#I’m not the greatest at time management

[bakerstreethound]

Heavy is the Burden

Relationship: Sherlock Holmes x gender-neutral reader

Warnings: comfort, soft Sherlock, gentleness, pure fluff, mentions of anxiety, loneliness, panic, and sadness

Summary: After a long day of errands and classes, you finally return home seeking solace and basking in the warmth of Sherlock.

All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound​ (Do NOT claim, copy, repost, or translate my works to other sites. I only publish here and on A03 under the same username) 

Word Count: 765

A/N: Hello my lovelies, I know I haven't been as active writing fic as I have in the past year, but inspiration struck me a few days ago and I managed to write a little comfort story. I hope you enjoy! My summer classes start up in a few days so I hope to find time to write even then for my beloved detective. Graphic by @firefly-graphics. Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Time trudges on, even when you open the door to your flat, closing the door softly, the grocery bags and your backpack hanging off of you adding to the weight of your exhaustion.

You don’t want to think about the endless list of words going through your mind, determined to overload your evening and the next before they have begun. Such is the toll of an anxious mind, always on edge waiting for something to happen, sending you into a panic.

It’s a burden you carry the push and pull thriving off chaos, with you addicted as it holds you in your clutches, your form of motivation. The notion of rest exhausts you as you set the grocery bags on the counter and your backpack on a kitchen chair. 

Methodically, with practiced ease, you assemble the groceries out of the bags and put them away by memory, your brain on autopilot.

Everything is in its place, your heart calms its rapid beats, and you take a deep breath. The same goes with your backpack as you take it to your bedroom, place your laptop on your desk, and hang the bag over the chair.

You take another breath, inhaling the fading scent of Sherlock - leather, musk, and faint cigarette ash. Your heart twinges at the thought of him, how he holds you, caresses you. It’d been a while since you had seen him between you working late and him solving cases with John.

You can’t remember the last time you’ve properly relaxed without some garish nightmare plaguing your thoughts or worrying about the best way to structure your days. 

These days your mind is both your greatest asset and enemy, causing you more than enough heartbreak for a lifetime. You take another breath and change your clothes into something more comfortable, a clean but beloved graphic tee paired with soft lounge shorts and one of the many hoodies Sherlock liked to steal and wear from you.

You inhaled, catching his scent again, only this time your eyes well with tears, the full brunt of the week hitting you in tandem. 

Despite your apprehensions, your tears fall and you cocoon yourself in a blanket wishing it were a hug instead. Your eyes close and you find yourself drifting and you let the burden slip away, falling into that lovely abyss of sleep. 

A soft gentle warmth soon encompasses you and you draw to it, a moth to a flame, nuzzling into a familiar chest, the scent of familiarity, of home enveloping you. 

“I’m here, I’m home,” he murmurs into your ear unsure if you’re completely awake, but you adore it, adore him all the same. 

You shift against him, nuzzling deeper into him and he chuckles, pulling you closer so you can hear the steady thrumming of his heart, the one he told you on quiet darkened nights that it belongs to you.

“You’re back, you came back!” You mutter softly, burying your nose into the crook of his neck and inhaling deeply, your warm cocoon of a blanket slipping from your shoulders. You don’t care for he’d returned to you and you want to shower him in kisses. 

He chuckles, stroking your back, sending shivers down your spine and you press up closer to him, basking in the simple warmth of him, not having to speak a word. He knows the mood you’re in, anxious yet somber, sad but bone-weary sadness that’s embedded deep in your body, part of your soul. 

“Shall I warm us up some soup?” he asks, his fingers threading through your hair gently, making you melt impossibly more. 

You yawn at the thought of warm soup, and the crunch of toasted bread. “Only if I make us grilled cheese to go with it.” 

“That sounds wonderful.” He smiles, the corner of his lip twitching a fraction almost revealing the full shy boyish grin you’ve come to adore, the one reserved for you. 

Carefully, he helps you to your feet ensuring you are not dizzy before taking your hand and leading you back to the kitchen. Suddenly you are grateful you grabbed extra bread and cheese at the store.

You fight off a smile as you watch Sherlock scurry around the kitchen, and you toss your eyes skyward thanking quietly the force of nature bringing the both of you together.

You do not know what you would do without him, John, and Mrs. Hudson in your life. 

You wipe away a stray tear, wrapping around behind him for a hug, your hands resting along his waist. Dinner can wait ten minutes more. 

******

[muraae]

i’m sorry (but also really not) but this the vaultghoul poto au has me in a chokehold- and i don’t know if i’ll ever write or if someone else wants the challenge, but here are my thoughts on what the au could be.

a vaultghoul phantom of the opera au where cooper is the phantom and lucy is christine.

would have elements from both the book, musical, and the show.

cooper obviously looks like how he is in the show for his disfigurement, and wears a black half mask to cover the upper half of his- also kudos for this because coop does look exactly like erik (the phantom) in the book.

debating if cooper will be born deformed or someone or something causes him to be disfigured.

i personally like the latter more just to play with the idea of cooper once being a famous star within the opera house who befell a terrible incident that ruined his life and is now embittered and angry, wishing to exact vengeance against those that ruined his life.

only a slightish change, but ‘the ghoul’ is added along with ‘the phantom’ and ‘the opera ghost’ as his other aliases.

lucy is a ballet dancer in the opera, the daughter of the famous soprano, rose maclean. i’m not certain where hank would be for this au, but he’s not exactly in the family picture, but i would want him to cause some kind of conflict in the future.

slow down there abbie, we don’t have time to write a full story- let’s just stick to the basics.

lucy and norm come to live and work at the opera house under the care of moldaver (madame giry) after the death of their mother- lucy in the ballet corps. and norm with the stagehands.

lucy had always been a talented singer until she hears a voice in the halls, vents, and the grand stage she visits late at night, and starts starts teaching her that the managers begin to take notice.

cooper takes notice of lucy whenever she walls the grand stage late at night singing to herself. he becomes intrigued by her.

so cooper watches lucy from afar and doesn’t make himself known to her as the ‘voice’ until he finds her crying in the opera chapel, grieving for her mother after a long, trying day.

mother said, "When i'm in heaven, child, i will send the angel of music to you."

cooper commends her voice, but tells lucy it needs training. he offers her voice lessons, promising to help lucy become the greatest singer the world has seen- does it come at a cost later on for his own purposes- that it is for all to decide if lucy is a means to an end but ends up wrecking his plans by becoming more.

fuck i’m getting sidetracked again-

over the years the two develop a bond that extends the bounds of teacher and student, cooper’s infatuation with lucy becoming deeper.

steph is lucy’s roommate and friend- sharing the role of meg with norm- and she and norm are the only two who can put up with lucy’s disappearances and odd hours, though are concerned by the strange behavior.

cooper continues to reign the opera house as his domain, demanding the managers to follow his instructions on how the opera should run, and causes ‘accidents’ if anything doesn’t go his way.

on the night of the gala, lucy finds herself replacing the prima donna when the former falls ill. she is an overnight sensation and ensnares the hearts of half the city, and much to cooper’s jealous chagrin, catches the eye of the opera’s newest patron.

i’m tempted to make maximus raoul, however, monty would fit a little better- so we’re going with monty because i want this vicomte and his intentions towards the new starlet to be sinister. because fuck monty.

lucy is at first flattered by monty’s attention, but becomes soon after uncomfortable by his advances.

and though she is charmed by the young detective (maximus) that was hired by the managers to prove there is no opera ghost, she is still drawn to the mysterious voice.

on the night of her triumph, cooper reveals himself and takes lucy into the vast underground tunnels of the opera house. it is here where lucy becomes enamored by the man who has given her so much, but is confused why he wears the mask. Surely a face would match a voice as beautiful and deep as his.

it only takes removing a mask to change the course of a relationship and for the two of them to cross the point of no return.

[therealcocoshady]

"Because I fucking love you !"

Author's Note : Here is the argument OS we talked about ! I hope you liked it. I think that's the more smut I have ever written (save for one that was deleted when my phone was stolen...). It's not really filthy or hardcore but I did my best. Let me know what you think ❤️

TW : Smut

You were leaning against the wall, arms crossed, while your boyfriend of four months was standing in on your doorstep, nervously scratching his beard. You were absolutely dying to hear the excuse he would come up with, to try and explain why you waited for two fucking hours at a restaurant, for a man who never showed up. He had let you down in the past, cancelled plans at the last minute but this humiliation was new. And this time, you had enough. 

Two hours, Marshall. I waited for you for two hours, you reminded him. 

I know, I’m sorry, he said sheepishly. 

Well, two hours is only the time I spent waiting for you in the restaurant, you corrected. Because it took you two more hours to call me after I went home. So, really, that’s four. 

I can do the math, Y/N, he sighed. I don’t suck that much with numbers. 

Speaking of which… You sure seemed to have lost my number, you pointed out. 

I wasn’t getting any service, he replied. 

Whatever, you said. That’ll teach me. 

Teach you what ? 

Not to waste my time on men who clearly don’t care about me. 

The both of you stayed silent for a couple of seconds. It was time to address the elephant in the room : he clearly wasn’t that into you. The past four months had been great, overall, and Marshall was a great guy, but you were tired of cancelled plans, of going days on end without so much as a text… and waiting, all dolled up, in a crowded restaurant with waiters feeling sorry for you was the last straw. Plus, it was always you making efforts to accommodate his busy schedule, never the other way around. You liked him, a lot - hell, you were in love with the man - but you knew you had to do yourself a favor and put an end to it. You had been there, done that, spending time on people who wouldn’t do the same for you and you weren’t about to make the same mistakes. It was a shame, though, because if you put aside Marshall’s shitty schedule and time management, he was one of the greatest men you had ever dated. Funny, kind, compassionate, thoughtful. He even gave you his undivided attention. If only said attention wasn’t so hard to get… 

You think I don’t care about you ? Marshall asked with a confused look on his face. 

You clearly don’t, you scoffed. 

Really ? I clearly don’t ?! he asked as he crossed his arms in a defensive stance. 

In the past two weeks, you have cancelled one date, bailed on me for a second one and barely texted me, Marshall, you sighed. 

Because I’m busy ! He exclaimed. I am fucking drowning in work ! Do you have an idea what my fucking schedule looks like ?! I have meetings, trips, studio sessions… I’m busy trying to finish my album !

And you don’t think I’m busy ? You asked with a raised eyebrow. I work too ! I have a busy schedule and, yet, I have never bailed on you, have I ? And I respond to your texts ! So you don’t get to play the « I’m busy » card. I don’t have time for your shitty excuses ! 

Look, I’m sorry I bailed on you, but-

No but ! You almost shouted. I’m sick of excuses. I don’t deserve this. I’m sick of waiting for you to call me whenever you want to hook up or whatever it is you’re even capable of ! 

You think that’s all I want ?! To hook up with you ?! He yelled. If I wanted a hook up, I have a thousand groupies to choose from, I wouldn’t waste my time trying to apologize at 1AM on your doorstep ! 

Why don’t you go and pick a groupie for the night then ?! 

Because you’re the one I want ! He almost screamed. 

Because I’m probably the only one who’s dumb enough to put up with you, you scoffed. 

Because I fucking love you, Y/N, he shouted. 

You were ready to enter a shouting match with him but this impromptu declaration stopped you in your tracks. You looked at him, flabbergasted. He was red in the face, almost panting from the yelling. 

Y-you… what ? You asked. 

I… fuck. I wasn’t planning on telling you like this, he groaned. 

But… you do ? 

Of course I do, he nearly scoffed. 

Say it again, you asked. 

He chuckled and took a step closer towards you. You were still mad at him but hearing those three magic words did a great job softening you, and so did standing in his presence. Whenever he was close to you, it seemed like you couldn’t think straight. You weren’t too sure if it was his stature, his piercing blue gaze or his heavenly smell, but there was something about him that drove you crazy. It had been so since you first met, the chemistry being undeniable on both parts. He cupped your face and smiled at you. 

I love you, Y/N, he said softly. 

I love you too… Dumbass. 

You were trying really hard not to smile. After all, you were still livid that you had to wait for him. In your opinion, it was humiliating. But Marshall’s grin was almost contagious and, from the look on his face, you could tell that he knew it. 

Are you going to let me in ? He asked calmly, still smiling. 

Do you think you deserve it ? You asked as you failed to contain a smile. 

Probably not, he admitted. But you know you want to. 

I’m still mad, you warned. 

I’ll make it up to you, he assured you. I told you I love you. How about I show you how much ? 

His voice was seductive and there was absolutely no doubt as to how he wanted to show you the depth of his affection. And, deep down, you were all for it. You caved in and grabbed his arm, pulling him in for a deep kiss. You could feel him smile against your mouth as he kissed you back, one of his hands on your waist, the other cupping your face. With his foot, he slammed the door shut behind him and, one second later, he was carrying you to your bedroom as your legs wrapped around his waist. One he entered your room, he gently let you down on the bed before taking a good look at you. You had abandoned the pretty dress you had worn to dinner for silk pajamas : tiny shorts that hugged you ass and a camisole that did not cover much of your chest. Your boyfriend arbored a smirk and a lustful look in his eyes that left no doubt as to what his intentions were. You smiled and pulled him closer to you, kissing him fervently. He kept on kissing you as he removed his jacket and kicked his shoes before laying on top of you. His kisses were passionate and hungry but his moves were painfully slow. He was running his hands up your bare legs, feeling how silky smooth they were, his caresses almost tickling you. His hands continued their exploration of your body, that he knew like the back of his hand already. They roamed underneath your camisole, tracing circles on your back and sending shivers down your spine. His ability to electrify you with just one touch always amazed you. Whenever the two of your touched, you could swear there were sparks all over the room and fireworks in your chest. He had always told you how much he loved your soft skin and how he could spend hours just stroking it. But you were yearning for more, you were absolutely hungry for him. You wanted his touch all over your body, on every inch of your skin, and especially in some places. Places that did not include your back. You tried to grab his hands to redirect them in the right spots but he simply chuckled at how eager you were. 

We have all night, baby, he whispered. And you have me for the whole weekend. Just be patient, alright ? 

You let out a small displeased whine. You wanted him and you wanted him right now. And after keeping you waiting all night, the least he could do was to oblige, right ? You were about to remind him when he pressed his index to your lips and buried his face in your neck, kissing your sweet spot before sucking on it. His teeth grazed your skin and you couldn’t help but let out a small moan. He pressed his finger to your lips again and you did not resist the temptation to tease him by sucking on it. You could feel a grin form on his lips, still against your neck, as you ran your hands underneath his tee-shirt, which you desperately wanted him to remove. Under your fingers, you could feel every muscle in his back. He hummed at your touch and, as you tugged on the fabric of his shirt, he seemed to get the message. He sat up, straddling you for a second to remove it, allowing you to catch a glimpse of his perfect, muscular chest. It was no secret that you were absolutely fond of his pecs, nearly obsessed with them. So, as he undressed, you were virtually unable to resist the temptation to ran a hand over them, playfully squeezing as a grin formed on your lips. He chortled and grabbed your hand, bringing it to his lips, kissing each one of your fingers and knuckles with infinite softness and tenderness, before moving on to your wrist and the rest of your arm. God, you didn’t know arm kisses could ever be so sensual but there you were, turning into a puddle under his soft lips. Your eyes were shining with adoration for this man, your brain solely focused on him, who was giving your body his undivided attention. He helped you sit up and made you remove your camisole. Now it was his turn to admire your chest and your tits, which were already perking up thanks to your state of arousal, causing him to smirk. He had you lay back down on the bed as he took one of your nipples in your mouth while he pinched the other. You let out a soft whimper, relishing in the stimulation. The sensation of him sucking on you was absolutely heavenly and sending you into overdrive. You could feel your own wetness and your clit swelling by the second. You were squirming under him, so much so that he had to press his body harder on yours in an attempt to prevent you from moving too much. You were mellow under him, at his mercy. Not that you’d have it any other way, mind you. You enjoyed the sensation way to much. Your breath was heavy and, as seconds went by, you were starting to think he would make you come this way, just by teasing your nipples. Right when you thought you were about to climax, he let go of your breasts and went back to kissing you. 

Marshall, you pleaded. 

Yes, love ? He asked innocently. 

I want you. 

You were almost begging. The self-assured woman who was yelling at him on the doorstep moments earlier was nowhere to be found. You were nothing but a puddle, a moaning mess, his to enjoy, tease and torture. He looked at you as he ran his fingers from your cheek to your shoulder to your hip. The trace of his touch was almost leaving a burning sensation. You were craving for more but, at the same time, you relished the softness of it. Your usual lovemaking sessions had always been passionate but this was something else. It was torrid but equally gentle. He was not claiming your body like he usually did. He was enjoying it like one relishes something they know for a fact is theirs. He slowly removed your silk shorts, leaving you bare while he was still wearing his half-dressed. He smiled at the view of your naked body, devouring you with his eyes. You could see the sheer adoration o his face, showing you how he really meant it when he said you were the only one he wanted. For a split second, you locked eyes, his piercing blue gaze staring into your soul. He kissed your lips, your neck, the valley between your breasts, your stomach and your soaking wet pussy. It was wet and glistening, and there was no doubt that he could see. He chuckled and his warm breath against this area sent more shivers down your spine. Unable to control yourself, you let out one more whine and he took it as his cue to start teasing you with his mouth. His expert tongue was flicking against your clit and you let out a guttural moan as you mindlessly ran your hand through his hair, maintaining him in place. He kept on sucking on your bud as he easily slid two fingers inside of you and immediately hit your g-spot, causing you to gasp at how incredible it felt. You tried sitting up but his free hand went straight to your chest to maintain you in a laying position. His movements accelerated and you were soon bucking your hips, curling your toes, your release being imminent. But, much to your dismay, he stopped just as you were about to reach your climax. You were almost on the verge of tears, the denial being too much for you to handle. 

Please, you begged. I-I need…

I want to be inside of you, babe, he said softly. 

He quickly removed his jeans, socks and boxers and you stared shamelessly at his naked body. He was fully erect and you were almost foaming at the mouth. His perfect chest, his abs, his dick… All of him seemed carved in marble. Seeing your expression put a smirk on his face. He knew full well the effect he had on you and he enjoyed it. He stood there for a couple of seconds while the two of you admired each other’s nakedness. The sheer admiration in his gaze made you forget about everything that ever made you feel self-conscious : the scar on your knee - inherited from a scooter fall, your stomach that wasn’t as flat as you wanted it to be, the stretch marks on the size of your breasts… In his eyes, they disappeared and you felt like a goddess. Fitting, seeing as he was your own personal deity, with a body you’d worship day and night if you had the opportunity. Still staring at you, he opened the drawer in your nightstand and grabbed a condom. You spread your legs a little more and he laid on top of you, kissing you as he positioned himself at your entrance, after putting the rubber on. The two of you had done it countless times but the sensation of him entering you never failed to make you gasp. It wasn’t pain or surprise, more so a form of relief. You let out a small moan as he moved further inside of you, the position allowing you to take a good look at him. His eyes were half-closed and you could tell he was focusing on the sensation of how you felt around him. He stood still for a second before starting to thrust in you, slowly yet precisely. You put a hand behind his neck, pulling his face closer to yours. Your mouths crashed on each other and you kissed him violently, hungrily. You couldn’t wait any longer : you needed him. All of him. You wanted him to claim you, possess you, mark you as his… As if he could read your mind, he immediately picked up the face, keeping on kissing you. He was pounding into you and you put up a fight with yourself not to scream his name. You took it out on his back instead, scratching violently - not thinking about the marks that would undoubtedly be there the next day. He loved the sensation, you knew it, and the whimper he let out was further proof. There was nothing you enjoyed more than his sounds of pleasure, he who was often so quiet compared to you. Your mouth traveled to his, to his neck, where you started sucking. His movements started to become a bit sloppy and you could tell he was close. You gently grazed his shoulder with your teeth, happy to be the one who got him lost in his own pleasure. 

Y/N, he warned. 

Come for me, you said softly. 

You first, he said firmly. 

He caught you by surprise and, in the matter of one second and two movements, you were on top, straddling him. You would almost be mad at the ease with which he managed to flip you around if it didn’t feel so good. He knew this position was, by far, your favorite, as it allowed you to feel all of him. You let your head fall back as you enjoyed the sensation of him pistoning into you. Just because you were on top didn’t mean he was intent on giving you any control. The only sounds you could hear were your moans (yours being much louder than his) and your ski slapping against his. Lost in your haze, you weren’t too sure, but it seemed like you babbled something along the lines of « If you stop, I’ll die ». And you could swear it was about to happen and your heart was going to explode when he played with your clit with his thumb, while still pounding into you.

I-Oh… My-G-god…, you whimpered. 

He wrapped his remaining arm around you and brought you closer to his chest, placing a kiss on the corner of your lips. It was almost too chaste for the moment, but it felt good, soft and intimate. Your eyes caught his and a smile formed on his lips. 

I love you, he said. 

Three words. That’s all it took for you to come undone and reach your apex. Next thing you knew, you were collapsing on top of him as he kept on thrusting, chasing his own high. You weren’t too sure if it lasted seconds, minutes or hours. You were in your own pleasure zone, focused on Marshall’s heartbeat against your chest, the sensation of his fingers digging in your skin, the scent of his sweat mixed with yours… When you came back to your senses, you were under the sheets, wrapped in his arms, him kissing your temples, lavishing you wish praises. 

Hey, you said almost sleepily. 

Hi princess, he chuckled. You alright ? 

Mmmmh mmmh, you nodded as you closed your eyes. 

Am I forgiven, yet ? 

Forgiven ? For what ? You asked, confused and all fucked-out. 

Nevermind, he chuckled. Let’s sleep. I love you. 

In the moment, you had no idea what you were supposed to forgive him for. In truth, you had forgotten all about the argument. The only thing that echoed in your mind were those three sacred words. 

I love you too, you mumbled as you drifted off to sleep, a smile on your lips.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Tsumiki Mikan | Infectious AU

Requested by @theoneandonlyyuriaoo: Can you do any goodbye despair character x reader?

The world had turned on its head. An infectious parasite that devoured the brain and rotted the body. It drove the modern world to ruin; making populated cities become deserted wastelands filled by the infected. 

Of course like all crises in the world fortresses are made. Fortresses that everyone flocks to hoping to guarantee a life of structure safety and healthcare. Relying on the most talented and resourceful leaders to bring the structure the old world used to have. Including the promise of care by the world’s greatest nurse. 

“Nurse Tsumiki, we need to rewrap the bandages on patient #237!”

“C-c-coming! Oof–oh no the syringes!”

Tsumiki Mikan is the best nurse in the world or at least in the closest fortress you can get in. Said to be able to cure those in the final stages of the infectious parasite, she’s a clumsy but gifted nurse. When the fortresses do begin their ‘peaceful’ negotiations her residence is a heavy point of contention. Of course, anyone would want the woman who managed to make a cure working in their medical wing. 

She’s such a celebrity, that your fellow patients excitedly speak of her when she comes to check on them. Unfortunately, you’ve been sleeping every time she’s supposedly stopped by. Though you weren’t worried. A simple broken arm shouldn’t need the greatest medical mind’s attention, you had to be convinced by your party to even admit yourself into the medical ward. 

So it truly is a surprise when you wake to the nurse in the middle of the night holding an IV bag. It was easy to recognize her by the outline made by the small nightlight from the hall. What made you question if it was her, was the inhuman twitching and giggling she was doing. 

“O-Oh~! Y-y-you’re awake!”

You’ll protest the need for an IV bag—it’s just a broken arm. But she’ll determinedly protest it, the way she does when the emergency is dire. Abandoning her usual stutter she’ll go on to rant and rave about how this may be a doorway to something worse. 

“You have to listen to me, (Y/n)! You need to stay here in bed! With me!+”

Despite you being an average survivor, you weren’t an idiot. Even with a minor background in anatomy and the way diseases are spread; you know most of what she’s saying isn’t true. Or at least not in your case. So you’ll explain and try to rationalize with her even as she settles herself on your bed.

“Look Mikan I appreciate your concern but it’s really not that bad!”

“Noo! Noo! You can’t!”

“Please stop crying. You’ll wake up the other patients.”

She’ll keep whining and protesting her mute point; all the while scooching up on your bed. As if trying to get as close as possible.+ It isn’t until you say the most off-limits thing in the history of your conversation with her. 

“You know what, I’m just going to check out and I’ll go back if I find anything–”

“NO!”

She immediately hops up on your lap, trapping your free hand and legs underneath hers. That was the least of your concerns as she held your face in her hands.  Rubbing a thumb obsessively on your cheeks, she practically rubs her nose against your own. 

“No no no no no you can’t leave (Y/n)! You need to stay with me forever forever forever forever!”

You couldn’t really stop her as she practically devoured your mouth in some wild form of a kiss. There was biting, sucking, and something viscous shoved down your throat. As your vision blurred and your cognitive control slipped from you; you could hear the door open and the silhouette of a more familiar nurse who refused to look at you. 

“Miss Tsumiki…your orders?”

The nurse’s giggling turned into a full-blown cackle clutching your head into her chest. The nurse said nothing as she proceeded to play with your cheeks while she continued to maniacally laugh.

“It’s just as I feared~! (Y/n)’s condition has worsened we need to quarantine them in my private ward!”

“Yes, Miss Tsumiki.”

Better her than the infection right?

[emmie-writes-stuff]

I may be in my flop era for school, but I’m finally on time for WIP Wednesday

Writing this time, I’m working on an Itoshi brothers oneshot where they’re like, eight and six

I had these types of conversations with my little brothers all the time when we were kids (sometimes we still have them, despite the fact that 2/4 of us are adults-)

[scribesynnox]

Okay but like, when Lloyd pulled a stereotypical villain pose and said a stereotypical villain line to use a stereotypical villain power.

I love this man so much, you don’t understand.

And JAVIER!! HA!!! The man took one look at his boss’ stereotypical villain expression (so Lloyd resting face basically, lol) and looked at the horrifying skeletons with grotesque lumpy shadow heads, and was like “You know those days when you’re like ‘this might as well just happen’? Yeah. Hm. Fuck it, I’m going back to bed.”

Chapter 90 was amazing from start to finish. But also the finish was so fucking funny LMAOOOO.

[bellerintwo]

this is going to be the thing that ends me. apologize for what? for getting us higher on the table than we could’ve imagined after recent years? for letting us dream that a league title would be possible for us? all because it hurts? i would rather have the pain than to have never lived through this season with this group of players, to have never seen us win the nld away, the ødegaard black kit masterclasses, granit’s entire season, bukayo and nelli reaching g/a milestones, the summer games in the pink kit, wilo and big gabi at the back, aaron’s incredible saves, gabby jesus and zinny bringing a new kind of passion to the team, eddie’s last minute winner against utd, reiss’s 97th minute goal, jorgi and leo and kiwi coming in at the transfer window and having an impact immediately, leo’s 3 assists in one half, jorginho’s strike that lead to the m*rtinez og, winning games that no one ever expected us to win, mikel’s emotions on the touchline, and all the love the players showed for each other and the fans. we are more a family now than ever and not one person on this squad/staff (excluding the obvious) has a single thing to apologize for.

[inga-don-studio]

Being called ‘a beast’ for doing some feat of strength is still one of the most validating experiences of my life.

To the beloved twink at my factory job who was so easily impressed by my ability to throw around 40+ lb. boxes all day - wherever you are, thank you from the deepest queerest reaches of my heart.

[myname-isnia]

Suddenly got this really weird off-putting feeling in my chest that I usually get when I’m about to cry over something, but also with some general iffyness thrown into the mix, and for once instead of immediately giving in to it or getting pissed at my mind I tried to figure out where it came from

Turns out I would have been completely justified in getting pissed at my mind because turns out, the cause is that I thought about a fic concept I was really excited about a few months ago that I never ended up writing because I couldn’t get into the flow from the very first sentence. I thought about it for a whole five seconds and now we’re here. Fucking great

[onlyzizi]

i got hired at the placed i interviewed at. a little nervous about it but whatever i need money.

i start this upcoming friday at 12. it’s a retail job so it’s minimum wage but the job itself seems pretty easy + most of the employees look nice so hopefully it’s alright.

i need to find out the train times over so i’m not late or too early.

i have 2 jobs now so i think things are going to get better now, at least financially. i hope it doesn’t interfere too much with my schoolwork but it always does :(

[chastiefoul]

—finally giving up on your unrequited love ft. alhaitham

a/n: ouch i hurt myself writing this. wc: 1.6k words of yapping about unrequited feelings

once upon a time you were grateful for alhaitham’s indifference, the lack of anything he was being when you’re badgering him with chatters, a detailed description of your day, concerns over him, and the occasional gifts.

it seemed like a blessing once, like acceptance. the slightest open of the door, thinking you could invite yourself in and he’d embrace that fact. but as his apathy remain constant and unchanging, you’ve come to realization—an embarassing one at that.

that indifference, that should’ve been a sign for you; alhaitham will never return your feelings.

-

 a stroll a day, keeps the stressful thoughts away.

however today’s walk is just not doing it for you, once you decided to wake up from the dreamland you thought you’ve been living in. a faraway and unrealistic vision of a life where you end up together with the akademiya scribe. an exaggerated sigh escaped you at your own daydreaming. usually by now you’d be quick on your feet to visit the scribe, however the overdue revelation you had last night made you finally think twice before doing it. and only because of that now you’d realized just how much of your life was centered on the grey-haired man, which was a scary discovery, knowing just exactly how little you mattered to his.

you found an empty bench mid-walk, immediately sitting on it. you leaned back, both of your hands holding your weight as you look above. the sky was clear that day, but your mind was clearer, as if a thick fog has finally been lifted.

seriously, what have you been doing all this time? giving your all to someone who wanted none of you. alhaitham’s curt nod, his brief and short responses really should’ve been a clue as to how he felt about you. yet you kept being stubborn, and sometimes hope was human’s greatest enemy. what should have been a bare minimum gesture he did, your mind managed to twist it into something more; clinging to it like a water on a desert. when it turned out that was exactly all there was to it—a mirage.

you chuckled sadly. even remembering those pathetic displays, you couldn’t bring yourself to fully regret having this feeling towards alhaitham. those moments where you’d steal a glance at him and felt like the world was okay. you would not allow yourself to forget that as you became more selfish, wanting him to look at you and feel the same. but here you were, reluctantly learning to accept the fact that he may never does.

suddenly a shadow loomed over you, shielding you from the sunlight you didn’t realize was so bright.

a familiar blond invaded your vision. “(y/n)?” he called out unsure, not expecting you to be there. “oh hi there, kaveh,” you lightly said, as if your heavy train of thoughts hadn’t existed at all. you adjusted your sitting position, shifting yourself to the side as you spare an empty spot beside you for him to sit. kaveh swiftly took your silent offer up, making himself as comfortable as he could on the wooden bench. “i spotted you from afar and you seemed a little troubled, hopefully i was wrong?” the ever so kind kaveh spoke up, and you couldn’t help but smile. kaveh always felt like a friend more than alhaitham ever was, albeit knowing him after you got to know the scribe. you weren’t even sure if the grey-haired man would ever mention even a word about his roommate if it wasn’t for you hanging wround on his office on a peaceful lunch break when the fuming blond barged in and yell at him about a key.

as it turned out, it’s a known fact that most people became quiet irritable when it comes to being in contact with the curt and aloof scribe, since kaveh has been nothing but a good friend since the day he gave you a weird look about wanting to get close to the acting grand master.

“it’s kind of complicated to say,” you started, thinking of the words as you went on. “let’s just say i’m having a quite bittersweet moment.”

you rested your gaze on the bustling street in front of you. he nodded in reply, “i’m guessing it’s more bitter than it is sweet?” he asked genuinely as you smiled once more despite not feeling a drop of mirth. “i suppose so,” you replied curtly, not knowing what to say to his keen observation. keen and exactly correct.

it’s the kind of bitterness that lingered. a kind of flavor you’d expected, since you’re the one who put it in. still, when that sharp taste hit your tongue you couldn’t help but flinch. after all, things don’t stop affecting you even though you saw it coming from miles away. you just hoped the sweetness will get stronger overtime, overpowering as it wash down the unpleasant aftertaste.

kaveh mirrored your smile in return except his looked particularly patronizing, as if he could sense your helplessness.

“will you tell me what happened?” his voice sounded gentle, a care you’ve never heard from the man you’d give a limb to for him to say things along that line. how do you even begin to answer such a simple question? nothing happened, and that’s why it was the problem. the fact that you’re the only one who’s mulling all over this, being so conflicted to what he thought must be nothing. a pain so overwhelming that’s swirling all over your chest while his biggest inconvenient that day was probably a typo made in a document made by a lousy student.

the whole thing just sounded so... pathetic.

“nothing happened... it’s just, i have decided to finally give up on something,” you try your best to sound nonchalant despite having no bravery to look at him, scared that he didn’t look like he believed you.

“well, i might know a thing or two about it. sometimes when an architecture project is too... unreasonable,” kaveh paused, the word tasted like a sour lime on his mouth. “there’s no way but to give it up. especially if you take a step back as take the whole picture from many aspects; in my case, there are budget, location, materials, and so on. there would definitely be some regret about letting go especially an ambitious task, however i think many of my past-self would really like to give the present-me a big gratitude for not forcing it through,” he rambled on, despite having no idea what were you referring on. “even sometimes, the reward was just not worth the risk, you know?” he ended it at that, throwing the question at you.

you swallowed on nothing, but you needed that to let out a reply.

“yes, i do know.”

“yeah? does this mean in your case, whatever you were fighting for was not worth it in the end?”

oh, that’s the worst part. you knew, you knew it with your heart, body and soul that it would be so worth it if there’s an outcome, a scenario where alhaitham might return your feelings. oh it would be so worth it. you could smile, just imagining how worth it would it be.

but that was all it was. an unattainable imagination. an ending that you couldn’t allow yourself to be so cocky to reach.

kaveh waited for your respond patiently, but when the silence had gone for too long he moved his stare to you. he widened his eyes, his gaze softened.

“i don’t think you’re as okay as you made yourself to be,” he said softly, as you felt your cheeks wet by the uninvited tears, running along freely across your face. yet, you couldn’t make an effort to stop them, your heart knew more than anyone you needed that. to feel the sadness, to recognize it.

to let go of the fact that alhaitham will never return your feelings.

kaveh was just quiet as you sobbed quietly, putting a handkerchief silently at the space between you both. there is no empty consolation, no comforting words, no small pats on the back. there’s just silence, a little safe bubble for you to cry in without people coming over to you and asked why.

giving up is such a funny thing, how could doing it hurt more than to keep trying even though you received no sign of reciprocity at all? but you knew the answer of that.

when there hasn’t been a rejection, it’s in everyone’s nature to have hope. a hope that there’s a chance of obtaining something you’ve wished for. a chance that something could happen.

giving up means finality. a state of accepting an outcome you hadn’t wanted. a result you never asked for. an ending where all that’s left was what should have and what could have. a harsh reality people could only accept as it dangled the possibilities and visions of what ‘could have happened’ if you’d just kept trying right in front of your eyes.

like chasing your own shadow; a fun thing to do when you’re a child, but now it’s just a fitting metaphor, reminding you of a fool’s way who love in such a pathetic way.

-

once upon a time you were grateful for alhaitham’s indifference, the lack of anything he was being when you’re badgering him with chatters, a detailed description of your day, concerns over him, and the occasional gifts.

but now it’s definitely a curse. after all, anything that has to do with love was not indifference.

it was never, indifference.

---

the urge to write this in alhaitham pov........................ should i?

[rineptune]

hello! can i get a lucifer x fallen angel!reader, that is maybe seen as another parental figure for charlie, and there’s some jealousy from luci in the beginning before he realizes how much care reader has towards charlie? if that makes sense?

hell’s greatest parent.

summary: in which charlie thinks of you as a parent figure and once again lucifer’s genuinely distraught and scared that his one and only daughter would no longer need him.

a/n: he’s jus a little insecure, but lucifer’s doing his best and that’s what matters!!

lucifer could feel it. an irritated, uptight smile threatening to make itself known in his face.

“what was that, kiddo?” lucifer asks charlie.

“yn’s going to teach me how to make pancakes!” charlie answers. “it’s a great bonding activity that enhances familial relationships. they told me all about how pancakes made in heaven are soo different from the ones made here— i just had to ask if they could teach me!”

“she’s quite the persistent lady, your highness,” you chuckle. “i’m assuming she got that from you?”

“...yes,” he grumbles, straightening his posture. “but, charlie! why didn’t you just call me? no offense, but i make out-of-this-hell pancakes, too!”

“because, dad! you weren’t awake yet, and i wanted to surprise everyone here in the hotel with heaven’s recipe for a devilishly delicious breakfast,” she preened, hands clasped together. stars are shimmering in her eyes, possibly a candidate to outshimmer the pentagram in the skies.

lucifer sighs, defeated. “oh, alright... but i’ll watch.”

“ok! this could be a refresher memory for you,” she beams. “what first, yn?”

“well, to start, we need to wear our aprons.”

you held up one for charlie, the fabric littered with small red hearts for its pattern, which she gingerly took with delighted awe. you also offered one to lucifer, but instead of accepting what you had brought with you, he simply snapped his fingers, and with what’s left of his angelic magic, he conjured one of his own, which he wore with a smug grin.

“how efficient.”

“heh, i could do a lot more than that,” he proudly says.

“i would never doubt it, your highness.”

your indifference to lucifer’s (perfectly wrapped under the radar) jealousy is just perfect. not only did he deal with the radio demon, who had the balls to even duel him in a sing-off—now he had to win a cooking contest, too?

it’s crazy!

crazy if he doesn’t participate in it and properly show you why he’s the boss!

“and careful to put the batter, charlie,” you guide her hand to pour the batter onto the heated pan.

“whoa—.. i did it!” she cheers.

“good job, sweetie,” he tells her.

lucifer is on charlie’s left, observing how his daughter works herself around the kitchen. he had to admit, you were a pretty good teacher; that even he learned a thing or two about making pancakes.

would you look at that?

lucifer learning new things that he already thought he knew.

“now, what would you want to go with your breakfast, charlie?” you ask.

“there’s bloodied-sweet syrup, mini fresh eyeballs that a friend of alastor brought in earlier; oh— ah, here it is,” you pulled out maple and strawberry syrup along with some butter and fruits— actual fresh fruits that you managed to smuggle in your bag before the fall.

“what?! they actually have maple syrup, and not stale-oak sap?”

“yes, they do,” you chuckle. “would you like to try them?”

“do i? i’m so happy to!”

lucifer sits at the end of the table as charlie decorates her pancakes with the toppings and condiments of her liking. a smile is seen on his face.

he remembers the time when it used to be like this, simple and sweet. how times have gone by, really.

“pancakes?”

your offer brought him out of his trance of thought. a breakfast shaped into one of his favorite things in the world.

a duck with a little apple slice on its head.

“thank you, though you didn’t have to go through the trouble of...” lucifer’s absolutely speechless, and if it weren’t for the façade he has on, you bet your wings he would’ve been jumping up and down in joy. “serving it in this shape.”

“it’s no trouble at all, really.” you smiled.

and holy hell does that smile ease his worries.

“dad, oh my gosh! thesh are twe besht pancwakes, ever! like, weally—the absholoo best!” charlie says, words somewhat audible because she had her mouth full.

“charlie, dear, don’t talk while your mouth is full; otherwise you’ll choke,” you sigh, yet there was a smile on your lips, taking initiative to wipe away the excess syrup on the corner of her mouth with a damp cloth.

charlie giggles sheepishly, nodding.

“than’ weu!”

the realization sets in when lucifer sees this. that you actually care for charlie and are not there to replace him totally. he’s reassured, and happy as he finally takes a bite of his warm, delicious breakfast.

[inu-mxki]

roronoa zoro x gn!reader

reader gives praise + pet names / slightly steamy / zoros a simp

“missed you today,” you mumble against his mouth.

zoro thinks you’re heaven bottled, straddling his waist, kissing him like you’ve been starved. he sits back, enjoying your undivided attention and flurry of soft, deep kisses. his large hands gently squeeze at your sides, then move to your thighs, kneading the soft, plush skin.

he’s in love with you. zoro is completely and unequivocally in love with you. he’s drunk on your lips, your body, your voice. everything. you fill his senses and bewitch his mind. even the scent of your hair left on his pillow has him burying his nose into the plushness to get more of it. he’s obsessed. he’s so sure of it, and yet it’s so foreign and strange for him.

zoro is no stranger to desire. he knows how it feels to want something so badly you’d kill for it, but never has he felt a desire quite like this one. it’s not a desire to win, or to be the greatest, or to serve. it’s vulnerable and fragile. it’s consuming and overwhelming. it’s more more more.

and that’s all he can think when your lips finally part, your eyes looking down at him like he’s never done a bad thing in his life. like he’s precious. innocent. loved. missed. wanted.

“i love you,” you whisper to him, tracing the sharp edge of his jaw before pressing a gentle kiss there. he pulls you closer, if possible, his strong hands gliding up your t-shirt to rest on your bare back. he presses his lips to your neck, earning a satisfying sigh from you, so he sucks lightly.

“i love you,” he mutters into your skin, goosebumps forming along his defined arms as your nails begin to scratch at his scalp. close just isn’t enough. he buries his face into your shoulder, nuzzling there.

such a big man and yet, for you, he’s melted butter.

“you worked so hard today,” you tell him, kissing the shell of his ear, “you’re so good, baby. so good.”

he relishes in the praise. he wants it so bad. from the moment you joined the crew, he’d been jealous of any praise you gave to anyone else. especially the idiot cook. how he longed to have you tell him he’s done well, that he’s good, that you’re proud.

zoro doesn’t know when he turned into such a melt, but you just have that affect on him. you make him feel like he can be vulnerable in your presence.

“thank you,” he breathes, squeezing you tighter.

“do you want me to rub your shoulders?” you ask him softly, pressing little kisses to the side of his head. he could stay here forever and a day.

“you don’t have to,” he says, voice rough from how tired he is. you chuckle lightly.

“i want to,” you tell him honestly, pushing him off with great difficulty, “let me take of you, ‘ro.”

he’s so thankful to whatever fate bought you to him, shuffling around so he’s sitting between your dangling legs, your hands rubbing gentle but firm circles into his muscles. he groans when you hit a certain spot, so you stay there, every now and then kissing the crown of his head.

he’s just not worthy. he doesn’t understand how he managed to get this hallelujah. how, out of everyone, he’s the one you devote your time to. he’s the one you drunkly confessed to one night after a successful fight, kissing him before pulling yourself away and mumbling how sorry you were and that you understand if he didn’t feel the same.

how ludicrous.

it was his bed you clambered into and never left. it’s his mouth you kiss good morning and kiss goodnight. it’s his hand you squeeze under the table. it’s his face you search for in the crowd.

and he’s so fucking thankful. there’s a God. there must be.

“never leave me,” he finds himself saying out loud, your movements stopping, hands resting against his shoulders. he feels you move, and then your lips against his ear.

“what a silly thing to say,” you speak softly, sending a shiver down his spine as your hands begin working at his tired muscles again, “i’m not going anywhere, ‘ro. please don’t worry about that.”

he closes his eye. trusting you. relaxing back into your embrace. if you’re destined to always be at his side, always sleep beside him, to rub his shoulders and kiss his skin, then he’s sure, more than ever, there’s someone Holy looking down on him. he should be more accommodating to that thought. maybe it’s time he actually thank whoever they are.

hell, he might even start praying.

i do not own one piece or anything associated with it

[lisired]

change your mind yet?

pairing: haechan x (f) reader

genre/warnings: smut, enemies to lovers-esque, choking, spit kink, haechan’s lowkey a cocky piece of shit, he calls you a bitch Lol

summary: You’re going to kill him. You swear, You’re going to kill him. how did Liu Yangyang accidentally tell Lee Donghyuck—your greatest enemy—that you think he’s hot and that you’ve been in a dry spell recently? Now you have to avoid the inevitable confrontation, and worst of all, deal with the most stubborn person alive (who ironically thinks that you’re the most stubborn person alive).

word count: 4.6k

a/n: very much an oldie… not so sure about a goodie but i do love the ending. i had written this for a friend lol

You love him to bits, but Liu Yangyang is not your favorite friend right now.

Fairly, you one-hundred percent blame him for the predicament you’re currently in. You know he can be a blabbermouth at times and wouldn’t do it on purpose, but there’s no way you’d let him get away with quote-unquote accidentally telling your mortal enemy that you think he’s hot, and that you’ve been having trouble getting off.

It was yesterday evening that you were on FaceTime with your best friend, simply conversating as per usual. You were ranting comfortably to Yangyang about your troubles and how sexually frustrated you are, and he suggested you getting laid. That’s how the topic of Lee Donghyuck came. He was suggesting people, and when he asked you if you thought Donghyuck was hot, you replied yeah, but I wouldn’t touch his dick with laboratory safety gloves.

Fast-forward some hours later, he’s consentfully telling your mutual friend Renjun about your conversation, in hopes of playing matchmaker and finding someone for you to fuck. The problem? Donghyuck was around, and somehow overheard everything except the part about you saying that you’d never touch his egotistical dick.

So now you’re on campus, avoiding your egotistic mortal enemy like the plague.

Why do you dislike Donghyuck? The answer’s simple, he’s one of those guys. The ones that think they own the world, and that it revolves around them. The ones that think they can have any and every person they want, and treat people’s hearts like dirt. In short, you don’t think he’s a good person, no matter how hot he is.

When your final class rolls around, you think you might’ve successfully dodged him. You had another class with him today, but for some reason he was a no-show. Not that you care, his lack of presence was relieving. Then, you see him stroll into your Language Arts class, and the bright red cherry on top? He’s quick to snatch the seat directly next to yours. Oh, brother.

“Hey,” Donghyuck whispers. “Let’s talk.”

Your heart is racing, but you think you manage to conceal it. “In the middle of class?”

He shrugs, “Afterwards.”

You’re running out of here the second your professor dismisses you.

So, Donghyuck cornered you.

There’s no going anywhere as long as he has you like this, backed up against a wall, his hands on either side of you, and his gaze practically rooting you in place. You feel like you’re being stared down by Medusa, still as stone as you look into his eyes.

“So, let’s talk,” he grins, tilting his head. “A little birdie tells me you think I’m hot, you’re under a dry spell, and that you’ve been having trouble making yourself cum lately.”

“Did you hear the part where I said I wouldn’t touch your egotistical dick with laboratory safety gloves?”

“Then it’s a good thing that I don’t need my dick to have your thighs shaking, huh,” you’re blushing, actually blushing, cheeks aflame and your skin all hot. To make matters worse, Donghyuck’s hands move from beside you to sitting pretty on your waist, not moving lower or higher, cool texture of his rings pressing gently into your skin. The contact has you in an internal frenzy, but you chalk it up to you simply being touch-starved. “Don’t you see these lips, baby?”

Alas, you do see them. With his face as close as it is to yours, you can’t help but see them. They’re pretty and plush, kissable, and kind of do look like they could eat—no, no, no, no. You’ve been with your share of guys like Donghyuck, ones that like to talk about how good they are, yet are severely disappointing in reality. For you to even be considering sleeping with him just goes to show that you’ve struck rock bottom.

“D-don’t call me that,” you curse yourself for stammering, because he only finds it amusing.

“Why not? I think you like it, baby,” Donghyuck teases, “is that the problem? You like me, but you don’t want to like me? You don’t like that you know I could make you feel good?”

You loosen your gaze, unable to bare eye contact with him any longer, “Fuck you, Donghyuck.”

“Fuck me your fucking self,” he grabs your chin, making you look at him. If you can see anything in his eyes, it’s the unmistakable gleam of lust, so dark yet so tempting. “You want it, don’t you?”

God dammit, you do want it. But you refuse to have your name crossed out on his checklist, to be another notch in his belt. You know it would only boost his ego to have seduced the most stubborn person alive into fucking him, and you absolutely refuse to let that happen.

“No.”

Donghyuck raises his eyebrow, “No?”

“No,” you repeat.

You don’t know how you expected him to react, but he takes it coolly, dropping his hands and stepping away. Aw no, did you hurt his ego? The thought almost makes you laugh.

“Okay, but you know where to find me when you change your mind,” He smirks, and you hate how confident he sounds. Not if, but when. When you change your mind.

He strolls away, and you let him. You have bigger fish to fry, and you refuse to let some grade A fuckboy get in your head.

Unfortunately, you are not as in control of your thoughts as you’d like. This is bad, really fucking bad, you think. Last night, you actually successfully managed to cum on your own. That should be a good thing, but the reason you came is absolutely humiliating. An embarrassing, taking-it-with-me-to-the-grave secret.

You may or not may not have came to the thought of Donghyuck. How his fluffy hair would look clamped to his forehead, or how his forehead would look dripping with sweat. Imagining his fingers replacing your own, fingering you with his rings on, the coolness of them against your skin. But what really did it was probably the image of him between your thighs that was planted in your brain the second he offered himself to you. You thought of what good his lips could do, and how they’d look dripping all wet.

This is fucking terrible. You haven’t came in god knows how long, and the one time you do after forever, it’s because of the man you’ve sworn to hate until the day you die. Usually this is something you’d rant to your best friend about, but after what happened the last time you told him about your sexual frustrations, you decide you’re going to keep this one to yourself. If Donghyuck ever heard you came to the thought of him eating you out, he’d literally never in a million years ever let you live it down.

Today’s a new day, but you haven’t been able to shake off the shame, particularly because tonight’s Renjun’s party, and being one of his best friend’s, Donghyuck will undoubtedly be there. He’s posted it on his story and everything, not that you were checking. You overheard Yangyang talking about it. But either way, you don’t know if you’ll be able look him in the eye again.

“It’s a good thing you’re going out again,” Yangyang assures, walking next to you as you two stroll into the party, “maybe you’ll meet someone else to help you get out of your dry spell.”

He’s right. This is your chance to get laid, get over whatever that was with Donghyuck, and move on. You’re like, ninety-nine point nine percent convinced you’re only attracted to him out of sheer desperation. The measly zero point one percent comes from you being aware that you’ve thought he was attractive long before yesterday happened, but whatever. Forget it.

So you nod in agreement. Soon enough, you’ve settled with the party atmosphere. You’ve had a drink but you’re not drunk, and you’ve tried socializing but everyone seems so not your style, which is insane, because Donghyuck isn’t your style either. You don’t think. No, he’s not.

This is worse than you initially suspected. You can’t find anyone, and Donghyuck’s still running through your mind, being a complete and utter distraction and he’s not even here—

Speaking of the devil himself, “Hey.”

You spoke too soon.

“Ohmygod, if you’re here to try and seduce me again, I’m not interested,” you groan, hoping he gets the message and leaves you the fuck alone. At the same time you really don’t, but you definitely think you should.

Donghyuck raises his hands, “But I’m egotistical. I just came here to invite you to a game of truth of dare with the gang, lighten up a lil, won’t ya?”

You sigh. “Where?”

He leads you to the room where everyone is, and you make sure to scoot next to Ningning and Jennie, refusing to sit anywhere besides Donghyuck. All you hope now is that the bottle doesn’t land on you after him.

A couple of rounds fly by, and you’re still safe. You’re having fun, and the thought of him escapes your mind with ease. Even when the bottle does land on you, he doesn’t dare you to do anything crazy that you thought he would.

After Yangyang’s turn, the bottle lands on you. You’re not worried, because Yangyang’s your best friend, he wouldn’t dare you to do anything stupid.

Then he does exactly that.

“Seven minutes in heaven with Donghyuck!”

You’re going to kill him. You’re mentally plotting his murder right now. How you’re going to do it, when, and where you’ll hide his body. If he suspiciously winds up missing, you’re more than likely the reason why.

“Pucker up, buttercup,” Yangyang blows you a kiss.

You spit back, “Shut up, bubble guts.”

You hear him gasp in offense, but whatever he says is cut off by Donghyuck.

“Come on, babes. I can hear your lips calling my name,” he teases, and you groan, clutching your fist. You guess there’s no way out of this. Well, technically there is, but Renjun let Yangyang choose the punishment and he decided to make anyone who refused to do a dare eat a spoonful of sour cream. Mind you, sour cream by itself is disgusting, and this is probably why he and his stomach are frequently at war, so your safest option is getting in that room with Donghyuck for seven minutes. You don’t even have to kiss, you can just let everyone think you did.

So you follow him into the bathroom connected to Renjun’s room, and the second the door shuts, he has you backed into yet another wall. He grins, “Change your mind yet?”

You stand your ground. “No.”

“That’s fine, we can make out in the meantime and then see how you feel after seven minutes.” he replies nonchalantly.

Even though you’ve been thinking about it, you grimace. “Gross.”

“What? It’s not my dick, why do you act like you hate me anyways? Not that I’m really complaining, I like when things are hard.”

“Bet you do,” you grumble. “And if I’m acting, then I must be Viola Davis.”

“Eh, I’d give you Keanu Reeves.”

You glare. “On second thought, I’m almost willing to kiss you if it means you’ll keep quiet.”

“Well you’re in luck,” Donghyuck grins, “because that and giving head are the only ways to silence me.”

You cave in soon later, letting him pin you to the wall, your hands above your head as he kisses you hungrily. It kills you to learn that he’s a great kisser, because that means he’s actually good at something other than running his mouth and being the bane of your existence twenty-four seven. Though you don’t know how that’s possible, he’s gentle yet rough. Caring in his movement, though passionate in them too. The way he’s kissing you, you’d think he loved you.

In spite of your obvious attempts to try and touch him, to maybe run your fingers through his hair or hold his cheeks in your hands, Donghyuck doesn’t let you move. You can feel the teasing grin bloom from his lips, and conclude that it’s intentional.

Never in a million years did you think you’d be french kissing Lee Donghyuck of all people, yet here you are. You can’t say you don’t like it, though. That would be lying. While you’d never admit anything like it, the roughness in the way he kisses you has you throbbing.

Donghyuck’s lips are like a drug. You stop for a moment to inhale, and then you’re lips are latched back onto each other. Exhale again, then you take another drag, and the cycle repeats. You could do this for fucking ever.

Then, the timer chimes.

“Time’s up!” Chenle yells from outside the bathroom, and Donghyuck pulls always almost instantly, surprisingly readier than you are.

He looks hot as he pants, chest rising and falling then rising again. He smirks, “Change your mind?”

God fucking damn it. Time went by a little too fast for your liking. Your lips are swollen, but you want more of him, to feel him, to touch him, especially because he didn’t let you. You’re finally admitting to yourself that you want him, and you can’t ignore your cravings anymore.

“Donghyuck,” you whimper, not caring in this moment who hears you, “w-want you.”

He smirks. “I know, baby. You wanna prove to me how much?”

You nod. It’s pathetic, truly, but you need this at this point. So you let Donghyuck lead you out of the bathroom, and essentially the bedroom, ignoring the curious sounds coming from your friends. He leads you down the hall into a different, emptier room, closing and locking the door behind the two of you.

“On the bed,” he instructs.

You comply, the desperation that accompanies having not slept with someone in months and orgasming in weeks making you leap into action in an instant. Then there’s this raw part of you that has lusted after him before you fully came to terms with your desire, making you feel the way blood courses through your veins.

Donghyuck walks up and kisses you again, this time allowing both of your pairs of hands to roam freely as you strip one another almost bare. In an eager motion, you peel away his shirt and jeans, and he matches your yearn, leaving you naked. He pulls away from your lips to eye your body in awe.

“You’re a bitch,” he says, “but a beautiful one.”

“Really turned me on,” you deadpan.

He laughs yet pushes your back flat against the mattress, wasting no time in hovering above your body. The proximity has your heart racing a little quicker, a little faster than it was out of something like anticipation. Donghyuck dips his head but doesn’t kiss you like you anticipate him to, at least not on the lips. His lips scout your neck, soft and sweet against your flesh. He sucks at your skin, and your mouth gapes a little, sounding the most sweet gasp before he digs his teeth in suit. It makes you whimper aloud his name, which he clearly enjoys from the way he smiles.

Donghyuck repeats a course of similar actions as he mouth scoots lower, kissing and sucking and biting at your collarbone. Then he proceeds after some time, traveling lower and taking your breast into his mouth or his tongue swirling over your nipples. He trails kisses at your sternum, your stomach, all the while your breath getting caught up in your throat the more his mouth falls down your body. He’s so obviously teasing you, you know that much. He has a destination yet no rush to get there, taking his sweet, precious time as though he’s rich of it. And maybe he is, but your patience is running thin, and there’s only so much more of this you can take. “Hyuck,” you cry out of sheer desperation, “hurry up.”

“For someone who claimed not to want me up until ten minutes again, you really are desperate for me,” Donghyuck replies, drawing his mouth away, and hence all contact there was.

Refusing to simply take that, you retaliate, “For someone who claimed they could make me feel good, you’re doing a whole lot of nothing right now.”

“Keep running that sharp mouth and I’ll have to put it to better use,” Donghyuck answers. It isn’t like you’re against giving head, and it wouldn’t sound so bad if you weren’t so painfully deprived of the same satisfaction Donghyuck’s offered to give you. Sure, the speed—or lack of the—heightens the anticipation, but you need him to quit teasing or you’ll actually go insane.

“You keep acting like you hate me,” Donghyuck moves between your legs, and you aren’t prepared for what he does next. Something about the way he slowly smooths his single finger through your folds and draws it into his mouth for a taste is hot to you, thus making you wish he’d finally get on with it. “But your cunt is telling me that you love me. Love this.”

Well it isn’t like he’s wrong. You haven’t been this wet in ages, the dry spell you’ve been under being extreme and severe. Touching yourself has gone absolutely no where up until last night, when you somehow managed to cum harder than you have in a minute. You’re starting to think that having Donghyuck as your muse changes things.

Rolling your eyes, you sigh. You’d love this more if he stopped making you wait, but you don’t say that aloud, starting to suspect that the more you complain the longer he silently decides he’s going to test your patience. After what feels like an eternity of touching you everywhere but where you desperately need him to most, Donghyuck’s tongue draws a line between your thighs. Then another, and another. It progresses into more with no particular rush, despite the inevitable whines you can’t prevent from falling out. “Hyuck,” you cry again, wishing he’d stop playing games.

Donghyuck teases, “What’s the magic word?”

“Please,” you beg, “Please, please. I-I want, fuck no, I need this. Please, fuck—”

Your pleas are cut short the moment Donghyuck gives in, lapping at you with an unquenchable thirst and insatiable hunger. It’s so sudden that it gives you whiplash, and he has to grip your thighs to keep them spread a safe distance apart. He’s unstopping once he begins, tongue maneuvering as it pleases, roaming around freely though expertly. Had you known Donghyuck was as much bite as he was bark, you may have gave in to this much sooner than you did. Not only is he making you feel good, but he’s making you feel great. If you could taste heaven, it would be this.

Some moments pass, and the humiliating part is that it isn’t a lot of moments. Your thighs are trembling more with every lick, resulting in Donghyuck’s grip around your thighs to tighten out of consideration that you might successfully slip out of his grasp. You stomach turns, flips, and you’re vision is being clouded white, so close to an orgasm that it hurts. Donghyuck senses it, you know that he can, you can feel the arrogant smirk spreading across his lips once more. Just as you’re getting so close, as your orgasm is right there in arms reach, being dangled in front of you by a string, he snatches it away.

There’s yet another whine from you, but he answers your question before you even get the chance to ask, “Want you to cum when I fuck you, baby.”

Donghyuck removed his boxers, leaving them on the ground to be cared about later. His erection springs flat against his stomach in a way that makes you so suddenly inhale a breath, and you clench around absolutely nothing at all. You’re gawking at him as though you want to eat hm, and in a sense you do, but you can’t be blamed. It looks better than you could’ve ever imagined, decent length, decent girth. The real brag-worthy factor, however, is if he knows what to do with what god has blessed him with.

His dick nudges your slit. “Ready?”

Without wasting an eighth of second you give him the go-ahead, nodding your head at instance so fast it almost hurts your neck. He reacts equally as fast, prodding his dick between your folds and eventually your walls. It stretches you out perfectly, and the moment he’s in you Donghyuck’s moaning about how tight and wet you are. He takes a moment for himself before he starts to move, gliding in and out of you in an effortless motion.

So far, Donghyuck has lived up perfectly to your imagination and expectations, much better, even. You never would’ve thought he’d actually have the right to brag about how good he is in bed, but you see it now. He’s a god even, not that you’d ever tell him that to his face.

“So pretty, wish I could have gotten to you sooner. Always telling me that you hate me yet letting me fuck you like this. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’ve always wanted this,” Donghyuck says into your ear, and pecks your neck. “Are you always this needy? So desperate that you’ll let even me fuck you?”

“G-god, yes,” you don’t care about overpriding him anymore, just saying things because you aren’t in the right mind to care about anything other than his dick right now.

“Yeah?” He smirks. “Tell me how it feels, baby.”

You’re almost too fucked out to speak, just moaning and whimpering in a way you never thought you would for him, “Feels good, so… so good. Love it.”

If you were in the right mind to have shame, you’d be embarrassed by the way your number-one enemy is making you moan, and not just because of the volume, but because it’s his name your moaning so pathetically. Choruses of “Hyuck” sounding from you in plethoras, calling his name with no actual reason. You’re breathing in little shallow, quick breaths, too, mouth agape as your whimpers tumble into the air. It helps that Donghyuck’s also surprisingly vocal, calling your name back. To say the least, the way he moans your name is hot and gets you off a little more, in spite of you not needing the help. He has it all on his own, fucking into you deep and hard.

Donghyuck gropes your body too, heightening your pleasure by fumbling with your breasts or rubbing your clit with one of his free hands. He doesn’t focus on one particular part of you, showering your figure with pleasure and attention that makes the sex a billion times better.

“Can I choke you?” He asks, and the question catches you a little off-guard, but once you shake off the surprise, you give him permission.

Donghyuck’s hands slither around your neck, and he presses into your jaw with just enough force to make you look at him, and silently communicate that he wants you to keep your eyes him and his actions. His fingers press onto the sides of your throat, and you’re not sure what is a bigger turn on, the fact that he knows how to properly do it or the action itself. You think it’s a bit of both, you enjoy the thrill as you look defeated by your inability breathing, and the dark look in his eyes tells you that he enjoys it too, staring straight into your soul, watching you fail to take a breath.

He doesn’t loosen his grip on your throat as he commands, “Open your mouth.”

You aren’t in the mind to question anything, simply following instructions. His mouth hovers above yours, lips parting to spit in your mouth. The action takes you by surprise yet again, but you swallow almost instinctively, never looking away from him as you do.

He backs away once satisfied, smiling. “So good for me, baby.”

That makes you clench around him, which also brings Donghyuck the satisfaction of a moan or two. He loves the way you clench around him when he says things to you, a telltale sign that you’re enjoying this more than he knows you’d probably like to admit. This whole thing between you and him, him and you is that you’re too stubborn to admit your desire. It prides him that he finally managed to make you confess it, to admit that you’re no different from anybody else. That he can still get under your skin, and does a fairly good job at that. Not only does it make him feel good about himself, but it makes him feel good right now. Your reactions, all your moans and your fucked out face, the whimpering and the begging, it all gets him off more.

That knot in your stomach is forming again, and he has you clenching around him regularly soon afterwards, and he can tell that this time, it’s not because of his words. It’s because you’re about to orgasm. “I’m close,” you announce, once again feeling all the flips and turns twisting about in your gut. It’s a good thing Donghyuck’s close too, being obvious from the way his thrusts aren’t as smooth as they initially were.

“Me, too. C’mon baby, give it to me,” he urges you on, and you let him drive you to the edge.

He makes you see white again, vision fogging the color and your voice a high-pitched moan of his name as you climax, grinding your hips into his as you intend to ride out your orgasm. In some high, trance-like state, you’re not sure when he cums, but you know that it wasn’t that much longer after you did, and then he slid out, flopping beside you on the mattress. You lie there in near-silence that consists of nothing but heavy breathing, wondering to yourself if this actually happened. You don’t regret it, not now anyways, and it was definitely a satisfying way to break your dry spell, but now you’re starting to question if it was a bad decision. He hasn’t even asked if—

“Are you okay?” Donghyuck asks, seemingly needing a moment to catch his breath before he could gather words.

His words cut through your thoughts, leaving you to accept that maybe he’s not that much of an asshole. It’s the bare minimum, so he’s still an asshole, but not that much of an asshole. “Yeah,” you nod. “I’m good.”

“Good,” he grins. “So, you wanna ditch this party and go get some Chinese food? I’m starving.”

“You want to go get food with me?” you say, sounding wholly and utterly surprised and unconvinced. This man spends every other day of his life bothering you, and now he wants to pick up some food with you?

“I mean, if you don’t want free Chinese food that I’m paying for with my money, then fine, suit yourself, I’ll just get it by my—”

“No!” You interject, sitting up immediately as you scan the room for your clothes. “I’m down. Kinda hungry, too.”

“Good,” Donghyuck says. “Chop, chop. We don’t have all night, they close in like less than an hour from now.”

Standing out of bed to put your clothes on, you consider to yourself that maybe you’ve assumed a lot about him without getting to know him. He’s definitely got an ego on him, that a blind man can tell, but he’s not really an asshole.

“Yo, I just realized something.”

“What?”

Donghyuck smiles bashfully, “I don’t have my wallet on me.”

Nevermind. He’s one-hundred percent definitely an asshole.

[paperultra]

back of house.

Pairing: OPLA!Vinsmoke Sanji x Fem!Reader Word Count: 1,113 words Warnings: Mild swearing

If it weren’t for his principles regarding women, you’re fairly certain Sanji would’ve throttled and strung you up to dry by now.

“I … I’m impressed, sweetheart,” he says with a bright smile, though under the swinging lights of the kitchen it seems more out of pain than pleasure. “You managed to burn water.”

Your cheeks flame as you peer into the blackened pot with him, all traces of the water you’d been tasked with boiling completely gone. Vanished. You have no idea how or why.

“I’m sorry, Sanji.”

“No need to apologize. Everybody makes mistakes –”

“Sanji!” you hear Zeff before you see him round the corner. “Why the hell do I smell something burning in my kitchen?”

“None of your business, old man,” Sanji snaps immediately, murmuring a quiet excuse me, dear to you before taking the pot by the handle and heading to the sink. He twists the faucet open and running water roars like thunder in your ears as he thrusts the pot underneath. “I have it under control.”

“Under control, eh?" Zeff says. He suddenly turns his squinted gaze upon you, and you shrivel. “This your doing, missy?”

“I –”

“Leave her alone,” Sanji interrupts. “I didn’t give clear enough instructions. It was my fault.”

“Oh, there’s no doubt about that.” Eyeing your guilty and defeated figure next to the stove, Zeff shakes his head with a sigh and points you to the door. “[Y/n], go out and wait tables for the rest of your shift.”

Immediately, you make a move to remove your apron. “Oka –”

Sanji makes a noise of dissent and turns the faucet off. “Wait tables? She can still chop the vegetables and help me plate.”

“You’ll do that yourself. Front of house needs the extra person, anyway.”

“I’m her mentor.”

“And I’m the damn boss.”

The rest of the staff roll their eyes and carry on while the two men argue in the middle of the kitchen. You swallow and take your apron off, balling it up in your hands. This isn’t the first time they’ve butted heads over your incompetence, and watching them now cuts at your last shred of dignity.

Clearing your throat, you grimace when Sanji’s head whips around to look at you.

“Zeff’s right,” you tell him. “Dinner rush is coming up soon and I’ll just be in the way, anyway.”

Zeff grunts with satisfaction.

The expression on Sanji’s face reminds you of a kicked puppy. “But …” he begins to protest.

“Oi, you heard what she said. Get back to work! We have customers waiting!”

Sanji blusters about before heading back to his station, casting you one final, forlorn look as he does so. You imagine that your own face looks just the same when you turn to leave.

—

You take orders and serve customers for the remainder of the day, as promised, and help with cleanup after closing time. And then, long after the sun’s dipped below the horizon, Sanji joins you on the upper deck with a steaming bowl of seafood fried rice.

“For the madam,” he says with a smile, offering you the bowl.

You accept it silently and take a bite as he sits down next to you. It’s perfect like it always is – savory and warm on your tongue, happy and gentle in your stomach. You’ve never known a home quite like Sanji’s cooking.

His eyes remain fixed on you as you eat all of the rice, scraping the bowl for every last grain and setting it down beside you once you’re finished.

“Thank you.”

“It’s nothing. I figured it would cheer you up.”

“It did.”

It did, and yet, your lips tremble and your throat closes up. You clench your hands into fists in your lap.

Sanji’s hand immediately presses your shoulder as you sniffle. “Are you alright?” he questions worriedly.

(His attentiveness strikes you like a hot iron sometimes, even now.)

“Why haven’t you given up on me yet?” you whisper.

His brow furrows. As if it’s obvious, he answers, “You want to be a cook. A lady’s wish is my command.” Sanji pauses. “And I can’t call myself the greatest cook in the East Blue if I can’t teach others to be great cooks as well.”

“I think you’d be the greatest regardless.”

You glance at him through watery eyes in time to see his face flush a deep red. He looks away hastily, chuckling with feigned modesty. “I’m flattered that you think so highly of me.”

Your shoulders lift in a shrug as you look back down at your hands. You reach up to blot away your tears.

How could you not think the world of Sanji? Or the world of anyone at the Baratie, for that matter? When you were kicked off the merchant ship you’d stowed away on two years ago, you had been sure that you’d be banned from setting foot in such a fine-looking restaurant. Years of scorn and slammed doors had not given you the chance to think otherwise.

But Sanji spotted you on the docks, called you madam like you really were one, cooked you a meal in the kitchen and talked to you. Zeff gave you a job and a bed of your own. The staff gave you a family.

“We’ll try again tomorrow. I’ll figure out something that’ll make everything click for you, and you’ll be a proper cook in no time.” Sanji leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and winks up at you. “I promise.”

As always, your heart skips a beat.

“Okay.”

Maybe, you realize suddenly, you don’t necessarily want to be a cook so much as you want to love the way Sanji does.

“That’s my girl.” Standing up, Sanji takes your empty bowl in one hand and offers the other for you to take. “Now, shall I walk the madam to her room, or does she wish to stay out on the deck for a while?”

You allow yourself to grin, considering. “The madam wishes to stay out here and …” you hesitate but then decide to soldier on, “and possibly chat with a dear friend for a few more minutes?”

Your pulse pounds in your ears.

Sanji’s eyes widen a bit. Then he blinks, and then he smiles, drawing his hand back and quickly sitting down next to you once more.

“A lady’s wish is my command,” he says.

He takes out a cigarette, making a quip about Patty while he lights it, and your combined laughter rings out across the Baratie. It’s perfect like it always is – savory and warm on your tongue, happy and gentle in your stomach.

Indeed, this is home.

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

hiii, could you write something about Tom meeting his celebrity crush ( he also maybe said it in an interview) at the Museum Gala? She is a big actress ( maybe did house of the dragon or something). She thinks he is super hot and she has seen the new hunger games movie, so she kinda flirts with him because she knows she is his celebrity crush and he is a nervous wreck. Eventually they start going out and end up dating! Just something about another British Tom manifesting his life LMAO

could you also add some insta posts ? I love this kinda of au! I hope you like this idea

lots of 💋 t!

And They Meet || Tom Blyth x actress!reader

A/n: love love this request ty anon 😙

Warnings: none!

Wc: 1,232

Dividers by @pommecita

“Do you have a celebrity crush?” The question caught Tom by surprise as he chuckles, his fingertips tapping on his chin. “I do actually, uh Y/n Y/l/n.” He admits for the first time on camera.

“I watched House of the Dragon the moment it came out and I just fell in love with how she portrayed Alicent Hightower, truly one of the greatest actresses at such a young age,” He smiles like a mad man as he recalls the time he first saw her on screen.

The gorgeous green coloured dress you would wear looked heavenly, and of course, your impeccable acting drew his attention. He binge watched the first season over and over, a smile adorning his lips everytime you would bless his screen with your beauty.

“Have you met her Tom? She’s a lovely person in real life.” The brunette sighs, “Unfortunately I have not, soon hopefully, soon,” He crosses his fingers as he lets out a low chuckle before moving on.

~

You watch with a grin on your face the interview that mentioned you. After Tom revealed that you were infact, his celebrity crush, you couldn’t help but feel like a giddy high school girl.

The thought that the Tom Blyth took a fancy towards you was mind blowing, especially since you’ve watched him from afar and admired him for quite some time now. You remember you first saw him on Billy the Kid and thought he was exceptional, and quite attractive.

“You think he would be at the museum gala next month?” You lift your head to Ally, your manager as she thinks. “Most likely, why’s that?” She smirks at you as you roll your eyes jokingly. “Nothing, nothing, just wondering,” You put your hands up in defence.

“Okay you have 10 minutes left,” Ally looks at her watch. You were at The Kelly Clarkson Show about to be interviewed about the upcoming season of the House of the Dragon.

~

“Y/n, do you have a type? If so, I think your fans would like to know, don’t you?” Kelly winks to the crowd as they erupt into laughter, including yourself. “Physical wise? Most definitely tall, brunette, blue eyes, a nice smile-“ “That sounds a whole lot familiar to a guest I just had a couple days ago….” Kelly teases as your eyes widen.

“Really?” A nervous chuckle leaves your lips, “Yeah, a Mr Tom Blyth happens to fit that description. I also know he mentioned you as his celebrity crush just the other day,” You play with the ring on your finger as you look at Kelly as if it was new news to you.

“Did he really?” You couldn’t help the smile off your face, “I watched the movie the day it came out and I understand the girlies who were rooting for Coryo,” You fan yourself jokingly, “truly understand.” The crowd cheers as you laugh. “I mean, I’m willing to ignore the red flags because he’s just so incredibly good looking!” You were lowkey fangirling.

“I know right!” Kelly agrees, “Tom did such a fantastic job playing young Snow, he really charmed us all,” You grin.

~

“Do you think she’s going to be at the gala?” Tom lifts his head up, the interview of you at The Kelly Clarkson Show displayed on his phone. “She should be,” His manager says as he smiles to himself, his eyes redirecting to his phone as you continue to talk about House of The Dragon.

Truth be told, after her let the entire world know that your his celebrity crush, he had been basking in the many comments saying how good the two of you would look together. It boosted his ego for sure.

He was hoping he’d finally be able to see you tonight at the museum gala and feed fans content. The second Tom set foot the gala, his eyes wandered around, hoping to see a glimpse of you. "Are you looking for someone Tom?" An interviewer calls out as he chuckles whilst posing for the photographers. "Yes actually," He responds with a shy smile.

Then, he hears loud screaming coming from the entrance as everyone in the gala turns their head towards the noise. And in you walked. Tom was standing in the red carpet section along with other celebrities as you walk towards his way, waving at the cameras along the way.

You wore a beautiful black gown, your hair in curls as the cascade down your back. Tom didn't even realise but he was staring at you, his mouth slightly agape, entranced by your beauty.

Cameras take photos and videos of Tom's reaction to you, it was quite cute. A man who finally got to see his celebrity crush in front of his eyes. Little did he know, you were looking around, hoping to find him.

Your eyes look around the place before you spot Tom, a few metres away from you as your eyes lit up. Abandoning your spot where you were posing for the cameras, you picked up the fabrics of your dress with the help of your assistants and made your way over to him.

It took a few seconds for Tom to realise that you were walking towards his direction. "Tom!" You greet him, going in for a hug as if you had known each other for years. He was slightly taken back but nonetheless hugs you respectfully. "How are you, darling?" He says as you pull back.

The pet name making you blush as you grin at him. You always knew Tom's eyes were blue, but jesus, you didn't realise just exactly how blue they are from up close. "I'm great now that I've finally met you," You chuckle, your hand gripping his bicep as he bites his lip lightly, smiling at you.

"Your eyes are really blue," You blurt out as he laughs, "I get that a lot," "Y/n! Tom! Can we get a picture of the two of you please?" Paparazzi calls out as you and Tom make eye contact, not realising how close your faces were before quickly looking away shyly.

"May I?" He says to you, asking if he could put his hand on your waist. What a gentleman. "Of course," You grin at him as he snakes his arm around your waist, his hand resting on your hip as your arm wraps around his waist.

The two of you looked good, good together. Throughout the night, you and Tom couldn't get away from each other. He was always by your side, even when you were doing interviews, and vice versa. His hand would rest on the small of your back protectively as you two navigated your way around.

Even at the dinner, he was coincidentally seated beside you which made you happy. You even recorded a video for your Instagram story about it and tagged him. The two of you hit it off straight away, exchanging numbers and even planning to meet up in a couple of days.

Being each other's celebrity crush blossomed into even more. Tom asked you to be his girlfriend after a few weeks of seeing each other and fans were going crazy, saying how he manifested it. You and Tom as a couple received so much support from everyone, including those in the acting industry saying how much of a talented young couple you were.