wouldn't—couldn't—say it out loud, he's sure he'd try anything she made. He wasn't lying about the raspberry scone.

Something sheepish touched at the corners of her smile as she dipped her gaze down to where he was now fumbling with a shaker of dried oregano on his cart. "Okay," she started, nodding her head, "I'll make some, and next time I see you, you can try them." 

His throat bobbed as he swallowed around the dryness coating his tongue. "Thank you." 

Under her attention, gaze peering through the fan of her lashes, those butterflies in his stomach and the beating of his heart traveled down to his palms, making them restless and the skin go clammy. 

All of this over another invitation.

—————

rosemary represents remembrance; looking back on the past with the future right in front of you

ahhhhh!!! hes finally here!!! im so excited to be sharing this story w you guys and letting you meet one of my kings thats sooooo in my heart!! def a little different of a story for me so I really hope you enjoy it!!!! thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and please lmk if you have any ideas or requests or just thoughts about this story !

#writing #harry #harry styles #harry one shot #harry imagine #harry blurb #harry angst #harry x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #harry au #harry styles au #love on tour #harrys house #pleasing #as it was #satellite

[snowy-vee]

ALL MINE (3)

oblivious loser bsf! ellie williams x posesive popular bsf!fem reader

n/a: I may have rushed things! but I prefer to trust the process and cook a little bit more. I hope you all like it. Also, does the taglist works how I've done it or there's another way to do a taglist?

trigger warnings;; mention of vomit (1), idk if catalog it into violence because there's none but intense argue(?

Pt.1 HERE

pt.2 HERE

pt.4 HERE

Inform yourself about what’s happening and how to help! FREE PALESTINE, FREE CONGO.

Ellie was in such a boring class that she barely noticed when it ended and people started to pack up; a few of her classmates were waiting for her at the entrance of the door, so she hurried out with them. They discussed the topics covered in class today as they walked to the dinning hall.

“Ellie!” you called out, causing both her and her classmates to turn; you were on the opposite path from her, so you had to run a bit to reach her side faster. You opened your gym bag and pulled out the folder Ellie had left in your room last night after studying together. “Your folder, you said you needed it today.”

You were dressed in your cheerleading uniform since you had practice right now. Ellie, who had been a little dazed watching the movement of your skirt as you ran, nodded, feeling her cheeks burn, and indeed, you looked so pretty, especially when you said goodbye and turned around, showing the small bow in the back of your hair.

“Sometimes I forget you’re friends with someone so popular. How is it possible that you’re friends with her?” one of them said, mesmerized by your presence, like the rest of the group

“Well, we are, best friends,” Ellie asserted with a smile. It’s true that she was annoyed when people questioned your friendship, but she was happy to have you as a friend, and perhaps she also enjoyed the feeling of envy from others…

“Yeah but she is popular, pretty, hangs out with her kind of cliché, goes to every party invited ¡Hell! She could be an influencer if she wanted to… and you are you��

“Hey, I have my own charm” Ellie said softly feeling a little bit offended “Whatever, we’ve been friend for so many years and that’s what matters”

“Really? Then do you know if the rumours about her and Abby are true? I think it’s the hottest gossip on campus, the cheerleading captain and the captain of the women’s basketball team.”

“They’re all lies, don’t believe any of that. She wouldn’t be with someone like Abby,” Ellie said, dismissing the comments, and she sounded so sure of what she was saying, especially because you assured her of it the same night of the party.

Finally, you had arrived home, you were so tired that as soon as you got to your room, you collapsed on the bed.

“At least change before you throw yourself on the bed,” Ellie leaned against the door of your room. You nodded, kicking off your shoes and getting up to grab your pajamas; you began to undress in front of her, caring little, as it wasn’t the first time.

Ellie, without changing her position, watched as you slowly untied the knot of your top and let it fall, exposing your purple bra, unbuttoning the button of your skirt and slowly lowering the zipper. The skirt fell quickly, revealing your white panties with purple bows matching the bra.

She bit her lip as she looked at your body until she reached your collarbones; there was a hickey, and it looked recent. “Did… Abby do that?”

“Hmm?” You looked at her, she pointed to her collarbone, making you look at yourself in the mirror, seeing the hickey.

‘Shit, I told her not to leave marks.’ you thought rolling your eyes mentally

“Did she do that to you?” Ellie had a slight grimace of disgust as she asked the question, obviously she noticed.

“Of course not! It was some guy I was dancing with.”

“You swear? Because you know that I do not like Abby at all.”

You fucking knew it, that’s why when you were mad at her you used to call Abby. You knew how much it would hurt her, you had no idea why they hated each other and everytime you asked her she said that she had her reasons and was protecting you.

“I swear, I would never do that to you. Abby does want something with me, I think she’s obssesed with me, she’s telling people things that never happen, spreading false rumors,” you sighed as you finished putting on your pajamas, approaching Ellie and putting your hands on her shoulders. “At the party today, she tried to talk to me and go further, but I told her no, to leave me alone, she got really mad and threatened to keep spreading rumors, and I told her I didn’t care.”

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this? I could’ve defend you.”

“Oh, Ellie, please, I know you can but do you know how many rumors there are about me? I don’t care what others think; I care that you trust me. Do you trust me?”

“Completely,” she smiled before you kissed her on the cheek and let her go while you went to the bathroom to remove your makeup changing the topic.

Ellie smiled too, of course she trusted you, that’s why she was now in front of her classmates denying the rumors, no matter how much you didn’t care, she wasn’t going to let people talk nonsense about you. No one knew you like she did.

“Are you sure? Because Abby has been telling the whole team how much of a naughty bitch, how good she could take her seven inches strap, other nasty things I can’t repeat and that she had video proof…” the guy beside Ellie spoke while looking at his phone.

“What? Unbelievable! Isn’t that like revenge corn?” Another girl said looking at his phone as well.

Her smile dropped. “What did you just say?”

She stopped walking, and with her, the group. The guy who said that showed her his phone, it was a group chat with the football and basketball team, and Abby had sent different pictures that one could only see them once. “You’ve seen them?”

“N-no she hasn’t showed them yet but would do it soon…”

“Can you confirm that she was talking about her”

“It’s pretty much her name and physic description, yeah,” Ellie licked her lips, nodding slowly.

“Does anyone know where Abby is right now?”

(What happened in the fight?)

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

You began to climb the stairs to your floor, Ellie and you lived on the first floor so it took less than a minute, phone in your hand, calling Ellie for the twelfth time. Since you finished practice, you had been calling her to come pick you up without getting a response, not even a message.

By the time you were turning the keys and opening the door, your whole body was filled with worry, but seeing her shoes, you felt a little relieved. “Ellie? Hey, if you’re not going to come pick me up, let me know beforehand! And answer my calls even if it’s just for a second! You had me worried.”

You took off your shoes and left the keys at the entrance, noticing her backpack lying on the floor with all her things scattered about. You sighed, leaving your bag on the kitchen counter and crouching down to start picking up her things. “Ellie?”

You finished picking up and placed everything inside. The door to her room was halfway open, and you could see the light was on. “Don’t you hear me calling your name?”

You entered the room, placing the backpack next to the wardrobe. Ellie was sitting on the edge of her bed with her back to you. The atmosphere felt so tense that it made you involuntarily swallow.

“I want you to be honest with me,” she said in an intimidating tone, suddenly a shiver ran down your spine. “And I want the truth, if you lie to me…”

She let out an incredulous laugh. “If you lie to me again…” Your breath caught, thinking about what lie you had told Ellie, all small except for… Impossible, Abby wouldn’t spill, you had Abby under control.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. What’s wrong?” You tried to approach, but Ellie raised her hand.

“Stay where you are, or move away from there.”

“Ellie-”

“Shut the fuck up!” she interrupted you. “Did you or did you not fuck Abby?”

What you were praying that wasn’t the problem was exactly the problem. You didn’t know where to hide, your legs seemed to want to flee, you wished the ground would swallow you up at that very moment. You tried to say something, but your lips were trembling. Were you going to lie again? No. It was obvious that she already knew everything; she just wanted to hear it from you.

“Did you or did you not fuck Abby?” Ellie repeated the question, now more demanding and intimidating, making your eyes start to fill with tears. You hated confrontations, especially if it was your fault.

“Yes,” you whispered, looking at the ground and clasping your hands, embarrassed by how ashamed you were starting to feel.

“What? I can’t hear you.”

“Oh my fucking god, Ellie! Yes, I fucked her, I fucking did!” you exclaimed, tired of how tense your body was becoming. She nodded slowly, getting up from her bed and turning to face you. “What the fuck? What have you done?”

Her lip was split with dried blood on it, she also had a bruise next to her eye and a split eyebrow. Your concerned face made her chuckle. “If this worries you, you should see Anderson.”

You unconsciously approached, trying to touch the wounds, but Ellie stopped your hand at that moment. You were maintaining such intense eye contact that it seemed like you were communicating. You were asking her to let you clean her wounds and disinfect them; she was asking you how you could betray her like this.

“You lied to my fucking face. Was it funny?” Her grip felt more painful. “What? Were you two laughing at me behind my back?” You two were close, but Ellie started taking steps closer to you, so you had no choice but to take some steps back until your were was pressed against the wall.

“It’s not like that, Ellie… my wrist- you are hurting me,” you said, feeling tears running down your face.

“Not like that? And how the fuck was it?” She screamed, making you feel smaller and making you cry more. “Explain it to me! Because I can’t understand why the fuck my best friend went behind my back to fuck the person I hate the most out of everybody on the fucking earth. Oh God! I knew you were a whore, but I never thought you would sacrifice our friendship for some sex.”

You couldn’t answer as you cried; for a moment, Ellie loosened her grip on your wrist, and you could see her eyes also filling with tears. You couldn’t hate yourself more at that moment.

“Why? I just want to know. There has to be an explanation for you to do this to me.”

“It meant nothing, I swear, it was just a few times, nothing serious,” you tried to excuse yourself, wiping your tears with your hands, but it was useless, they kept falling.

“Did she give you the hickey?” You sighed exhausted, looking at the other side, but she grabbed your jaw, forcing you to face her and look her in the eyes. “Answer.”

You nodded. Ellie let go of you, shaking her head, raising her hands in the air, defeated, watching you slide until you were sitting on the floor.

“Incredible… When was the last time except for the party?”

“That morning… She was the one who drove me to class; we did it on the couch. But then I ignored her once we got to class, that’s why you saw me arguing with her in the hallway.” You didn’t even know why you were giving so much explanation.

“Why are you doing this to me?”

Ellie really wanted a clear answer, but it seemed so pathetic to tell her that you were fucking Abby to mentally punish her for annoying you. It was your way of torturing her without her finding out because many things Ellie did annoyed you, especially when she didn’t do things your way. You knew perfectly well how she would react if she found out, but you never thought it would hurt you so much. You shrugged, looking at her; you didn’t know what to say, but you knew what not to say.

“I can’t see you right now,” Ellie said, grabbing her jacket and leaving the room.

“Wait, where are you going?” you asked, almost crawling to follow her. “Ellie!”

You shouted her name, but the door slamming shut was enough to make you shut up and leave you there, alone on the floor, crying, and you could have kept going if it weren’t for the sound of a phone. Ellie’s phone.

You approached the bed where it was, seeing that she was being called. Dina was calling her and also sending messages; you managed to read one above:

Dina<333

Of course, you can come to my house, but are you…

As if someone had kicked you in the stomach, you ran to the bathroom to vomit until you couldn’t anymore. You had pushed Ellie towards Dina yourself.

No, that’s not how the story should continue. Everything was going so well. After the party, Dina started ignoring Ellie all week, and she barely wondered why the raven-haired girl wasn’t talking to her like before, because Ellie was busy looking out for you.

She would leave her classes directly to find you, not giving Abby a chance to talk to you. She accompanied you at the beginning of your classes even if it meant she was late for hers… She was there for you 24/7, and it was so perfect for you. What was the mistake you made? Did you make it, or was it Abby? It was her. She ruined your precious environment and your relationship with Ellie.

At least that’s what you thought as you grabbed your keys and quickly left the house. Oh, you were going to fuck Abby. Fuck her UP.

taglist;; @boobdrug @lovelyxbaby @pedropascalsbbg @cherryimaa

#ellie x fem reader #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie williams x reader #ellie smut #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us #tlou ellie #tlou2 #ellie tlou smut #tlou #dina tlou #abby tlou #wlw #lgbtq #the last of us fanfiction #ellie fanfic #ellie williams x female reader #abby anderson #abby the last of us #abby anderson tlou2 #snowy vee

[andyoullhearitagain]

Top Ten Least Bad Outfits in TNG

I'm gonna be honest and say that the non-uniform outfits in TNG are not my favorite costume design in the world, but there are some looks that stick with me:

10. That Girl Who Kissed Data That One Time's Outfit:

I can never decide if I like this look or I think it's ugly, but I love the pants and tall boots combo. Her blouse is bad and the bouclé jacket is both too heavy and too fussy for this outfit, but I love the belt and suspenders combo, and the chevron embossing on the suspenders. This costume and all the others except #9 is a Robert Blackman design.

9. This Jumpsuit On That Girl From "The Dauphin":

This is the only William Ware Theiss design on this list. I love his TOS stuff but most of his TNG designs leave me cold 🤷‍♀️. But I love this is extremely 80s jumpsuit. Love the pretty drape, love the ruching on the sleeves, love the harem pants silhouette. Only note is that the whole bodice should be a structured corset bodice instead of the kind of odd structured panel it has now.

8. Picard's Shorty Pyjama Set:

TNG is absolutely full of the strangest pyjama choices you can imagine and Picard is no exception but I love this bold look. Would kill for this pyjama set. He also takes a work zoom wearing this one time which is insane.

7. Data's 1890's Looks But Specifically This One With The Shirtsleeves And The Blue Shirt:

The best part of "Time's Arrow" is that Data isn't a fish out of water in the 1890s, he's absolutely killing it, and I love that the only real Casual Data look we get is this one. I prefer the blue shirt to the pink because Data should really wear more blue, it's a nice contrast with yellow. Please also note his emerald watch fob, which was 0% necessary to blend in, he's just having fun with it.

6. 12 Year Old Keiko's Linen Overalls:

The paperbag waist! The bow! The little bows at the shirt cuffs! I can understand why she replicated a miniature copy of this outfit.

5. Beverly and Guinan's Dixon Hill Holodeck Costumes:

I'm counting these as one because they're essentially the same design in different color pallets but what color paletts! Bev is pulling off the very difficult pink+red+red hair and the mint green on Guinan is 🤌. I particularly love how Guinan's hat is so 1940s yet also echos the silhouette of her usual costume.

4. Deanna's Teal Dress:

Like all of you I prefer Deanna in the uniform, but this dress slays, ok? The space age asymmetrical neckline. The drop waist. The structured bodice. The slit almost all the way to the hip. And of course the matching tights and shoes CANNOT BE BEATEN. Also one time I saw a dude on a Star Trek forum call this a "ballgown" which baffles me to this day, this is clearly a slightly fancy day dress.

3. Picard's 1890s Look:

You'd think Picard would go full posh in the 1890s but instead he gives us this working-class Shakespearean director look and he 👏 looks 👏 incredible 👏. Way to mix textures, Jean-Luc.

2. Lore's Turtleneck and Giant Vest:

You and I know that Lore stole these clothes from the Pakleds because we pay a lot of attention to Star Trek costumes, but to a normal viewer Lore shows up and this is just his outfit!! It's giving, like, space-age goblincore and it's incredible. I want wear this oufit every day. I want to make a little doll Lore wearing this outfit to express my love for it. It's only not #1 because the pants are too orange and a strange weave.

Deanna's Ancient West Holodeck Outfit:

Deanna!!! The pants! The hat! The calico! She looks 10/10 hot in this outfit. For sure the superior version of this is before she gives her neckerchief to Worf (it really benefits from that cool highlight) but either way this is the best anyone's ever looked on that holodeck.

#star trek tng #star trek next gen #deanna troi #jean luc picard #data soong #beverly crusher #guinan #lore soong #keiko o'brien #tng #yelling about costume design

[crystalskiesandcherrywine]

The sound of the waves collide // Part Two

Here is Part 2!

Na Baron Feys Rautha x Atreides!Reader

FxM

Cannot wait to tell my version of their story, we are getting closer to the smutty fun part of it.

All feedback is welcome <3

Part One // Part Three // Part Four

1.200 Words

_______________

The sounds of the hall are muffled. This seems to be a contest between you and Na Baron on who will pull away first.

His unreadable gaze challenging you to uncover what lies beneath. The moment is shattered when the Emperor's voice cuts through. Your father speaks for you. 

"Please excuse my daughters' shyness, most esteemed Emperor." The Emperor's laughter brings you back to reality, and you leave your soon-to-be husband's eyes to look at your hands, trying to concentrate. The Emperor seems amused by your behavior: 

"You're not the first young lady to just stand in front of me and not be able to say a word. May I present Na Baron Feyd Rautha Harkonnen and his uncle, Baron Vladimir Harkonnen of Giedi Prime" There seems to be kindness in his tone. It gives you the confidence to look up again: "It is an honor to be in your presence, Emperor. I thank you with all my heart for granting me this match."

 A bubbling, sour sound fills the room: "I am not so sure you will be grateful once you are married to my nephew"

It is absurd to you now how you could not register the source of the remark: Baron Vladimir Harkonnen, a grotesque floating figure, draped in black cloth to give him a regal and imposing effect, hovers between the Empress's throne and the Na Baron. He also seems smooth and pale but lacks the grace of a warrior. He looks more like a dark cloud, sucking the energy from his surroundings. The black orbs attached to his body make a faint clicking sound. You try to make a mental note to read his chapter first, once you are back in your room, 

"My trust lies in the wisdom of the Emperor and the decision of my esteemed father, Duke Leto Atreides." You make sure to sound as loud as clear as you can. The Baron seems displeased by your defiance, but Feud Rautha can't hold back a slight upward curl of his lips. You know that you cannot appear meek in front of him, so you are satisfied with your impression for now. 

„Now that you are introduced, you are granted to escort your betrothed to the celebration of my daughters and her brothers wedding. You are also permitted to spend some time together, of course in the presence of an adequate chaperone“ And having said that the emperor leaves the room, followed by the floating Baron and your father. 

You can feel Feyd Rauthas looking at you again, he doesn't seem to hold back at all, his eyes brushing over your dress, almost as if he were undressing you with his eyes. There is something alluring about your betrothed. His features are clear, his skin pure white, and with his black uniform he seems to be lit from within. You have yet to exchange a word with him and already feel a gravitational pull between you. As he approaches, you curtsy and bow your head. 

"It is a pleasure to escort you to your brothers' celebrations, my lady," his voice seems a little raspy and deep. He extends his arm to you as if in invitation, and you feel his lean muscles through the fabric of his shirt. His arm is warmer than you expected and you try not to worry about the cold of your own fingers. 

"We will soon be husband and wife. I hope you are ready for all the new experiences that will come with it.“ The promise of unexplored pleasures hinted at in his words—all of it pulls you into a vortex of excitement and desire.

"I am sure we both need to be prepared. I am to follow you to your world and your customs, but rest assured, I intend to bring some of my own into this union," you say in a playful tone.

"I look forward to learning more about them," he says almost in a whisper, coming closer to your ear and making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. 

You reach the feast and he leads you to your place at the table.

"My lady," he gives you a slightly crooked smile, takes your hand and raises it to his lips. Just the slightest touch of your knuckles and he's gone, leaving you as nervous as you were before and yet as fascinated as you could imagine from such a brief interaction.

________

The wedding party goes on for hours after Paul and Irulan exchange their vows, with music and wine flowing, and you see Paul beaming at his bride, her happiness spreading to the guests, and yet you feel so distant. You never feel free of Feyd's gaze, and every time you look in his direction, he seems to be looking back at you. 

After the feast, you are a bundle of nerves and too tired to care. After changing into your nightgown and dismissing your ladies-in-waiting, you fall into a dreamless sleep. A sudden knock on the door awakens you. For a few seconds you are confused as to why you are not at home. The knock doesn't sound familiar, but you open the door hesitantly. Na Baron stands in the doorway.

"I couldn't go to sleep without talking to you," he says, and there is something in the tone of his voice that both entices and annoys you. Again his eyes wonder at your body and you feel self-conscious about not being properly dressed. 

"May I ask..." and before you can answer his is already in your room. He walks around your room and sees Irulan's gift on the table.

"You seem more ready than I expected," he says with a small laugh. 

"Are you?" you ask, unable to push the thought of his rumored concubines from your mind. "You know we will both be in trouble if anyone sees you, Na Baron.“

"I don't think so. No one saw me and I am sure you want to tell someone," he replies, taking a few steps in your direction and stopping close to you. You try to remember your training and yet you feel this ridiculous longing to touch him. A man you don't know at all, a man whose cruelty you've read about and been told to see as part of the greater Bene Gesserit plan. 

"I beg you to leave," you say, but he doesn't seem convinced: his hand goes to your jaw, slides down and then suddenly the soft touch turns into a grip around your neck, his lips meet yours with undeniable force, his tongue finds its way into your mouth and devours it, his other hand presses you against him and you feel his excitement: Before you can collect yourself, a small moan escapes your lips. You look into his eyes again and see a glint of victory in them. 

"As you wish, my princess. Let's be decent and civilized," he says, obviously satisfied with his conquest, and leaves your room without a sound. As he vanishes into the night, you are left with thoughts of what kind of game you have begun to play.

#feyd rautha #feyd smut #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd rautha imagine #feyd imagine #smut #shameless smut #arranged marriage #dune part ii #dune movie #cannon divergence

[milknhonies]

Wails of Wedded Bliss

Chapter 6 || Masterlist || Chapter 8

Chapter Summary: Upon meeting the Baroness you are enamoured by her devotion.

Pairing: Sherlock Homes x wife!reader

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, (No Smut), typical historical misogyny and sexism, mentions and discussion on miscarriages. Implied domestic abuse and infidelity.

Word Count: 9k

Author Notes: This is an important but rather sad chapter. I beseech you all to read the warnings. The details of this chapter are important to the plot of the missing Baron Thaddeus Pennicott.

Inspiring Song: "Flightless Bird American Mouth" by Vitamin String Quartet

8:30am Wednesday 7th May 1890, Grovelands House, The Bourne, London, England. 

Sherlock tucked your arm into his side as you three entered the Groveland house foyer. The floor was made of fine marble tile and with ever step a light echo raced down the halls.

The inspector called upon a nearby dusting maid to fetch the head of the house. Who returned was a thin and tall man in a butler’s uniform with a sliver pocket watch hanging from his chest. His hair was the colour of autumn leaves and his face littered in freckles.

He bowed, “I am mister Edward Redmayne, head butler of the Groveland estate, how may I assist you?”

The inspector shook his hand and stated quickly, “We spoke on the telephone yesterday? A telegraph was sent.”

The butler smiled with a relieving gasp, “Detective Holmes?”

Lestrade sheepishly looked over his shoulder to you and your husband. He nodded. His expression wore a emotion of embarrassment mixed with annoyance. Perhaps he was jealous of your husband’s successful published case stories. You wished you could have told the constable not to fret as Sherlock was nothing short of a arrogant mule...yet again- the mark on his face...he probably already knew that.

8:42am Wednesday 7th May 1890, Grovelands House, The Bourne, London, England. 

Upon meeting the lady of the house, you stood frigid by your husband. You felt somewhat self conscious by her grey eyes that lingered over your dress. Perhaps you should’ve worn your Sunday best before meeting a woman of such a high status.

The baroness was unmistakably pregnant. Her belly was bold and rounded beneath her maternity gown. She had been sitting calmly on a resting chaise, knitting a small bonnet for her future child. Her hands were covered in fine burgundy velvet gloves to match her modest dress.

Her face was framed by a light brown curls, that appeared almost white in some places, twisted into a bum at the base of her neck. Her pale face was blotchy with pink flecks and slight acne.

“Lady Pennicott, I am Inspector Braydon Lestrade of Scotland Yard,” the British officer proclaimed as he bowed dramatically forward. You withheld a girlish giggle by how low the man had bent his head and presented himself foolishly, and from the corner of your eye you manage to catch the whisp of Sherlock’s smirk.

The inspector waved his arm behind him and moved aside, “-and with me is Detective Sherlock Holmes and his wife, Mrs Holmes.”

You produced the baroness a respectable curtsy, your eyes glued down to the beautifully patterned carpet. You wondered how the servants could keep it so clean and freshly unstained by dirty guests. It must have been new.

The baroness shuffled her knitting needles and ball of woollen yarn into a Whicker basket and disposed of it beside her.

A slow stretching smile graced her thin lips as she spoke to you, “Oh, are you the little dear who solved that factory match girl incident?”

You weren’t sure how to answer her question. You weren’t entirely sure what the baroness was referencing until Sherlock stepped closer with your arm still cradled in his.

“No dear Baroness,” Sherlock pat your hand gently, “That would have been my sister Enola Holmes, she has her own detective office at present moment. My wife is here on my invitation. I wished to gift her a sight of the grand park and estate while I was here upon duty.”

The Baroness cocked her head, from her ears hung pearls that swung and hung like rain drops.

“Come forth dear,” she lifted her hand and beckoned you, “I would like to have better view of you.”

You wondered if she could smell the sweat beginning to drop down the back of your neck. You bit your tongue and tried to refrain from trembling. You were nervous. Her eyes were cold but her smile warm, two conflating details that you couldn’t understand. The last thing you needed now on top of a terrible start to your marriage was to be scrutinized by a haughty pregnant baroness.

She flickered your fingers for you to bend down to her. As you leant down, you swore you could smell copper, a metalic scent. A vein on your scalp pulsed. She scanned your face of its details. You dared to wonder what she was searching for. And then it clicked...the smell...

‘Dear god, you prayed, please don’t let her smell my blood, please let this not be my blood...’

You should have sprits on some perfume before leaving baker street.

She glanced behind you and questioned angelically, “How does it feel having such a clever husband?”

Your lips opened and closed. You resembled a fish. You were stumped to answer quickly.

‘Miserable, infuriating, torturous, pleasurable mixed with a cup of agony...’

She lifted her brows until you hurriedly blurted, “He is...formidable and righteous...” you stood up tall and took a step back, adding with a monetarism of truth, “I am very lucky to have become his bride.”

‘Lucky, while incredibly resentful.’

You reached back, Sherlock adopted your arm back into his hold once more.

Lady Pennicott rubbed her belly, her eyes started to twinkle, “And soon you will have a plethora of children that will look like him I gather.”

Your eyes fluttered. Sherlock’s hand tightened around your glove and his throat bobbed. You felt hot in the face.

Yes that’s right, that’s what normal husband and wife did isn’t it? They have children. That was your role, to be the mother of Sherlock’s offspring...

You couldn’t answer.

And there. That dear girl is when you questioned for the first time. ‘Is this what I want?’ and ‘Do I want Sherlock’s children.’ Because having a knowing of his barbarism conflated a fear in your belly...would Sherlock hurt his own children if he could easily hurt you, his wife?

When you hesitated for too long to answer her again, Sherlock said with a strained tone that was masked in a hopeful joy, “One may only hope, Baroness.”

“Lady Pennicott,” Graydon interrupted, “We have come to ask you on the whereabouts of Lord Pennicott and the evening he was last sighted.”

Her eyes narrowed at the inspector and with an annoyed twinge she muttered and wiped her hands on a nearby blanket, “I already informed the police of what I was informed of by our butler Edward.”

She glanced up next her right. Mister Redmayne observed her, looking down. The pair smiled to each other. She reached out to him. She grabbed his hand and they squeezed.

The inspector laughed nervously, “Indeed but Detective Sherlock Holmes was not presently involved in the case until yesterday.”

Her eyes flickered quickly to your husband and her face flared with confusion quickly to be matched with a impressed smile, “Of course, please sit all of you as I am near a indisposition with my child,” she gestured to the mirroring chaise and a chair beside the fireplace, “Edward, please tell Martha to bring tea and biscuits for our kind service men and Mrs Holmes.”

The butler bowed to you all and left the sitting room.

Lestrade took his place on the lone chair while Sherlock sat you beside him on the chaise. You took your time to lower yourself. Sitting on your bruises was uncomfortable while another cramp hit you. Your fingers dug into his palm.

From Lestrades breast pocket he pulled out a notebook and small pencil.

“Lady Pennicott,” Sherlock softly hummed, “Please, could you tell me what your husband is like as a person?”

The woman who you believed was in her late thirties smiled and stated softly, “My Thaddeus is a noble man, good taste in wine and very devoted to his work. He likes to go hunting and we share a passion for gardening,” she glanced up at the ceiling and paused, “He prefers to plant vegetables to donate to the church and orphans, whereas I have always loved to grow my flowers.”

The way she described him, her devotion was deep and honourable. She touched her round belly.

Sherlock looked over to the fire place behind the baroness. On the mantle was a magnificent portrait twice your height, painted on the canvas was who you recognised as Lord and Lady Pennicott. He was sitting up straight on a fine red cushioned chair with his dirty blonde hair and softened mutton chops while she stood at his right and her ringed hand on his shoulder. The similarities were there but Lady Pennicotts hair had lightened in reality perhaps from all the years that separated her likeness and her reality.

“I was informed Lord Pennicott is a father of five?” Sherlock asked.

The Baroness smiled proudly and pat her tummy softly, “Six soon.”

You couldn’t help notice something was missing from the painting, Sherlock also had a similar thought.

Where were the children in the portrait? Where was a family portrait in the house?

“Forgive me,” a breath of air escaped from him, “are the children away at school?”

“Oh,” her uncanny smile remained while her brows angled down, her throat tightened as she spoke, “I fear they are in the loving embrace of angels now. All of them were taken from us by God,” her eyes glanced to you, “They came out sleeping.”

Your heart sunk to the pit of your belly with sorrow and pity.

Five babies lost, five babies gone…five pregnancies… four and a half years of pregnancy and for what? Five angels.

A woman had one holy role in life, to bare her husband children, and when a woman was defective or produced a sickly child, it was a symbol of failure in society. But you never saw it that way...you imagined it must’ve been agony to lose so many babies. One or two was a common occurrence but five? Five was a curse to experience and relive over and over.

“Well,” you interrupted Sherlock rudely, cutting him off from his next abrasive question by squeezing his hand a little too hard.

You could see the mourning in the baroness’ face. You saw the classic look of all women made uncomfortable by something a man has said. What the hell would the detective know about a woman’s emotions after how coldly he has treated all women and yourself.

You shuffled on the opposite chaise and smile softly, “I will pray this one will come swiftly and feel the warmth of their mother.”

The baroness’ face lifted and warmed. She smiled happily and nodded, “Thankyou, oh I’m just so excited! This one really is a big one, I can feel it. I hope it’s a boy.”

Sherlock was staring at you intensely as the maid Martha finally delivered a pot of tea and poured the steaming liquid. His brows were knitted and his eyes held suspicion as he kept you in his sight. You politely nodded your head once at him before reaching for a hot cup and lifting it to your lips.

Sherlock sighed and turned back to his questioning, “You would say you liked your marriage?”

The baroness appeared offended by your husband as her face wrinkled and a sneer spread her thin lips, “Of course, any woman who doesn’t like her marriage should not be married in the first place. She is a burden to her husband if she cannot perform her duties as a wife.”

Lady Pennicott leant forward and collected her own cup of tea, she delicately pinched a biscuit and dunked it into the contents.

…you felt Sherlock drag his thumb across your fingers. You felt chilly, could he read your thoughts? Did he know truly how much you already hated him and his ideas of intimacy in your marriage? He clear his throat when both your glancing eyes caught each other.

“Can you tell me what happened,” Sherlock pressed, “The night of your husbands disappearance?”

“Well...after dinner,” the baroness sighed in thought and nibbled on her moist biscuit, “Thaddeus wanted to speak with me in his office about a spending I had made a week ago. You see, I had bought a cradle for the nursery. The one we had originally was broken and beyond repair, we disposed of it a month prior. Thaddeus was not pleased with the price and claimed it was an unnecessary purchase,” she paused and set her cup aside before she touched her belly again; rubbing in soft slow circles, she began to blushed, “He was sorely hurt by my choice. He then became very cross with me and left his office in a huff.”

She looked to the yarn, to the tea pot and then finally to the painting on the mantle, “I deemed that he would find forgiveness in his heart by the morning and brush it off. I returned back to the nursery to tidy up before I went to my rooms and went to bed to sleep in my quarters of the east wing. Thaddeus keeps himself to the west wing most nights.”

The detective nodded, “What time do you believe it was when you went to your bed, Baroness?”

She hummed softly while pursuing her lips, “A quarter to nine in the evening.”

“And how did you realise your husband was missing?” Sherlock stole a scone off the tea tray and lifted it to his lips. He paused amidst chewing it slowly.

The noble woman sighed and recollected, pragmatically, “In the morning Mr Redmayne informed me on how Thaddeus took off into the night astride Arion, our prize stallion Clydesdale. Thaddeus had not returned by the next morning and that is when concern drew near. I sent members of my staff to the factories to investigate his whereabouts and none had come upon him. I knew something had to be wrong so I alerted the authorities by the second morning.”

Your husband took a deep breath and discarded the half bitten scone, he wiped his hand unceremoniously on his jacket and throatily asked, “Do you recall if Lord Pennicott has any potential persons he might be deemed as an enemy towards?”

“Only his company competitors, Detective,” She said saccharinely with her smile, “He was a very loveable man.”

“Do you have a list of the names of staff who were working that evening here in Groveland House?”

The butler stepped forward and cleared his throat, “That would be in Lord Pennicotts office,” he pulled out a pair of keys, “I can you show you gentlemen in and where he keeps his accounts and other paraphernalia to his business if you’d like?”

Both Sherlock and Lestrade smiled and stood up.

“Baroness,” Sherlock gently requested, “Would it be overly bothersome if my beloved wife remained and kept you company while the inspector and I look in your husband’s office.”

Your heart jumped to your throat. What was Sherlock doing leaving you behind with the Baroness by yourself!?....what if you spoke out of turn or said something too presumptuous for your status!?...

“Most certainly not,” she beamed “I will gladly accept such delightful company,” She held out a hand, palm down to her right. The butler speedily stepped to her side and leant her his hand. She winced as she scooted forward on the cushioned lounge before struggling to rise to her feet.

Sherlock leant down and kissed the back of your wrist again, so scantily in front of the baroness. You tried tor refrain from loudly gasped and bringing anymore dangerous attention to yourself. Your husband left your side and followed the butler with Lestrade out of the sitting room.

So the party turned to two married women. The baroness was pleased.

She stepped closer to you and reached for your arm. You were surprised by her familiarity but you would not deny the assistance of a woman so desperately swollen and ready to birth any day.

“My dear, would you care to have a stroll with me in my garden?” She smirked and jerked her chin, “Knowing how dear Thaddie kept his space organised I suspect the gentlemen might be a while.”

You nodded and quickly made the warning assurance, “Are you in a condition to move great feets Lady Pennicott?”

“Fret not,” She giggled girlishly and waved her hand casually, “The physician told me fresh air is delightful for the health of the babe,” she tapped the top of her belly, “I have a month or so before they come.”

Your eyes widened, she looked huge enough to give birth now, surely she wasn’t a month away!! Maybe she was going to be blessed with a pair of twins. You had such a limited knowledge of pregnancy in women. Your grandmother hadn’t given birthed a child in the last forty years before your birth!!!

She pointed the way out of the main mansion to enter the garden paths. The sun was perfect today amongst the clouds. It was neither cold nor hot nor humid and dank...it was pleasant and you could smell the fresh nature of bushels and flowers.

“How long have you been known as, The Mrs Holmes?” She inquired cheerfully with her shining silver eyes.

“...Not very long,” you replied warmly before risking a white lie, “We recently finished our honeymoon.”

She grinned and waddled passed a wooden bench, she took a quick stop to rest and pat the seat for you to join her instead of standing dumbly.

“Shall I share some words of advise?,” She hummed, “From a woman that has been married for twelve years?”

“I would be ever so grateful,” you said rushed and desperate. You wouldve listened to anything she had to say. A woman of her standing must’ve held adequate wisdom.

She warmly cupped both your hands and squeezed them. And yet there was an ice creepy into her gaze. She appeared to dissociate, her voice losing its youthful lilt. Her lip wobbled slightly.

“Men are visual creatures. While you are so young and beautiful, you must become pregnant as soon as possible,” Lady Pennicott ran her palm across your waist, her eyes like razors cut across the yard to a bush of red rose buds, “It is inevitable that our husbands will stray their gazes to other women, it is in their nature,” those grey stones in her face rolled back and weighed you down, “as I said- visual creatures. The sooner you make a babe, the easier his devotion comes,” A joyous grin returned to her thin lips, she playfully tapped the tip of your nose and stated, “Trust me upon this.”

You clenched your hand behind you and strained a smile, “I thankyou for such wise words Baroness. I will endeavour to do what I must to conceive.”

At this moment in time Sherlock had proved himself a monstrous villain. Would it be possible for you to fall pregnant?

You looked out at the divine lush greenery and exhaled softly.

“Do you garden Mrs Holmes?” the baroness queried.

You chuckled softly and removed your gloves, you flashed her a sight of your palm, “I am afraid my hands have never been introduced. My grandmother preferred I focus on mastering piano and embroidery.”

The grey orbs fluttered back at you with a surprised him, “Embroidery is a lovely skill,” she pat your hand and pointed across the field, “Please help me up Mrs Holmes, let us take a look at my lilacs.”

You stood straight up and leant out your arm, she was surprisingly light for a woman her size. She leant against you and took small timid steps to her flower patches.

She stood and admired the flower patches, pointing to different types and explaining the breeds of flowers she hoped to grow in the future.

You finally bent over enough and cupped the petals of purple to hold up to your nose and took in a wiff “They smell lovely,” from the corner of your eye was a line of crimson, “I see your roses will soon be in bloom.”

She pinched a bud that was peaking to bloom soon.

“Oh yes, the soil is rich and healthy,” she giggled, “I can’t wait for Thaddeus to return, he liked the roses. He would stand here for a while and think. I know he will love the red colour. It is his favourite shade you see...” She sighed dreamily with her eyes scanning the bushes of scarlet rose buds, “I miss him terribly. I hope he’s alright. I want him to come home soon before the baby arrives.”

A fly smacked into your eye and you sputtered, battering it away. When you gracelessly composed yourself, you stood back up to your feet beside the Lady of Groveland.

You could see how her eyes puddles with droplets of mournful tears. You felt bad for any woman that did not know where her husband was. Especially if there was a rumour about him fleeing the marriage and abandoning her in her serious pregnant condition.

Taking the chance, you boldly took both your hands into yours and now squeezed them. Another buzzing from a fly sat on your shoulder.

The day was growing warmer and a bead of sweat rolled down your neck. The fly tickled your neck and suckled along your salted skin.

You tried your best to ignore the annoying creature.

“I am sure he will Lady Pennicott,” you soothed with a soft welcoming grin, “And he will be most happy when he returns.”

She sighed solemnly and glanced back at the rose bushes. You felt obligated for her happiness in that moment. Glancing back to the house you felt a opportunity come to you.

“May I visit your nursery Lady Pennicott, so I may have references for my own in the future?”

Her eyes flickered up, her face shine bright and her hand tightened over your wrists excitedly as though she was still as youthful as a school girl.

“Why of course Mrs Holmes,” she spun on her heel and wobbled a slight, she lifted her hand and called to the maid Martha still packing the china set inside, “Please inform the detective that I am taking his wife up to the nursery.”

“Yes Baroness,” she said with a humble curtsey and scurried off while Lady Pennicott took you totally inside the house and up a grand stair case from the foyer.

9:03am Wednesday 7th May 1890, Grovelands House, The Bourne, London, England. 

Up, up, up you both climbed the stairs. You noticed how the stairs didn’t bother her ladyship once, she was fit and stridden widely whereas you were breathing a little hard by the top step.

She pulled you down a hallway to a white painted door.

She excitedly opened the door wide and practically skipped inside to show you around her future child’s room.

The walls were covered in light blue and yellow paint. There were small peonies covering the trim of the room. There was no carpet but who needed one when you had a newborn.

“Welcome to the resting nest of my baby,” Lady Pennicott proudly exclaimed, spreading her arms out at the room around you.

There was a tall shelf filled with stuffed animals and teddy bears. There was a rocking horse, a doll house, spinning tops, tin cars and rubber balls all waiting, collecting dust, awaiting the arrival of a playmate. There was a permabulator by the window sill. There was a rocking chair in one corner and against the wall closest to the door- you smiled and swaggered over curiously, “Is this the cradle you bought?”

It was made of fine cream painted wood. You chewed your bottom lip in the thought. It was a lovely crib, why was Lord Pennicott so upset by such a delightful purchase? He didn’t have money issues. You put it down as that you didn’t understand the way men thought and men will never know what women think.

“Yes,” Lady Pennicott chirped, “it is from William Whitely department store in Baywater next to the Howard & Co dress department.”

The Baroness sat down into her rocking chair and slowly moved it back and forth, watching you admire the nursery she spent hours and years consistently curating.

You clenched the edge and looked over the railing down at the empty bedding. There was a teddy lamb in the corner, you pinched it’s fluffy white tail and sighed. For a brief moment you let your eyes close and your imagination wander far.

One day you’d have this...with Sherlock. An empty cradle to be filled. You caught the vision of a tiny hand squeeze around your finger and the sound of soft gurgles with the warm pressure of a hand on your waist...was that Sherlock’s hand? Was that your child?

One day you’d have a baby to care for, to provide these things that meant love...yet, was any child of Sherlock’s capable of love? He certainly wasn’t as far as you were concerned.

You bit down a shudder and opened your eyes, feeling hot tears glide down a cheek. You pushed back and sighed, “I am most confident on one thing Lady Pennicott.”

“And what is that Mrs Holmes?” she said softly, she could see the unspoken pain in your face. You swallowed hard and your face fell into a smile, you flashed her a wink.

You laughed softly, “Your child will be spoilt rotten by the love you give.”

She chuckled with you and nodded.

“Have you thought of a name?” you inquired, waltzing over to the chested drawers of baby knick knacks on display.

“Thaddeus Colin if it’s a boy,” she hummed, “or Theresa Grace if it is a girl.”

“Theresa?”

She giggled gently, “That is my name dear.”

Mrs Theresa Pennicott. It suited her. Her old soul eyes reflected her devout name.

A shine of glass pierced a ray of sun into your eyes, you pinched the glass object carefully. You touched a long black tube pulling out of it. You couldnt understand it’s purpose, your eyes narrowed at the rubber end that was shaped like a thumb or a cows udder. There was a second tube attached to the first with a rubber squeeze ball at the end.

“What is this?” you humoured.

“Oh that? It’s a fantastic invention,” The baroness said, “It’s a pump for breast milk with a tube that syphons the milk into this baby feeding bottle. When babies start to teeth they can scar your breasts. This is an effective and modern method I look forward to trying.”

Your eyes widened, scarring!? Babies teeth could scar a breast!?

You placed the bottle bump back and helped Lady Pennicott when she beckoned to stand back up from the rocking chair.

“Have you ever felt the sensations?” She suddenly, “In which they kick within?”

Your face must’ve looked idiotic as you asked plainly, “Kick?”

She giggled and nodded, “Give me your hand, perhaps you may feel them moving.”

She plucked your palm and pulled your glove off your fingers. She pressed your entire hand intimately to her belly. You felt a sense of taboo shame, she was making you touch such a beloved spot.

“Do you feel it?” she then asked.

Felt what? Confusion flooded your mind. Your hand moved around her belly slowly.

“I am afraid I don’t know what I’m meant to be feeling?”

She moved your hand and again you felt absolutely nothing.

“They are very brutal on my body,” Lady Pennicott sarcastically assured, “trust me there is a kick.”

She made a point to push your hand harder, but all you felt was the hard material of her corsetry beneath her main dressing materials.

“Baby’s kick you inside?” you marvelled with stunned horror. This was the first time you’d ever heard of such a notion of a baby beating it’s mother inside.

“Not out of malicious intent Mrs Holmes,” she reassured, “mostly it is the baby using its limbs to move their cramped bodies inside or excitement at the sound of voices, I truly believe they can hear us while still inside. Fear not, to you it will feel like a faint touch like this-”

Lady Pennicott softly tapped your wrist, “Like that.”

And there again was new knowledge you heard from a woman on matters of pregnancy. You moved your fingers around, seeking the supposed feeling of a kick...

Still nothing. You frowned, was there something wrong with you that the baby was choosing not to reveal itself.

“How interesting...”

A soft knock on wood alerted you both to glance at the door.

“Mrs Holmes,” the butler from earlier politely spoke, “the detective is requesting your return, I believe he intends to depart.”

Your face fell. You couldn’t believe it but you’d found this experience immensely enjoyable. You had surprisingly made a friend of the Baroness.

The fair lady hugged your side and sweetly exhaled, “Then I shall escort you back to your husband, Eddie fetch me my cheque book.”

He nodded and walked ahead of you both. You solemnly shut the nursery door, trying to remember every precious detail as possible. It was a innocent place to escape from the crude world.

You returned to the bottom of the foyer and smiled at your husband that stood by Lestrade at the front doors.

By the bottom step you faced the noble woman and curtsied.

“Thankyou Lady Pennicott for your kind hospitality and agreeable cooperation to the case,” you heard Sherlock’s voice float over your shoulder.

“Of course detective, please,” the Butler returned with her cheque book, “find my beloved Thaddeus.”

She scribbled speedily with a modernised ink pen, a sharp tear of paper flashed to his direction, “Here. Thirty pounds. I am sure you are busy with other clients considering your reputation, but I beseech you to seek out my husband quickly.”

Sherlock bowed his head as he deposited the cheque into his pocket, “We shall try our hardest. Good afternoon Lady Pennicott.”

Your mouth might’ve collected flies. Thirty pounds. THIRTY pounds. That was a hefty wage for a year to many men.

Sherlock was granted his coat and walking cane along with Lestrade.

He opened the front door and left slowly, glancing over your shoulder back at the heavily pregnant Baroness.

9:21am Wednesday 7th May 1890, Grovelands House, The Bourne, London, England. 

Sherlock and you walked up the gravel path in silence for sometime. You weren’t in much of a mood to speak to him despite well knowing conversation would need to spark eventually.

The three of you slowed down beside the inspectors horse cart.

Thankfully it was Sherlock who destroyed the silence with a stretched sigh. Lestrade grimly smiled at that sigh and rocked on his heels.

“Lestrade, show a useful skill,” Sherlock slapped a coin purse into his chest, “Find my wife and I a decent ride homeward. You still need to return back to the office and finish writing those reports on the Spring heeled Jack sightings....” he snickered.

The mutton chop male grumbled and left you pair alone to walk down the path into the main parklands to hail a cabriolet or another hackney carriage.

Sherlock pulled out his pipe and lit it quickly, he inhaled fast and asked curiously, “Did you learn anything else from our suspect?”

You squinted and felt a gasp pop from your lips, your hand snapped out and dug your nails into his arm with a scolding hiss, “Suspect? Look at the state she is in Sherlock. She clearly loves her husband. How could such a indisposed woman do anything to her husband?”

He smirked, “Perhaps a jealous one?”

Your brows pulled together. Jealousy wasn’t something you would’ve describe Lady Pennicott as especially with such a privileged life. Such an emotion wouldve been beneath her...but.. ‘It is inevitable that our husbands will stray their gazes to other women, it is in their nature.’

Sherlock pinched out a piece of card from his pocket, a business calling card, he flashed it through his fingers and let you carefully pluck it from his hand.

“it is no wonder Thaddeus Pennicotts name was so familiar,” Sherlocks huffed a puff of air, “He visits a like minded establishment.”

On the front of the card was a single image, a dove holding a olive leaf, and when you turned the card around there was a woman modelled in immodest clothing with text and an address in perfect hand writing.

“The Mayfair Row Dove club.”

You almost dropped the card in the mud at your feet.

He tucked the card back into his breast pocket and hooked his arm around yours, walking you closer to Lestrade waving his hands back at you both.

“I’m curious who his go to bird is there,” He chuckled.

You shook your head and scoffed in disbelief, “but she’s pregnant.”

“Men have needs,” Sherlock sighed, “I thought you’d have learnt that from last evening?”

Your nails dug harder into his arm and grit your teeth. Not everyone was as depraved as Sherlock, surely not. You couldn’t imagine Mycroft or your grandfather practicing such atrocities on women, especially women that weren’t their wives.

You noted snootily, “She said her husband liked to stand out by the roses to think. Perhaps he regretted his choice.”

Sherlock laughed cruelly and hard enough to almost drop his pipe from his lips. He plucked it out of his mouth and kissed you hard and squarely in front of Lestrade and any passing people that shook their heads in disgust at such public affection.

The taste of his tobacco filled your cheeks and floated down your throat into your chest. You could feel how his breath became your breath. Your head grew dizzy from it. His release left you trembling and collapsing against him briefly. His arm grabbed around your waist and held you totally against his chest.

“You see too much good in the worst people,” he whispered wetly into your ear.

“Not true,” you panted, you blinked your eyes hard and tried speaking again. You weakly pushed away from him back onto your own two feet. From the corner of your eyes you could see the inspector standing beside another hackney carriage.

“Not true,” you repeated and swallowed hard, “...I don’t see any good in you Sherlock.”

He grinned devilishly and walked you both to the carriage, He ignored Lestrade entirely except for retrieving his own purse.

“None at all?” Sherlock asked as he helped you step up inside of the carriage. It jostled as he plotted himself next to you instead of opposite.

You thought hard on his question for a time. You shouldn’t have ever been as petty as him. So you kept your silence before you could decide on a eloquent response. You did try to find the good in him. The trouble was you barely knew Sherlock and the side that you’d encounter was nothing short of a blagged, insufferable man that happened to be very experienced in the arts of the bedroom. So you tried to think about qualities you hadn’t seen in him but had at least heard of him.

“You help solve cases and even sometimes restitution, these deeds could be counted as decent and beneficial...perhaps good...”

He smirked until you finished hastily, “However your mistreatment and lustful addiction is nothing short of that than a person that suffers in his sin.”

A long annoyed sigh drew from his lips, however the corners jerked up.

He tug out his pipe and tapped it’s contents out the moving window, “Might I ask Mrs Holmes...” he inquired as he tucked in his pipe, and wiped his lips thoughtfully, “Do you think yourself better than me?”

The silence shared between the horses trotting along the cobblestones allowed you a chance to glare long and hard at Sherlock.

It was a jab, a jibe, a joke, a trick, a trap...

He wanted you to say yes... You could see it in his eyes the way they flicked to your lips and almost drooled with anticipation. He wanted to start a fight.

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking at you, you turned your head away and scoffed, “You may have quick wit and a expansive knowledge Sherlock, but I at least carry myself with the fairest morals.”

And that? The reply was granted a omen of Sherlock’s sickly chuckles and his heavy warm hand to sit over your thigh, running his them over the fabric of your skirts.

“We will see how fair a baker street whore morals really are when we arrive home then shall we?”

You leant against the wall of the carriage and chose to ignore him. You closed your eyes and held Sherlock’s hand to prevent it wandering anywhere else. His thumb rubbed along the back of your gloves hands.

You couldn’t understand Sherlock. And feared you never would.

HELPLINES:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers.

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline Services

India Helpline Services.

#dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x ofc #sherlock holmes x female reader #sherlock holmes x poc!reader #sherlock holmes x y/n #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes x ofc #sherlock holmes x reader #dark!sherlock holmes #dark!henry cavill

[spooky-bunnys]

Since we hit 900 followers, I decided to write a special prompt for you guys! Hope you guys like it!

(Name) frowned as he quickened his jog to a run. He'd forgotten to get his dad to sign off for him. So he had to be quicker if he wanted to go with his club to their practice match. He adjusted his mating collar. Trying to be quiet since he knows, a certain someone was following him.

As he finally saw the Karasuno gym he sped up. Only to trip going into the door way. Which not only interupted the practice happening, but also drew all attention to him. Curse his clumsiness!

(Name) quickly picked himself off the gym floor. As he brushed off his manager track suit he looked around for his dad. Not noticing multiple Karasuno players making their way over. The first aproach looked to be the captain. An Alpha if they were going by scent.

"Um excuse me. Can I help you?" (Name) quickly bowed and tried to answer. Only to stutter and make almost no sense. "A-Ah! I-I'm looking f-for my D-DAD!" (Name) watched as the surrounding males jump as he spoke. He wanted to throw his head through a wall. Curse his shyness!

(Name) covered his face an groaned quietly. The others chuckled at the site. Loving how the shy Omega reacted. Many cooed at him. Enjoying his reactions and scent. Not noticing his uniform or how uncomfortable he was becoming.

~

Coach Ukai sighed as he finished his cigarette. He was so ready to go home. Enjoy the food cooked by his lovely son, and maybe cuddle said son while watching some sports. Lord knows the last time they were able to relax together. Both have been extremely busy recently.

He's been busy with the store and coaching. (Name)'s been busy with school, managing volleyball, and his two mates. Ukai rubbed his temples. Yeah mates. His son has two. Both were ace's and fiercely protective of him.

Well now that he thought about it. He didn't blame them for being as protective as they are. His son is the most clumsy and shy person he's ever known. Which was odd considering his family is everything but shy. Well they've also never had an Omega born into their family before (Name).

So this was new for everyone. If he also added the amount of fans/admires (Name) has. He shivered. His son has been through so much to get to where he is. He couldn't be more proud either. Although he wishes (Name) would've gone to Karasuno where he could keep an eye on him. Though considering (Name) goes to his Dame's old school. He wasn't too upset.

As he made his way back towards the gym, he picked up a very familiar scent. (Scent). (Name). Ukai practically ran towards the gym. The scene he arrived in was one that made his blood boil. He sprinted towards the crowd and started punching the tops of their heads. "Oi! How dare you corner my son!?"

The crowd of groaning student didn't answer him. He pushed them away and stood in front of the trembling Omega. "You guys ought to be ashamed of yourselves! Can't you tell he's uncomfortable!" (Name) shuffled behind his dad and gripped the back of his jacket. Hiding from the others and wanting the comfort of his father.

Ukai immediately turned and started lightly scenting his son. Hoping to calm him down. (Name) slowly calmed and burried his head in his dads chest. Not wanting to see the others. Ukai heavily glared at them over his shoulder. "Laps. NOW!" The player quickly started doing laps around the gym. Not wanting to anger their coach more.

(Name) lightly tugged on his dads coat. Finally getting his dads attention. "U-Um. You need to um, s-sign me off f-for tomorrow." Ukai sighed and ruffled (Name)'s hair. "You could've waited for tonight instead of rushing over here." (Name) opened his mouth to answer but was interupted when the gym doors swung open. Revealing a the person (Name) had been avoiding.

Oikawa Tooru. (Name)'s biggest admirer. (Name) gulp and glung to his dad. Trying to hide himself. But considering they're wearing almost matching track suits it was hard to miss him. Oikawa skipped over to the two with a bright smile. "(Name)-chan~ why'd you run off without me?" He fake pouted.

Ukai tensed when he felt how much his son was trembling. So this was the Alpha giving his son so much trouble. "O-Oikawa-senpai!" Oikawa frowned and leaned towards (Name), ignoring the glare sent to him by the elder Alpha. "Haa! How many times do I have to tell you to call me Tooru?"

(Name) flinched and tried hiding more into his dad. Oikawa scoffed and turned towards the older Alpha. "Hello sir! You must be (Name)-chan's dad!" The glare was ignored as he smiled brightly. "I'm very interested in your son. May I court him?" The aura surrounding the trio darkened.

Scaring (Name) who quickly pulled out his phone. Texting the first contact he could get to. After the message was sent, (Name)'s phone was snatched from him. Startling him greatly. Oikawa was once again frowning and bent to (Name)'s height. (Name) looked away. Avoiding the stare from his upperclassman. Hoping the male won't come closer. He was wrong.

Oikawa stepped forward, which made (Name) stumble and land on the floor. By now everyone was watching them. (Name) had started crying and trembling more. "O-Oikawa-senpai. Y-You know I-I'm MATED!" (Name) felt his soul leaving his body at the scoff he received.

He hoped one of his Alpha's will save him soon. If not who knows what will happen at this rate! Oikawa rolle his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. But why those two buff idiots, when you can have me~", sparkles surrounded Oikawa. (Name) whimpered as Oikawa squated in front of him. Ukai having enough stood in front of Oikawa.

He glared daggers at the brunette. "Oi", Ukai growled the word. "(Name) is mated to two of the strongest Alpha's. If you keep bothering him. Its not gonna be pretty. Because not only will you have to deal with all of Karasuno", Ukai spread his arms out. Oikawa looked around. Noticing the glares and growls being sent his way.

"But you'll deal with us too Shittykawa!" Entering the gym was none other then (Name)'s two mates. Iwaizumi Hajime and Ushijima Wakatoshi. (Name) tripped over himself multiple times getting up. Trying to get to his mates arms. Where he felt the safest. Once close enough (Name) was snatched by both Alpha's.

Oikawa slightly flinched at the looks sent his way by the two in the doorway. "We've told you time and time again. To leave our Omega alone. But you never fucking listen." Iwaizumi handed (Name) to Ushijima who held him close. As he made his way over, Ushijima turned (Name) away from the scene. Scenting the hysterical Omega.

Once Iwaizumi stopped he released his pheromones. Which brought Oikawa to his knees almost completely. "This is my last warning Tooru. Leave our Omega alone. Or I'll have to explain to your mother, sister, and nephew on why you won't be coming home ever again." Oikawa wanted to scoff but decided against it. Not wanting to make matters worse.

Ukai stepped forward and gripped Iwaizumi's shoulder. "Oi hedgehog. You're pheromones are everywhere. Reel them in will you. You're gonna send (Name) into a drop." Iwaizumi quickly turned to where his Omega and brother Alpha was. (Name) was slightly pale and clinging to Ushijima. Overwhelmed.

Iwaizumi sent one more glare to his ex-childhood friend, before making his way back over. Once he was close enough and lightly grabbed (Name). Scenting him carefully. Not wanting to send him into a drop. While the trio was scenting one another. Ukai started down at the panting Oikawa. Disgusted. "If you even get near my son again. So fucking help me."

Oikawa scoffed. "I'm the team captain of his volleyball team." Ukai growled before turning to the trio. "Oi! Lovers!" The Alpha's heads snapped over. Listening while (Name) was practically asleep. "Starting next week (Name) will be going to Karasuno. So you either switch schools, or be prepared to spend less time together."

Iwaizumi smirked. "I'll gladly follow (Name) to Karasuno. Although we had been discussing going to Shiratorizawa." Ukai quickly shook his head. "Hell no! I barely see him enough as it is." Ushijima frowned and looked away. "Maybe I can move closer to Karasuno instead of moving schools."

Ukai shook his head at the trio. Then smirked at the glowering Oikawa. "Now someone get this garbage out of my gym!" Kageyama and Tanaka made their way over. Wide smirks across their faces. "Our pleasure coach!"

#male reader #x male reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x male reader #iwaizumi #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi hajime x male reader #iwaizumi x male reader #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima x male reader #ushijima #ushijima wakatoshi x male reader #male omega reader

[diejager]

hmm I think you are the one to write this idea, if possible I would like a one shot about smut vil schoenheit with a fem s/o who has mommy issues, like she feels comforting with the care, the concern of vil because this feels like a "mother" (lit vil is the mother of pomefiore ) well~ but mc is in denial because she is ashamed to admit that, although vil already noticed xd, In resumen a mc with mommy issue in denial and vil who realized that can have fun with it, that would be all thank yuu \^^/

Mommy

Pairing : Vil Schoenheit x fem!reader

Cw: smut, nsfw, mommy kink, dom/sub, unsafe sex, creampie, fluff, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 941

“Oh, let it out, Schatz,” he cooed, his tone soft and tender like a mother speaking to her crying child. “Do it for mutter, hmm?”

Your face burned when he called himself mommy, he knew what it did to you and what it would make you do. His charming, yet feminine appearance and tender voice made him irresistible, a drug to your soul when he pressed his body against yours, hands holding yours as he rocked his hips. He would groan into your ears, whisper sweet words and even sweeter compliments to you, pushing your buttons to make you crumble - melt - under him and his hungry gaze. 

Each thrust was delicately made, graceful and intentional to leave you mewling, asking for more but saying it’s too much. You couldn’t make up your mind when Vil pushed you into this haze, mind numb on lust and body reactive to his touch. He was beautiful and calm, even with his golden hair sticking to his forehead and his makeup botched by your clumsy kisses. 

“You can do it, can’t you?” Vil smiled, his nose brushing your teary cheek, nodded lilacs staring into your soul. He kissed you, slow and loving, moving your lips to match the curve of his rosy Cupid’s bow. He devoured you gently, picking you up from the edge before driving you over it with pleasure and hunger. “Say it, calm me, Schatz.”

You gasped when your lips parted, swollen and red. You squealed when he hit your g-spot, pumping his cock slowly into you, dragging his head over your back wall until it slammed into your cervix. They were slow and methodical, near edging, but he always let you come twice or thrice before finding his end. 

“Mo-“ your words died before you could speak them, the sheer embarrassment of calling his mommy made you want to die, to bury yourself in the deepest hole you could dig alone. You were too ashamed of it, your issues dragging into this world as well.

“You can do it,” Vil encouraged you, fingers skimming the softness of your hips, his beautifully painted nails careful not to bruise your flushed skin, red and damp with pleasure. 

“Please, mommy-” you keened, arching into his slim figure. 

You reached for him, arms wrapped around his neck and asking with a dazed pout for a kiss. He chuckled, smiling at your unbridled hunger, the deep ache for him inside and around you, this addiction you had of him as he had of you. His lips met yours, swallowing your mewls and cries, tongue laving your bottom lip for entrance.

His thrusts were as sensual as his tongue, skilled and sharp. His tongue stole your breath away, curling around yours and moving it to his whim. You panted, searching for his hands, wanting to hold them in yours.

He happily held you, peppering your face and neck with loving pecks. He simply oozed of love and care, like a mother doting on her baby. Like the mother you never had; that was rarely caring or loving. And Vil knew that.

He teased and played, whispering obscenities into your ears when you were in public, a sly smirk curling on his lips. He was dotting and very much so Pomefiore's "mother hen", as much as he was the Prefect. He made sure you looked pretty and proper, your makeup meticulous and your hair perfect. He assured himself that your uniform and clothes were well ironed, your posture straight and your studies high.

Within the walls of his room, he liked to ruin you, his whispers becoming your reality. Bent over his dresser, staring at both your reflection while he ravaged you, hips snapping, his hands wandering your naked skin and your neck caked with his marks. Even then, he'd whisper confessions, poems of his affection. His song spilled from his tongue as he brought you to your end, cooing at you and praising you.

"Come for me, " he rasped, pushing into you, shuddering when your walls tightened around him.

You clutched his hands, fingers digging into his flesh, and your ankles locked behind him. He pressed into you, thrusting sloppily as he smothered you in kisses, locking lips until you had to breathe, letting out rattled and warm puffs.

He mumbled encouragements, telling you to come, to unravel around him as he held you through your peak. He would care for you, ride it out until you stopped twitching, string you long and high. He kissed you, swallowing your wanton cries for more.

Everything felt amazing: his body, his words and his love, his care and attention made everything so much better. It filled your senses with raw pleasure, pushing you closer to your end. You clung to him, hips bucking to match his pace, mesmerized by the sounds you both made, his balls slapping your wet ass, the squelching when fucked you slow and deep and the noise that left your swollen lips.

"Good girl," he hushed, moaning praises into your ears, dragging out your orgasms with a few thrusts, chasing his own. Heat pooled from your navel, his hot cum gushing from his raging slit, spraying ropes to cover your walls. He bucked unto you, shaft still twitching to a small drizzle.

You bloated, shivers wracking your body as his cum leaked from the sides of his softening cock. You were tired, limbs exhausted and mind dazed, but you still clung onto him, descending from your high.

"Thank you, mommy..."

Taglist : @stygianoir

#x reader #twst fanfic #twst #twst x reader #twsited wonderland #disney twst #vil smut #vil twst #vil twisted wonderland #vil x y/n #vil x you #vil schoenheit #vil x reader #twst vil #twst smut #twisted wonderland smut

[angelanderson]

living on a farm with abby & having a pet lamb 🧍🏾‍♀️ I’m so delusional

so cute :,) sorry this took so long to post! loving farmer!abby should i make this like an actual fic serious instead of just hcs? lmk!! <3 18+ under cut. men + minors = blocked. 💘💘💘

♡ farmer!abby who brought you home a pet lamb one day after you’d been begging her for weeks. “a pet lamb for my little lamb,” she’d tell you as you squeal with delight.

♡ her pet names for you include: ‘baby, little lamb, darlin’, doll, and sweetheart’.

♡ she’d build you a little garden area to grow your favorite flowers. she looks forward to the new bouquet you make each week out of them for the kitchen table vase!

♡ farmer!abby is obsessed with the days you just wear one of her white wife beaters (she calls them pleasers) and panties around. she bought you ones with lil white bows to match with her tanks.

♡ she started growing fresh vegetables and fruits once you two started dating. she loves being able to grow and give you the ingredients you need to bake! + you bake her favorite things for her as a thank you.

♡ farmer!abby is allllll about that fresh produce. she often uses what she grows to cook for you! she’ll cheekily tell you she wants you for dessert. even if it’s silly, it still gets you going. “since i made dinner, you can be my dessert.”

♡ sticks to her usual uniform of white tank, blue jeans, and boots while she’s out and about dealing with farm tasks. the way her arms look in her tops will always make you feel a lil feral…

♡ farmer!abby is the best with animals. in fact, she loves to rehab recuse animals when someone calls her about it. the few farm animals you have are all recuse fails. she just loves them so much— how could you say no to her puppy dog eyes?!

♡ farmer!abby will call you outside just so she can fuck you. she likes to see how loud she can make you because she knows it’s just the two of you around for a few acres.

♡ she’s a soft dom at heart! she loves that you let her take control while she makes you fall apart. she’ll make you cum as many times as you want, however you want when you’ve been extra sweet. “my pretty girl. just taking me so good, aren’t you, darlin? that’s it baby, just take it. i think you can cum just one more time for me, yeah?“

♡ but if you’re acting out? she won’t put up with it. she knows you’re her sweet girl, so she expects you to act like it. “what happened to my sweet doll? you know that i gotta teach you a lesson now, don’t ya? lay on your stomach, ass up. now.”

♡ her strap? makes you see god practically every time. abby’s an expert at knowing how to hit that sweet spot inside of you. “yeah? right there? you look so good riding me.” she definitely comes from fucking you when the strap rubs against her just right. and yes, she’s the type to say “save a horse, ride a cowboy”

♡ she’ll have you on your knees when you’re eating her out. something about the way you look up at her through your ruined mascara eyelashes does something to her. she’ll even have you sticking your tongue out so she can fuck your face. hands pulling you closer by your hair n all.

#farmer!abby #🧸 ur requests #abby anderson au #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson fluff #abby tlou #abby anderson headcanons

[ameliora-j]

𝕞𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕦𝕡 // 𝕖𝕞 𝕩 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪 → you hate fighting with eddie, but you love making up with him

𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕥 → smut, graphic descriptions of sex, p in v, fingering, squirting, overstimulation, angry sex, arguments, degradation, eddie is an asshole, strong language, spitting, spanking, choking, pussy spanking, size kink, bulge kink, d/s dynamics, subspace, dacryphilia, daddy kink, 18+ ONLY

𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕤 → 3.7k

𝕒𝕟 → i wrote this in 3 hours on a car ride and it’s barely edited but here ya go whores!

you hated arguing with eddie. he was soft with you, but when he got angry, that’s when you truly understood why the hellfire club was slightly afraid of him. why all of your friends said he was intimidating. why your best friend chrissy would constantly tell you that the two of you truly redefine the meaning of ‘opposites attract.’

sure you could state the obvious, eddie being at least a head taller than you. you barely made it up to his chin and could comfortably lay on his chest while standing. the height, paired with the stylistic oppositions. eddie constantly adorned in all black with rings and chains adorning his fingers and black ink permanently littered around his skin in random areas. whereas you wore a green hawkins high cheer uniform every day. ponytail high on your head with a big bow accompanying it and a wide smile permanently painted on your lips.

and there was also, of course, always the difference in the crowds. you hanging out with the jocks and cheerleaders while eddie hung out with the rejects and the nerds that played dungeons and dragons for fun.

so yeah, the exterior made the two of you look like direct antonyms of each other. but on the inside, you and eddie were one in the same. eddie was a soft heart. he liked music and cuddling and loved when you braided his hair. he liked to let you do your little skin care routines on him because it made you smile, and if there is one thing in this world that eddie loves nearly as much as you, it’s making you smile. so truly, you and eddie were the same person, it’s just the exterior that made it such a stark contrast.

you never saw the eddie that matched hsi dark and brooding exterior. you only saw your sweet boy that asked you to do face masks with him. that is, until the two of you were arguing. eddie could be pretty scary when he wasn’t angry. so when he was, it intensified by nearly ten.

you and eddie’s arguments got pretty heated. and the screaming could last for hours on end. but you have to admit, as much as you hated arguing with him, he just looked so sexy when he was angry. the vein popping out of his neck and the rise and fall of his chest and he huffed. the way his eyes rolled as he ran a hand through his hair. the groans and the way his tongue poked into his cheek as his nostrils flared. the humorless laugh he’d let out at how ridiculous you were being.

god, eddie munson is truly a work of art. and as much as you hated arguing with him, you couldn’t deny that even when he was yelling at you, you still thought he was the most beautiful thing on the planet. and the way that he screamed your name when he was angry just made you want to jump his bones.

while you hated arguing with him, you loved to make up with him. there was just something about the way that his big, thick cock dragged through the walls of your cunt, pounding into your g-spot as a ringed hand wrapped tightly around your throat. no words being exchanged, just anger passing between the two of you, releasing itself as eddie brought you over the edge time and time again until you were crying. his grumbles of “shut the fuck up” when you begged.

it was hot and heavy every time, and you loved every single second of it. you actually couldn’t get enough of the make up sex. so much so that sometimes you liked to piss him off just to have make up sex. sure, you could just ask him to rough you up, but what was the fun in that?

if you asked, it wouldn’t be as authentic. he wouldn’t manhandle your thighs apart and finger your tight little pussy open until you were squirting down his arm. he wouldn’t squeeze and grope at your body until there were bruises the size of grapes littered on your skin, accompanied by indentation marks from his rings. his handprints wouldn’t be on your ass or bruised lightly into your throat. you wouldn’t feel the glorious ache between your thighs or see the teeth marks he’d leave along your neck and chest.

to put it simply, he wouldn’t rough you up the way you like if you just asked him to. and you know this because you have before, and he just laughed. he’d told you that you were too soft for him to “treat you like a common whore.” in fact, he’d laughed for so long that your small pout quickly turned into a deep rooted frown. through his laughs, he managed to get out “princess, i have to work you over at least twice with my fingers before my cock even begins to fit in that pretty pussy.”

at that, you’d just murmured a useless and sad little “i can take it.” you both knew that you couldn’t though. not without an immense amount of prep. eddie was big. at least eight inches accompanied by a thick girth. a vein ran up the underside of it and the tip was red. he was cut, and his balls heavy. it was a nice cock.

even after he’d finger you open, there was still a burning stretch you got when he finally pushed his cock into you. but you loved that stretch even more every time. and so angering him was the only way to get him to rough you up the way that you wanted him to.

but of course, eddie didn’t want to hurt you. well… not in that way at least. there’s no denying he’s a sadist, but he’d never fuck you without preparing you first. he always fingers you open, making you cum at least twice before going in with his thick dick, no matter how angry you make him.

all of this to say… you and eddie had been arguing all week. you honestly can’t remember exactly what it was that started it. something about him not being supportive. in all honesty, you had only said it to get a rise out of him, but the more he screamed at you, telling you how you and your friends were all stuck up assholes, you started to actually become angry.

his friends used to—and still do—judge you just because you’re a cheerleader, yet you still come and sit in on hellfire club once you’re done with cheer practice. now he was just being a complete dick to you. he still gave you a ride to and from school every day, even if the car rides were filled with silence. because one of you would start talking, and that would become an argument. it’s been six days of this, and at this point you two are screaming just to see which of you is louder.

cheer practice had ended over an hour ago, and you had just been aimlessly wandering the halls, waiting for eddie to finish up with hellfire club. you sighed as you checked your watch for the umpteenth time and rolled your eyes. you practically stormed into the room, no care for knocking. “eddie!” you exclaimed in exasperation.

“what?” he growled through grit teeth, clenching his jaw and squeezing his hands into fists as he squeezed his eyes shut and rolled his neck. the anger rising in him caused the veins in his arms and hands to protrude and your cunt to clench around absolutely nothing and coat itself with slick.

you pushed back your arousa, licking your lips and taking a im deep breath. “did you just forget i have a curfew? we were supposed to leave over an hour ago!” you exclaimed, rolling your eyes.

“you don’t give a damn about your curfew when my cock is buried in you and you get home two hours late. so why do you care now?” he finally turned and glared at you.

“you don’t have to be such an egotistical prick eddie” you glared.

“and you don’t have to be such a spoiled little brat, yn! i told you that this campaign was important before i even drove you to school this morning! now you can either sit down and shut the fuck up until i’m finished, or you can get the hell out and walk your ass home!” he shouted.

the room was tense once he finished screaming. everyone in the club refused to make eye contact with him and you. your thighs were squeezing together as you nodded numbly. “bastard” you grumbled as you walked past him to sit at your designated seat beside his throne.

“bitch” he fired right back as he rolled his eyes.

“fuck you” you rolled your eyes.

“you wish you could” he scoffed before going back to his dungeon master duties. you sighed loudly, rolling your eyes for what felt like the hundredth time in the last ten minutes as you pulled out your homework. truth be told, you’d already told your parents you were spending the night at eddie’s house. however, he hadn’t released his anger on you yet, and you were craving it.

you were extremely frustrated from cheer practice, and hadn’t been fucked in a week. the immense sexual frustration you had pent up had you acting out more than normal. an extreme attitude brewing that only eddie would be able to tame. and with how angry he was right now, and how innocently sexy you looked right now. tongue poking out of your mouth slightly, legs crossed, ponytail falling in your face, and eyebrows furrowed in concentration as you worked on your physics homework.

by the time you had finished all of your homework, the campaign was finally over. you had been sitting in your seat, twiddling your thumbs and eyeing the boys to try and decipher how far they’d been. “ready?” eddie mumbled, anger practically rolling off of his body like steam as he held out his hand to you. that was the best part about eddie you think. even when he was mad at you, he was still such a sweetheart.

you nodded and took his hand, allowing him to lead you to his van. he opened your door for you and helped you in before getting in to drive. he went into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette and his lighter. you smirked at this, you knew exactly how to get him now. as soon as he lit the cigarette and took the first drag, you plucked it from his fingers and flicked it out of the window. “that’s so gross eddie, those aren’t good for you” you rolled your eyes, hiding your cheeky smirk.

you heard him take a deep breath. “are you planning on being a stupid fucking brat all week?” he glared. “look at me!” he commanded, grabbing your jaw and forcing your gaze to him as he stared down at you with a raised brow. his eyes searched your’s as you bit your lip with a small pout.

“get off!” you demanded, roughly shoving his arm off of you. “god eddie you’re such a fucking dick” you rolled your eyes.

“why are you being such a bitch?” he scoffed “you been around your little prissy friends too long,” he commented snarkily.

“better than being around the freak” you didn’t mean that. and you wished you could take it back the second you said it. but you were already in deep. you knew you were when you saw his tongue lick across his bottom lip and his jaw clench.

“what the fuck did you just call me?” he growled.

“i didn’t stutter, freak” you spoke the word slower this time. he stuck his tongue in his cheek and gripped the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles began to turn white.

“spread your fucking legs” he demanded “i don’t want to hear your bratty little fucking mouth anymore. i’m fucking this princess complex out of you tonight” you nodded quickly, scrambling around and spreading your legs as far as the seat of his van would allow. you looked at him with wide eyes as he tugged your skirt up and tugged your panties to the side, running two fingers through your slit.

his eyebrows raised in surprise as he felt how wet you were. still, he stayed silent as he pressed a finger against your clit and began to rub in small circles. you bit your lip, knowing that he’d want you to keep quiet as he pushed his middle two fingers into your slick opening. your eyes rolled back as he curled his fingers up to hit that glorious spongy spot inside you. his palm made contact with your clit as he roughly fucked his fingers into you, abusing your g-spot as he went.

“fuck” you whispered softly, bucking your hips up into his hand as he continued to press against your g-spot.

“shut your mouth” he demanded. as he fucked his fingers faster and rougher into you. “come on little slut, know it never takes you long, soak my hand” he commented. you gasped loudly, biting your lip so harshly that you nearly split it open as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. eddie road out your orgasm, never slowing down or easing up as you whined softly in overstimulation, and in no time he had you squirting down his arm a second time as he pulled into his parking spot at his uncle’s trailer.

“get your ass inside and bend over my bed. i don’t even wanna look at you right now” you nodded quickly and scampered inside, pulling off your clothes and bending yourself over his bed once you got into his room. you heard his heavy footsteps a few minutes after and you shifted nervously, your breathing picking up just slightly.

he stood behind you, silently admiring you for a minute. “shame” he muttered “i’d comment on how pretty you look right now if you hadn’t been such a fucking brat” he murmured softly, roughly spanking your ass. the compliment disguised as degradation worked to ease your nerves and eddie knew this. he always did this to make sure that you knew he still loved you, no matter how pissed off he was at you.

he hummed softly as he bent at his waist and pressed an opened mouth kiss to your right butt cheek. he spread your cheeks before spitting onto your winking hole and rubbing his thumb around it gently. you heard shuffling, and then the thudding of his clothes. you whimpered in desperation as you heard his belt unbuckling. that was the only warning that you received before he stuffed you full of his cock in one go. you knew he was truly angry with you when he didn’t give you time to adjust, only pistoned his cock head into your g-spot as you moaned loudly at the delicious stretch.

“fuck, cunt’s so fuckin’ tight” he grunted as you clenched around him. he reached forward and wrapped his ringed hand around your throat, dragging you up so that your back met his chest as he squeezed, effectively cutting off your air supply.

“is this what you needed?” he grunted as he roughly fucked into you. “been a fucking bitch lately cus i haven’t fucked you?” he asked.

you nodded rapidly, gasping and gulping softly. “yeah” you whimpered “yeah, yeah, jus needed the attitude fucked out of me, eds” you moaned quietly, eyes rolling back.

“well say that next time” he commanded, taking his free hand and spanking your clit a few times. “come on, soak my cock” he commanded.

“sorry” you moaned “fuck fuck eddie sorry sorry sorry” you moaned loudly as you came. the only thing keeping you upright was eddie’s arm around your waist as your legs shook so violently until they gave out. he gave you no time to come down as he roughly gripped your hips and flipped you over to your back.

he slapped your thighs apart, stroking his dick twice before shoving it back into your still clenching cunt. you shrieked loudly reaching up and gently pushing at his abdomen to get him to slow down. “don’t run from it” he shook his head “you wanted this, now take it,” he demanded.

he threw your leg over his shoulder, angling so that his cock hit your g-spot right on target every time he thrusted back into you. you were practically sobbing in pleasure as he squeezed your hips tightly, definitely leaving bruises as he dragged you up and down on his cock. “play with your clit baby, let me see you make your little pussy feel good” you nodded rapidly, reaching down and beginning to rub your clit in tight circles.

your moans were nonstop. resounding off the walls as he pounded into your cunt with no care for your comfort. you could practically see the anger dissipating from his body as he leaned down and began sinking his teeth into your breasts. the first bite made you see stars, practically screaming as you creamed on his cock and tears cascaded down your cheeks.

“you’re so fucking gorgeous when you cream on my cock” he commented as he continued sucking hickies into your skin. you whimpered softly as he grabbed your other leg, taking them both in his hands and pushing them up so your knees were at your chest. “fuck” he grunted, eyes rolling back into his head.

“please” you whined quietly, squirming away from the pleasure.

“oh you can take one more, right princess?” he asked softly “for me? can you cum with me one more time?” he hummed, gently pushing your hair away from your sweaty forehead.

“for you daddy” you nodded deliriously and he smirked proudly at the fact that he’d gotten you to say it.

“there’s my good girl” he nodded softly. his thrusts slowed down, but they were just as hard as before, slamming harshly into your g-spot as he played with your swollen little bundle of nerves. “fuckin’ hell, i love feeling this little pussy stretch around me” he grunted “look at that” he marveled, pushing down on the outline of his cock in your tummy. “you like how daddy fills you up?” he murmured softly.

“yeah daddy” you nodded rapidly “make me feel so good” you sniffled. you stared up at him with glossy eyes, tears falling slowly down your cheeks as you marveled at him. eddie loved getting you like this. dependent on him. you looked up at him like he himself put the stars in the night sky and caused the sun to rise in the morning.

“fuck baby, keep lookin at me like that ‘n i’m gonna fill this pretty cunt with m’babies” he grunted softly. “you gettin close?” he asked as he felt you clenching around him.

“mhm” you murmured, nodding “can i please cum” you whimpered softly.

“go on, pretty girl, whenever you’re ready” he assured. that was the last you remembered. your fifth and final orgasm of the night had you seeing white. your eyes squeezed shut and your back arched off of the bed into a high c shape. you distantly heard eddie’s “holy shit” but you definitely felt him harshly rubbing your clit.

when you came to, you were laying in a puddle “fuck yeah, do it again” he murmured, starting to fuck into you again. you whined loudly as you felt the knot forming again, you didn’t have time to stop it before it exploded again, eddie once again rubbing your clit to ride it out as he pulled out before pushing back in.

“so fucking sexy when you squirt on my cock” he murmured softly, leaning over you. “open your mouth” he commanded softly “gotta wash it out since you’ve forgotten how to use manners when speaking to people” he hummed softly, placing his thumb in your chin as you opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue. he hummed softly as he bent forward and spit onto your awaiting tongue. you moaned softly as you swallowed it and you stared up at him.

“god, i love it when we make up” he murmured softly.

“ruin my makeup” you begged softly.

“yeah baby? want me to make a mess hmm? paint your pretty little face with my cum?” he asked softly.

“please” you pouted up at him.

he smirked as he crawled up and straddled your chest. ”my filthy little cheerleader, stick out your tongue” he hummed softly, tapping the head of his dick on your slightly parted lips. you followed his order and he cursed softly as he began to rapidly stroke his cock over your face. you helped him out by flicking your tongue along his tip. “shit shit shit, cumming” he groaned loudly as he painted your face in his cum, his eyes squeezing shut.

once eddie had finished, he gently cleaned you up with a warm cloth before getting you into the bathtub. he was gently cleaning you off as he hummed your favorite song to you, and pressed soft kisses along your hairline. “‘m sorry for callin you a freak” you whispered quietly from your place on his chest.

“yeah?” he hummed “‘m sorry for callin you a bitch” he murmured softly. “and for not supporting you. ‘s not fair that you’re always at my campaigns but i don’t come to your games” he whispered as he kissed your shoulder.

“it’s okay” you whispered softly.

“i’ll be at the next one. i promise” he murmured, holding out his pinkie to you. you giggled as you interlocked your pinkies and kissed his hand as he did the same. “didn’t hurt you right?” he whispered, gently checking your bruises.

“no eds… liked it, i promise” you nod softly.

“i really did corrupt you, pretty cheerleader,” he smirked.

“i love you eds” you whispered, relaxing against his chest. “told m’parents i was staying with you this mornin before you picked me up” you yawned softly, snuggling into him.

“i love you too, you little menace” he murmured softly “sleep, i’ll get you cozy” he assured softly.

[follow my library blog and turn on notifications to be notified when i post a new fic!]

#nsfw.nani #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x yn #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

■●○Shojou Pain○●■

“I want to have a connection with someone. I want to be needed by someone. I want the confidence to feel like it’s okay to live.”

Jujutsu Kaisen / reader

■First Years MEET Yuta Okkotsu!■

-

"Eh~? That's THEE Okkotsu?" Kugisaki mumbled boredly, crossing her arms as she watched from below the classroom window. Lightly glaring at the dark-haired sorcerer that came up to Maki and the other second-years as they were training.

"What? Lemme' see!" Yuji says in suprise, trying to take a peek as he scoots over to Nobara. You follow as well, excited at the idea of seeing him. The girl growls angerily, closing the window quickly. "Hmph, he's not that interesting. He looks a bit eerie to me."

Yuji flinched and stumbled back a bit due to her outburst. While you smile awkwardly, glancing at Megumi as he tried to look disinterested. You go to his side as Kugisaki rants to Itadori.

"Fushiguro, aren't you a bit curious?" You ask softly, shrugging as he shook his head. "I actually know of Okkotsu-Senpai." He pauses, noticing that Yuji and Nobara went quiet, listening in on the conversation.

You also gaze at him innocently, wanting him to continue.

Fushiguro sighs, rolling his eyes. "He's a special grade, and he's close with the second-years. He's been abroad, training." He stated plainly.

"Huh? That's it??" Itadori asks, still curious.

Fushiguro eye twitches at the comment. "If you want to know more, ask him yourself."

You frown, "Fushiguro's right... BUT-" The male groans as you smile cheerily. "At least ONE MORE fact about him, please?" You said, leaning on his desk as you give puppy-eyes, Yuji following after.

"...Fine, just stop doing that. It's gross." Megumi mumbles, glancing away with a disgruntled expression.

You and Yuji stop, laughing as you high-five one another in triumph!

"I think Gojo once mentioned that he was related to him..." He said, getting up from his desk. Norbara's face scrunched up in disgust. "No wonder hearing about him gets on my nerves.." She mumbles under her breath with a huff.

-

You stare off into space, gazing at the shoujo manga held delicately in your hands. Eyes brighter than shooting stars as they look for answer in the book.

Eyes almost bursting from your skull, you read each phrase and scene as the heroine sees the love interest. Hoping for something to aid you in your... Problem.

The Heroine drawn adoringly in a typical school girl, seifuku. Hair styled in a unique way to make her stand out to the viewer. Eyes sparkling in a glassy-eyed manner as her plump lips frown.

"First years!" Gojo said happily. "Let me introduce you... This is Yuta Okkotsu! Your senior! Treat him well!" Gojo does an excited gesture as the supposed "Yuta Okkotsu" smiles timidly.

Your eyes widen when taking in his appearance.

Dark blue eyes with hints of dark circles under his eyelids. His skin was a bit sun-kissed, yet still a creamy white. A loose white uniform jacket with sleeves that stop at his forearms. Dressed in slender blue jeans that tuck into white sneakers that match his jacket. A katana case was strapped to his back as his large frame was almost tall as your teacher.

You could only gaze at him, head in the clouds as your heart started to burst like a shaken can of soda! Fizziness and warmth pop in your veins all at once!

What was going on with you-!?

The Heroine, drawn to the mystery Male Lead. Asks for his name.

"Introductions!" Gojo clapped as Fushiguro stood up first, bowing politely in acknowledgment to his senior.

"Fushiguro Megumi."

Nobara stood as well, begrudgingly. "Kugisaki Nobara."

"Yuji Itadori! I like girls that look like Jennifer Lawrence!"

Fushiguro and Nobara deadpan at the introduction their fellow first-year gave. Finding it utterly embarrassing and a bit stupid. Yuji smiles politely, glancing at you. Expecting you to go next, but you were silent?

Your friends and teacher glance at your frozen form. Before blinking and getting up as well.

Okkotsu turns his attention solely on you. His dark irises cause your heart to stutter as you clumsily stand.

"Uh...- (Y/N) (L/N)." You state more seriously than intended. Face becoming a darker color as you sit back down.

The Heroine shyly glances away as the male lead leaves her side, going off into the night dramatically.

You dropped the book on your lap, a soft sigh leaving you as you lean back. Head falling back on Yujis bed. Your friend laughs at your expression.

"You doing alright?"

You groan in response, eyes still shining as your head remaind in the clouds of your imagination.

Yuji sighs, picking up the manga. Skimming through it curiously, before going to his shelf. Finding one if his shonen manga, then comparing the two in silence.

"So... What I'm understanding is that-"

"I think I like him, Yuji." You blurt out softly, the revelation overcoming you with a sticky-sweet sensation in your stomach.

Your roommate blinks, laughing a bit. Before becoming quiet.

"...You' serious?"

You slowly lift your body up, sitting on your knees. Gazing at Yuji determinedly as you nod, lips quivering between a smile and a frown.

"O...Okay.."

He breathes out, your gaze strong. Filled with sincerity, almost as if you were mimicking the protagonist from the manga he held.

"So... You gonna' confess-?"

"WAIT HOLD UP!"

-

[Taglist Open!]

[Yay! More JJk content! Augh!! I love Yuta! I hope to write more Jujutsu kaisen content, hopefully! I forgot I wrote an old Gojo / Reader while back! Lol! Thank you for reading! Update soon! Comments appreciated! If wanting to be on Taglist Comment below!]

#jjk x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk #jjk spoilers #jjk yuta #yuta okkotsu #yuta oneshot #yuta okkotsu x reader #yuta okkotsu x you #yuji itadori #megumi fushiguro #nobara kugisaki #jujutsu kaisen yuta okkotsu #jjk manga #jjk movie #rika orimoto #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yuuta okkotsu #jujutsu kaisen yuuta #okkotsu yuuta #yuuta x reader #yuuta x you #jjk yuuta #yuuta okkotsu x you #yuuta okkotsu x reader #okkotsu yuta fluff #jjk okkotsu #okkotsu yuta x you #okkotsu yuta x reader

[pasukiyo]

Hi! Not sure if you are still taking requests but I had an idea and so I was curious like Tom has no interest in Quidditch at all, a big zero but! How would Tom react when he comes to the play for the first time, because he promised reader that he would come and watch her play and then something goes wrong and he sees her gets badly hurt?

𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 | tom riddle

tom riddle x f!hufflepuff reader 5,694 words warnings: fluff (for once) slight angst summary: tom riddle wasn’t one for quidditch. or love. but everything he thought would be questioned the moment you convince him to come to a quidditch match, and he nearly loses you. it all feels like a dream.

 Tom Riddle remembered the day he began to fall in love all too well.

 It started off a day like any other, he remembered sitting in the Great Hall for breakfast, Tiernan Lestrange and Clarence Avery at his sides, the others on the opposite side of the table. The two of them were bickering back and forth about some Slytherin girl they both seemed to fancy, the others snickering behind their goblets while Tom remained silent, frankly quite uninterested in the topic as he chose to instead engross himself in his Astronomy book. 

 “She always sits nearest to me in Potions,” Tiernan was saying, leaning forward to glare at Clarence over the table. “It must be true love then, right Lestrange?” Liam Mulciber sniggered from behind the rim of his cup, and Tiernan turned to curl his lip at him. 

 “Well, she let me borrow her Divination book,” Avery replied, a smug look washing over his pale face. “I don’t suppose she lets you borrow any of her things?”

 “Divination?” Dolohov snorted across the table. “You don’t need the book for that class, all you have to do is make stuff up. Really, Clarence, she probably just thinks you’re stupid.”

 Lestrange’s body trembled with the force of his laugh, and Tom narrowed his eyes, trying to will his mind back on the black, inky words of his Astronomy book.

 “That’s not true,” Avery hissed, cheeks seared with scarlet flame. “I’ll have you know that I have top marks in—“

 “Would the two of you be so kind as to take your argument elsewhere?” Tom’s eye twitched and he tore through the conversation like a knife, leaving the others to tighten their lips, not daring to make even the smallest of sounds. “I am trying to read.”

 For a moment, all was silent, and the group blinked at Tom as his shoulders heaved in a sigh, attempting to re-immerse himself back in his book. Lestrange swallowed the boulder-sized lump that had formed at the base of his throat, bowing his head, the others following suit. “Yes, of course. Sorry, my Lord.”

 They didn’t dare utter a word for the remainder of breakfast and eventually, they all up and left, leaving Tom on his own at the Slytherin dining table, save for a group of third years at the end. At last, he could read in peace without the others breathing down his neck or arguing over something as silly as love in his ear. 

 Just as he flipped to the next page of the book, the doors to the Great Hall slammed open, laughter and conversation pinging off the stone walls of the large room, Tom’s focus all at once being thrown off course. His eye twitched again as he snapped his head up to the source of all the noise, his gaze following the mass of yellow Quidditch uniforms as they made their way over to the table on the far side of the Hall. 

 And just at the head of the group was her, hair swept back into a ponytail, her eyes locking onto his even from all the way across the room. Her face split into a brilliant smile and she raised a leather-clad hand above her head, wobbling it in a wave. 

 Tom Riddle blinked. 

 It was classic. It was her. 

 He should’ve anticipated this. She was always there, and for a reason unbeknownst to him, he was always drawn to her, could always feel her presence in a room, could always find her in a crowd. It was frustrating. It was irritating. It was disgusting. 

 He remembered watching as she sat to join the other Hufflepuff Quidditch players at their table— they must’ve had an early morning practice. He wasn’t sure why he felt inclined to care—after all, it was no secret that Tom Riddle loathed Quidditch. 

 He could never understand the interest. Why watch a bunch of fools fly around on broomsticks and toss balls into hoops when there were more beneficial ways to spend your time on? To be quite frank, Tom saw Quidditch as nothing more than a waste of time. 

 But even then, he still couldn’t bring himself to tear his eyes away from her. Seeker and Captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team— he’d heard she was actually quite good at the sport, but a series of losses seemed to muddy her reputation. He’d heard other Houses snicker about it before— “Hufflepuff’s Captain caught the Snitch again, but the team was still down nearly two hundred points, and they lost anyway. Honestly, how unlucky can you be?” 

 How unfortunate, indeed. 

 Even then, she seemed content with her team, her House, everything. Tom couldn’t seem to understand how someone could be so happy, so fine with having to settle with everyone else’s ignorance. Nevertheless, there she was, laughing and cheering with the rest of the Hufflepuff team, as if they weren’t the worst Quidditch team Hogwarts had seen in years. 

 She must’ve felt Tom’s stare on her, for he could see even from all the way across the Hall how she blinked and turned her head, her eyes quick to find his. Her face lifted into a grin and she raised her hand to wave again. 

 Tom pursed his lips and slammed his Astronomy book closed. He needed to leave. 

 Tucking his book under his arm, he pushed himself away from the Slytherin dining table, striding towards the double doors of the Great Hall. He could feel eyes beading into the back of his head and he sniffed at the feeling, willing himself to keep his head forward. 

 He couldn’t understand why she was capable of getting so into his head. No one had ever had such an effect on him before, so why her? They were polar opposites— she loved Quidditch, she loved being around people, she was outgoing, fun, and he was… well, quite introverted. 

 People adored him, even he, himself, knew it. He guessed it came with being Head Boy, along with his services to the school. But Tom was less than appreciative towards the attention he received— he wanted nothing more than to be left alone, whether it be by the other students or the teachers. Professor Slughorn, in particular, was one of his biggest obstacles. Even his followers were as burdensome as they were irritating, more times than not. 

 All Tom Riddle really needed was himself. He didn’t care for anyone else, and he never would. He had come this far without trusting anyone— so why did he feel like that all could potentially come crashing down because of her? Why did he feel a pull towards her, like metal to a magnet? 

 The irritation with himself grew like a weed inside of him and with each angry step he took up the Grand Staircase, he tore through his annoyance with a blade. He needed to get a grip on himself, and as he made his way down one of Hogwarts’ many long corridors, he chanted the same phrase over and over again inside of his head:

 You do not need anyone else. 

 He spent the latter half of the morning and the beginning of the afternoon in the Library, forcing his mind into the hardcover spread on the table before him, his fingers gripping either edge of the book like it was the only thing anchoring him down to the inky, black words on the pages. Still, he could not rid his mind of the Hufflepuff girl— but why? He tried to remember every interaction he had ever had with her, if there was anything she had said that seemed to stick with him. Instead, the image of her smile and the memory of her warm, benevolent words made his insides twist with a feeling he didn’t even want to acknowledge. 

 He’d tried his best up to this point to make himself as unlikeable as possible— but even being short with her or brushing her off altogether never seemed to steer her off course. She was always just there, finding him even during the rush of lunch or dinner, asking how his day was or wondering how he felt about his classes. She seemed to try to find anything to say that may keep his attention. 

 She was nothing if not for her persistence. 

 And no matter how hard he tried to convince himself that she was annoying, he still found himself thinking of her, his mind burning with the way her face would split into a smile when she saw him, how happy she always seemed to be to see him. 

 He hated how fluttery his heart would feel at the notion that perhaps, she fancied him, his stomach doing somersaults at the idea of a relationship with her.

 Tom blinked down at his book. 

 This was really getting quite annoying. 

 For the second time that day, he slammed his book closed and sighed, leaning back into his seat, absentmindedly staring at the old hardcover. Perhaps a walk would suffice in clearing his mind— yes. Maybe all he needed was some fresh air in his lungs. 

 He pulled away from his seat and tucked the book away in his knapsack, nodding his head in acknowledgment to the old Librarian as he pushed the doors of the Library open. Keeping his lips pressed tight together, he clasped his hands behind his back as he ventured down the hallway towards the entrance to the Hogwarts Grounds, breathing the fresh air into his nostrils when he pushed the doors open, the afternoon sun kissing his pale cheeks. 

 The Grounds were bustling with students, which made sense, considering it was a Saturday. He just hoped he looked as unapproachable as possible— the last thing he needed was for someone to bother him, and he desperately hoped his followers weren’t around. He wasn’t confident he’d be able to bear their company without snapping at the moment. 

 It was warm today, the breeze adding the perfect amount of chill. The sky was a bright blue, and only a few wispy clouds painted its canvas. He thought for sure his mind would clear in no time—it was a beautiful day, after all. That was until just up ahead from the North exit of the Grounds emerged a group of students in bright yellow uniforms, their leader being none other than the very girl he had been trying to rid from his mind. 

 And of course, she was looking his way, and of course she was trotting up to him, that damned face illuminated with that damned smile. 

 “Tom!” She exclaimed as she jogged up, and once she was in front of him, he could see the faint traces of dirt on her cheeks, as well as the way the skin on her hairline glistened with a thin layer of sweat. His gaze flickered to her lips as her tongue swiped between them, and for a moment, he eyed the way her chest heaved as she caught her breath. 

 He could practically feel the knot tying itself at the base of his throat. 

 He cleared his throat and murmured her name in acknowledgment, nodding his head. “It’s a fine day today, isn’t it?” She asked, squinting her eyes as she gazed up at the sky. “I was lucky to have reserved the pitch for practice this morning. Finally beat your Neil Lament to the punch, for once.”

 He blinked— why was it that he suddenly seemed interested in Quidditch so long as she was the one talking about it?

 “Yes, I suppose,” he replied, his voice sounding void of emotion. This would usually be enough to scare anyone away— but not her. 

 “You know, I wish you’d come to our Quidditch matches, at least every once and awhile,” she leaned in, nudging his arm with her elbow. Tom tensed at the touch, the little hairs on the back of his neck standing erect, his skin erupting into flame in her touch’s wake. “We play Slytherin next Saturday, and we looked really good at practice today. Perhaps we’ll even have a shot at getting our first win of the season!”

 She trailed off, suddenly looking anywhere but at him. “I’d… I’d really love it if you’d come.”

 She blinked up at him, and she seemed to flush when he met her gaze, clasping a hand over her wrist. Tom could hear his heartbeat thundering in his chest at the realization that for some strange reason, he felt he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he disappointed her. His voice hardly felt like his own when he said, “perhaps, I will.”

 She blinked once, twice, thrice, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing. Tom, himself, couldn’t quite believe the words that had tumbled from his mouth either. 

 “Really?” Her lips curved into a grin and she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth— Tom hoped the swift glance he stole to her mouth was as discreet as he intended it to be. She grasped the handle of her broomstick with either hand and she turned her head to glance over her shoulder at her team where they stood waiting, calling out her name and waving her back.

 She tried to conceal her smile as she began to back away from Tom, hugging her broom to her chest. “I’ll hold you to your word then,” she said. “I expect to see you there!”

 Tom watched as she turned and bounded back to her team, peering back over her shoulder at him as the others dragged her away towards the castle. 

 Tom couldn’t believe he agreed to go to a Quidditch match— something he’d avoided altogether for seven years— all because she said she wanted him to. Tom swallowed a lump of saliva back down his throat— strangely enough, he found himself looking forward to the match next week. 

 He didn’t think the Quidditch match that next Saturday could come any sooner. Of course, he’d seen her around the castle, but something within him couldn’t quite wait to see her reaction when she noticed him in the questionable Quidditch stands. 

 Course, he still didn’t understand why he felt the urge to go in the first place. Why was it that he hated the idea of letting her down if he didn’t show up?

 If Saturday had only crept up on him, then the time for the match to begin made a break straight for him and sent him pummeling to the ground— and it was only when he entered the empty Slytherin common room that he realized he was running terribly late. 

 He made haste for the common room exit, failing to notice the group of boys looming in the corner until they were right on his heels, and he stiffened at the sound of someone’s voice.

 “My Lord, we’ve been waiting for you all morning.”

 He turned to gaze at his followers, expression as hard as stone. Liam Mulciber was at the head of the group, and the ball at the base of his throat visibly bobbed when he swallowed, realizing nobody else was going to speak up. 

 “Forgive me for asking you of this, my Lord,” he murmured, wetting his lips with his tongue. Tom only looked at him, not bothering to feign interest. “Well, I… we… were wondering where you were going,” Liam managed at last, his shoulders now lax as he inhaled. Tom sniffed, “since when did my whereabouts become your business?”

 Liam Mulciber’s body tensed again, and the others seemed to be more interested in the floor than Tom. Mulciber’s lips moved to speak again, but the ticking of the mental clock in Tom’s mind was thundering now— he was late. 

 “If you all are done interrogating me now, I’d like to get moving,” Tom said simply, turning to push open the door of the common room. “I have somewhere to be.” 

 Tom left them in the common room speechless, the sound of the door slamming shut behind him echoing in the Slytherin dungeons. His heavy, methodical footsteps were next to permeate the stone corridor as he strode to the exit, pushing open the next set of doors until he was on the steps of the Grand Staircase. Seeing as nobody else was around, he fell into an uncharacteristic sprint up the stairs. 

 “Is that Tom Riddle?” One of the paintings on the wall asked somewhere behind him.

 “I suppose it is! Hah! Never seen that boy run a day in his life. Always so aloof, that one is,” he could hear another one say. He didn’t allow himself the time to even scowl at this remark. 

 He bursted through the doors leading to the Hogwarts Grounds, and just over the stone walls on the far side of the yard, he could see the top of the Quidditch pitch, a flurry of yellow and green uniforms every once and awhile peeking from behind the stands. He could hear the muffled cheers and chants even from all the way down where he stood and he huffed, making a break for the North exit. 

 When he finally arrived, he clambered up the first set of stairs leading up to the nearest green stand he could find, dusting off his robes and huffing when he reached the top. 

 So this is what the Quidditch pitch looked like, he thought to himself. He’d never been up in the sketchy wooden stands, never been on the pitch itself, never even been within feet from the bleachers. He could feel hundreds of eyes on him as he sat in the nearest available seat in the front row, pressing his lips together and clenching his jaw, ignoring the murmurs behind him. 

 “Jason Wilbrook scores another ten points for Hufflepuff! Hufflepuff is now up eighty to thirty!” 

 The Slytherin students around Tom all grumbled, the stands on either side erupting into cheers, chanting for Hufflepuff. He blinked— although he knew absolutely nothing that was going on in the game itself, he knew it was an absolute rarity that Hufflepuff was actually winning, and against Slytherin for that matter. 

 He scanned the air and the different players in yellow uniforms until he saw her, dormant where she sat on her broom, her ponytail whipping behind her as she searched— more than likely for the Snitch. But when she looked down and her line of vision seemed to aim straight for him, he knew the little golden ball wasn’t the only thing she had been looking for. 

 Even from all the way down where he was, he could see the way her skin lit up as her lips curved into that bright smile of hers, and he could already see her leather-clad hand raising above her hand to wobble down at him in a wave. Tom didn’t make any moves to reciprocate, but he couldn’t seem to peel away from her either. Not even when something small but shiny whipped by her and she gasped, squeezing the handle of her broom with either hand as she leaned forward in pursuit of the Snitch. 

 “Oh! It seems Hufflepuff’s Seeker has spotted the Snitch!” The announcer’s voice bellowed from the amplifier in his hand. “Hufflepuff scores another ten points, making the score ninety to thirty but— uh oh, it seems Slytherin’s own Seeker, Neil Lament, has spotted the Snitch as well!”

 It was all happening so fast, but still, Tom’s eyes were trained on her and the way her yellow uniform whipped behind her as well as her hair while she chased the Snitch. Neil Lament, a burly seventh year with olive skin was at her side, his lips curled in a snarl as he rammed his shoulder into her, nearly knocking her from her broom. 

 Tom could taste bile on his tongue and his brow deepened with a scowl. The other Slytherins around him were chanting Neil’s name, yelling foul things about her, things that he hadn’t even realized were making his blood boil until he felt his cheeks warm with vexation. 

 “Hufflepuff scores another ten points and— oh, Merlin! Neil Lament has shoved the Hufflepuff Seeker and—“

 Tom needn’t hear more. He saw it as it happened. 

 Neil was seething, and seemed to have enough with this race. Gripping the handle of his broomstick with black leather gloves, he used all of the strength he could muster in his body to throw his shoulder into the girl beside him and her fingers slipped from her broom, just barely managing to latch back on before it was too late. 

 With her heart thudding against her chest, she willed her balance back onto her broom, exhaling a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding as she looked up and—

 —everything went black. 

 Tom’s lips parted as he watched the large, mud-colored ball ram into the side of her head before dashing away as if nothing had happened. He watched as her fingers unhooked from around her broom and her eyelids fluttered closed, her consciousness slipping away from her as she fell slack, her body limp as it fell from the broom and began to make its long descent for the ground. 

 Tom’s fingers were curled around the wand in his robes before he could even wrap his head around what was happening, his lips parting and forming the word “Levioso!” just before her body could hit the ground below. His blood was running cold, frost icing over his lungs as he guided her down into the green of the pitch, and he released his breath as soon as she was sprawled on the grass. 

 Everything after was a blur. 

 He barely remembered the trip down the wobbling wooden stairs of the stands, hardly remembered searching for the entrance to the pitch, but he did remember when a group of teachers emerged from beneath one of the stands, her body limp in the arms of Albus Dumbledore. 

 His feet were moving without his brain willing them to, and it wasn’t long before the professors acknowledged his presence. 

 “Tom, my boy,” Professor Slughorn’s lips curved into a smile as he grabbed his shoulders, locking him in place as her body was being taken away. His eyes couldn’t leave her. “That was you that casted the Levicorpus charm on her, yes? I must say, I admire your quick thinking and—“

 “Apologies, Professor. But I wish to see to her—“

 “Not to worry, dear boy,” Slughorn clapped his shoulder, brushing a piece of lint from the black of Tom’s robes. “Rest assured, Madame Everleigh will see to it that she’s nursed back to full health. Now, in the meantime—“

 Tom couldn’t bear to hear whatever it was Slughorn had to say next. He was tearing away from the professor’s grip and making long strides toward the castle where Albus Dumbledore, along with the rest of the teachers, disappeared into. His feet were on autopilot, making a beeline for the Hospital Wing. 

 When he finally arrived, she was already settled onto a bed, Dumbledore and a few other teachers talking amongst themselves as the Matron, Madame Everleigh, tended to her. Albus Dumbledore caught Tom’s eyes where he stood at the entrance to the infirmary. He excused himself from the other teachers and sauntered over to where Tom stood, hands clasped behind his back. 

 “That was some quick thinking you had back there,” Professor Dumbledore praised, but Tom was hardly comprehending his words. “Is she alright?” Was all Tom could bring himself to ask, and Dumbledore turned to glance over his shoulder before turning back to Tom, pursing his lips and nodding his head. “She’s unconscious, but she’s stable. She’ll definitely wake up with a ghastly headache, that’s for certain.”

 Tom blinked, expressionless. He wasn’t one for humor. Perhaps Professor Dumbledore already knew that. He wouldn’t question it, for now. 

 “I’m sure Madame Everleigh will have nursed her back to consciousness soon,” Dumbledore said. “She needs rest. I wouldn’t suppose Mrs Everleigh would find any issue in you keeping her some company, so long as you stay out of her way.”

 Tom bowed his head, and Dumbledore reciprocated as he watched the Head Boy pass by, noting the concern the boy had for the girl lying on the hospital bed. Interesting, Albus Dumbledore thought to himself before ambling towards the exit, pushing open the door in front of him. 

 Madame Everleigh paid him no mind, most likely not even realizing he was there at all as she fluffed the pillow beneath the girl’s head, making sure it was well supported. The other teachers had since dispersed, leaving the only ones left in the infirmary Tom Riddle, Madame Everleigh, the Hufflepuff Captain, and a young Gryffindor on the opposite wall, groaning into a large tin bucket. 

 Tom cleared his throat and it was then that Madame Everleigh acknowledged his presence, blinking up at him. “Excuse me, Madame Everleigh,” he began. “You wouldn’t mind if I stayed and kept her some company, would you?”

 Madame Everleigh shrugged, her small frame circling the bed to reach for something from the table on the other side. “So long as you stay out of my way, I see no problem with it.”

 Tom Riddle spent the afternoon sitting in a chair at her bedside, letting Madame Everleigh tell the other Hufflepuff Quidditch players her condition when they finally arrived, a somber air around them as they grumbled about their loss when the game had started off so promising. 

 It wasn’t until after dinner that the girl on the bed finally began to stir, and Tom pushed himself up on his seat, blinking down at her as her eyelids began to peel open. She grumbled something incoherent as she cradled the side of her head, the very one the bludger had hit hours before. 

 When she finally came to, she squinted over to the boy at her bedside. “Tom?” Her voice was low in a hoarse whisper, and Madame Everleigh was quick to join her at her other side, holding a cup of water to her lips. 

 “You will be sore for a while,” the Matron informed her. “It’s best if you stay here and rest for the time being. You’re lucky you weren’t unconscious for days.”

 She waited until Madame Everleigh was gone before turning back to Tom, even in pain, her face splitting into a smile. “Quite the first Quidditch match for you, wasn’t it?” 

 Tom, with his expression as hard as ever, leaned back in his seat and scoffed, not a hint of amusement on his face. He couldn’t believe she was cracking jokes when she was in pain, when he was over here worried for her. Her ignorance was astounding. 

 “You were hurt,” he replied, voice deep and rumbling. Her smile dropped and she frowned, furrowing her brows. “But I’m alright now,” she replied, narrowing her eyes at him. For a few moments, neither said anything. Her gaze was penetrating, as if she were trying to see through him. 

 None had ever tried and succeeded before. 

 “You were worried for me, weren’t you?”

 Until now. 

 Tom blinked, his eye twitching as he tore his gaze away from her, choosing to instead peer out the windows on the far wall. It was all becoming too real, this ever-growing feeling inside of him for the girl before him. Up until now, he could’ve played it off as being all in his head. But now that she was saying it aloud— it was too much. Too real. 

 She released a breathy laugh, and she reached to prod a finger against his forearm, his skin tingling with the phantom of her touch. “You were totally worried about me,” she tittered. “How lucky am I to have Tom Riddle, Hogwarts’ very own Head Boy looking after me?”

 Tom sunk his molars into the flesh of the inside of his cheek and he sniffed, shifting in his seat. “Do you want an award or something?” He questioned, and she chuckled. “Now he’s making jokes?” She raised an eyebrow to her hairline. “You’re full of surprises, Tom Riddle.”

 “It’s called being sarcastic.”

 “Is it?”

 Tom pressed his lips together to form thin, white lines and after a few beats, she turned back to look at him. “What happened after I got a bludger to the head?” She asked, noting the blackness outside the hospital windows. Tom shifted in his seat. “I left after you were injured,” he replied. “Your teammates came to visit.”

 She perked at this. “What did they say? Did we win?” She asked, and Tom shook his head. “They said they substituted another Seeker in for you. Hufflepuff lost one hundred to two hundred and forty.”

 She groaned and banged her fist against the mattress, spatting a “damn!” She grumbled, “if not for that blasted Neil Lament, I would’ve had the Snitch and we would have actually won for once.”

 Tom scoffed at this and she eyed him from the corner of her sockets. “What?” The wrinkle in her brow deepened at this. “Last I checked, you don’t even care for Quidditch. Why should you care if your team gets another measly win?”

 Tom rolled his eyes, “I don’t care about Quidditch. It’s the fact that you’re fussing over a damn sport when you’re lying in a hospital bed, injured.” 

 Silence swept over them like a wave and she blinked over at Tom who couldn’t bring himself to look at her anymore, staring out the windows instead, his arms folded over his chest. She eyed his pale skin, the sharpness of his jaw, his full, pink lips as they pursed together, his piercing, dark eyes as they looked anywhere but at her. 

 She could feel her heart as it drummed in her chest, a warmth washing over her that she’d felt many times before. She ached with affection for him, ached with want, with desire. And now that he was sitting here, her only acquaintance in the otherwise empty hospital— save for the small Gryffindor boy now sound asleep on the other side of the room— she felt a burning in her chest, a burning of hope that he felt the same way too. 

 After all, why else would he spend his entire day sitting with her until she woke up when he was always so insistent on using his time for other more important things? With the clearing of her throat, she mustered all the confidence she could to her mouth as her words formed on the tip of her tongue. 

 “You know, if I didn’t know any better Tom, I’d think you were falling for me.”

 Her heart was racing, especially when he turned to gaze back down at her, that murky, black stare of his piercing right through her. She felt like she was suffocating the longer he made her wait for his response, she could feel the crimson heat as it crept to her cheeks. 

 Tom Riddle was usually calm, cool, and collected, always knew what to say and when to say it. This was the first time he could remember being rendered speechless. 

 It was real now— never had anyone been able to see through him before, no one had ever been able to see him, to slowly begin to figure him out. But she did. She somehow knew about this strange and foreign feeling within him, something he wasn’t sure what to name. Attraction? Desire? Infatuation? Love?

 Could this be love? Could love be this sudden, this unexpected? Could this be what love was, to care so deeply for someone without even fully understanding why? To burn for someone else, to have your heart beat erratically at just the idea of them? Was love something else?

 Tom didn’t know. But perhaps, this was what it was like to fall in love with someone else. This was a day he’d remember all too well. 

 Tom straightened in his seat and cleared the heavy lump in his throat, his lip quivering as he opened his mouth, although unsure what to say. “Perhaps, I am.”

 Her lips parted and her brows knit together, and suddenly, she didn’t feel like she’d just taken a bludger to the head, or that she had nearly fallen to her death only hours ago. Suddenly, she wanted nothing more than for Tom Riddle to kiss her. Her lips were practically throbbing with the idea of Tom’s on them. 

 “I don’t know whether or not I’m dreaming right now. And I really, really hope I’m not,” she murmured, losing herself further into the darkness of his eyes until she couldn’t tell when she ended and he began anymore. “Perhaps I’m dead and this is all just a hallucination,” she whispered, breathless. “Whether or not this is real, I’d really like for you to kiss me right now.”

 Tom could feel warmth surge through him at her words, his lip quivering as he leaned forward, their faces now so close, their lips but mere wisps against one another. “I hope you aren’t dreaming either,” he murmured and she trembled, feeling her lungs shudder in her chest. 

 And then Tom’s lips were on hers, and she was sure this was real. 

 Tom Riddle’s lips were on hers, soft and pliant, kissing her with an urgent, tender need. If she was a candle, then he was her flame, and she was melting like wax, sinking further and further down into the plush of the hospital bed’s mattress. If it weren’t for the pain in her head, she’d follow his lips when he pulled away, blinking down at her. Her gaze met his and his irises were so dark, she couldn’t quite tell when his pupils began or ended. 

 All she could feel was his hot breath as it lingered like an ember on her skin, and she shuddered as she exhaled. “If I’m dreaming, please don’t pinch me,” she whispered, and Tom breathed, the closest she’d ever heard him come to a laugh. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmured back and the corners of her lips curved into a smile, a giggle slipping through the cracks. 

 Tom Riddle was making a joke. 

a/n; i literally just finished writing this like twenty minutes ago and i shit you not, i wrote the last like 3k words of this in one sitting 😭 not sure how i feel about the beginning, but i think i feel good about my writing at the end for once. and i actually wrote fluff and not smut for once!! look at me!! anyways, IM NOW CAUGHT UP WITH REQUESTS! so feel free to send in more if you’d like lol

| 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 |

@darkmoviesquotespizza @lyis @upsidedownspidey @michelle-26

#tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle fic #tom riddle x reader #voldemort #voldemort x reader #harry potter #wizarding world #harry potter fandom #harry potter imagine #harry potter fic

[anonymouscheeses]

Big fckn redesigns here. Well mostly Charlie but Vaggie somewhat too 🥰🥰

Blue fits Charlie soooo much and I cease to see that many redesigns with this color. I still want red to be used in most of their designs because well. They are in hell, but not too present so to make way for other unique colors. Charlie has several physical traits from her parents but also she has some details in her clothes that match with them. When I uhh, introduce their designs you'll see lmao. I also tried to make her have a more roundish design, I jst LOVE those typ of designs omg. I just want the characters with not too many sharp corners pls Viv bro... 😔 oh yeah she's mixed cuz her mom's are darker in their redesigns. Alot of their genetics went down to Charlie so she doesn't look like an exact copy of Lucifer, I kind of hate that trend with hh and hb characters, like did the moxxies dad give birth to him bro 😭 also I kept her bow because it looks so cute and silly on her it just fits, I wish they made it bigger in her show design because it would fit her silliness so much. She has a cape with stars because morningSTAR smh why didnt they do something fun with that, missed potential but whatevs yknow I still love og designs no matter what anyone sayss. Did you know I love Charlie, I could ramble for days. I think I love Charlie guys. Maybe jst a hunch idk... also... s-snake fangs.. jeepers anddd..... snake tongue.... shiver me timberz

The wife ever. I had animation in mind more when I designed her, not like in a "How easy or hard would this be to animate" way. But I like to imagine when she's shocked her hair kind of fluffs out plus her actual fluff, when she's mad her bow turns into kind of horns and then her jacket expands like wings. Gave her a more hotel like outfit, she likes to work for fun (ew). Her socks are socks but she has some fluff under them she just tries to cover it up because she hates herself 🤪 (she doesn't hate her bigger body she actually feels much more comfortable chubby than when she was skinny with Adam. She was burdened with the weight of Adam's image of women... In this sorta rewrite she gained weight when she goes to the hotel because she's more happy. I'm dying I love chub Vaggie so much guys please) headcanon: she kind of likes fashion, it's like a fun hobby of hers to stitch together clothing and go out and buy clothes she'll never wear. She taught Charlie how to stitch and she SUCKS so you can jst see it on Charlie's pants.

Second outfits! Charlie's hotel uniform for. Well. Hotel stuff. She usually only wears it when new people come to the hotel, which.... isn't often, if at all. She still likes to keep it just in case. Also she goes really cartoonish when it happens, she does the looney tunes run and changes into her clothes in like 2 seconds. Can you see my vision? 😭😭

Vaggie's is in her armor. She has several pairs of armor lying around in the hotel in completely hidden spots. It's kind of surprising uhh. Yeah she wears it alot more than Charlie wears her alt uniform but still rare to find her in it. I don't get the whole thing with the exterminators and them not being able to fight according to Carmilla. Which is kinda stupid, I'm not gonna lie. So, instead of that, Vaggie has just let her guard down and has gotten much more comfortable in her surroundings so she feels like she doesn't need to fight anymore, she's just gotten rusty 's what I'm sayin. I have no idea how to draw armor. You can tell...

Extra below cut vvvv

BABY CHARLIE!!! With the heads of my redesigns for Luci, Eve, and Lillith. Haha you still cant see them. Uhh, ill definitely finish the thing one day. Its not even that big of a project thing, i think i jst keep going to other drawings so im like not focusing on one thing lmao. Lucifer has heterochromia because he was cursed to forever be reminded of his betrayal. I only explained that because Charlie has it too, it's kind of a curse on the entire blood line where at least one eye is red. This is like. Slightly older Charlie than the baby Charlie in show? I jst wanted to put her in overalls cuz omg that's jst so cute ughhh 😭😭

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel vaggie #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel eve #hazbin hotel lillith #chaggie #varlie #rainbowmoth #charlie x vaggie #vaggie x charlie #ill get to the other........ one day #art #fanart #artists on tumblr #digital art #charlie morningstar #vaggie #i hate her name. its now Valerie. or was it Valarie. i dont remember. uh. hi #i totally forgot abt my human au ILL ANSWER QUESTIONS SOON YOU GUYS I JST HAVE ALOT IN MIND RIGHT NOWW #lillith morningstar #lucifer morningstar #eve morningstar #WHY AM I SO HAPPY THATS A TAG. ITS LITERALLY CANON THEY WERE PRT MUCH POLY. I JST LOVE THE FACT ITS ACCEPTED 😭😭 #hazbin hotel chaggie #hazbin chaggie #lucifers stolen wives #could that be the ship name for those three. or if someone comes up with a better one 😭🙏 im ass at ship names #baby charlie #also every morningstar member has a curse of some kind. sooo ill explain in the other post thatll come out in 2069 /j

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒑𝒖𝒎𝒑𝒌𝒊𝒏

well, here it is! the lloyd fic that you guys voted for. I do hope you like it, to me personally it isn’t the best.

pairings - dad’s best friend lloyd hansen x innocent reader.

warnings - age gap and size difference is in all of my fics, may have ddlg themes, cream pie, smut, swearing, reader is of age.

side note - gifs and headers aren’t mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

I lean closer to the mirror, applying a cherry lip balm to my plump lips. I smack them together before leaning back and checking my costume- a little pink cheerleading uniform with matching pink pom-poms, hair in low pigtails tied with gorgeous pink bows -I twirl, giggling to myself before licking my lips, wanting to taste the cherry flavour. Frowning as I don’t know if it tastes as good as I wanted it to, my cherry-red tinted lips pout before I head out of my room and to where Lloyd- my dad's best friend- is.

“Mr Lloyd…” He turns his head, his mouth hanging open for a split second, cock twitching at the sight before him. Silently thanking whatever god out there.

“Yes, pumpkin?” He shifts on the couch, his legs spread apart in his tight white pants. The black short sleeve turtle neck shows off his muscles perfectly.

I shift on the spot, “this is a little weird... but would you please.. kiss me and see how my lip balm tastes?” her doe eyes stare him down. Lloyd gulps, not expecting those words to leave his friend's daughter's mouth. He nods, beckoning her forward. Y/n shuffles towards him, looking down from her position. Lloyd pats his leg, wanting her to sit so he can reach her properly.

Slowly and unsurely, she sits on his lap. She wiggles around, trying to get comfortable, causing Lloyd to grip the cushions next to him tightly. Once Y/n is in position, she stares at the handsome older man with wide eyes. Her plump lips slightly pouted as she waited for instructions. The bulge in his pants grows, hitting her core, but he distracts her by placing a hand against her cheek and leaning forward, his soft pink lips connecting with hers, and slowly moving his lips against hers, not wanting to scare her.

Lloyd moves back, his brows furrowed as he licks his lips, his tongue tasting the cherry-flavoured lip balm. “Hmm, it tastes like cherries, but to make sure, I’m going to need something else to compare it to, okay, pumpkin?.” Y/n nods, unsure where he’ll need to taste but happy her lip balm tastes good. Maneuvering her so that she is seated where he was, Lloyd sits on his knees, spreading the young woman’s legs. Licking his lips when his eyes connect to a cute pair of sleeping beauty knickers, his brows raise as he looks at her, and Y/n’s face flushes, and she nibbles on her bottom lip. “T–they were on sale… and I–I like princesses….” A smirk forms on Lloyd’s face.

“Don’t worry, pumpkin. I think it’s cute, but I’m going to have to remove them, okay?” She nods, wanting to please the man between her legs. Inside Lloyd’s mind, he’s doing a little dance, and he begins pulling her knickers down and off her body before looking at her glistening core. “Oh, look at this, pumpkin. You put some lip gloss on these lips, too, huh?” She shakes her head, not remembering ever doing that. Y/n notices a hungry look on Lloyd’s face when he watches her. “Are you sure, baby? Cause they sure are glossy. I bet they’ll taste amazing. Can I have a taste, pumpkin?”

“Y–yes.” The minute the words leave her lips, Lloyd dives in. His tongue moves flawlessly against her lips, nipping and sucking anywhere he can as he drinks her juices. Groaning against her princess parts, he believes he’s in heaven, her taste exploding all over his tastebuds. The sounds of soft moans fill the air, her dainty fingers tangling in his hair as his moustache rubs against her little button and his tongue explores the depths of her honey pot.

Lloyd pulls back, her juices coating his chin and moustache, dark eyes meet hers, and he growls, “you taste like fucking candy, pumpkin.” He stands and grabs her, lifting her and bending Y/n over the arm of the couch. “Now, pumpkin. This may hurt a bit, but I promise it’ll feel good after, okay?” Y/n nods, her skirt lifted, and her pussy fully displayed to the older man. 

Lloyd groans. His palm rubs against the bulge before unzipping his pants and pulling the heavy member out. He pumps his cock a few times, rubbing his thumb across his tip before lining it with her tight hole. Grabbing hold of her hips, he pushes in and grunts at how tight she is. “Fuck, pumpkin, you feel so good! Jesus– fuck.” Whimpers leave her lips. The feeling of being stretched is mixed with pain and pleasure. Lloyd bottoms out before starting to set a pace. 

His cock hitting the deepest parts inside of her tiny cunt. Not being able to hold back anymore, Lloyd begins to pound into her. Her screams fill the room as Lloyd hits his cock straight into her sweet spot. A feral look takes over his features while he grabs onto the arm of the chair. The angle changes and makes his cock go even deeper. Pulling in and out of her tight cunt, “fuck, this is the best fucking cunt, why– shit –why didn’t I do this earlier.” A hand comes around, wrapping around her throat and tightening the grip as he pulls Y/n’s body against his.

Her eyes crossed, tongue hanging out as he continued to fuck her. “Dumb little pumpkin, you been keeping this little pussy hidden from me all this time, that’s very rude–” He grunts as he sends a hard thrust into her, “of you. I should be punishing you for it.” Her head drops, eyes barely open and drool starts to drip out of her mouth, pussy clenching and unclenching around her dad’s best friend’s thick cock. She watches him disappear inside her. Her cream coats the base the more he thrusts inside.

“I–I’m sorry, I-I didn’t mean to– Oh–” Eyes rolling to the back of her head as she cums around him, walls tightening, Lloyd grunts feeling her cunt trying to push him out. He thrusts harder, pushing against the resistance before continuing his torture on her used cunt. He leaned forward until she could feel his breath against her ear.

“I’m gonna cum in this little cunt, pumpkin, and you're going to fucking enjoy it.” Feeling her nod as a whine leaves her lips. Lloyd places a kiss on the back of her head, “good girl.” His cock drives in and out before burying himself deep and releasing. His cock twitches and throbs. Cum starts to leak out of her, slowly pulling out of her. Lloyd looks down. His fingers scoop up his seed and place it inside her mouth.

“How does my cream taste, pumpkin? Good?” His cock twitches when he feels her lips wrap around his fingers and suck, her tongue swirling around them as she hums, eyes closing as she feels his cream leak out of her stuffed cunt.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

#lloyd hansen #imyourbratzdollwork #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen fanfic #lloyd hansen fanfiction #lloyd hansen fic #lloyd hansen x female reader #lloyd hansen x y/n #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x innocent!reader #lloyd hansen imagine #lloyd hansen imagines #lloyd hansen fluff #lloyd hansen fan fic #lloyd hansen one shot #lloyd hansen oneshot #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans angst #chris evans character #chris evans blurb #chris evans fluff #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fic #chris evans fan fiction #chris evans fan fic #chris evans fandom #chris evans imagines

[euphoricimagination]

Part 2: You finally enter the infamous project, meeting your new 'teammates' as you play your first match

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Mastelist

A letter has arrived into your household, the name Japan Football Union on the front of it, with the details about the whole Blue Lock project you had agreed on.

By now you had already cut your hair into a more boyish cut, had been provided with the necessary stuff to hide your chest and a good backstory in case someone saw you with it on. And while you didn't look exactly like a boy, it was good enough to fool people.

You're now inside of the Japanese Football Union building, a bunch of boys already there when you entered. You shouldn't have worried that much, there are some here that were more on the pretty side rather than masculine.

"Congratulations, you unpolished lumps of talent, according to my judgment, the 300 of you are the best strikers under 18" Ego starts saying, making you scoff at how theatrical he was being. A pair of purple eyes look in your direction, giving you an amused look at your bored expression

"What, bored already?" He asks you, making his white haired friend look at you too

"He talks too much" you answered vaguely enough, as Ego starts debating with one of the participants. The purple hair dude chuckles while the white hair one just looks at you

"That I can't deny. I'm Mikage Reo, this is Nagi Seishiro, who are you?" He asks you

"Yn" you say simply, bowing slightly. THE Mikage Reo? The son of the biggest corporation in Japan?

"Isn't that a girls name?" Reo asks again, lifting his eyebrow

"My parents liked the name too much to give it up, i guess" you shrugged your shoulders just on time as a dude with black hair starts running towards the door, a bunch of them following right behind. You look at Ego, who had a creepy smile, and sigh "see you inside, i guess"

"Wait" Reo takes your arm "Don't tell you agree with that bastard?"

"Meh, it's better than nothing. You don't have to enter though, it's your decision after all" i say letting go of his hand, bowing slightly as i start walking away calmly. You can see Nagi trying to leave and Reo trying to convince him to stay as you pass down Ego.

"Keep an eye on him, that Isagi Yoichi has guts" Ego mutters as you pass him, making you nod.

++

When you enter Room Z there's already two people there, a sleeping one that had already changed and one with long red hair. You bow to the red hair one and move to your locker, wanting to change quickly before anyone else comes in

"What's that?" The red hair asks beside you, looking at your chest where the binder covered in some loose bandages was on "why are you wearing that?"

"I had some health problems, so I had to use this…" you say unaffected

"Really? Wouldn't this make it more difficult to breathe?" Asks curious

"I got used to it" you shrugged as you put the shirt on "What? Are you gonna judge me now?"

"Nah, just curious. I'm Chigiri Hyoma" he extends his hand, you took it and shake it, trying to look as confident as he did

"Yn, nice to meet you" you say and he nods, acknowledging you. You luckily finished changing when more boys started to arrive in the room, so you went to the wall to rest there until whatever Ego had planned starts. The last one to arrive was the same dude that entered first, Isagi Yoichi you presume.

After everyone is done changing, you hear the screen behind you start making noise, Ego appearing on the screen.

"Hi.hi. the others in your room are your roommates and your rivals who will push each other higher, I've already rank your abilities, that's the number you have in your uniform" he says, making everyone look at their arm sleeve, your number was the highest of the people near you "That ranking will change by the day and will go up or down depending on training and games. Finally, those in the top five will unconditionally be registered for the u-20 world cup happening six months from now"

You look surprised just like everyone else in the room, you gotta give it to Ego, he had a great plan. And even though you probably won't be able to participate, it even makes your heart excited at that.

"Time for some tag" Ego announces as a ball drops down into a bald kid, who immediately goes after Isagi

"This is ridiculous, I can't see how this game is "Top Training", I'm only participating to prove him wrong" says Kira, the kinda famous kid.

Luckily for you, you just had to dodge here and there, the ball concentrating mostly on Isagi, the bald dude and Kira. At some point the dude that was sleeping, Bachira according to the prompter, sends the ball a little too long when Kira moves to a different side, coming straight to you. You sensed Isagi's will to change, his aura changing completely after he tried to go for Kira, so you took the ball and sent it to him with only mere seconds to spare.

POW!

The ball sounds against Kira's face as the time runs out, Isagi effectively eliminating him. So that's why Ego told you to keep an eye on him, he definitely had the spirit that Ego was looking for.

"Good work, you lumps of talent, results are everything here, now get our loser! Ryosuke Kira!" Ego says appearing on the TV again, making Kira go on a rampage about how useless all this games were "In blue lock everything is related to soccer, take a good look around, you mediocre elite"

"The size of the room is the same size as the penalty area, right?" you say out loud, making a few of the other players surprised as Ego confirms your words "after all, that's the space where strikers work the most"

"SO WHAT? I GET THE SIZE OF THE ROOM, BUT PLAYING TAG ISN'T SOCCER!" he screams at you, rage in his eyes

"I mean…to tag someone requires a great ability to aim and shoot, which is needed if you want to score" you continue adding, his face still furious as Ego continues explaining how he lost. He then leaves the room annoyed, making Isagi come to where you were

"Why? Why did you pass it to me? If i hadn't kicked it then you would have lost!!" He says to you

"But you wanted to kick it" you answered simply as an arm passes around your shoulder, Bachira joining in the conversation

"Yeah, your face said so!" Bachira says to Isagi, then turning to you "Nice cover, by the way, I didn't think he would move at the last second!"

"But.."

"Results are everything here, right? Then we won by trusting you!" Bachira says, making you nod

"Congratulations, you've passed the entrance test!" Ego says from the monitor "the eleven of you will share a common destiny, sometimes you'll cooperate, sometimes you'll betray each other, now you are blue lock Team Z"

+++

3 days have passed since that entrance test, and an intensive training is now in place. Luckily for you, you have managed to hide your body from them quite easily, you woke up a bit earlier to change clothes and went to have a quick bath when everyone else was in the dorms ready to sleep. You didn't know if you were that good of a liar or they were just oblivious.

You were running in the treadmill alongside Kunigami and Chigiri when you noticed Isagi practicing his jumps, so far everything you've seen him do has been…mediocre at best

"Huh? Why does Ego like him so much?" You mutter to yourself. The same day where Kira was eliminated Ego has called you briefly to his office, telling you one more time that you needed to see if Isagi Yoichi had the capabilities to become the best striker…so far you have nothing positive to report

"Eh? What did you say?" Kunigami answers breathing hardly, understandably considering you were running at almost 20 kph*

"Nothing, just cursing Ego" you say, receiving a light laugh from Kunigami

"You know, you're more athletic than i thought you'd be" Chigiri says now, talking for the first time

"Yeah, you have a tiny frame, I'm surprised how you can keep up with us" adds Kunigami, making you raise your eyebrow "no offense, of course"

"Whatever, you do realize that my rank is higher than both of you, right?" You say with a small smirk

"Eh?! You're right! How's that even possible?! You're smaller than me!"

"Don't know, figure it out yourself" you say raising the speed a tad more, making the two other boys groan in frustration "C'mon, you can't be this tired already, we still have like ten more minutes to reach the usual 90 ones of a match"

"You're a monster, Yn-kun, a monster" Kunigami says as he raise his speed too "but I'm not losing to you"

You planned on having dinner alone, around this time you didn't have much physical movement, so you could ditch the binder for a more relaxed way to hide your chest, however it didn't make you less paranoid. That's why you much rather eat alone, so you could avoid any questions in case anyone noticed, and things were going well until a small bumblebee decided to raid your meal

"Ehh?! You have curry? No fair" Bachira whines as he sits besides you, a plate with to rice and chicken sitting in front of him

"I didn't think we will have different meals just because of 1 level difference" you say

"I know, right? I want some curry too!!" He says looking at your plate with want

"Don't you dare to touch it" you warn him, making him whine loudly again. You sigh, slightly annoyed at the boy "fine, we can share, better?"

"Yay! Thanks Yn-kun!" He says taking some curry to his plate "you know, I noticed the other day that you wear some bandages around your chest, are you okay?" He asks, making you almost choke on your drink

"I am, I just had..some small health issues"

"Do you have a scar? Can I see-?!" He asks

"No!" You cut him quickly "No, it's…something I'm not comfortable sharing"

"Ahh, well okay, it's fine. I was just curious" he smiles as he continues eating, not pressing any further "then Yn-kun, why did you pass that ball to Isagi-kun? Why didn't you shoot yourself?"

"I just felt Isagi-kun aura, didn't you noticed? He was in the zone" you explained "Isn't that the same reason you wanted to pass to him too? Because you knew he was going to shoot no matter what?"

"Well, yeah. Passing it to him felt right, but of course Kira-Kun had to move too. Do you also hear a monster when you play?"

"A monster? No…i just play however it feels nice" that's definitely an interesting take, a monster? What kind of weird bunch did Ego invite?

"Well, I like your play style too! You're definitely one of the top players here, let's practice together one day!"

"Sure, one day" you say smiling at him as he continues eating

The next day Ego calls you to the main room, and basically explained what you already knew about the plan, how team Z was the worst one of the bunch and all that

"... Whoever is best at soccer here is king, if you want a nice life, then win and boost yourselves. Now let's begin blue lock first selection. It's a tournament for the 5 teams, after the final match, only the top 2 teams will be selected. It's a survival match"

The moment everyone heard this they started babbling about their positions, everyone here was a forward, and now suddenly they had to play different positions if they wanted to survive and become the best striker. As Ego finishes talking everyone is left in a confusing state, will anyone even want to give up being a forward? You knew you couldn't just take it, while you were a good player, your job here was to help them achieve that dream, you probably won't even last until the second selection anyway.

"So… rock, paper, scissors?" You ask first

"Yeah, that seems fai-"

"Ehh!? Why do you get to decide that?! We should do it by strength instead!"

"Raichi, stop. Yn-kun is right, rock, paper, scissors is the fairest way to decide" Kunigami says stopping Raichi, who just mumbles an agreement. Everyone just agrees, starting to play

"Oh, i won" says Isagi, you also won the second place, so you had an early choosing opportunity, and Bachira was third

"Okay, so Isagi-kun chooses first, then Yn-kun, and like that down the line" Kuon explain, he was like the captain of the team

"Then i want to be a forward" says Isagi, Kuon writing down the position as Raichi scoffs

"I'll be a defender then" you say boringly when you feel an arm around your shoulders

"Ehh? Yn-kun, you are one of the best players here, why would you be a defender?" Bachira asks you

"He's right, you have crazy speed, your stamina is good too, you should be at least a right winger" as Kunigami "it wouldn't make sense if you are a defen-"

"Eh?! Are you looking down on us, you small fry?!" Raichi says to you, making you roll your eyes

"Well, I'll put Yn-kun as a right winger then" says Kuon, writing down your name in the notebook

"That's good! I'll be the other forward to then!" Bachira keeps the conversation going, with the other players ranting about how the good positions were already taken. It surprised you, honestly, you knew you were a good player in comparison to the rest of the girls, since you used to only play with boys growing up, but being considered an equal to these much taller and muscular dudes was something you never even tried to imagine.

Finally the match was about to start, you were putting the vest on.

"Isagi-kun won a chose to be center forward so let's focus our strategy around him" Kuon remind you

"Yeah" both you and Bachira answer, making you smile at each other. Bachira has been the one member you got closer the fastest

"Isagi-kun" you call him when you notice him thinking "relax, you can only go higher from here"

"Yeah, thanks" Isagi says

"We just have to win, right? Easy" Raichi says stretching

The match was against team X, one dude with spiked hair was the only one that grabbed the attention out of all.

The match starts with Bachira passing to Isagi; however, even before he was able to confront the other team, Raichi took the ball for himself, and before anyone could react, everyone was trying to get the ball to themselves. To be expected really, after the whole talk about having to be egoist to be a proper striker nobody would have just…obey. Everything was chaos until the one dude from Team X, Barou if you heard correctly by the cheers, took the ball and made a goal by himself.

Not one, not two, but five goals. Team Z was losing 5 to 0.

"Ahh we're just running in circles" Bachira says looking at the clock "there's no way we can get five points in 3 minutes..but"

"We can at least get one" you say, making Bachira look at you knowingly before looking at Isagi

"Yeah, the 3 of us can recover at least one, wanna try, Isagi-kun?"

"...Yeah"

"Bachira-kun and I will draw the attention, you shoot Isagi-kun" you say with Bachira nodding as he says, your job was to bring out the talent of the players, so that's what you'll do.

"Run, Isagi, we'll meet in front of the goal"

With that Bachira passes to Isagi, who passes almost immediately to you so you could start moving. You were able to pass one doing a nutmeg, passing the ball unexpectedly through his legs, while passing another one by just running a bit faster right before passing back to Bachira, who also passes three dudes before sending it to Isagi.

Isagi manages to get close to the goal; however the number 10 of Team X, Barou, cuts him off from scoring. You run towards the goal yourself when that happens, making the other team mark you as well, when suddenly the ball comes into your field of view, Isagi has passed the ball for you to shoot.

You instinctively take the ball, and despite having a good 70 meters between you and the goal, you do a powerful shot and make the first and only goal for team Z.

And despite absolutely being demolished by the other team, despite the sudden pass, despite mot being able to breathe properly because of your binder, despite that the only reason you were even here was to help the others score, you couldn't help to feel the need for more, to score again and again, to become better even when you were not supposed to.

"Hey! Yn-kun! Nice goal!" Says Bachira to you as you walk towards the lockers, giving you a high five

"Yeah, you were amazing Yn-kun" adds Isagi, giving you another high five

"Thanks Isagi, Bachira. But why did you pass to me? Was it because of that dude?" You ask Isagi

"I don't know how to explain it, it was unconscious, you just seemed with more opportunity to score"

He says a bit down as you enter the lockers, moving to sit down with a towel on his head while you clean your sweat with a towel. You ignored the rest of the team as they fought, an unconscious pass? Could it be that he's a natural playmaker? If he doesn't know why he passed the ball then that's the most likely reason why.

"... We're one loss away from the end!" You hear Kuon say, making the rest question him whether he had some plan or not

"Well" you hear Kunigami say "that goal that Yn-kun made couldn't have been done without Bachira and Isagi, right?

"Yeah, I'm sure we can come up with something if we start with that" you add as Raichi starts yelling again. You were still breathing hard when you noticed Bachira naked in front of everyone, so you ignored him hoping that your face wouldn't blush.

You kept ignoring the rest of the team as you focused on your body, your chest was hurting, but that was to be expected considering that you ran for 45 minutes without being able to have a full breath. You thought that your practice was more than enough, but clearly things were different on a real match

"I don't think everything that Ego is saying is true" Chigiri says going to the refrigerator, throwing you a drink as he took one for himself "I mean, he said this is to win the world cup and he was talking about world-class strikers like Ronaldo, Messi, and Cantona, but not all of them have won the world cup, but he did say ‘this is a battle to rebuild soccer from zero’. I think that might be some kind of hint"

"Oi, are you okay?" You hear Kunigami ask you

"Yeah, I'm fine" you say gaining your breath properly

"Why don't you just take off that chest thing you use?" Asks Chigiri, making Kunigami look at both of you confused

"I…I can't, I just need to get used to it" you say as you drink the energy drink "it'll take a few more matches though"

"I don't know what you're talking about, but you did good today Yn-kun, that was a good goal"

And before you could answer Kunigami the TV behind you starts sounding, Ego appearing on it.

"Howdy, you lumps of talent, the second match of wing 5 has already finished. Team V crushed Team Y 8-0 so here are the current standing"

He then proceeds to explain how soccer works, why he wants this new revolution of soccer to happen and how strikers are the ones that can make this revolution happen. As you hear him talk you couldn't help to think how crazy this whole plan was, even though you pretty much heard everything he was saying once you agreed to do this.

"ACHIEVING THE REVOLUTION KNOWN AS A ‘GOAL’ CAN ONLY BE DONE WITH YOUR OWN WEAPONS!!"

Weapons, huh? That makes sense, if these boys don't know how to properly use and improve their talents, weapons as Ego called them, they won't get too far either here or in their soccer career.

"Yn-kun, we're gonna go shower, you coming?" Asks Kunigami as he and Chigiri stand up and start taking their clothes off, you really have to adapt to this fast if you don't want to stand out.

"Not yet, I wanted to get some practice done first, go ahead" you say as you stand up stretching

"Okay, don't overexert yourself" Chigiri adds as they both leave. You exchange some words with both Bachira and Isagi until you part ways, them going to the dorm while you waste time until all of them leave the bathroom area so you could shower at peace.

You were walking towards the practice area when you noticed Anri standing in the door, visibly waiting for someone

"Yn-chan, thank God you're here fast" she tells you when you approach her "Ego wants a reunion with you, let's go, you can wash up yourself there too, there's a private bathroom"

"Okay, what for though?"

"Not sure, but it's Ego we're talking about here"

She leads you to the apartment Ego was living in, a few floors above where the project was happening. You loosen up your binder on the way there, now being able to breathe properly until you have to face your team again.

"Yn-chan, come in, come in" Ego says as he starts preparing some ramen. You sit down on the table waiting for him when your stomach rumbles too "Anri-chan make her something"

"You could ask nicely, you know?" The woman says making you a bowl of ramen too "This is all he eats, Yn-chan, sorry it can't be more filling"

"It's alright, it's a nice change from curry" you says smiling at the woman as she sets the bowl in front of you, already ready. You don't really think twice as you start to dig in, Ego looking at you as he eats himself.

"So Yn-chan, nice goal back there" he says with a tone that left you wondering if it was a compliment or not "Although i would have much rather to see someone else scoring"

"Ego-san!"

"It's alright Anri-san. Isagi-kun passed it to me, it would have been weird if i didn't try to shoot, wouldn't it? After all, you were the one doing the whole talk that you needed to be an egoist and make goals" you say grabbing more noodles, an unfazed look in your face

"True, but do you think that helped them?"

"Yeah, somewhat. Some of them are still trying to understand what you meant by creating soccer from 0, so i think the combo that Isagi-kun, Bachira-kun and I did is a good start for them" You say as you drink some of the soda that Anri passed you "Although admittedly I wasn't thinking any of that at the time, I just wanted to score"

"Well, if anything your ego will make others want to improve too. What do you think of Isagi-kun so far? He passed instead of trying to score after all"

"He said the pass was unintentional, that he just felt I could score at that time. He probably has some spacial awareness and he doesn't know it yet, not everyone can just make that decision in the middle of a game" you add, thinking back at the pass from Isagi, he clearly was trying to score instead

"Well, he sounds more like a mild fielder if that's the case, so he needs to figure out how to use it as a striker. Help him find that out Yn-chan"

"Yes sir" says as you finish the food

"The rest seem to be in good shape, they just need to get used to this. Make sure to not lose again, Yn-chan, it's too early to leave"

"Yes sir" you say, however you can't help but wonder "Sir…why do you want me to help Team Z so badly?"

"Because I can sense that some of them can become amazing once they wake up, but they lack someone in the team that can help them get that instinct and nurture it. That's it"

"I thought you'd want them to figure it out in their own"

"And they still have to do that, you just need to give them some hints. You may leave now" you stand up and bow as Anri passes you a towel and some clothes before pointing where the private bathroom was.

"Ego-san, are you sure this was a good idea?" Anri asks Ego once both of them are alone. Ego smiles as he checks the recordings in his TV's from the goal you made and the faces of your teammates

"I'm sure that she can make this diamonds in the rough bloom" he focuses on Isagi face, smiling in excitement "she'll make sure to do it"

#blue lock fluff #blue lock x you #blue lock scenarios #blue lock x reader #blue lock #bllk scenarios #bllk fluff #bllk x you #bllk x reader #bllk reo #blue lock headcanons #blue lock x y/n #reo fluff #reo x reader #reo x y/n #chigiri x reader #chigiri x you #chigiri fluff #bachira fluff #bachira x you #bachira x reader #bachira headcanons #kunigami x reader #kunigami x you #isagi fluff #isagi x you #isagi x reader #nagi fluff #nagi x reader #nagi x y/n