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kusagrasskusa · 3 years

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Mortal Kombat Males X Reader Imagines - VILLAIN EDITION :D - "Falling In Love" - Part 1

Kano, Shang Tsung, Quan Chi, Ermac, Shao Kahn, Baraka, Scorpion, Noob, Goro, Reptile, and Erron Black.

PLEASE if you liked this, check out part two!! It’s the underlined part above :)

Here's some Mortal Kombat villain headcannons! The bold characters are linked to another post I made, and the Italic characters are on this post! I couldn't fit them all onto one post due to the 10 gif limit and 30 hashtag limit, so here's this :P

These are headcannons and I really don't know about some of there's characters backstory and whatever, so don't be surprised if something us wrong. Don't be afraid to inform me :)

I may switch between "you" and "Y/N" a lot :)

Lastly, Shang Tsung's was longer than expected. I um- love him?? Like a lot?? Like, a lot lot?? Mmmmmm????? And you'll see why I say this soon-

EDIT: YA'LL I GOT 100 HEARTS OMG I LOVE YA'LL MMMMMMMMMMM

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Kano

To be honest, to be able to be in a relationship with this man, you'd have to be close to him since he was little. With his job and how often he leaves to fight, he sorta doesn't really have time for relationships. So you'd have to be his childhood friend who cared about him enough to leave with him to start the Black Dragon.

When you were little kids growing up in a trailer park, it was a common rule to never let your kids outside alone as their was a lot of pedophiles and dangerous people. Yet one day, your parents brought you to your neighbor's house where Kano lived. There, you two became close friends.

If you weren't from Australia, then when you began to pick up the accent, Kano would laugh at you a lot and tease you. But you, with a similar personality, would find a way to tease him back just as hard. You two got into a lot of fights when you grew up together from teasing escalating, but you two would have no time to stop and think when someone hurt one of you. That's because it happened once and it's what made you two get the closest you've ever been:

When you were 13, you were encountered by some boys flirtatiously. It wouldn't have been so bad if they were around your age; no, these boys were 19-25. You were alone at the time and were walking home from school, as your school was walking distance, and Kano was sick that day so he didn't walk home with you. You tried to walk away but then one of them grabbed your arm and began to get way too close for comfort. Yet out of no where, Kano came with a metal bat in hand. Rather than announcing his presence, he swung his bat and attempted to fight then off the best he could, but a 13 year old had no chance. When he was being jumped, you tried to defend him and got hurt badly as well. When someone called the cops, they ran off.

Ever since then, Kano was strange and way more protective and violent. His right eye was blurry, yet he swore he had no regret in helping you that day. Although he would never do as much as yell at you anymore, he had no problem yelling at his parents and punching holes in the wall when he got upset. At school, his grades were shit and he got into so many fights that he was kicked out. You were basically the only person he really trusted at that point.

Then he was sent to military school. For three years, you were alone and scared. You carried a 10" knife everywhere with you in case you got hurt since Kano wasn't there; and at school, everyone knew you as the best friend of the asshole who beats the shit out of everyone. No doubt you got bullied hard for it and even jumped. As for Kano, military school was fucking torture with people yelling at him all the time and he couldn't fight back. Yet overtime, he became much, much stronger and bigger. And by the time he was 16, he could no doubt take down a wrestler on the low-medium side.

The day he returned from military school was the happiest part of your life. But when you saw him, he was nearly unrecognizable. He was way more muscular, growing facial, and a bit taller. Of course, not the size he would be as an adult but still larger. Actually, in your eyes, he was hot. You hugged each other and you began to cry hard from happiness. It was a good day.

Yet even though he showed no bit of his violent side to you, at home he became even worse. His anger and hatred towards the people around him was bad enough to where killing them was as simple as that. The next morning of him returning, the police arrived on the scene. You were told that his family was dead and that Kano was missing and damn, did that hurt you so bad.

Kano had snuck into your house weeks later in the middle of the night through your window. When you heard his footsteps, you turned in your bed to find a large figure looming over you. He covered your mouth before you could scream and he told you who he was. Through the moonlight, you could see a metal thing over his eye. He chuckled and told you that he met some people that fixed him up and that he was running away to stay with them for now on. That you have one chance to come him or you'll never see him again.

You were in shock, of course. Yet even so, you packed your bags and stood by his side. It was during a long walk in the forest did he tell you, "I'm so fucking glad you came. You're like an abused puppy; innocent and small yet loyal to some asshole, heh heh."

"You're an asshole, definitely, haha. But you're a damn lot better than everyone else in our life. How could I not go?" You asked but you didn't get a response. It was a mere 5 minutes of silence before he stopped and sighed. You stopped and looked over at him questioningly. "You okay?"

"Y/N," he stated as he grabbed your hands and pulled you close. "This is so fucking cliche but uh...don't judge me for what I'm about to say, okay? It takes a lot to say this, alright?" He growled as his face showed his frustration. You giggled at his flustered face as you listened in on what he was about to say. "I love you, okay? I love you. I'm so fucking happy you came with me; it helped me realize how I felt, okay? You're an amazing person! You always have been and- you’re more real then anyone else I’ve ever met in my life."

Y/N shivered as her cheeks lit up. A smile grew on her face as she grabbed the sides of his face all lovingly. Naturally, that would make Kano feel even more embarrassed. "I love you too. You're an incredible, strong, and independent man with an adorable soft side, hehe." Kano sighed and rolled his eyes, grabbing Y/N's hands and squeezing them. He leaned in for a quick kiss that ended up lasting a few seconds longer than expected. And before you picture this in your mind as loving and beautiful, just know these 16 year olds don't know how to kiss at all-

Shang Tsung

Shang Tsung very proud of his wealth, dignity, talent, looks, skill, and position in the empire of Shao Kahn. He and Quan Chi would unspeakably fight over the position of number one best, which was he before Shao Kahn was defeated by Lui Kang the first time. However, this takes place way before that, before Shang Tsung grew old and hosted the tournament. He's young and proud, and his wealth and looks captured the attention of many people whether male, female, or anything else. However, this time, he caught interest in someone else.

A street dancer dancing graciously in a ring of fire. She wore a traditional dress of yellow, orange, and red that swung around graciously to the rhythm of the fire. It had a strip that revealed her leg to help her move around more. She had her hair up beautifully as to keep it from burning off, and the strands that remained departed swung around with her. Despite clearly being poor, she dances like she's been trained by the best and only the best.

Shang Tsung was in his carriage filled with riches at the time, lavishing the faces of people who envy his wealth and are in need. Yet when saw a large crowd build up around a giant bonfire, he stopped and looked. He commanded his driver to halt so he could see what the commotion was about. Perhaps a large group of people was being burn at the moment. Either way, he was curious, and he wanted to know. He stepped out of the carriage and walked his way passed peasants, shoving them aside and not sparing them a glance.

The performance he saw was astonishing to him. He got to the front of crowd and therefore had the best viewing of the girl's beauty. Not just her dance, but rather her poorly clothes, hair, face, and body was all a wonderful sight. You could even say he was impressed. When the show was over, people tossed coins and praised her way. She bowed and thanked them all, taking the coins and stashing it away in a bag. When she made eye contact with Shang Tsung, who smirked cockily, she pouted her lips and looked away. His dirty money meant nothing to her.

Yet the next week, the same time of night, she danced again. This time, with little creatures of outworld that were trained to preform certain movements whenever their trainer did. This dance was more gracious than the previous, and the next week was more special. Each week, little by little, the dances got more beautiful and awe worthy. And Shang Tsung made sure to attend every one of them off of admiration.

It was only a matter of time before he finally contributed money to her as well; and when he tossed his coin, he made sure it was a lot. When Y/N picked it up, she froze in shock and felt tears form in her eyes. Never once had she ever viewed a coin so valuable. And just from knowing it was Shang Tsung, as he always watched from the front, she made sure to take a deep breath and give to someone more worthy. She threw the coin into the crowd, and someone caught it and yelled in joy.

Shang Tsung felt nothing of her sacrifice, as at least she recognized him as a big enough fan. And yet week after week, he tossed coins and Y/N gave out those coins to the less fortunate. And when he would toss more coins, more peasants people would be given money. And Y/N never made that much at all, as even with all the money she got from the poor peoples, the people were poor and therefore could only give out a little bit. So she was basically making $50 or 50€ every week, which is just enough to survive for a while in this place.

Y/N knew that Shang Tsung knew that she was tossing his money and why. But after a while, she couldn't help but appreciate his offer. I mean, he's giving money to the poor that way, just not directly. And if she's being honest, she was practicing her dances and tricks harder and harder each day just for him. It started to feel more like a team fundraiser to her, actually. And with her growing up peasant streets where everyone is scared to let their pride down in fear of being hurt, she knew there was some cold people out there with a good heart that they hide in fear. Maybe, she thought, this was Shang Tsung's way of doing something good without feeling like it's his fault.

One particular night, however, she was training in a private area alone, but she felt like she was being watched. Although she tried to convince herself that she's paranoid, she knew better. So eventually, she stopped dancing and looked around the broken down home. She saw nothing at all, but she still knew someone was there. Shang Tsung emerged from the shadows and complimented her style. He held out a bag that made a metallic sound inside, meaning it was stacked full of money. Y/N was surprised as all hell and silently took the money with a nervous expression. Shang Tsung then left but told her he expected an even better performance next time.

And that wasn't the last time he done that. And one day, you asked him why he even cared to watch a poor girl's dance when he could afford 10x better dancers. He explained that he himself didn't know, and that he just felt obligated. It turns out the sorcerer was easy to get along with and talk to, so Y/N felt at ease when she spoke to him a few more times.

One day, he requested she would preform for an upcoming festival for the emperor himself. No payment required, no obligations, just a large dance that would be in front of thousands of eyes. He would pay for any attire, equipment, trained animals, special effects, backup dancers, and more just for her. Of course, Y/N agreed. She was put in a carriage with Shang Tsung to be brought to the specified location of the festival. In the carriage, they along well.

Y/N was much quicker to fall in love than he was. She found him wise and strongwilled, even if he was a murderer of thousands. Y/N was naive of course, and Shang Tsung had no problem taking advantage of that either. As they talked, he would bring up promises and praise to her if she agreed to do certain things or agreed with his opinion. Things to make her feel more cared for and appreciated.

During the dance, her performance was better than anything ever seen before. Her movements through fire in her new dress were so eye catching that even the emperor himself wasn't that bored through it, as the impatient man was through all else. Her dance had sections to it and twists that made it all the more surprising. Shang Tsung felt proud, strangely to him, and was sure to praise her for it later.

Just because the festival was over doesn't mean that Y/N and he had no longer talked. Due to their time together when she was practicing for the festival, they're relationship got closer than expected. Actually, Y/N had even considered him a friend. Shang Tsung didn't see her as a peasant, but a friend felt like a stretch to the sorcerer. But still, he definitely could enjoy her company.

Weeks after the festival, Y/N knew she loved him. She felt so stupid for falling in love with someone with power and money, as it made her feel disgusting. But she couldn't help herself. Then a time when the sorcerer noticed a strand of hair not being in the right position, he was sure to fix it for her. She felt so flustered that he'd care to notice something so small. By then, Shang Tsung knew how she felt about him and was sure to use it to just advantage. He is a cursed murderer after all who had been one for hundreds of years, so it's believable for him to still act like that.

The day came when he would invite her to tea whenever he had room for it. His charm was irresistible and Y/N's heart would speed up with every sentence he spoke. Y/N made good company in that time and calmed his nerves each time they met up. But finally the idea came across his mind at the end of one of their meetings: what if he accepted her love? But for what reason, what use? He couldn't think of any reason why he should be with someone he cared for as a friend at best, but at the same time, she was streetsmart and knew basically everyone on the streets.

The idea came to his head at last. Y/N was stealthy and flexible, as well as streetsmart and knowledgeable of all the poor people. Lots of people rebelling against their emperor comes from poor places and the ones who burn down royal buildings often go uncaught. Perhaps she could aid in those situations. Or maybe she would make a good spy in general, hmm? And with that in mind, the next meeting, he said that he perhaps sees her a little bit closer than a friend would. Y/N would grow flustered and confess her own feelings as casually as possible, which wasn't all that successful. "So then," the sorcerer spoke, "it is decided. Mutual respect and care is the core of a loving relationship, is it not? It would make quite a lot of sense for someone with our traits to come together as one soul and two bodies (marriage). We manage well together and could prove useful to one another. You may use my wealth to feed them poor, and I may use your company as comfort."

Y/N agreed hesitantly, but alas still agreed. Shang Tsung wouldn't come to love her until a while later, as those things slowly grow to him. It was maybe the day of marriage when he finally noticed that maybe he did care for her more than a friend. And Y/N, naive to believe she wouldn't be used, was head over heels for the scorcerer.

Quan Chi

Simply put: you are his loyal servant and he, you're world's God. Y/N may not have been a reborn demon sent to hell, no, but rather was once and orphan child who was "saved" by him. Ever since, it was your top priority was to make him happy and to serve him with pride.

You were only 8 when he found you alone and dirty in the streets of Outworld. He just happened to be on his way to a place on the other side of the dark realm and happened to spot you begging for money. He smiled darkly at the misfortune of others and through the window of the carriage, you saw him and recognized him as the wealthy sorcerer. As soon as it clicked in your head that he was Quan Chi, you stood up and ran after the carriage and shouted for help. Amused, he had demanded we the carriage to stop so he could listen to the poor child's plea.

All she asked was money. It was expected to hear her say that, as he's heard the same plea countless times from countless people. But the question he always had was, "what makes you worthy of such wealth?" Typically, the person's response was that they were helpless and/or served under Shao Kahn's command in the army. Those responses were simply repeatetive and meaningless to the sorcerer. Yet the child's response was different and had captured his attention.

"I am capable of summoning a flute that controls the actions of a specific person, or group, who hears it. I can control their body that way and can use them as puppets for any need. I can be useful to Outworld if you'd just lend me help in return!" The poor girl begged, making a few hand motions to summon a flute from her hands. Quan Chi was definitely interested and asked how strong it worked. She replied that it gets stronger by age, according to her mother before she passed. He asked about the girl's parents, and she explained that they had fought for Outworld and died doing so.

So his mind was made up; he would take her under his command as now he sees potential in her. Being a naive young girl, she took this as kindness unlike any other and already took praise of the man. Later, she would be brought to hell and from then on, trained.

Throughout her time under his command, Y/N was taught the many ways of scorcery and how it works. What tricks she was to learn to be useful to him was her choice, but boosting her own speed, defense, and strength was a requirement. As she grew older, the amount of control on a person grew stronger and stronger, and she would finally be capable of playing her flute fast and loud enough to prevent people from easily stopping her. As for her combat skills, she struggled to get the hang of punching and kicking ruthlessly until her opponent was dead. Although she could fight, her skills were that of a normal army man.

When she was 14, Scorpion was brought to hell and reborn. By then, her loyalty and love for Quan Chi had increased tenfold; hell, you may even call it love. Due to the amount of manipulation that murder is normal and that what the baldass scorcerer was doing was good, her love for him was inevitable. What an amazing man to have saved Hanzo and her from a terrible fate. Y/N's love for him was more than a teenage crush, truly. Although she never mentioned it directly, she wasn't keeping it a secret either.

Her cheeks would turn red around him and her smile would never fade. She may have been raised by a serious and cocky man, but only the cockiness of him went on to her. She was still a child and had childish urges to express her love for him in some way; maybe she would praise him in private to the other demons, lost souls, Scorpion, and others. Of course the demon himself knew of her feelings and would use that to his advantage as well. More praise would come out of his mouth whenever she preformed a task for him in order to make her more obligated to aid him.

By the age of 20, Quan Chi had grown onto her as well. He never once saw her as a daughter but rather another hellspawn, even the definition didn't match up. So he beginning to love the find young woman she became wasn't all that strange. Besides, this sort of thing was strangely common in Outworld. I mean, Kitana is an Edenian of hundreds of years old yet she fell in love with the mortal human that is Lui Kang. Quan Chi knew Y/N quite personally as well, so there's that. However, his love her wasn't really love, but rather a love of what she can do for him. Unlike Shang Tsung, he is a demon with a completely different mind of that of a human's so love isn't something he can truly expirence.

Their relationship had never been officially discussed; it sorta something that they both knew existed without any words being said about it. The scorcerer is no fan of PDA, yet in private, spoiling his lover was something he enjoyed doing. And she would repay him back by preforming any task required and sharing her love for him back.

Ermac

A creature with hundreds of souls swarming inside him is a cause for insanity. Imagine being trapped with nearly a thousand people who argue, complain, scream, cry, laugh, kill, save, and clash personalities every second of your life without any possible escape. It would be no surprise if you went fucking insane after a single day of pure despair; you may begin to cut open your skin and put small family airlooms in it to keep it with you at all times because of how much you miss them. You may start to pull out all your teeth and eat them, or snap your bones because you love the sound and feeling of pain. Those examples would be ways of comfort no matter how you look at it, and being incapable of doing anything to co-op with your hellish afterlife is an agony words will never be capable of describing.

Y/N was a simple maid working for Shang Tsung. The sorcerer wouldn't have time to clean up dead bodies and blood in the Flesh Pits when he immediately needs to work on another project, so his maids were the one to deal with that. You were assigned with the task of cleaning up after him. And for a long period of time, cleaning up the scorcerer's Flesh Pits became so long and hard that it became your only chore, and he had been killing many more than usually. Then one day, you over heard talk about a being of hundreds of dead warriors.

There was a creature that showed up in the Pits one day that you couldn't ignore. His green eyes glowed and had waves of green flow through them as if it showed a glimpse of what swarming souls looked like. He was quiet and still, only ever sparing you a glance when you'd clean. This was the being of many dead warriors, and it clicked Y/N quite fast. One day, with Shang Tsung absent, Y/N was cleaning up blood on one of the torture tables when she heard a voice from behind her. No, not a voice; it was like many combined. Frightened, she turned around and saw a tall figure wrapped in bandages staring right at her.

That moment, Y/N thought she was about to massacred into the worst way possible. When the tall man slowly stumbled closer and closer to her, she backed up against the table and covered her head with her arms out of fear, dropping whatever she was holding. In the unfamiliar place that is a chamber of hundreds of souls, it's easy to see that Ermac wouldn't have been stable in his early stages of development. Seeing a beautiful lady was familiar to him but he forgot how to respond as the endless combinations of ideas from each soul were different. Ignore her, compliment her, harm her, befriend her, and others that could either be terrible or better.

"Human girl," was his first ever spoken words to someone other than Shang Tsung. "Your name?" Y/N would looked at him and shiver while answering with her name. The name would repeat endless times in his mind as each soul took their time committing it to memory and getting used to her. It was mentally overwhelming, as easy to tell be how strange he was acting. He was very close to her, perhaps a foot away, eying her as if he'd never seen someone like her before. He was intrigued and too overwhelmed with different ideas to know what to do next other than just stand there. After seconds of silence, Y/N broke the silence.

"What is...your name?" Ermac was took his time to comprehend her question but responded with his name moments later. It got silent again, but an even longer time. Y/N stayed in her protective position the whole time as she could just see in his eyes of how unstable he is. She didn't know what he was capable of and if he knew what he was doing. Finally, the sounds of footsteps echoed throughout the place and scorcerer returned. He motioned for Ermac to leave when he saw the situation and apologized to Y/N.

The next time this happened, the interaction wasn't much different. He appeared behind her when she wasn't looking and said her name in his voice that contained hundreds of sounds in it. She was startled again and dropped whatever she was doing. "Ermac...Can I help you somehow," she asked despite the shakiness in her voice. Ermac simply got close again and stared at her. He said that he just wanted to look at her as she was the most beautiful person he'd ever seen. A shiver went down Y/N's spine but she pretended to hide it. Then Shang Tsung arrived and took him away.

The third time was similar, as was the fourth and fifth. The main difference was that he was quicker to respond and had less exaggerated movements. He wasn't stumbling to walk due to the many souls not knowing where to go, and was able to comprehend her words to him much faster than before. And eventually, it was clear his intentions weren't devious at all but rather just him being curious about the lovely girl he sees everyday.

Ermac, the moment he saw her, was in love. For someone so mentally unstable without anyone but her and Shang Tsung, any connection with anyone wad precious. And the beautiful girl was someone he immediately fell in love with for responding to him politely and acknowledging him. His souls may not be able to co-op with their claustrophobia.

One occurrence was when Y/N was cleaning the floors and suddenly Ermac appeared. She smiled at him nervously when she saw him and said hello, which he replied by asking how she is. Somewhere in the conversation, Y/N had asked how many people were in him. He was silent for a moment before saying that can't count but it's more than a hundred. Ermac then apologized for how he was when he first met, as his souls couldn't understand what was going on around them and were constantly at war. Y/N sympathized with him and told him that it was alright, and that she's glad he's getting over it.

They're conversations got more normal and longer from then on, and she noticed that each visit was more intelligent than the next. The souls were learning to understand their body and minds with the help of Shang Tsung, forming an overall personality among them. Of course, Ermac's strong immediate feelings for the girl never disappeared, like how his loyalty for Shang Tsung hadn't even though each soul was killed by him in the past. He was a soft spoken guy who showed incredible power and had not yet been introduced to the battles he was made to fight. Due to not having the corruption in him yet, he showed his soft spot a lot, even if his expression was always empty of emotion.

At Ermac became more stable, Y/N inevitably began to love him back. He was polite to her despite her just being a maid, and treated her as an equal. That was something she could respect more than anything else. And confessing wasn't that hard either; Ermac's souls have seen so much in past lives that any "surprising event" wasn't surprising at all but rather seen as something that just so happened to happen with nothing else to it. So a time when he would randomly say he cared for her, she said she cared for him more. The next time he said he cared deeply for her, she said she loved him. And that's how it began.

Y/N is simply a hard worker who gets anxiety easily. Yet even so, Ermac saw a lot in her due to the fact there wasn't many people to examine anyway. In their relationship, Ermac came to easily tell when the younger girl was nervous by examining her body language. When that happened, he learned that her comfort was being touched; whether a hug, holding hands, playing with her hair, or whatever else, it would distract her from her anxiety. Ermac would become more civilized over time, but Y/N was okay with that change even if his soft side wasn't seen as much. I mean, it benefits him, don't it?

Shao Kahn

Y/N is a strong, independent, calm, collected, and skilled fighter who can find away around the toughest situations. She was easily on par with the scorcerers themselves on some things, and advanced in others. She knew Chinese, English, Edenian, and Japanese and was very skilled in medical arts. In some cases, she could be considered legendary for her abilities. She was a general in Shao Kahn's army and had not once came close to losing. In her training, during breaks the armies were required to learn about medical treatments in order to ensure lesser deaths. She was tactical and thorough in her works along with beautiful, thus earning her many admirers everywhere she went. However, she was known for being quite emotionless and therefore not very capable of accepting praise.

At 14, she was brought into the military for being capable of managing nearly every problem that came her way. Even the grown men she fought along side with struggled to keep up with her. Hell, she'd even train people who struggled to keep up and prove to be of good use. By 16, she was right below the power of the general. By 17, she had total control over an entire army and she knew how to train them properly. Women were uncommon in these positions so word quickly spread. No doubt the emperor himself would want to gain knowledge of this girl as well.

When Y/N was requested to meet up with other people in power at the empire of Outworld, she held in her pure excitement. But on the inside, she was anxious and happy as all hell. And when she stepped place onto those pure palace floors, she felt so honored. When she first arrived, there was a man who was assigned to escort her to the emperor. He introduced himself as Shang Tsung, Shao Kahn's right hand man. Kn the way to the throne room, he explained why Shao Kahn wanted her in and what he had planned. Long story short, the stories he heard of her was that she was greater than any warrior Outworld had ever seen, and in others they said they witnessed her take on dozens of men at once and came out scratchless.

When she arrived into the throne room, her eyes laid right on the emperor straight away. By his side was Outworld's very princess of blue and her guar of green, and on his other side was a demon known for his powerful scorcery. Guards surrounded the doors and room to only stress the authority of the emperor.

Simply put, you were offered a position next to his scorcerers as a high authority General. But first, you would have to prove your strength to him; to prove your capabilities true. And yet, even up against the two scorcerers themselves, you had won. That was enough to prove to the emperor of your capabilities, thus earning you the job. You couldn't let it show, but your gratitude was immeasurable and suppressed under a small smile and a few lines of dialog.

She admitted that she wasn't all that stronger than the both of them together, but she managed to win easily by analyzing their attack styles and countering it. Impressed, she was given a position in the army.

Y/N's greatest honor in the world is serving the emperor. She was completely swallowed into admiration and radiated none less but the highest respect. As for Shao Kahn, he only respected and trusted the girl back. No doubt that his admiration for her went from professional to something a little more, but it's not the kind of liking that anyone may expect. Yes, he was the emperor but he was still more than capable of real love.

Most would think that love is something that would hold back people, but not to him. To Shao Kahn, every emotion is very important and useful when making decisions. And if he felt falling in love with Sindel centuries ago woul help maintain a kingdom, then he had no problem falling in love with her. And the plan worked. Shao Kahn has a way of blocking out emotions though, showing really just anger. However there's a lot happening in that man.

Y/N would be sent on so many missions and come back with a mere few scratches on her. At some point, even the scorcerers became jealous of the girl's attention from the emperor. It was a matter of time until Shang Tsung asked her how she managed to be so safe all the time. She simply said that she was born with an ability that fights with her without command.

Y/N was one to not care for praise, hate, flirts, or conversation in general. Her empty look was proof of which. Yet when thr emperor's praise became more and more personal and sensual, Y/M couldn't help but feel her legs weaken and her heart pound. The unfamiliar feeling made her hella nervous, and Kitana made her understand what it was.

As this takes place before the tournament, Mileena and all them aren't there. Kitana is, however, and she confronts Y/N one day without fear. She mentions how her father has taken a liking to her and that she knows how she feels about him. Kitana then told the story of how her mother died for the kingdom, and asked if Y/N really wanted to be used as a pawn. Y/N smiled at the girl who was clearly hurt and explained that she's already bound by servitude.

One day, Shao Kahn had asked the girl to go somewhere with her private. It was a strange part if the palace no one but the emperor knew existed; it was beautiful. A little pond, trees, and pure peace. It was still within walls of the empire however, as if the area was an indoor garden. And through the windows has a good view of Outworld. Y/N was brought over to a window and explained, "Y/N, everything you see out these very windows could be your's. For as long as I live, if you let me take you as my bride, I shall give you everything you could ever want. This is your decision, but choose wisely."

Of course Y/N had to agree. She knew it would hurt Kitana, as the girl clearly grew to like her, but the emperor was her main goal.

Baraka

The daughter of Sindel and Shao Kahn, the half sister of Kitana and Mileena, is Princess Y/N, a noble girl of beauty and riches beyond comprehension. This girl was born into a warm castle, clean air, money, good clothing, and loving family, a trusting sister, and much more. Her father, Shao Kahn, was very loving towards her and clearly saw her as his greatest achievement besides being emperor. Kitana loved and protected her younger sister from the the day she was born into this world. Sindel loved both her daughters equally, however she decided to abandon them only a mere week from Y/N's birth to protect her kingdom.

Despite her parents, Y/N is a kind and humble soul who sees life beyond her kingdom and pities the poor folk without the ability to be free from their harsh world. She was a strong fighter, one that could nearly defeat Shao Kahn, and her siren-like magic was incredible. Her voice was that of a mythological being; capable of manipulating emotions, thoughts, and even movements of her opponents. Of course let's not forget her shared Kiss of Death.

A leader of the most despised, aggressive, poor specie known to Outworld, a creature born into cold, hateful lands, and a being born with dangerous spikes was Baraka, the leader of the specie of Tarkatan. He was hairless with evil eyes, sharp teeth, and bones that poke out of his skin that can be used as weapons. He's powerful, untamed, and cruel to all those who piss him off. He was born into a harsh life with no one to aid but him or guide him but himself. That is all he is, ever will be, and nothing will ever change that.

Yet Baraka had earned himself into the place of Shao Kahn, and with a role that would get him massacred for if he dared step out of line for even a moment. Y/N had been training with her father, and she was perfect and agile the whole time, however there was one thing that she always did to pass her father off; no matter who or what she fought, she would never finish them. Years and years of training, and she would never kill. This earned her many punishments, such as being humiliated or beat; afterall, this is Shao Kahn who raised her.

Y/N wasn't let outside the kingdom either. She was considered too weak and fragile because she wouldn't kill. So a fee times, she tried to escape but was caught by either one of the sorcerers, a guard, her sister, or her father. At some point, Shao Kahn wanted someone to keep watch of his daughter to ensure she would never step out of line. And that someone was the savage himself.

Baraka would walk and follow her every place she went no matter what, even if it got the princess mad. Kitana could never convince Y/N to just kill something to make her father stop hurting her, but it just wanted in the girl's heart. The only time Y/N would allowed to be by herself was when she bathed, and even then Baraka would stand outside the room waiting. Baraka had never spoken to her unless she spoke to him, as ordered, but one particular day he didn't follow that order.

Y/N had just gotten clean and decided to quickly get dry and dressed before leaving the room, as normal. Yet what Baraka hadn't seen was that she carried a knife with her to the bathroom, which could be used to pry open the window silently and sneak out. She would shove the knife between the walls and window to pop it out of place without shattering it. Then, she slowly stuck one leg before the other out, until eventually— Baraka noticed the girl was taking a longer time then usual, so he called out asking if she was okay. She yelled out that she was okay, but the tone in her voice just told him to bolt in and check on her.

Once Baraka caught her, she hmphed and jumped out the window, landing on the roof. The roof was curvy and Y/N risked sliding down and hurting herself as she ran away, jumping from platform to platform. She felt so mischievous and free just being outside the castle doors. But Baraka was used to these times of platforms and could easily navigate across the roof to catch up to her. Y/N heard Baraka gaining on her, so she began to sing a song loudly that wasn't affected by her movements. Yet due to the wind and the sound of his loud footsteps, Baraka hardly heard her song and therefore wasn't affected.

Eventually, Y/N slipped on a tile, caused her to fall down and roll down the curvy rooftop. Hell, she even fell off the edge, thankfully grabbing one of the spikes poking out from the rooftop. She gasped loudly, fucking terrified, and hanging on for dear life. Baraka growled loudly as he came over to her, and glared at her rather than helping her up instantly. He hissed out words that made Y/N feel hella bad; ungrateful, you don't understand what it's like to be me, and other things. When it looked like Y/N was at her breaking point, he finally helped her up. He carried her bridal style back to her room to ensure she doesn't run off again.

Along the way, she was silent. And the next day, she wasn't as annoyed as usual with her body guard. Actually, instead, she started to ask about his specie and life, and he was obligated to answer. Baraka spoke of the hardships of his specie and how hard he fought just to keep what was remaining of his specie to survive. He spoke of how he got his position under Shao Kahn and how his early life was, and why he does what he does. Y/N felt terrible for the man, and hearing him go through so much nearly made her cry.

I guess calling her humble earlier seemed like a bad description word, hmm? After all, she tried escaping what she should be grateful for, right? But do keep in mind that Y/N isn't one for harassing, taunting, complaining much, keeping things to herself, and even escaping. You see, that time was just a one time thing and after dealing with backlash from her father, she would never attempt it again.

It's simple, really; Y/N would walk around the kingdom and ask Baraka about himself, then he would ask about her. It was simple and in depth before, but became more casual and friendly later on. Hell, it turns out the two opposites had a lot in common. After a mere month of constant talking, the two were very close.

One day, during training, Y/N had refused to kill yet again. Shao Kahn, of course, was pissed and had no issue harming his daughter more than usual to try to make her kill. Yet she wouldn't. Afterwards, she was sent to her room where Baraka had followed. She wasn't going to cry in front of someone, but damn she felt like she had to. Baraka sorta growled and tried to persuade her to do it once. Just make their death quick and painless; hell, use her voice to ensure they don't even notice the pain their in. Eventually, he convinced her after days.

Shao Kahn couldn't be happier. And Y/N, though relieved her father wouldn't hurt her, felt terrible. Later that day, she was on the verge of tears when she thought about that poor creature. Baraka had hugged her and told her it was okay, that she didn't have to worry because at least they wouldn't have to fight in the coliseum. Damn, even hours of hearing the princess explain why she always feels so bad, Baraka stood by her side the whole time and comforted her. That day, Y/N giggled sadly and said that she can't understand the things said about Tarkatans when Baraka was the nicest guy she ever met.

About a year later, Y/N had earned her father's respect by being able to fight whoever and kill them without worrying. She did it quick and painlessly, ensuring her siren voice made their nerves stop working. Baraka was a close friend who stood by her side proudly, though he came to realize his work as a body guard was done. Y/N had her father's trust, so he wasn't needed anymore.

"I am going to miss you very much, Baraka," the princess told the Tarkatan in a private room. "You are as close as Kitana to me, really. I bid you best of luck." Baraka had exchanged his goodbyes as well, but right before leaving, Y/N had hugged him tightly. Then, after he hugged back and pulled away, she kissed him on the "lips." When Baraka left, he knew had fell in love with the princess and the princess had loved him back just as much.

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nastybuckybarnes · 3 years

Text

In a Heartbeat - Seven

Pairing: Fireman!Bucky X Reader

Summary: You’ve always been careful with your heart. With your condition, you don’t exactly have any other choice. The last time you let someone in, you paid the price. A price you don’t plan on paying again. Until Bucky comes in and shatters your carefully crafted world.

Warnings: Angst, Language, Injuries, Fluff, Fluff, FLUFF

Word Count: 4.1K

A/n: Here she is! Part seven! I’m gonna write a little epilogue but the fic can very well end here! I love this series with my whole heart and soul omg

Series Masterlist

~*~

He’s numb.

So damn numb.

Nothing even matters. His ears are ringing, the bright lights bouncing off the linoleum floors are fucking with his eyes but he doesn’t care because you’ve been in the operating room for hours and all he wants is to see you, to make sure you’re okay.

No one’s said a single thing to him about whether or not you’re okay, and it’s taking all of his self-control not to break down that door and see for himself.

A heavy hand lands on his shoulder, jolting him from his thoughts and bringing him back to the loud sounds of the waiting room.

He furrows his brows at Steve, confused out of his mind until he sees Tommy in his other arm, head resting against his father's shoulder and a casted arm hanging limply at his side.

“Hey Tommy, how you feeling?” The brunet asks, his voice rough and hoarse with lack of use.

The six-year-old only whimpers softly in response, burrowing further into his father’s neck.

“He’s okay. Doctor’s got him on some painkillers. Said it was a clean break from pounding on that window.” Bucky stands up, rubbing his nephew on the back. “You’re a hero, buddy. Just like your daddy.” Tommy sniffles and nods, the sight breaking the man’s heart.

“You should head home for the night, Buck. Shower, rest, then come back in the morning.” He clenches his jaw and swallows hard, shaking his head.

“I-I can’t, Steve. What if... what if she comes out and I’m not here? Or what if...” He trails off, not even wanting to entertain the idea of the other option.

“I saw Nat on her way down here. Ask her for an update and then go home. You’ve had a long day. And when she’s out of surgery she's gonna be upset to see that you’ve exhausted yourself out here in the waiting room.” Steve has a point. Both men are still in their fire gear, having rushed to the hospital directly from the fire.

It’s after midnight now.

“I’m taking Tommy home. Take care of yourself tonight, Buck. If not for you, then for her.” He nods, eyes on the floor as the blond leaves, his son curled up against his side.

“Barnes? You’re still here?” He looks up at the sound of Natasha’s voice, desperation evident on his face as she walks over to him.

“I’ve got no update other than she’s unstable and that they’re doing everything they can. It’ll be another few hours before she’s out of surgery and even then, she’s going straight to the ICU and won’t be awake for at least a day or so.” He lets out a terribly shaky breath but nods, rubbing his eyes then pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Y-you’ll call if there are any updates, right? I’m just gonna pop home and shower and sleep for a few hours but I'll be back first thing in the morning.” She nods, taking his hand and squeezing tightly.

“I’m off for the rest of the night, so I’ll be sticking around bugging the nurses for updates whenever I can. Might even bribe an intern with good coffee, not this hospital shit.” Bucky chuckles softly, shaking his head.

“Okay.” He takes a step towards the exit then hesitates, looking back at the redhead for a. moment. “Do you think she’s gonna make it?” He asks, his voice soft and broken and nearly lost among the sea of people.

Natasha swallows hard and avoids his eyes, taking a deep breath before answering.

“The doctors are doing everything they can.” A rehearsed answer. An answer she gives to relatives to let them know that they shouldn’t expect much.

He says nothing, only gives her a firm nod, then turns and leaves the hospital.

Hot droplets of water rain down on him, washing away the stench of smoke and the physical reminder of the events of the day. But no heat and no water pressure will wash away the sorrow in his soul. The absolute unadulterated fear that grips his bones and seeps into his bloodstream. That is something that won’t be washed away by any amount of water and suds.

His movements are mechanical, scrub, rinse, dry, dress.

The sleep that finds him is restless and fitful, filled with nightmares that will haunt him for nights to come. Every thought, both waking and otherwise, are occupied by you. Your face, your smile, your laugh, and the thought that he may never experience any of them again.

He's back at the hospital at six-thirty, coffee in his metal hand because his flesh one is shaking too much.

Just as he’s walking to the reception desk, he sees Natasha walking towards the waiting room. Her face is unreadable when she sees him, but he notices her take a deep breath.

“What is it?” He asks, not bothering with pleasantries.

“She’s out of surgery. She’s still unstable, hasn’t woken up yet, but she’s been out for about three hours. She probably won’t wake up until this evening.” He takes a few deep breaths then nods, a bubble of relief hugging him tenderly.

“Where is she?” Nat sighs and turns on her heel, leading him towards your room.

“James, I’m not going to sugar coat this for you. She’s not doing well. There’s still a fair chance that she won’t wake up.” She stops, looking up at him with vulnerability in her eyes, tears brimming.

“What is it?” He’s nervous, his heart feels like it’s going to explode.

“They’re saying she needs a transplant. That her heart won’t last for much longer and if she wants any hope of surviving more than a couple years, she’ll need a new heart.”

The air leaves his lungs in a whoosh, almost as if someone punched him in the gut. He stumbles back a step, coffee dropped and hands coming to the tops of his thighs as he hunches over, trying to catch his breath.

“That’s a best-case scenario. Worst case is she... well... we should’ve said our goodbyes. But she’s strong. She’ll pull through. She has to pull through.” That last part is whispered so softly that the brunet almost misses it.

“Nat,” his voice breaks, it cracks and splinters and shatters in pieces on the linoleum that he doesn’t have the energy to pick up. He can’t pick himself back up. Not if you might not wake up. He just can’t.

“Sit down, c’mon.” She helps him lean back against the wall, sliding down until he’s seated, arms draped over his knees and his head hanging heavily between them.

He can’t breathe.

A sick voice in his head screams that this is what you must’ve been feeling, this terrible tightness in your chest, this inability to draw in a single damn breath. It’s unbearable and for just a moment he realizes he wouldn’t blame you if you gave up, if you just let it take you. But he shakes that thought from his head and instead focuses on you fighting. You need to fight. If you can pull through, then they can find you a new heart and you’ll be okay.

You’re going to be okay.

You have to be okay.

~*~

Everything feels still. Dry. Bland.

If you could pin it to a colour, that colour would be beige.

Everything feels beige.

You’ve been awake for a little while now, gathering your bearings and trying to remember what happened. The last thing you remember is the fire bell... Wanda telling you not to go... and then running back into the building to find Tommy.

Tommy.

Your heart picks up in speed, pain flaring through your chest at the action, and an alarm starts beeping rapidly.

It takes only seconds for the door to open, nurses and doctors flooding into the room and checking the various machines around you while you grab at the front of your hospital gown uselessly, trying to alleviate the pain.

“(Y/n), I need you to take a big breath with me, okay?” A doctor says, her brown eyes focused on yours. You nod, inhaling with her for a moment then exhaling. You do this a few times and the machine gradually stops, your heart slowing as whatever they injected into your bloodstream takes effect.

Nurses slowly trickle out, leaving just you and the doctor.

“Well, you sure know how to make an entrance,” she says with a smile, looking over your chart.

“What can I say, Doc? I’ve got a flair for the dramatic.” Your voice is weak, far weaker than it should be, and that alone scares you.

She chuckles softly, smiling at your words before tucking the chart under her arm and looking at you straight on.

“You being alive right now is an absolute miracle,” she says softly, taking a step towards the bed then motioning to the chair beside it, asking wordlessly if she can take a seat.

You nod, taking a few deep breaths as you prepare to hear whatever news she has for you.

“Your heart stopped twice on the way to the hospital, and the second time we almost couldn’t get it going again. Your heart is weak, and what you endured nearly ruptured your left atrium and you had severe lacerations of your ventricles. It is most comparable to a very severe heart attack, and you’re lucky to have survived.”

She doesn’t look like she’s delivering good news. No, she should be happy if you’re lucky to have survived. That fact alone puts you on edge.

“What is it? What... what’s wrong with my heart now?” You know it can’t be good judging only by the look on her face. It’s a look you’ve seen far too many times.

“With the rate you’re going, your heart will give out completely in three or four years. And it won’t be a pleasant process. You’ll be in pain, bedridden and hospitalized because you won’t be able to move. The only alternative is a transplant.” The world around you shifts from beige to grey, the clouds dark and the room sorrowful.

Your ears start ringing, loud and painfully and it takes everything in you not to rip them right off.

“S-so that’s it then? I’m gonna die in three years if I’m lucky? I’ve only got three years left?” She sighs and looks down at her hands, “the only other option would be to put you on a waiting list for a new heart, but we cannot guarantee that you’ll get it in time, but it’s worth a shot.” You shake your head, tears falling from your eyes and splattering on the ugly blue hospital blanket.

“I don’t want a new heart! I don’t want to go through a process and get my hopes up over something that I won’t get in time.” You sniffle and shove your face in your hands, the steady beeping of the machine next to you making you want to cry even harder.

“I’ll give you some time, (Y/n).” The doctor gets up and leaves, a sad look on her face as she turns to the pair waiting anxiously outside your door.

Natasha pushes herself to her feet, her eyes wide with curiosity and desperation.

“I recommend you give her space. She’s... processing everything,” Doctor Palmer says softly, giving Natasha a sad smile before walking away to handle her other patients.

Nat exchanges looks with Bucky then slowly walks to the door.

“Just give me a minute to see how she’s doing, okay? I’ll tell her you’re out here waiting, I just wanna see if she needs anything.” He takes a deep breath but nods, understanding that Natasha would be able to tell, if only from a medical standpoint, what you need.

You keep your face in your hands, tears wetting your palms, as the door opens again.

“Beans?” Nat’s voice makes you stiffen, sniffling and wiping your eyes before peeking up at her.

Her heart shatters in her chest at the sight of you.

Skin dull, eyes heavy and sunken. She’s seen a lot of sick people before but never would she have put you in the same category as them. Now though? Now, you look the part.

“I uh... I heard the news. Bugged the nurses for updates and they finally caved.”

Your bottom lip wobbles and then a sob bubbles out of your chest.

Nat’s face falls and she slides onto the bed beside you, pulling you into a tight embrace while you sob.

“Oh beans,” she whispers, smoothing your hair away from your face.

“I don’t want a new heart!” You cry, tears soaking her shirt. She hugs you, holds you tightly while you cry out your frustrations, your sorrows.

It’s agony.

She has so many questions, so much she wants to say, but she knows better.

She holds her tongue, wanting you to be in a better headspace before she talks to you about your options. It’s too soon. The wound is too fresh.

Bucky sits impatiently outside of the room the whole time, leg bouncing and flesh fingers trembling.

Natasha comes out of your room a short while later, sniffling and wiping at her cheeks.

“What’s happening? Is she okay?” The redhead nods, taking a few deep breaths.

“I’ve seen a lot of sick people, Barnes. A lot of them. But seeing her... seeing my friend so weak and tiny...” She shakes her head, looking up at him with glossy eyes.

“I’m scared, Buck.” Bucky pulls her into a hug, his own breaths shaking.

“It's okay. It’s gonna be okay.” She sniffles again then speaks, “she’s asleep again. She should be good to see you the next time she wakes up though. I’m sure she misses you.” He squeezes his eyes shut but nods, trying to mentally prepare himself to see you in such a fragile state.

~*~

Bucky doesn’t know how to feel.

He doesn’t even want to feel.

Helpless.

That’s the word that sums it up the best.

Seeing you on that hospital bed, tubes attached to your face, arms, and chest, he feels absolutely helpless.

“Hey,” he murmurs, smiling gently when you look up from your book.

“Bucky... Hi.” Your voice is raspy and hoarse, and he has to take a few shaky breaths to stop from crying.

“You mind if I sit?” You shake your head, motioning to the chair beside your bed.

He takes a seat and looks at you closely, his eyes welling up with tears.

“How ya feelin, pretty girl?” You huff a breath out through your nose then shrug, trying your hardest to stay strong in front of him.

“I uh... I’ve been better, I gotta say.” He chuckles weakly then nods, sniffling and dropping his gaze for a moment.

“Nat uh... Nat told me what the doctors said. About your heart and stuff. That’s... intense.” It’s not the best word but it’s the only one he can find.

You blow a breath out through your mouth and nod.

“It’s scary,” you whisper, not looking up from your hands even when he takes them in his.

“I’m scared. I don’t want to be put on a waiting list only to not get one in time. And there are people who need a new heart more than I do. People who want one more than I do.” He furrows his brows and cocks his head to the side in confusion.

“What do you mean, you don’t want a new heart? Why wouldn’t you want one?”

You sigh heavily, “because, James. This is my heart. It’s the heart that I’ve lived with for my whole life. I don’t want a new one because this one is mine. This is the one that’s dealt with heartbreaks and betrayals. This is the one that’s gotten me through the bad days and the good. And this is the one that chose you. I don’t want a different one. I wanna keep this one. And don’t you dare tell me that my days are numbered if I keep this one because my days are numbered regardless.”

You finally look up at him, fire in your eyes as you express everything that’s been going on in your mind.

“We’re all gonna die someday, and it may not be the way we expect or the way we want, and we won’t ever be fully ready for it. But it’s gonna happen. I’d much rather know that I spent my life doing what I wanted on my terms. If my days are numbered, I'd rather enjoy them than spend them waiting for a heart I may never get. My heart’s still got a few years left in it. Careful years, yeah, but years no less.”

Tears stain his cheeks and he nods, sniffling twice then pressing a kiss to your hands.

“I’m not going to try and change your mind, Doll. The choice is completely yours and no matter what you decide to do, I’ll stay by your side through all of it, I promise. You’re my girl, my best girl, my only girl, and I want you to do what’s best for you.” You squeeze your eyes shut, having mentally prepared yourself for him to put up a fight, not for him to be so supportive of your decision.

“I love you, (Y/n). And I’m gonna cherish every fucking moment that you let me spend with you because I love you. I thought,” he pauses, pulling a hand back to scrub the tears off of his cheeks only for more to fall.

“I thought I’d lose you before getting a chance to truly tell you. But I’m not gonna waste any more time because life is a precious gift. I love you, (Y/n). So much. To the fucking ends of the Earth. I love you and I don't want a day to go by where you don’t know just how much I love you.”

You whimper, his confession making warmth spread through your body and tears rain down your cheeks.

“I-I love you too, James. With every ounce of my heart, I love you. And I don't want to let you down and I never want to hurt you.” He closes his eyes, content to bask in the weight of your words for a moment longer, a private, intimate moment.

He eventually settles his head on the bed next to your hip, and your fingers find their way into his luscious brown locks, twirling the thick strands around mindlessly.

“When are you getting discharged?” He asks, his voice muffled by the bed.

“I’m not sure yet. Doctor Palmer said she wants to keep me here for at least another week or so to monitor my heart and take me off the medication, and then maybe some more time after that depending on how weak I am.” He nods, nuzzling against you some more.

“I’m not going back to work ‘till you’re out,” he says matter-of-factly.

You only giggle, shaking your head.

“James, that’s not even plausible. You’ve got bills to pay. Besides, you’ll get tired of being here. I’m gonna spend most of my time sleeping or bugging the nurses for some real food.” He lifts his head, eyes full of vulnerability.

“I just don't wanna leave you and then...” He trails off but you understand his concern.

“I’m gonna be okay. Doctor Palmer says I’m doing okay. I’m sure Nat will continue bugging her for updates and she’ll let you know if there’s anything concerning happening. But I’m gonna be fine, I swear.” He watches you for a moment longer before nodding and pressing his head against your thigh.

A thought bubbles into your mind and you tug gently on his hair to get his attention.

“What happened to Tommy?” You ask, voice tight and filled with apprehension.

Bucky only smiles gently.

“Lil guy’s a hero. He busted that window open, that’s how we found you two. Broke his arm but he’s okay. Says he looks like me so he likes it.” A smile finds its way onto your face at the idea of Tommy looking up to his uncle so much.

“He’s already gotten everyone at the firehouse to sign it, and I’m sure when he’s back to school he’ll get everyone there to sign it too. But the lil guy’s a hero. Gonna make a good firefighter.” You nod, mind flashing back to those last few moments in the school.

“I was so scared, James. I-I couldn’t protect him and I didn’t know what to do.” He reaches up and strokes your cheek gently, shushing you softly.

“It’s okay, pretty girl. It’s okay. Everyone’s okay.” You take a few deep breaths and nod, trying to calm down before your heart rate picks up too much.

“You need to worry about yourself, and not everyone else. Focus on getting better, okay? And then, when you’re ready, I’m gonna take you out on a date and show you just how much you can enjoy life, okay?”

You nod, smiling at him.

“Okay.”

~*~

“Miss (Y/l/n)!” Tommy runs at you full speed, nearly knocking you over when he barrels into your legs.

Bucky’s quick to steady you, opening his mouth to reprimand his nephew but you stop him, raising a hand to cut him off.

“Hey, Tommy! How’s my little superhero feeling?” He pulls back and smiles up at you.

“I got another cast so now my arm looks just like uncle Bucky’s!” You glance at the new blue cast and smile brightly.

“Look at that! And you’re a hero just like him too, huh?” He nods excitedly then digs around in his pocket for a moment.

“Here!” He hands you a sharpie then points to a blank space on his cast.

“I made sure to leave room for you to sign it!” Your face softens and you crouch down in front of him, signing your name and drawing a small picture.

“Thank you, Tommy.” He nods, glancing over his shoulder as his dad calls his name.

“C’mon Tommy! You gonna help us move or are you gonna help miss (Y/l/n) get organized?” He looks between you and his dad then runs over to the moving truck, excitedly grabbing whatever his little arms can carry then bringing them into the house.

Bucky wraps an arm around your waist and presses a soft kiss to your temple.

“You ready?” You look up at your new house, then over at him, nodding without hesitation.

“Absolutely.”

The moving process is long and tedious, and after seven hours of lifting, unboxing, cleaning, and organizing, you’re about ready to call it a day.

“Pizza’s on its way, and Nat ran out to grab some beers,” Bucky says, coming up into the master bedroom. Concern immediately colours his features as he sees the way you’re sitting. You’re on the bed, hunched over with one hand on your mouth and the other on your lower abdomen.

“(Y/n)?” He asks, coming to a crouch in front of you and trying to get a look at your face.

You take a few deep breaths then nod, opening your eyes and offering him a weak smile.

“You okay?” You nod again but he seems unconvinced.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” You take a deep breath and reach for his hand, squeezing it gently.

“I uh.. not really. I wanted to tell you in a better way but I guess this is as good as it’s going to get.” His heart is in his throat, absolutely terrified of what you’re going to tell him.

You’ve been going to the doctor a lot more frequently, and your energy levels have plummeted.

He knew you didn’t have time left but it hasn’t even been six months since the fire.

You pull his hand to your stomach and rest it there gently, eyes finding his as you wait for it to click.

He stares at his hand in confusion, that confusion melting away as he realizes what you’re telling him.

“Wait, are you...?” His eyes are wide, eyebrows raised and heart pounding.

You only nod, tears welling up in your eyes as he launches up and wraps his arms around your frame.

“Oh my god. Oh my god! I’m gonna be a dad!” You giggle wetly, tears of joy falling and getting soaked up by his shirt.

“We’re gonna have a baby.” He pulls back, hands on your small baby bump.

“How far along are you?” He asks, cradling the bump delicately between his hands.

“About three months. And the doctor said that they’ve already got a birth plan ready, and different pills for me to take to calm my heart.” His glossy eyes look up at you, so full of love and adoration.

“I can’t believe it. I...” he stops, leaning in the gently kiss your lips then pulls you into another tight embrace.

“Thank you, (Y/n). Thank you.”

318 notes · View notes

imasimpforshanks · 3 years

Note

hiii, how are you? may i ask angst alphabet for Ace? thank you ❤️

Angst Alphabet - Portgas D. Ace

a/n: hi hi!! here you go! OMG angst is still really hard LOL I don’t want to think about their rough life 😔😔😔😔😔 ANYWHOOOOO thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy<3

warnings: on the letter S there is mention of self harm

A-Accident (would they blame themselves if you died in an accident?)

Ace would definitely blame himself. He’s always thought he was a no-good demon child, son of a criminal that didn’t deserve to be alive (despite finding people that truly cared and loved him). You dying in an accident and him not being able to do anything about it would just reinforce what he already thinks of himself.

Regardless of your cause of death he is likely to attribute it to your association with himself, and because of that he will think it is entirely his fault, even if he wasn’t present at the time of your death.

B-Break up (How would they break up with you?)

His lessons with Makino really helped him develop manners and just a general sense of acceptable behaviour. So, Ace would just be clear and up front, no mixed messages, no miscommunication. He would take you some place quiet and away from others, and then he would be as honest and vulnerable as possible – it’s the least you deserve. The break-up would be very civil, you would definitely end on good terms (doesn’t make it any less sad though).

C-Crying (how would they make you cry?)

Sometimes Ace can take his teasing a little too far. Usually you can handle it, but there are just some days where his words cut deeper than ever intended (even if they have no malice behind them). It’s not his fault you’re having a bad day, or not realizing you are having a bad day. It’s just one of those things that happens sometimes. As soon as you start to cry though, he apologizes and reassures you so much, to make sure you known he doesn’t mean it and he’s only playing around.

D-Death (how would they react to your death?)

It would start out with a lot of confusion, like “what t-that must be some kind of a sick joke. H-how… w-what… they wouldn’t just die like that.” After it really sinks in that you have in fact died, Ace will just get angry. I don’t see him as much of a crier (spoiler alert – we only see him truly allow himself to cry on two occasions 1) when luffy got crazy hurt as a child and 2) when ace was on deaths door), so I believe he would react with anger.

Regardless of your cause of death (natural causes, accident, died in battle etc.) Ace would be unbelievably angry with himself, the world and you. He would be angry at himself for being unable to save you, someone he cares about and loves deeply. He would be angry at the world and whatever higher being there may be for choosing now to be your time. There are so many horrible, horrible people in the world, yet you had to die? It makes no sense. Lastly, he would be angry at you. Not a genuine anger but more so a “how could you just leave me like this? We were meant to be together forever.”

E-Emotion (what is one emotion they would try to hide the most and how would they do it?)

I think Ace tends to try his sadness. He tries to put on a brave face, not wanting anyone to see him cry as he doesn’t want to be viewed as weak or be even more of a burden on others.

F-Fight (how often do you fight? What do you fight about? Do you fight often? Etc.)

Fights with Ace, although they don’t happen often, can quickly get out of hand. He’s stubborn and his inability to accept that he’s not always right can cause a minor disagreement to escalate into an all-out fight. On a few occasions you have argued about him never turning his back on an opponent.

Your fights tend to be followed by cooldown time. Things can get quite heated (no pun intended) so you need some alone time and space to breathe. After that though, you comeback together and apologize.

G-Guilt (what is the biggest thing they feel guilty about?)

For his entire life, Ace has lived with the guilt of simply existing. He doesn’t think himself worthy of being alive. Can you blame him? It’s all anyone ever told him growing up. Despite eventually finding people who loved him for him, those feelings of inadequacy and worthlessness still remain and continue to plague his mind.

H-Heartbreak (what would cause them pain in the relationship? How would they deal during a break-up?)

During a break-up Ace is quiet. He doesn’t want to be around anyone or anything. He wants to be left completely alone so he can sort out his thoughts and feelings. He’d be quite devasted because he’s had so few people in his life love him on as deep a level as you did.

I-Injured (how would they react if you are badly injured?)

Ace would absolutely lose it if you were injured. He’d be concerned, upset, and angry all at once. First things first, he needs to know if you are going to be ok. Once that’s been established, he’ll be upset at himself for allowing this to happen. This will be replaced by the pure anger he feels at whoever, or whatever, caused this.

J-Jealousy (what do they do if they are jealous?)

When he gets jealous he turns into such a man child. He’s pouting and moping around while mumbling to himself. He develops quite a petty attitude. If you were to ask him “want to go get something to eat?” he’d respond with “why don’t you just go and ask ____ for some food.” But, as soon as you begin commenting on how jealous he’s acting he’s going to deny it to the end of his days.

K-Kill (would they kill for revenge?)

Ace literally hunted down Blackbeard so he could get revenge on him for killing Thatch. It’s not certain whether or not Ace had the intention of killing Blackbeard, however, he definitely had both the spirit and anger to go through with killing him. So, it is possible that Ace would kill for revenge. However, for the most part, he would prefer to just beat them senseless.

L-Loss (what is their greatest loss?)

Either Sabo or his mother’s death, would be considered Ace’s greatest loss. His mother died when he was a new-born, so he doesn’t particularly remember, or know, anything about her other than the fact that she was a kind wonderful woman. However, the loss of Sabo is something he remembers vividly. Losing Sabo had a major impact on Ace. It was an unfortunate wake up call as to how awful the world truly is.

M-Mistake (what is the worst mistake they ever made with you?)

One night, after a particularly bad day filled with a horrible series of events, Ace was letting off some steam (quite literally I suppose). Messing with his devil fruit power, throwing some flames around. He hadn’t noticed your presence and so his flames nearly burnt you. He was horrified, and he only felt worse after he noticed the pure terror in your eyes.

N-Nightmares (how often do they have them? What are they about? How do they deal with it?

Ace has nightmares frequently, they vary, but they all have the same underlying theme, that is, the people in his life don’t actually care about him and only view him the same way everyone else views the son of the pirate kind – a worthless devil with no right to life. He wakes up from his dreams in a sweat and finds himself in desperate need of fresh air (ya know to try and clear his mind). He ends up just sitting out on the deck of the Moby Dick looking up at the sky trying to tell himself it was all a dream. But his insecurity and self-doubt begin to resurface and soon he can’t discern imagination from reality. However, the moment someone else on the crew even speaks to Ace with something as simple as a “morning dude” he’s brought back down to earth and thinks to himself “no that’s right…. They love me… I wouldn’t be here right now if they didn’t.”

It’s a vicious cycle, but in the end, he manages to remember (even if it’s just for a little bit) that he is cherished.

O-Outrage (how and why would they get mad at you?)

When you continuously tell him there’s no need to stay and fight every single opponent. It’s okay to turn and runaway – in fact it’s safer to do that. When you say that he feels as though you don’t understand him. He’s not some careless, impulsive child who’s just looking for a fight (okay maybe he is a little bit). So he doesn’t really get super angry, it’s more so that he is frustrated and a little upset that you don’t try to see it from his perspective.

P-Past (what has happened in your relationship that changed the way you saw each other?)

It’s the same as the worst mistake he’s ever made with you – nearly burning you with his devil fruit. It made you realize that Ace can actually be quite dangerous (although you know he would NEVER hurt you intentionally). It made Ace realize that he needs to be more careful, the look of pure terror in your eyes has stayed with him ever since that incident, serving as a reminder.

Q-Quality (what is their most dangerous/toxic quality?)

His tendency to not back down from a fight is simultaneously his most endearing and toxic trait. He constantly places himself in dangerous situations with minimal concern for his own safety.

R-Rejection (how would they react to you rejecting their confession (or the other way around))

Having his confession rejected by you was definitely a blow to his self-esteem, but he respected and accepted your feelings. Instead of moping around about it he decides to laugh it off, trying to make light of a slightly disappointing situation.

S-Scars (battle or self-inflicted)

Ace does not have any scars, battle related or self-inflicted.

TW self-harm: I do think ace got worryingly close to self-harming, but Sabo and Luffy made him rethink it all.

T-Trust (have they ever broken your trust?)

The one and only time Ace broke your trust was after Blackbeards betrayal. You made him promise to take you with him when he left to hunt down Blackbeard because you didn’t want him to go alone. He promised but he had no intention of keeping that promise.

U-Urge (how badly do they want to see you after you guys separated?)

For a while Ace manages to get by by keeping himself preoccupied. But as soon as he lets up for even a minute, he realizes how much he misses you and is beyond tempted to just sail on back to wherever you are and tackle you to the ground plastering your face in lil kisses. When he’s not distracted, he really does miss you a lot. He hyper-fixates on what you could be doing at this very moment, whether or not you miss him too etc.

V-Vicious (what do they do when they lash out on you?)

When ace gets mad, he tends to get very loud. He raises his voice quite a lot and it becomes very, very frightening. He would never physically hurt you, but the anger and frustration in his voice is more than another to scare the shit out of you.

W-Weak (what makes them feel weak how do they try to avoid it?)

Constantly being reminded or associated with the Pirate King. Maybe it doesn’t make him feel weak, but it makes him feel horrible inside and stirs up a lot of feelings and remarks people would make when he was younger. Unfortunately, once word gets out there isn’t much Ace can do to stop this from happening, however, before this, Ace avoided this by not telling ANYONE. He only told Luffy and Sabo, with a very small handful of others knowing (i.e Garp).

X-X-ray (what do they hate and show it most obviously?)

He hates turning his back on a fight or turning his back on people that talk shit about those he cares about. This is seen during the Marineford arc. He doesn’t let Akainus words about Whitebeard slide. He doesn’t runaway. He has no tolerance for that shit.

Y-Yearn (what is one thing that they want but can’t have?)

Ok this may be dark as hell but, Ace just wants to not feel like a burden to the world. He wants to be viewed as something different/separate from his father, but he can’t change history.

Z-Zero (what do they do/say in your dying moments?)

He doesn’t let you go. He’ll hold on to you until he is forcefully separated from your body. He just starts to spout a lot of nonsense – things don’t make sense at all, but he can’t help it right now. He can’t think properly when you’re about to leave him. He just wants you to stay.

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece headcanons #one piece imagines #portgas d ace #angst alphabet #one piece alphabet #portgas d ace x reader #fire fist ace

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hourglassstationacademy · 2 years

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Evolnation Chapter 7

The concert was at the opening of a new amusement park and Peko and Emma both had matching cute Outfits to make them seem like a duo.You saw a wall with lots of posters of the idols… Shade also present. She reminded you of someone.

Before the concert, you mainly chilled with Emma while Peko went through the food and the practice to spend her time. "You know… I grew up with lots of expectations of my mother. As you saw with Sylvette and Glacia, most of our family are Idols… all trained hard from the beginning to be successful… I was the one who push the bounds and became one of the most popular performers… and last years dorm leader… until Peko appeared like a Shooting Star and went even Higher than me… since then I always think my Management wants to push her with me a lot to sell this Veteran Rivalry… however to me… Peko was more like an annoying little sister that I cared for and didn't want to go through the same things as I did. I saw the worst this business had… and changed Management often because of it. I think… I just wanted to tell you about that to make you understand… Each Idol has their own pressure to continue. Peko may find hers also one day…"

She stood up and nodded.

"For now let's see if after this performance things have changed."

And so both Girls went on stage. The crowd cheered even more loudly than yesterday's concert. Some Fans seemed like they were nearly fainting. Rouge came out of your bag to talk again.

*cue another Rhythm game*

"It would seem my Information was correct. She seems to smile but look at her face… it's not genuine..and all this talk about pressure and then that she does more work than the actual dorm leader. It's admirable but also reckless… that she tries to appeal to so many."

After their concert was over, however , another Idol entered the stage… purple hair with two pigtails… and she looked similar to Gregory. It was the same Shade you previously saw on a poster. Peko gasped.

"Omg omg omg… Shade has a guest appearance here! I still need to ask Greg if he can introduce me to her but he is always such a meanie."

While Peko bursted in excitement Emma sighed and mumbled something.

"That… I see that is the tactic."

A powerful voice to a Rock guitar came out of this so called Shade… you asked both of them who she is. Peko spoke Up.

"Shade? She is Gregory’s sister from what I heard… don't know her real name but she is part of our dorm, however she gets sick a lot so you barely see her. But she was nice from the Times I did meet her."

Emma sighed.

"Better not ask about it but Shade is one of the reasons Gregory got popularity as well… They both promote each other well and so get two hyped up fanbases…"

You listened to Shades singing but after the Song was over she vanished backstage and was not to be found after that. Peko sighed because she wanted to talk to her while Emma texted the dorm.

You returned back to Evolnation and the ranking slightly changed. Peko first, Emma Second, Gregory third but Shade…. She was Fourth now before Chamomile.

"Told you, rare Performance but still going high. Shade is going strong when she performs." Emma sighed. "Only Second again…"

Gregory got into the room and laughed wholeheartedly.

"My sis really does well. Heck yeah."

Peko looked at him with puppy eyes.

"Can you please introduce me to Shade next time… Pleaaaase."

Gregory's face suddenly grew pretty cold.

"You are really annoying, ya know. I think she would dislike ya as much as I do… that is why she also avoids ya. I would suggest ya stop being a spoiled Brat that gets everything they want to without trying and then we think about that."

As he said that Séan stood before her and looked at him in anger.

"I think you should work on yourself more… This attitude is not very needed here."

Greg smiled cheeky.

"Oh… but If ya guys are gonna shelter her more and not tell her how mean people can be and how hard it is to actually put in the effort that Fans stay for ya. Now she is a rising Star for sure but… one day she crashes and then she is fresh meat for the Evil of this Idol stuff."

Emma held both back.

"Could you guys stop with this? We don't need this negativity. "

She looked briefly at Greg as if she knew what He meant.As they stopped fighting, another tall memeber with blue hair brought Séan back to the twins and calmed him down.Peko also walked to them while Greg went to you.

"Welp then, guess ya are coming with me tomorrow… don't ya worry, I will give ya a show worthy of a true legend that has been the longest of our group in the Business." And so he waved and walked back to his room. Emma also spoke Up.

"He might seem mean but one thing He is right… he is the longest in this however… he also had much more freedom than us. We shouldn't underestimate him."

And so most of the other students cleaned up the Café and you went back to your dorm.

Séan by @rookvonhunt

Sylvette by @terrovaniadorm

Glacia by @just-tired-girl

Chamomile by @forestwispocs

#twisted wonderland oc #twisted wonderland #twst #twistedwonderland #twisted oc #twisted wonderland fanschool #twisted wonderland ocs #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst oc #disney twst #evolnation #evolnation story #hsa story

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tsukishumai · 4 years

Text

First Kiss - Tsukishima, Kageyama, Hinata, Yamaguchi (Karasuno First Year edition!)

Aoba Johsai Edition

It’s a little long, I have zero self control

Can you tell I love Tsukishima (｡◕‿◕｡)

TSUKISHIMA -

Before, you used to spend your days in school with your cousin, Yamaguchi, and his less-than-pleasant-but-ridiculously-good-looking best friend, Tsukishima.

He was a jerk, to put it lightly, but hey, you can be a jerk too.

“Your hair looks like a damn bird’s nest, and your bow’s all crooked. Did anyone even teach you how to be a girl?” “Did anyone teach you not to be such an insufferable asshole?” “Do you even know what ‘insufferable’ means?” “Uh, yeah, it means Tsukishima Kei.”

Yamaguchi regrets ever introducing you two.

Things may have started like that, but it wasn’t long before the biting tone in Tsukishima’s words was replaced by something more playful, each remark followed by a smile. He started walking you to your classes, saving you a seat next to him during lunch, even going so far as to share music with you. (He’ll never show you the playlist he’s made of all the songs you’ve recommended.)

But that was before. Now, you were doing your best not to melt under Tsukishima’s heated gaze, paying no attention to the golden brown eyes that have followed you around for days.

The bell rang to signal the end of class, and you quickly gathered all your things, throwing them haphazardly into your bag, and running out before Tsukishima could get to your desk.

You got to your locker in record time, quickly changing out of your school shoes so you could start your trek home. Usually, you would wait for Yamaguchi and Tsukki to get out of practice but… this was better for you.

“You’re avoiding me.”

You jumped at the voice that was suddenly right behind you, knowing exactly who would be there if you turned around, so you didn’t.

“Don’t you have volleyball practice?” “That’s beside the point.” “Avoiding you? I haven’t been –“ “I’m not a dumbass, so don’t play games with me. You’re avoiding me. Why?”

You gulped, gripping the school bag that hung off your shoulder until your knuckles turned white. You wanted to lie, but there’s no point. Tsukishima was always able to see right through you.

“I heard you tell Tadashi that you liked someone…” “… So?”

You tried to pretend that your heart didn’t just crumple up like a piece of paper. “SO! I didn’t want to ruin your chances; she might get the wrong idea if she sees us together all the time.”

He scoffed. “That is the single most idiotic thing I’ve seriously ever heard. Did you hit your head as a kid?”

You could feel your face turn red, anger beginning to bubble in your throat. You finally turn around to face Tsukishima, ready to give him a snarky comment. “No, YOU’RE the single most idiotic thing –“

The words died on your tongue, muffled by Tsukishima leaning down and pressing his own lips onto yours.

He pulled back, and couldn’t help but smirk at your flushed appearance.

“I was talking about you. Stupid.”

KAGEYAMA –

You had always found it extremely fun to mess with Kageyama Tobio

The boy was a genius when it came to volleyball; but maybe that’s where his genius ends.

It didn’t escape your attention that he would get flustered every time you smiled at him, or that his friends would tease him whenever you walked by, or that it was him dropping off a juice box and melon bread on your desk every morning with a note that says “have a good day.”

You enjoyed it; the way you could make him short circuit just by giving him a hug, the crimson on his face when he catches your eye from the court, and the deer-in-headlights look he gave you when you confessed your feelings.

You were never one to make the first move, sometimes wondering why you did it for Karasuno’s genius setter, but you’re reminded when you feel the shiver in his body as you slide your hand into his, and you see the sweet look in his eyes when you ask him to walk you to class.

You didn’t mind that you had to initiate most of the affection if it meant you got to see the blush that Kageyama always tried to hide.

Today, you found yourself in the perfect position to mess with him. The two of you were having a movie night, and even though you shared the same blanket, Kageyama was sitting on the other end of the couch like a perfect gentleman.

“Tobio,” you whined, “I want to cuddle.”

You didn’t even give the poor guy a chance to reply before crawling from your side of the couch, and situating yourself on his lap, arms reaching up around him as you buried your face into his neck.

You could feel Kageyama’s entire body stiffen, steam practically beginning to come out of his ears.

Laughter threatened to spill from your lips, so you decided you’ve done enough to the guy, and started to make your way off until you felt two strong arms snake around your waist.

You lifted your head to face Kageyama in surprise, but your breath was caught in your throat when you noticed the look he was giving you.

It was like slow motion – Kageyama’s head lowered and your eyes fluttered close before you felt the velvety soft pressure of his lips against yours.

Omg d-did he just kiss you?!

Now it was your turn to be flustered. The corner of Kageyama’s mouth turned upwards ever so slightly, and his hold around you tightened, causing the pink tint of your cheeks to deepen into crimson.

“Let’s stay like this for a while.”

HINATA –

Everything. Was. Going. Wrong.

This was not how Hinata imagined your first date together would go!

Do you have any idea how long Hinata has been waiting to ask you out? Ever since he met you at National’s last year, he’s been planning this day.

You were beautiful, funny, and you could teach him (more than) a thing or two about volleyball? *Chef’s Kiss*

When you finally agreed to go on a date with him, he thought he was dreaming. He knew he had to make it the best date ever.

He definitely didn’t go to the bathroom six times the morning of.

There was a summer festival that weekend, and he figured it would be the perfect place to take you on your first date.

Ten minutes in, Hinata had spilled Kakigori all over his Yukata. He had been in the middle of beating himself up about it when you reached over and dabbed at the stain with a napkin, laughing at his clumsiness.

An hour in, Hinata had spent nearly all his money trying to win you a stuffed animal to no avail. (You got it yourself in one try.)

Two hours in, Hinata had accidentally stepped on your obi, ripping the delicate material. He wanted to die right then and there, but you insisted it was old, and you were planning to get a new one anyway.

Just as Hinata thought he would redeem himself by taking you on the Ferris wheel, he found out that he got motion sickness, and you ended up having to rub his back, while he fought the urge to hurl the whole time.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologized once the two of you exited the metal death trap, sitting him on a bench, “I swear I had planned for this day to be much better.”

“What do you mean? I had a great time,” you said, and Hinata gave you a look that clearly said he didn’t believe you. You just laughed. “Hinata, when we first met, you threw up on my shoes. Today was a big improvement.”

He laughed. “Still – I wanted you to have a cooler memory of me.”

“You don’t have to try so hard,” you giggled, “I came here because I like you.”

Just then, the sky lit up with different colors of reds, greens, and blues; dancing together to create a pattern that illuminated your face in a way that made Hinata’s heart race.

You smiled then, sitting beside him on the bench and laying your head on his shoulder. “At least we have these fireworks.”

It was there, on a random bench under the glow of summer time, that you shared your first sweet kiss with Hinata Shoyo.

YAMAGUCHI -

Enter Yamaguchi Tadashi; Captain of Karasuno Volleyball Club, Pinch Server, and all-around good guy.

He’d like to think he was a completely different person now; no longer the shy, timid first year that was stuck on the bench while his classmates shone on the court.

Now, he was in charge, and one needed to have all the confidence in the world if they had to keep his demon classmates in line.

But all that confidence just went down the drain whenever you were around.

“Good morning, Yamaguchi-kun!” “Oh, hey! Hi, yeah, it’s a good morning right? Aha, the homework last night was pretty hard, right? Haha..ha.”

“I watched your game last night, Yamaguchi-kun! You were amazing, I couldn’t take my eyes off you!” “Wha - Ah - Haha, that was nothing, just - it was, uhm, the team they helped ahaha, I – Thank you?”

“Dude…” Tsukki would say, “What the hell just happened to you?”

Naturally, his friends got sick and tired of seeing him turn into a dumbass around you, so they decided to take matters into their own hands.

Yamaguchi should have known what the boys were up to when they decided they wanted to throw a party after the game. As captain, he probably should have spoken against it, but he was also feeling pretty high from the win, and wanted to let loose.

How they managed to trap him in this closet with you was beyond him. He thinks he heard the words “7 minutes in heaven” but the beers were making everything move too fast, and your proximity was more intoxicating than anything he drank that night.

You looked at him with glossy eyes, and he felt like he was drowning. More than a few minutes passed, neither of you moving. The tension was rising, and Yamaguchi didn’t want to make you feel like you had to do anything you didn’t want to.

“Y/N-san, you don’t have to –“ “Yamaguchi-kun, I like you.”

He froze, mouth hanging open. He watched as your gaze lowered, fiddling with your thumbs as you took a step back, and he instantly missed the closeness.

“I’m sorry, this was stupid. Tsukishima-san told me this would be a good idea, but I can see that I’m making you uncomfortable, I’m just going to –“

You felt Yamagachi’s warm hands on either side of your face, catching you off guard before he pulled you in and locked his lips onto yours. Your hands instantly moved up to wrap around his middle, and you lost yourself in the softness of his movements.

He pulled away, making a mental note to thank his idiot friends when you beamed up at him with a smile that blew him away. “I… I like you, too.”

A/N - This one is for @valiantrevolt !

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dinosaurtsukki · 4 years

Text

[ flu season in E minor ]

pairing: fyodor dostoevsky x gn!reader

word count: 2.2k words

contains: uni!au, sigma and nikolai as your bff’s, gn!reader, music student!fyodor, fyodor being a bit of a brat while he’s sick, slight pining/crushing, idk just fluffy shit

summary: you and fyodor are both in the university theater club but you rarely ever see him except for when you’re picking up the musical compositions he makes for the play. this time, however, you come over to his apartment to find him sick with the flu

a/n: uhhh this is kind of a trainwreck cause i was literally just ‘omg uni!au fyodor sickfic’ and then went with it :P

“don’t forget to drink your vitamin c guys! flu season is already here and if you’re down with the flu please don’t come in and spread your germs everywhere,” sigma instructed at the ending of the cast meeting. even though he sounded snappy while saying it, you could tell he meant well. two of your actors in the theatre club had already come down with the flu and with showtime coming up soon, everyone was understandably extra careful.

“y/n, one last thing,” sigma called you over as everyone prepared to leave.

“in case you were going to ask, yes, i took my vitamins already,” you teased skipping over to where he was.

“not funny,” sigma rolled his eyes. “i was wondering if you could follow up with fyodor on the music for the next scene? he doesn’t respond at all to any non-physical communication, i already left him ten messages.”

“ooh, another visit to the phantom of the opera’s apartment,” nikolai popped up right at your shoulder.

“seriously? you guys call him that?” sigma raised a disappointed eyebrow at you two.

“well he’s mysterious and makes music in a theatre.”

“i feel like you should actually watch phantom of the opera before making that claim,” you told him. “also sure,” you shrugged nonchalantly to hide your obvious excitement. “i have time to drop by.”

even though he’s a part of the theatre club, fyodor dostoevsky was pretty much an enigma to the rest of the members. his contributions to the club activities were mainly in the form of the musical compositions he created for the plays. however, because he was always busy practicing for upcoming recitals apart from his music classes, fyodor rarely ever attended rehearsals.

but on the off-chance that he did drop by in a rehearsal to discuss with sigma or attend a cast meeting, you’d spend the entire time just... admiring him. everything from the calm and articulate way he spoke to messy way his hair framed his face. and on that day when fyodor decided to demonstrate the music by playing it himself on his cello, you realized you were head over heels for this man.

and so you, practically jumped at every chance you got to pick up sheet music or recordings from fyodor’s apartment. you already set the expectation that you wouldn’t be around for long. and you were right about that... usually.

...

“fyodor? hello?” you knocked on the door for what was probably the fifth time already. it was freezing cold outside and you were desperate to get in. pressing your ear against the door, you heard a weak voice say ‘come in. door’s open’ and then tentatively, you unlocked the door.

whenever you saw fyodor, he was always wearing a clean, button-up shirt and slacks since he was also at orchestra practice. so of course, it was a complete shock to you to come into his apartment to find fyodor dressed in bright red pajamas with a mickey mouse logo on the center of his shirt with a colorful patchwork quilt thrown across his shoulders. not to mention, he was seated in his couch with sheet music and tissues strewn around him.

upon closer look, you could tell from his sunken eyes and slightly red nose that flu season had struck fyodor.

“oh, y/n, it’s you,” he sniffled as you hesitated near the door. “come in. it’s cold out.”

“are you alright?” you asked, approaching fyodor. because you had gotten the flu a bit earlier that month, you weren’t too concerned about catching it again. “you look, well, sick.”

“just a cold,” fyodor waved his hand. “anyway, did sigma send you for something?”

“he’s asking for a follow-up with the music for the new scene,” you remembered.

“oh, that...” fyodor nodded, frowning as he searched the sheet music scattered around him. “i’m sure it’s around here somewhere and... i forgot to do it.” fyodor sighed at the realization. “don’t worry. i’ll just whip something up real quick,” he sniffed before picking up a blank piece of sheet music.

“well you don’t have to right now. fyodor, you’re sick. you should get some rest before working,” you sat down on the couch as fyodor bent over the coffee table with a pencil ready. “i mean, no offense but i doubt you can come up with anything in your current state.”

“nonsense, y/n,” fyodor scoffed and began to scribble something on the page. “i am a trained classical musician. composing is merely second-nature to someone like myself. why, i’m sure i have a melody coming along right--”

“fyodor.”

“yes?”

“you just wrote the letter g on the corner of the page and then started drawing random squiggles.”

fyodor looked down at his squiggled-over sheet music with a completely deadpan expression and stared at it for a good ten seconds. “i thought it was a g-clef,” he whispered to himself.

“do you... want me to help you to your room?” you asked softly. fyodor sniffed.

“yes please.”

...

when you headed out to his apartment earlier that morning, you didn’t expect to be taking care of a sick fyodor for the rest of the afternoon. for someone who always looked put-together and composed, fyodor was terrible at taking care of himself. even after coming down with the flu a few days ago, he still insisted on practicing the cello in his apartment. and, judging by the empty cans in the sink, you could tell that all he was eating was instant soup.

and, sick fyodor was kind of... whiny. it took a lot of convincing on your part for him to agree not to work on the compositions in bed, or practice his bowing. he complained about his pillows ‘not being plump enough’ and that his socks didn’t match (because he didn’t do the laundry).

“i don’t think i’ll even be able to sleep at this rate, y/n. my head is spinning but i’m not nearly tired enough to sleep. maybe i’ll drift off for just a bit but it won’t be that restful,” fyodor said, laying down on his not-plump pillows before he was out like a light five minutes after.

“drift off for just a bit, huh?” you chuckle slightly to yourself as you watch him. fyodor was curled up on his side, hugging one of the pillows with his blanket wrapped tightly around him.

you were definitely in a strange situation being in your crush’s house while he was sick in bed. there wasn’t really a need for you to stay; you could just leave some medicine on the nightstand and a note with instructions.

“mmm... key needs to be in e minor,” fyodor mumbled in his sleep before turning over on his side. you bit back a laugh for fear of waking him up.

‘what the heck? i’ll stay and make him some actual soup,’ you ultimately decided.

...

fyodor woke up to the smell of something delicious cooking, and that was something he rarely woke up to. aside from the fact that he could actually smell out of his currently unclogged nose, fyodor felt much better than he had been in a while.

‘y/n must still be here,’ was his next thought after waking up. and he must admit, that was very reassuring to know. fyodor didn’t have the best constitution and whenever flu season rolled around, he expected being sick for a length of time.

after wrapping the blanket around himself, fyodor curiously crept into the kitchen to find you standing over at the stove, stirring something in a pot while humming to yourself. there was a bag of groceries on the counter too. ‘did they... buy me food?’

he coughed slightly to get your attention.

“oh, fyodor. you’re up,” you turned around, smiling at him. “how are you feeling?”

“a bit... better,” he confessed, fully aware that he said all those things about not being asleep before embarrassingly falling asleep for two hours.

“great! soup’s going to be ready in a few minutes. if you freeze it you’ll have enough for a few days,” you added. “also bought some oranges. they should be good for you.”

“you... don’t really have to do this you know?” fyodor ended up blurting out, except it sounded a bit harsh. “i mean, i’m sure you went through all the trouble.”

“don’t worry about it,” you waved him off. “you’ve been working really hard so i get that you don’t think of yourself much. let me do this one thing for you as a friend,” you smiled.

“also, i’m genuinely concerned at the amount of canned soup you’ve been consuming.”

“canned soup isn’t that bad for you,” fyodor insisted.

“yeah, and i’m sure you enjoy that metallic aftertaste quite a lot,” you quipped. fyodor opened his mouth to retort something before closing it abruptly. the knowing smirk on your face only made him glance away. instead, he busied himself with retrieving the clean bowls, luckily there were two left, from the dishrack and setting them on the table. you were humming again while you turned off the stove before serving the soup.

“chicken noodle soup, huh?” fyodor couldn’t help but chuckle.

“a classic,” you shrugged with a smile. “it’s a secret family recipe too so it’s bound to get you to feel better.”

“you’re making it up, aren’t you?”

“yeah, i got it off the internet,” you giggled. fyodor chuckled and took a sip of the soup. it was deliciously hot and flavorful and best of all, the soup didn’t have a metallic aftertaste.

“after eating, you can take some of medicine that i bought in case you have a headache or body pain, as long as you didn’t take any four hours before.”

“what?” fyodor blinked at you.

“you know, don’t take the medicine within four hours of each other,” you explained slowly. “also it’s better that you drink some now that you’ve eaten.”

fyodor not-so vaguely recalled all those times he drank medicine on an empty stomach and feeling even more sick after. “i... was not aware of that,” he admitted. you sighed with your eyes closed.

“i’m amazed you’re still alive.”

...

“so, flu season struck the phantom of the opera, huh?” nikolai sighed after you told him about your weekend.

“yeah,” you nodded, remembering the sight of fyodor on the couch dressed in his pajamas with a blanket wrapped around him. that was going to be burned in your mind for a long time. “he’s... kind of terrible at taking care of himself.”

“that’s fyodor for you,” sigma added. the three of you had arrived at the backstage area of the theatre early and were busying yourselves with sorting through the various props that you had. “you know, one time he even went to a recital with a 39-degree fever. practically collapsed when he was off-stage.”

“i’ll one-up that story,” nikolai practically sprang off the box he was sitting on. “okay, so there was this one time i came over to fyodor’s’apartment while he was sick and he was so delirious he--”

“you guys do know that it’s rude to talk about people when they’re not there.”

the three of you practically spun around at the same time to find fyodor leaning against the doorframe of the backstage entrance with his arms crossed. he was looking way better than last time you saw him.

“fyodor,” sigma blinked, clearly stunned. “you’re... you’re here.”

“you’re alive!” nikolai cried dramatically, skipping over to fyodor and flinging his arms around fyodor who showed obvious discomfort.

“of course i am,” he scoffed. “thanks in part to y/n.”

hearing that made your face flush a bit. “i-it was nothing,” you stammered, dodging nikolai’s curious stare.

“anyway, i finished the compositions for the next scene,” fyodor strode forward, handing sigma a folder of sheet music and a flash drive. “let me know if it’s to your liking.”

“thank you. i’ve been having director’s block with that one. this should help,” sigma sighed gratefully. “i’ll give it a listen if you don’t mind.” and before you could say anything else, he scurried out to the stage area.

“and i’m going to leave for some arbitrary reason just so you two would have some alone time,” nikolai snickered at the indignant expression on your face before leaving you and fyodor alone backstage.

“oh, nikolai. always... funny,” you laughed nervously.

“indeed,” fyodor nodded. “i only have the vaguest idea of what’s been going on during rehearsals. i should probably come around more often.”

“oh, we understand that you’re busy and all. but you’ve already been helping a lot with composing the music so don’t sweat it if you feel like you haven’t been active,” you said.

“well, that’s not the only reason i want to come around more often,” fyodor’s eyes flickered up to meet yours and you felt your face heat up again. god, it was so much easier to talk to to him and joke around when he was sick with the flu.

“in any case, i’m glad you feel better now,” you cleared your throat. “i hope the soup helped.”

“it did. i was sad to see it run out,” fyodor chuckled. and before you could even consider what it was you were going to say, you went and blurted out:

“i could make it for you again.”

“oh?” fyodor’s eyebrows flew up and a smirk played on his lips.

“i-if you want to of course,” you stammered.

“i’d like that,” fyodor smiled, much to your surprise. “if you could update me on rehearsals and the play we’re doing, that would be great. how does friday sound?”

“friday sounds great.”

▸ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ◂

taglist (check out my post for details on being part of my taglist): @waitforitillwritemywayout @atsumusdomain @laure-chan @goodfoodxoxoxo @guardianangelswings @ah-kaashi @amberalisa @whootwhoot @liz-multifandom-hotel @kac-chowsballs @violentfarewll @fyoyacanruinmylifethanks

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd x reader #fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor dostoevsky x reader #fyodor x reader #fyodor #bungou stray dogs fanfic #bsd fanfic #bungou stray dogs fluff #bsd fluff #bungou stray dogs uni au #bsd uni au #bungou stray dogs one-shot #bsd one-shot #bungou stray dogs writing #bsd writing

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drawlfoy · 4 years

Text

Mirror, Mirror Finale P.2

masterlist request guidelines

pairing: draco x ravenclaw reader

request: yes very highly requested lol

summary: despite never speaking before, y/n has a big crush on draco malfoy, a particularly broody and obnoxious slytherin. what will happen when they finally have to start associating? and what if they run into a certain mirror that shows you what you truly desire?

warnings: cursing!

a/n: so ik i said this was gonna be out later this week but i love you guys too much! here it is...the final part of mirror, mirror! it’s weird to finally finish a series like this but ohhhh boy here we are

taglist: @theres-a-dog-outside-omg @mey-rapp @kaibie @blackpinkdolan @the-wiener-soldierrrrr @sugarbby99 @gruffle1 @missmulti @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop

word count: 2.1k

“About time you got off your arse.”

“Hello to you too, Rena,” Y/N sighed as she dropped her satchel on her bed. Her roommate watched, bemused, as she began to unpack her things.

“How are you?” she asked, her voice noticeably softer. “I really missed you. We were all worried sick, you know.”

Y/N snorted, tossing her wrinkled robes on the bed and making a mental note to spell them neat later. “I do know. Madame Pomfrey was going to kill me for how many times she had to tell you to leave me and let me rest.”

Rena’s eyes sparkled.

“I’m fine, thank you,” said Y/N. “I missed you too.”

The two sat in silence for a bit as the cold afternoon breeze wafted into their room, carrying the smell of fresh snow in.

“So, anything exciting happen? Did anyone tell you anything….interesting?”

“No.” Y/N was about to turn back to her work before she caught the mischievous expression on Rena’s face. “What? Why?”

“Nothing,” she sang. “I’m just wondering. I have to catch up with my best friend, you know. It’s been forever.”

“It’s been the whole of four days.”

“It’s been forever,” she restated, jumping up and spinning Y/N around (who couldn’t help but allow a slow grin to spread across her face).

“I was going crazy in there.” Y/N’s voice was considerably more serious. “I never told you, but--” she chose to ignore the look of anticipation written all over Rena’s face, “--Malfoy talked to me. And he was so nice to me, it was we--”

“That COWARD!”

The outburst started Y/N, who dropped her things on the floor in shock. “I’m sorry? Rena, what happened?”

“I can’t tell you,” said Rena, her tone dutiful and mournful. “It’s not my place. Anyways, what did that loser do?”

“Er,” began Y/N, “I don’t know how much of it was real or if it was because I was on pain potion, but he and I--I don’t know, flirted? There was a lot of banter, and before he knew it he pulled me off the ground--”

“You were on the ground?”

“--he pulled me off the ground and picked the gravel out of my palms.” Y/N swallowed as she recounted the instance. She’d never seen him look so soft before. “He said he had something he wanted to tell me, and his voice got all strange.”

“And then?”

“And then Madame Pomfrey came to yell at me and basically--oh god, Rena, she basically told him that I dreamt of him!”

Rena snorted with laughter. “Shit, dude. I don’t think you should worry, though. You’d think any bloke with half a brain would’ve figured out that you were obsessed with him by now.”

“Shut up.” Y/N’s face was hot. “Anyways, I haven’t seen him since. I’d prefer if we could stop talking about this.”

“Sure, sure.” She took in a breath. “Wait, what about rounds? Don’t you still have to see him?”

“No. Flitwick told me I’m off. At least until next month.” If she sped through the thought, it didn’t hurt as much.

“Ending of a chapter, huh? How are you feeling about that?”

Y/N sighed. “Honestly, Rena, I love you, you know I do, but I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Okay? It’s over.”

If her words carried any deeper meaning to Rena, she didn’t show it. “Lighten up, girly. Maybe it’s not.”

“All I’ve done is make a fool of myself,” lamented Y/N, throwing her empty satchel in the closet and collapsing onto her bed. “I’m just going to go back to what everything was before. This hasn’t changed anything. Now, Rena, I have a Potions exam to study for.”

“Whatever floats your boat.”

Her interactions with Draco were few and far between in the following weeks. Sometimes she caught a few glimpses of a pale blonde head of hair as she walked down the halls to her classes, but nothing concrete, nothing even close to the amount of interaction they had while she was still bound to her rounds.

It was certainly a punch in the gut--after all, she did spend a good portion of her academic career thirsting over him--but the sensible part of her knew that this was for the better. Her schoolwork became her top priority again, just like it had been the years before she was assigned to be his partner.

So, given this pattern of communication, it was fair to say that Y/N was completely and utterly flabbergasted when she saw Draco waiting by the entry of her common room at 11pm one night.

“Can I help you?” she asked as she shifted the books in her satchel to be secured over her shoulder.

“Yes, actually,” he said smoothly, not tripping over his words in the slightest. “I have rounds tonight.”

“I’m aware.” She hoped that he couldn’t hear her heart pounding the way that it was.

“And I’m out of Wide-eye potion.”

“That really sucks,” Y/N said as she held up her hand on the door of the common room, uttering the riddle’s answer under her breath before she stepped in.

“Wait!” His voice turned her around--it was pleading, almost desperate. “I have an exam tomorrow. No one in Slytherin has any. Snape would kick my arse for waking him up now. I know you have some left over since you never finished the rounds, and I--I understand if you don’t want to but it doesn’t have a very good shelf life anyways and I was hoping you’d...that you’d be alright with giving it to me.”

She paused, completely stunned. The most hopeful part of her wondered if he had made this up, but she squelched this with a force that nearly knocked the wind out of her. “Fine. Come with me, you must be freezing outside.”

Y/N wasn’t wrong--the weather had taken a turn in the past few days to be bitterly cold--but it wasn’t like she’d object seeing him for any longer. She mentally cursed herself for being so weak-willed.

Draco looked pleasantly surprised at the suggestion and stepped into the common room with her, following her up until she reached the base of the stairs. “I’ll wait here.”

“If you’re comfortable,” she began, “I’d honestly prefer if you came with me. I don’t want to explain to anyone why I let you into our common room unsupervised.”

He looked like his mind was buffering the information for a second, standing with a glazed look in his eyes before he sucked in a breath and became the picture of confidence once again. “Want me in your room that bad?”

Yes.

“You wish.”

He scoffed as they climbed the stairs, Y/N a few steps above him. She thought that if she maintained the space he wouldn’t see how hard she was shaking and wondered where Rena was. Studying with Hermione like she told her she was? She hoped.

Y/N stopped in front of her door at the very end of the hall, decorated with a banner that had their names displayed in glittering bronze letters that moved in the light. “Ok. You can come in with me if you want--it might be a couple minutes since I don’t quite remember where it is.”

He looked amused with himself as she got out her wand and attempted to unlock her door with the specialized charm she and Rena had decided upon. Mortifyingly enough, her hand was too shaky to execute it.

“Hey, hey,” Draco tutted, holding his hand out. It enveloped hers and held her wand still as she muttered the incantation, unlocking the door and swinging it open.

“Er...thanks,” she said. His hand was still over hers.

Y/N broke the eye contact to dart through the door to a thankfully dark and empty room--if Rena had seen that, she never would’ve let her hear the end of that--and began rifling through her drawers as Draco shut the door and examined her room.

“You’re flustered,” he noted as she tipped over one of her candlesticks and just barely managed to catch it. “Is everything okay? Trouble in paradise, little Ravenclaw?”

“Like you care.” Y/N shut the desk drawer with an audible BANG. “And don’t call me that. Rowena Ravenclaw is rolling in her grave hearing you infantilize her good name like that.”

Draco laughed from his stance by her door--a sound that she hated to admit that she really missed. “I take back what I said. You certainly sound like yourself.”

Y/N’s fingers finally closed around the last bottle of Wide-Eye, which was quickly tossed to Draco. “Happy now?”

He sent her a strangely weak smile as he slipped the vial into his pocket, no doubt silk lined and expensive. “Sure. So this is goodbye? Actually?”

“I think...I think so.”

Y/N had moved closer to him so only about a foot stood between them, a distance that felt like a mile from where she stood.

This is goodbye.

Draco was making a motion to turn around and open the door when Y/N experienced the most severe lapse of judgement in the entirety of her 17 years.

She sprung forward, her fingers curling around the satiny soft fabric of his tie and pulling. Her motion was rough enough that he jolted forward, his eyes wide with surprise as Y/N closed in and pressed her lips to his in a very chaste and ungraceful movement.

The split second that it took for her to realize the consequences of her actions was enough for her to let go completely and jump away, apologies readily falling out of her mouth in disjointed and clumsy collections.

“I’m so sorry...Oh my god...I have no idea what got into me...Draco, I--”

Before she could finish, his hands were already cupping her face, his frame bent down the slightest so he could be more level with her. And he was--oh--he was kissing her, actually properly this time, without the tense closed-offness of her first attempt.

When Y/N imagined what it was like to kiss Draco Malfoy, she didn’t imagine him to be so soft. Or warm. Or gentle, or pliant, or whatever other good things he was to her as he snaked her arms around her and held her tight to him.

His kisses turned feverish, almost desperate as he turned her so she was pressed up between him and the wall. Everywhere his hands touched felt charged with electricity and energy, and as his hands traveled up and down her spine she decided that this must be what it’s like to die of happiness.

“Draco,” she managed in between kisses, pulling away for air for just a moment and sliding back down so her feet touched the floor again. “Can we talk? About this?”

“Thanks,” he responded, his eyes glittering with endearment. “I almost forgot you were a Ravenclaw.”

“Shut up.”

He grinned but made no effort to step away from her, instead choosing to drag his fingers up and down the side of her exposed neck. “What’s there to talk about? I like you, you like me, there’s nothing we need to do to complicate this further.”

“You...you what?”

“Yes, genius, what else did you think I was planning on telling you that day in the courtyard,” Draco said. “I’ve been avoiding you because I thought you were over me. That was horribly embarrassing, you know. Had to nurse my ego for weeks before I could garner up the courage to speak to you again.” He stopped to gently press the pad of his thumb into the little dimple she had in her left cheek, smiling uncontrollably as he moved his hand back to cup her face.

“How was I supposed to know that?” argued Y/N.

“Isn’t this supposed to be the smart house?” he teased.

She slapped his shoulder. “Don’t make me decide I don’t like you anymore.”

“Oh, so you admit it?”

“Admit what?”

“That you like me?”

“I’m going to scream.”

“Just from kissing me? Wow, I must be good.”

“I mean it!”

“So do I!”

Y/N gazed up at the boy in front of her for a few beats, admiring how the moonlight bounced off the silvery strands of his hair and how his smile reached every corner of his face.

“I take back what I said,” she told him.

“Oh, and what is that?”

“This isn’t goodbye.”

He smiled again, leaning in close so his lips barely brushed her ear. “No. No, it isn’t.”

#draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy #dracotok #draco #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #draco x y/n #draco x oc #draco malfoy x y/n #draco x you #draco malfoy x oc #draco malfoy x you

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twokinkybeans · 4 years

Text

MAKE IT LAST - STARKER MOB BOSS/COFFEE SHOP AU

HERE IT FINALLY IS! So, a few months back we did a prompt line fic thing. This means this one shot is wayyyy late, but it also got wayyyyyyyyyyyy out of hand and is now nearly 11k words long omg.

The prompt line @jeranasblog gave me was: "He had spilled his coffee on the suit of the most dangerous man in New York City." I hope you enjoy! <3 -Lien

Warnings: Adult!Peter Parker, Mob boss!Tony, Barista!Peter, No powers!AU, Peter is a little dense but we still love him, angst, fluff and smut, near the end there are some gruesome threats, abduction, guns, May is mentioned, Obadiah Stane is the bad guy, Bucky and Steve are there, Coffee Shop boss is an OC and has a gambling addiction. Smut tags: NFF, teasing, sexting, masturbation, orgasm delay/denial, hand job with much lube lol, hand & finger kink, praise kink, daddy kink, possessive kink, dry humping, finger sucking, anal fingering

Read “Make It Last” on AO3! Taglist: @the-secret-avenger @ironspiidey

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“Two minutes, Peter- hurry up!” Mister McDougall’s high pitched command reverbs through the coffee shop. In two minutes, it’ll be two PM on the Tuesday afternoon. Peter’s been working here for three years now. Just yet, he tried to quit, but that wasn’t taken kindly. He can still feel the eerie presence of the tip of a knife on his cheekbone. How Peter got himself stuck in this job is a long story. A very long one. You see, the owner of the coffee shop, Mister McDougall, made a deal with New York’s biggest mafia boss to be able to keep the shop and… He wasn’t able to pay back on time. Lucky for Mister McDougall, Peter was working when the Big Boss came to collect. At two PM. On a Tuesday afternoon. A few months ago...

The bell of the front door rang and Peter walked in from the back, smiling kindly. He greeted the rich looking man. “Good afternoon, Sir,” he said in his regular chipper voice. The man cocked an eyebrow over his sunglasses and pursed his lips. His neatly trimmed beard moved along with his expression and he sniffed once. “One black coffee to go,” the man demanded. Peter’s mood didn’t falter. He was used to stern customers, New York generally wasn’t a kind city. Peter smiled and nodded, immediately getting to work. It wasn’t a difficult one to make, after all. He’d ring this guy up in less than a minute. “You know what,” the man suddenly said. “Make that a caramel Frappuccino. Extra whipped cream. Drink here. Make it last.” Make it last? Peter wondered what the man meant with that. It was only then that Peter realized that the man was studying his every movement a little more closely than a regular customer would. It didn’t necessarily make Peter uncomfortable, though. The man was at least twice his age, but it was undeniable that he was the hottest man Peter had ever laid eyes on. Even though his eyes were covered by an expensive pair of sunglasses. Peter quickly moved to pour the milk, but the man’s deep voice filled the empty space again. “Make. It. Last.” Peter blinks, dumbfounded. “You… You want me to work slower?” The man then raised his hand to pull down his glasses slightly, so he could look Peter in the eye properly. Infinite whisky browns stared straight into Peter’s soul. “Yes.” “A-alright,” Peter stuttered and went back to work, tearing his gaze away from the man. If Mister McDougall were here, he’d kill him for working at this pace. But ah well, the customer is always right. The customer is king. And the man he was making the coffee for sure looked like he was in charge. Maybe he would leave a nice tip. “Where’s your boss?” There was a hint of annoyance hidden in the man’s voice. “Mister McDougall?” Peter replied as he turned to grab the caramel. “He’s at a convention on the other side of the country. Was pretty vague about it, to be honest. Something to do with beans.” “Beans,” the man scoffed. “Sure.” He rolled his shoulders and walked to the other side of the counter where Peter would ring him up. His eyes never left the young man. “And he left you in charge of the store on the day he knew I’d show up?” Peter glanced up from his work questioningly, but then shrugged. “Apparently.” “Do you know about our deal?” “Oh!” Peter exclaimed softly as he placed the large cup on the counter. “He mentioned he was working on a business proposal with someone, but I didn’t pry, cause this isn’t my store. I’m sorry, Sir, did he have an appointment with you?” The man gritted his teeth and pushed out his reply. “Yes.” “I could call him now? If you want?” A slight smirk crept up on the man’s face. “Please do.” Peter didn’t hesitate to grab his phone from his back pocket. There usually weren’t any other customers at this hour of the day anyways. He looked up the number of his boss and hit call. “Hey Pete-“ “Hi, Mister McDougall, there’s someone here to see you, but you must’ve forgotten your appointment.” The other end of the line stayed quiet and Peter pulled a face at the customer. “Sir?” More silence. “Do you want me to reschedule it for you?” “Peter,” the customer interrupted them. It didn’t matter how long Peter wore that name tag, he never got used to strangers saying it out of the blue. “Hand me the phone and go to the back. Mister McDougall and I can discuss our arrangement here and now, but I do require some privacy.” Peter blinked once. Twice. And then he slowly moved to give his phone to the man in the suit. “Don’t let your coffee go cold,” Peter said with a curt nod before rushing off to the back. He shuffled to the dishwasher and turned it on to give them some more privacy, the loud rumble of the water inside the machine drowning out any other sound in the back. Not even five minutes later, the man walked into the back with Peter’s phone in hand, a dark smirk plastered on his face. “Your phone,” he said politely, placing the piece of technology in Peter’s palm. Peter smiled warmly. “Thank you, Sir.” He walked passed the man back to the front. The man followed. “No, Peter, thank you,” he chuckled. He grabbed his coffee from the counter and sat down at one of the tables. “Did the arrangement work out okay?” Peter asked innocently. If this man was working together with his boss, it was probably smart to stay kind. Though, that wasn’t all that hard, somehow. There was something about him that lured Peter in- made him feel warm and at home. The man grinned even wider while placing his sunglasses on the table. “Perfect.” His smile turned sour after he took a large sip from his coffee. “Is- is something wrong?” “Eh, no. I’m not one for overly sweet coffees.” Peter swallowed a sassy reply. If he didn’t like Frappuccinos, why would he order one? “Would you like me to make you another one?” “Still got that black coffee there?” “Yes, Sir.” “Very good.” The man left, just as hoped, a big tip and walked out the door with a promise. “See you next week.” Somehow, that made Peter’s stomach tingle. He did want to see the man again. There was something mysterious about him. Alluring. Their conversations were interesting and surprisingly eloquent. The man was very smart and Peter found himself loosening up more as the chat went on. The man let him. It was nice. That night, when Peter wanted to message a friend, he wondered when he added “TS” in his contact list. He didn’t recognize the number, but he couldn’t be bothered to look it up either. From then on, every Tuesday at two PM on the dot, the man walked in. Mister McDougall was always nervous about his arrival and usually fled to the back, leaving Peter to take care of the customer. But more often than not, he’d leave Peter in charge of the store entirely, leaving for appointments or errands whenever the man was bound to come in. Peter learned the man’s name is Tony and their conversations were always pleasant. Interesting. They talked about Peter’s life, mostly. Tony always managed to make everything about the college student, earning his cash as a barista. Peter didn’t mind, but he couldn’t help that he was curious. Tony offhandedly said he worked in real estate, when Peter asked. That and ‘some other things.’ He learned Tony was a tinkerer and a scientist in his free time. That he enjoys fixing up old cars, modern art and what he called ‘a good fuck.’ The comment had Peter blush a bright red. A blush Tony would always compliment whenever it crept up to his ears. Something about Tony drew Peter in. Maybe it was their casual conversation. Maybe it was his compliments. Maybe even his smile? Though, Peter’s smile always faltered as soon as other customers came in, since Tony would usually leave the store when they did. One day, the customers appeared to be his employees. And they all stayed. Two men, both tall and wide. One was blond, clean shaven and the other had slightly longer brown hair and a trimmed beard. “So, this is your Tuesday retreat, boss?” the blond quipped before ordering an americano. “Shouldn’t you be working?” Tony sassily replied, leaning back in his chair. “Coffee break,” the brown haired man said simply. Tony scoffed and waved it off. The three men were awfully picky about what they said and how they said it, Peter could tell, but that might just be private business stuff, so he didn’t pry. After they finished their drinks and walked out the door, Peter blushed again when the brown-haired man spoke. “That sure was a good coffee. I’d come here every Tuesday too, if I knew I’d be served by such a good lookin’ young man.” The compliment was paired with a wink. The door closed and Peter laughed softly to himself when Tony gave the brown-haired man a gentle slap at the back of his head to scold him. … One Tuesday, Peter called in sick. He lived to regret that. Mister McDougall was furious, but Peter couldn’t help that he was down with the flu and he didn’t want to make other customers sick. Especially not the man he’d grown to like so much. He got a text, later. TS: Are you okay? Peter: Who is this? TS: Tony. TS: Black coffee Tony. Peter: Oh! Peter: Sorry, I wasn’t at the shop today. Caught the flu, I think. Hope not worse. Glued to bed rn. TS: Got it bad? Peter: Can barely stand, tbh. Coughing a lot and it sounds weird. Don’t wanna make anyone sick. TS: That’s sweet. Peter: Just lookin out for the little guy. TS: I’m not little. Peter: Didn’t meant it like that, omgg, im sorry! TS: I’m messing with you. Peter: Ohh 🙈 It was quiet for a little bit, and Peter nearly fell asleep again if it weren’t for his screen lighting up. TS: Can I get you anything? Peter: I’ll be okay, I promise. I’ll be fine. I mean it. TS: Peter. Tony wasn’t even in the same room as Peter, yet he knew exactly how Tony would’ve said his name if he were. Peter: I’m a college student. Meds are out of the picture. Don’t have much cash. TS: I do. And after not even half an hour, there was a doctor on Peter’s doorstep to check on him. Pneumonia in its early stages. A few days of antibiotics and he should be good as new. He wasn’t sure how Tony knew his address, but figured he got it from Mister McDougall. True to the doctor’s words, Peter was up and running again in a few days and on Tuesday, two PM on the dot, Tony walked into the shop with a wide grin and spread arms. “Good afternoon to my favorite barista,” he quipped. Peter grinned and cocked his head. “Good afternoon to my favorite customer.” “Oh,” Tony gasped, placing his palm on his chest. “You flatter me.” “Do I? With the tips you leave, everyone must like to see you.” “Most rather see me go, trust me.” Tony loudly cleared his throat and evaded Peter’s gaze to collect himself, before he casually leaned over the counter. “Black.” His coffee order is followed by his usual command. “Make it last.” “All I do is press a button, Sir, it’s pretty hard to make a black coffee last.” Peter laughed quietly as he started rubbing a cloth over the counter to clean it while the coffee set. “Then make yourself what you like.” Peter stared at Tony for a second before turning to grab another, taller cup. “Would you laugh if I said it’s a caramel Frappuccino.” He licked his lips. “With extra whipped cream?” “No,” Tony replied immediately. His voice was lower. Darker. Hotter. “It fits you.” “Does it?” Peter chuckled as he handed Tony the black coffee. “Overly sweet,” Tony said with a nod, toasting and raising the cup to his lips. He glanced at Peter and then repeated himself. “It fits you.” Peter slowly moved around the bar, preparing his own Frappuccino. “Thought you didn’t like caramel Frappuccinos?” “I like you.” Peter didn’t halt his movements as he worked himself around the coffee machines, though, his body went at a whole different speed than his brain. Did Tony actually just say that? “I think I like you too.” The reply had left Peter’s lips before he could even process the thought. “You think?” This time, Peter stopped. “I’ve never done anything like this before.” It was barely a whisper. His hand was stuck on the lever and he bit his lip. “Wha- dating?” Peter opted to ignore the implication of what Tony just said and instead, replied honestly. “Flirting.” “Oh, pretty boy, you’ve got a lot to learn. And experience.” Goosebumps spread over Peter’s body at Tony’s words and he closed his eyes. He wasn’t sure if it was because he felt embarrassed or… Something else. This was the first time Tony called him anything like this and it felt like they both stepped over some sort of threshold they had both been ghosting by for a while now. Tony brought him back to the present with his trademarked sniff. “I have no need to rush things. If you’re interested, we’ll take it slow.” Peter finally turned his head to look at Tony with big eyes. Tony just smirked and quipped with a wink. “We’ll make it last.” … Peter: You up? It was two AM. Two Tuesdays later. Tony had become a lot more flirty and a lot more forthcoming with his sweet words and suggestive praise after they addressed their interest in each other. Most of it was via text, but whenever he was at the store, Peter could see Tony’s dilated pupils, could feel the man’s hot breath as Peter explained how one of the machines worked with Tony right behind him. He admired Tony for holding back too. He knew Peter wanted to take things slow, heck, he even suggested it. And he never snapped. Never broke. Never did anything out of line. Sure, his words were suggestive, but he never acted upon any primal needs. He was a gentleman. And it made Peter respect him even more. It also made him want Tony even more. Peter bathed himself in the compliments Tony peppered him with and Peter realized the man knew everything he said and did made Peter… Needy. Peter was fairly sure Tony was already asleep, but after all the sweet and… slightly filthy things the man had been saying to him that day, he couldn’t help himself, he had to jerk off. And he needed Tony to help him with that. TS: Been working. You’re up late. Don’t you have uni tomorrow? Peter sighed gratefully as he typed one handed, the other already creeping down to cup his half-hard shaft through his sweatpants. Peter: I do. TS: Hm. TS: Then why would you message me so late, huh? Peter wanted to scoff. Of course, Tony knew. The man just wanted Peter to say it. And… Peter kind of liked it. No matter how embarrassing. He typed and erased. And typed and erased. Typed and erased. He really wanted to send Tony what he wanted, but he felt like too much of a chicken to actually say it. He needed Tony’s sweet words. His… His filth. Peter: I’m,, eh… TS: Hm? Peter: Talk to me like you do in the shop? Please? TS: How I talk to you in the shop is a lot tamer than what I think you need right now. Peter hid his face in his pillow for a second, before taking a deep breath and finding the courage to reply. Peter: What do I need then? TS: You need me. Without a filter. But before I tell you anything… Where are you right now? What are you wearing? Talk to me, first. Peter: Alone. Bedroom. Bed. Sweat pants. T-shirt. TS: Turn off autocorrect, baby, how am I supposed to know you’re losing yourself if I see full words? Peter: happyy now? TS: Yes. One-handed, huh? Already touching yourself? Peter: mhm, thruogh fabric. TS: Alright, first things first, pretty thing, take off all your clothes. TS: Make it last. Peter complied immediately and he both loved and hated the slow movements he used to slide off his shirt. When his sweatpants were down on his knees, his screen lit up. TS: Are you making it last? Peter: yes TS: Good boy. Peter didn’t expect to moan so loud, but he did. The praise blasted through him and went straight to the cock that now rested against his abdomen. Stiff. Twitching. Leaking. Peter: say thatagain TS: Earn it. Peter: how TS: By being good for me, my sweet. Are you naked? Peter: almost TS: Let me know when you’re done. Peter was almost afraid that when he finally finished undressing after another minute, it was still too fast for Tony. He decided to make the jump, though. Peter: done TS: Lovely. Hard, baby boy? Peter let out a soft growl and was already struggling to type. Peter: ys, for you TS: Touch yourself for me. Go on, hump the hand you make my coffee with, Peter. It felt perfect – absolutely perfect – to wrap his fingers around his cock, now that he was doing it on demand. He couldn’t even hold back if he tried. His thrusts were relentless, straight away. Peter: Yyes yes TS: Oh, I wish I could see how pretty you look right now. How you roll your hips and fuck your fist. TS: Want to see the sweat drip from your temples, want to hear your soft gasps and moans. TS: Want to hear my name fall from your lips. Say my name, Peter. Say it. “Tony- O-oh-“ Peter gasped and he barely managed to keep his eyes open to watch the next few messages come in. TS: Don’t come. Not yet. TS: Slow down. Peter: nn tony please TS: Make. TS: It. TS: Last. Peter felt the tears stream down his cheeks. He felt so good. But he couldn’t come. Not with Tony right here with him telling him not to. Peter: yes sir TS: Good boy. Peter: feelsso good when u callme that TS: Mm. It does, doesn’t it? You know what makes me feel good? Peter: ?/ TS: When you call me Sir. A dreamy smile spread across Peter’s face as he lazily stroked his cock. His hips kept rolling, arching his back and lifting off the mattress with each thrust. His intellect had melted away. All he wanted was to feel good for Tony. TS: You know what else would make me feel really good? Peter: nno? Sir TS: If my good boy called me Daddy. Peter had to stop his hand or he would’ve cum right then and there. And he couldn’t. He shouldn’t. He simply had to make it last. Instead, he moaned obscenely. Peter: ggod, nearlu came TS: Did you now? Peter: yes daddy Peter: held back TS: Oh, you’re so sweet for me. Wish I could taste that awful Frappuccino on your lips. Suckle on your tongue as I squeeze your cock, run my thumb over the head. TS: You have no idea how much I want to make you come for me. Peter: wanna cum for u Peter: faster?????????????/ TS: Speed up, baby. Show Daddy how desperate you are for him. Such a good boy for asking permission. The fact that Tony’s messages were still put together as opposed to Peter’s near button-mashes had another rush of arousal flow through Peter. Everything about what was happening was so hot. He’d never done anything like this before. He never even had sex in his life. And now the hottest man in New York was sexting him. God, he wished he could see Tony right now. Was he naked too? Was he stroking himself? Maybe he was fingering himself. Or fucking himself on a dildo so he still had two hands to type his coherent sentences with. Shit, that’d be so hot. Though, the image of Tony at his desk, working while casually messaging Peter all these things as if it’s just a regular chat about their day was even hotter. Tony, in his tailored suit, barely bothered by Peter’s desperation. Fuck. Peter: Yes yys ddaddy thanku TS: Mhm. It didn’t take long for Peter to get near the edge again. He was barely able to contain himself, phone shaking in his hand with every jerk of his other fist. Peter: close TS: Are you now? Peter: ya TS: Do you want to come? Peter: eys yes so badsoo bad TS: What do good boys say when they want to come? Peter squeezed his eyes shut, gasping and writhing on his sheets. His toes curled as he whined and begged while typing. “P-please-“ he muttered. “Please, please, please-“ Peter: pleease TS: Please, what? That’s it, Peter couldn’t type anymore. Didn’t want to type anymore. Instead, he hit the voice record button. “D-daddy, wanna cum, I wanna cum so bad, please, may I?” His lines were paired with moans and sobs. Desperation dripped from every word. Every thrust of his hips, every squeeze of his fingers, had him see stars. He had to come, he simply had to. But he couldn’t. Not yet. Lucky for Peter, it didn’t take long for Tony to reply with a voice message of his own. His deep, dark voice, coated with lust, like fresh honey, echoed through Peter’s simple bedroom. “Come, Peter. Come for Daddy.” … As time went on, Peter realized that Mister McDougall didn’t like to have Peter around anymore. Every chore he had to do, every command he had to follow, everything McDougall asked of him; he was never good enough. Peter felt like a nuisance. And he wanted out. He felt a weight fall off his shoulders when an on campus lab learned of Peter’s skills and offered him a job. So now, a few weeks after Peter and Tony started sexting, Peter told Mister McDougall he wanted to quit. “You can’t,” was the short reply. It had Peter nearly explode with frustration. “I can, though? I got a job offer in one of the labs on campus, I’m not letting this fly by!” Mister McDougall grabbed Peter’s shoulders and dragged him to the back by his shirt. He nearly flung the young man against the large dishwasher. “You’ll ruin me! You’ll get me killed!” “Don’t be so dramatic!” Peter yelled back. He was done working for Mister McDougall. So done. Peter swallowed his next words when a knife was suddenly pointed at his nose. He stared at it wide-eyed as he got ushered into a corner. “Tony owns this building, Peter, and the only reason I’m allowed to stay here is because you work here.” “Wha-“ “SHUT UP! You shut your mouth! I’d have fired you ages ago if it weren’t for him!” Tears pricked in the corners of Peter’s eyes. “If you leave, I’m going to pay your aunt a visit. And none of us will like what I’ll do to her.” What was happening? What was going on? Why did his boss threaten him like this? “S-sir?” “You’re not quitting, you hear me? You’re gonna get your ass back on the floor and you’re gonna do your job. As long as Tony doesn’t hate you, I can keep this business. You don’t want me to lose this business do you?” He waved the knife, pushing it towards Peter’s left eye and resting the tip right below it. The young man leaned back as far as the wall allowed him to. “Do you?!” Peter didn’t even dare to blink. “No, sir,” he lied. “Why are you so scared of him?” Mister McDougall laughed maniacally. “Why aren’t you?!” He yelled. “That’s Tony Stark! He owns sixty percent of New York!” The world stopped spinning. Tony - Peter’s Tony - is Tony Stark. The biggest, baddest Mafia Boss of New York. Known to be vile, relentless and cruel to anyone who dares to cross his path. And Peter… Peter had fallen in love with him. No. No, he didn’t. He fell in love with Tony. Not with Stark. But if they were one and the same, maybe the stories were wrong? Maybe- “You didn’t know?” Mister McDougall stepped back and let his arm down. Peter finally allowed himself to breathe, even if it was the worst intake of air he’d ever done. He held back his tears with everything he had. “No.” “Jesus Christ.” Mister McDougall threw his hands up, flailing the knife around. “You’re an idiot!” “But-“ A quiet beep came from McDougall’s wrist. He looked at his watch and turned. “Two minutes, Peter- hurry up!” Mister McDougall’s high pitched command reverbs through the coffee shop. In two minutes, it’ll be two PM on the Tuesday afternoon. Peter’s been working here for three years now. Just yet, he tried to quit, but that wasn’t taken kindly. He can still feel the eerie presence of the tip of a knife on his cheekbone. How Peter got himself stuck in this job is a long story. A very long one. “Get to work.” Peter swallowed and blinked away his tears as he walked into the front of the store. He took a deep breath and fumbled with some of the cups on the counter. Mister McDougall stayed in the back, as usual. Peter looked up, startled, when the bell rang. Tony walked in, blissfully unaware and leaned on the counter like he always did. Peter was bad at hiding his fear, he knew that, and it didn’t even take a second before Tony caught on. “Did you cry?” His question was blunt. Straight to the point. “I’m alright, I hit my head.” Peter had to pause to clear his throat in the middle of his sentence. His words were small. Unsure. Tony didn’t buy it. “Who hurt you?” A shiver ran up Peter’s spine. He couldn’t tell Tony about what Mister McDougall did to him. As much as he disliked the man, he didn’t want the deadliest man in the area to… To hurt him. Peter didn’t dare think of the k word. But more importantly, he didn’t want anything to happen to May. “Me,” Peter tried to sound cheerful, but his voice shook. “I hit my head. I hurt me.” Peter finished up the black coffee and turned to give it to Tony, so he could start making his own Frappuccino. Tony wanted to take his hand, but Peter swiftly turned around. He played the machine to make his own drink, but he couldn’t focus. He couldn’t make it last. He had to get it done. As fast as possible. He had to get this over with. Tony spoke, but Peter didn’t hear it. He could already feel the tears threatening to glide down his cheeks. He couldn’t pretend. He couldn’t- Tony grabbed Peter’s wrist from over the counter and the Frappuccino cup slipped from the barista’s fingers. Peter stared wide-eyed at how the scorching hot liquid gushed onto Tony’s suit. The stain was evident, but Tony seemed unfazed by the heat. Peter’s lip trembled and he was certain there was no oxygen left in the store. He had spilled his coffee on the suit of the most dangerous man in New York City. Peter barely dared to look up, but when he saw Tony’s expression, his shoulders fell. The way the man looked at him was… Vulnerable. “You’re afraid.” Tony’s voice was fragile. “Of me?” Peter squeezed his eyes shut, letting the tears flow freely now. He screwed up. He screwed everything up. “I don’t know,” Peter replied honestly, through quiet sobs. Tony swiftly jumped over the counter so he could embrace Peter. “Talk to me, Bambino.” “I- I didn’t know-“ “Didn’t know what?” “S-Stark-“ “Yes, Frappuccino, that’s me.” “Did you just call me-“ “Yes, did it make you feel better?” Peter scoffed, but managed to smile. “A little.” Tony then pushed Peter away from him to force the young man to look him in the eye by holding Peter’s chin between his thumb and index finger. “Did you really not know?” Now Peter feels stupid. He should’ve caught on, obviously. Everybody knew Tony Stark. Peter pushed his lips together and gently shook his head. “Oh, bother,” Tony mumbled as he pulled Peter against his chest to hug him tightly. Peter’s insides were in a struggle. Every part of his rational brain told him to get out of there. To push Tony away. The man was bad news. He reeked of danger, yet… He smelled so wonderful. His cologne invaded Peter’s nostrils and there was no way the young man could let go of him. The way his arms were wrapped around Peter’s shoulders, the way he held him, kept him warm and safe... No matter how frightening Tony might be, Peter felt protected. He was exactly where he was supposed to be. Peter’s face was pressed against Tony’s shirt and he could feel the wet coffee stain from Tony’s suit seep onto his own pants. A hand found its way into Peter’s hair and gently started massaging his scalp. The soft lips Peter had only imagined up until now, pressed themselves onto his curls and stayed there, leaving long, slow pecks. Sometimes, Tony hummed. With every passing second, Peter’s muscles relaxed more and more until his body practically went limp against Tony’s. “Now…” The man finally spoke. He gently pushed Peter away from him until he could look Peter in the eyes, hands cupping his face. His thumb gently stroked away the drying tears and he smiled kindly. “Who hurt you?” Peter’s pouting lips were pressed together. He tried to hide the truth, but one quick glance towards the back and Tony knew enough. “Please, don’t kill him,” Peter whispered. Tony scoffed softly. “Is that why you’re suddenly afraid of me?” Tony pushed forward slightly, until something long and hard pressed against Peter’s thigh. And it wasn’t Tony’s cock. “Cause I’m not just happy to see you?” Peter whimpered and closed his eyes, still not wanting to leave Tony’s embrace, even though he was afraid of what might happen next. “Do you know why I own 64.7 percent of New York?” Peter shook his head lightly, focusing his attention on Tony’s warm hands still keeping his face up by his cheeks. “Because I don’t just shoot whoever gets in my way. I give people a chance,” Tony said matter of factly. “Take your boss, for example. This building? It’s mine.” The way Tony enunciated the word, not just verbally but also with a soft squeeze of his hands, had a shiver run down Peter’s spine. “Ex-gambling addict who wanted to get back on track. Promising fellow. Clean for years. He loaned a chunk of my money to start his business. All was good. A thriving coffee store can make quite a bit of money in this area in New York. During my first visit I learned that not everything I offered him went into this shop. Told him I wanted the money back that he didn’t spend on the store. He also couldn’t pay rent. Somehow.” Peter breathlessly listened to everything that came out of Tony’s mouth. “I gave him another shot. Told him to have my money ready in a month. That’s a fair time to make what he owed me. And when I came into the store to collect… I found you. And your boss? Well, he wasn’t exactly at a convention. He was at the other side of the country, though. In Vegas.” Tony sighed and broke eye contact for a few seconds. “This is where it gets embarrassing…” He mumbled. “Embarrassing?” “I was completely enamored by you, Peter.” Tony’s eyes reconnect with Peter’s and they lock gazes. “And I decided that, when you called McDougall, I’d change the deal. He’d get a delay on his debt as long as you would be there to serve me coffee. On Tuesdays. At two PM. Figured you’d stick around for a while, give McDougall enough time to cover his ass.” “So,” Tony cocked his head. “After half a year, he still doesn’t have my money. And I’m guessing you want to quit the job?” Peter nodded, face contorting. “He had a knife and-“ “A knife?” The energy in the room changed abruptly. From loving and caring to dark and aggressive. Peter immediately pulled back, but Tony’s grip on him tightened. “He threatened you?” He seethed. “No- Tony, please,” Peter begged, but he didn’t fight. “Is he in the back?” Tony stared Peter down with an intense gaze. The young barista froze. “Peter.” “Yes.” Peter felt small, yet his body betrayed him when his cock stirred at Tony’s authoritative voice. Tony guided Peter to one of the chairs and gently sat him down. His hands caressed Peter’s curls before he pressed another kiss on top of them. He bent down until he squatted in front of Peter and looked up reassuringly. “I will not physically harm him, I promise. I just want to have a word with him, okay?” “Okay…” Tony smiled and nodded before standing up and making his way towards the back. Before he disappeared, Tony looked behind him one more time and winked at Peter. Probably to relieve the tension. Not long after Tony went to the back, Peter was startled by the doorbell. He looked up and quickly collected himself before greeting the customer, wiping the remainder of his dried tears away. “Good afternoon, Sir, how can I help you?” Peter barely managed to put up his customer smile. The man was a bit scruffy looking, dark haired and he had a slight beard. There was a strange look in his eye. Peter wanted to walk around the counter to his usual spot to take the order, but the man stopped him. “Hold it there.” Peter paused his trek and turned back to the man with a questioning look. The man suddenly bolted for him, but Peter realized too late he was holding something in his hand. Peter tried to yell but before any sound could leave his mouth, it was covered by a damp cloth. His eyes went wide as he stared straight into the other man’s. He had no choice but to inhale the strange and intense, sweet scent of whatever was in that piece of fabric. The man didn’t smile, nor did he look angry. He seemed rather indifferent. The man’s other arm wrapped around Peter’s body, right before he lost the strength in his muscles and dropped against the man’s chest. Peter’s mind suddenly felt over-stuffed with fuzz and it was only a few seconds before his muffled scream died out and his eyes rolled back. Right when Peter lost himself, the man spoke softly, with a mocking tone, before carrying him out of the coffee shop. “Night night.” … Peter’s head felt like it was going to burst. He could barely open his eyes, but the hand that pulled him back at his hair in the uncomfortable chair forced him to wake up. He gasped for air, squinting his eyes into slits in the bright light. “Wakey, wakey.” A dark voice echoed through the room, ringing Peter’s ears. He finally managed to open his eyes when the light was blocked by a shape. A person. “Eh…” A soft whine escaped Peter’s lips, but the sound wasn’t taken kindly. The person- man- yanked at his hair, causing Peter to wince in pain. The man was bald, but had a thick beard. A scowl pulled the strangers bushy eyebrows together and Peter’s entire body tensed when he spotted the gun in the man’s other hand. “So…” The man leaned in and cocked his head. “All this trouble for a twink.” Peter tightened his jaw even further and kept his lips glued together. The man quite forcefully let go of Peter’s hair, allowing Peter to take in his surroundings. They were in a plain room, nothing too interesting. Peter could hear seagulls outside. They were probably close to water? The door was guarded by two imposing looking men, one of them Peter recognized as the guy who took him out. In the darkness of the room, a camera seemed to be recording them, judging by the red light flickering in the corner. “Barista,” Peter mumbled, staring at the gun in the guards’ hands.. “Excuse me?” The man pushed into Peter’s space again, seemingly offended. Peter held his breath, but replied anyways, eyes locking with the bald man’s. “I’m just a barista.” “Just a-“ the man interrupted himself, put his hands on his hips and leaned back, letting out an over the top laugh. When he finally calmed himself again, he bolted forward, pressing the gun against Peter’s neck. The young man instinctively tilted his head up, eyes wide at the unexpected aggression. “You,” the man spit out accusingly. “Tony seems to think more of you.” “He doesn’t,” Peter bluffed, silently swearing at himself for his reckless bravery. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in through his nose. “I just make his coffee. Black. Every Tuesday.” “Right,” the man scoffed and revealed Peter’s unlocked phone from his inner pocket. “And does just making his coffee include a happy ending?” “N-no-, it’s-“ “Nighttime sexting? Then?” The man sauntered around Peter, casually scrolling through Tony’s and Peter’s chat. “Was hoping to find some intel, but all I got was your disgusting conversations.” Peter swallowed hard. He angled his head to look down so that he wouldn’t have to meet the man’s judging eyes. “I’m not gonna lie,” the man sighed. “Those voice messages? Your moans? They’d rile up anyone.” Peter gently tugged at his restraints, pressing his eyes shut. To say he was afraid of what the man could and might do to him was an understatement. The thought alone paralyzed him. There was a pressing ache in his chest and a growing need to get out of there. If only he could move. “What do you want from me,” Peter managed to push out. The man chuckled darkly. “I want at least 75% of what Stark has.” The man stopped circling Peter to gently push the tip of his gun through the young man’s hair- toying with it. “And you’re going to make sure he gives it to me.” “As if,” Peter replied simply, immediately swallowing his confidence. It now weighs heavy in his stomach. One short glance at the guards made them leave the room. They shut the door behind them and Peter couldn’t help but hold his breath. “Tell the camera-“ The man gestured at the red flashing dot. “-Tell Tony- what to do. If he doesn’t give me what I want, I will take what he wants most.” Peter looked up at the man confused, but the man’s smirk made the student’s legs burst with adrenaline. He wanted to run away, but he couldn’t. He’s bound. The man’s eyes sparkled and turned to slits. The wide toothy grin plastered on his face had Peter’s heart drop. “You.” “Oh, don’t worry about that ol’ camera.” A familiar voice said from the door opening. Peter and the man turned their heads towards it surprised. There, Tony lazily stood against the door post, the two men that Peter had met one Tuesday accompanying him. The guards that were there before were now laying on the floor. Peter quietly hoped they were nothing more than unconscious. “You can ask me, right here, right now, Stane.” Tony absentmindedly studied the pistol in his hand, turning and twisting it. Loading it. “Tsk. Answer’s gonna be no, though.” He moved to stand up straight, confidence oozing off every inch of him. “I’m here to take back what’s mine.” A shiver ran down Peter’s spine and he gulped when the gun that was still aimed at him pushed under his jaw. He dropped his head backwards in an attempt to get away from it and whined quietly. Peter’s breath quivered and he squeezed his eyes shut again. “If you want your boy to live, you’re gonna do exactly what I want.” “Hmm.” Tony grinned. “If you put a bullet in his head, I’m not even gonna use my gun.” He squared up, tightening every muscle in his body. The look in his eye was dark and resolute. “Will let you pick how you go, though. Could snap your neck- stick a knife through your brain. Wiggle it around a little to make your corpse spasm. Heck, I’ll rearrange your guts first if you want me to. Bet that’ll feel real nice.” Peter could barely believe the words falling from the man’s lips were Tony’s. Apparently, neither could the guy Tony called Stane. “You’re all talk, Stark. Never seen you hurt a damn fly, that’s what you got your goons for,” Stane sneered accusingly. “First time for everything,” Tony replied collected. Stane then pulled loose the ropes around Peter’s body and pulled him up, forcing him to stand with his back flush against the man’s chest. Stane wouldn’t allow him to stand comfortably, keeping him up on his toes as the nuzzle of the gun pressed up under his chin. As free as the lack of ropes made Peter feel, the presence of the gun annihilated any feeling of liberty. “Obadiah, I swear to mother Maria, if you so much as leave a scratch on Peter, you will regret it.” Stane didn’t seem fazed by Tony’s threats. He had the upper hand after all. He had Peter. “We’re leaving now. Don’t think I won’t shoot. I will.” Peter complied the nudge in his back, taking small steps in the direction of the door. Obadiah moved the gun until it rested against Peter’s temple. “Step into the room.” Tony’s jaw tightened, but after a few seconds he cast his eyes downward, entering the space. His bluffing hadn’t worked and the soft shaking of his clenched fist betrayed his frustration. He genuinely seemed afraid to lose Peter. In return, Peter was afraid to lose him. The two men Tony had brought with him, joined him silently. When they were all far away enough from the door, Obadiah shuffled Peter to the opening. They reached the hallway and Stane forced Peter to step over the – hopefully – unconscious guards. All Peter could think was ‘No-no-no-no-‘ at the mere idea of being taken to another location. One Tony might not be able to find him at. One he might actually die at. Peter took a deep breath and decided to do something reckless. He could only die once anyways. The second Obadiah pulled the gun back a little to give Peter more walking space, the barista ducked away from the gun, pivoted on his feet and pushed Stane back into the wall with all the force he had. There was a gunshot. One that had Peter’s eyes go wide. With the lack of pain or blood, Peter realized Stane had missed. Adrenaline pumped through his body at an incredibly rapid pace. Peter fell backwards on his ass and saw Obadiah’s gun that had been dropped in the process. The student scrambled to grab it in a reflex. He pushed himself back against the wall, knees up, eyes unblinking and wide, as he aimed the gun two-handedly at Stane who laid there with his hands up. The feral look in Peter’s eye told the small gang leader enough. No matter how scared, this kid would shoot if he had to. Peter couldn’t blink. He just couldn’t. He barely heard the footsteps next to him. Barely felt a hand rest on his shoulder, as another lifted to be placed on Peter’s shaking hands, holding the gun. All Peter could do was stare at Obadiah, stinging tears nearly obstructing his view. His breathing was quick and erratic and he didn’t realize how much he was vibrating until Tony’s voice pushed through the veil, clouding his mind. “I need you to let go of the gun for me.” Peter only clutched the weapon tighter, his finger twitched on the trigger. His breathing was loud and fast, making his entire body buzz with tension. “Boss, he’s in shock, he won’t-“ “Peter,” Tony said a little softer. “I’m right here, Frappuccino, look at me.” The hand that was on his shoulder before, now cupped Peter’s chin, gently forcing him to turn his head. Peter’s eyes didn’t leave Obadiah, though. He held his breath, hearing his heartbeat thump in his brain. “Peter…” For the first time in what felt like forever, Peter blinked, which caused the tears that had been threatening to spill up until now to glide down his cheeks. He found himself staring at Tony’s face as his body slowly lost tension. The man’s brows were furrowed, but his expression was soft. He carefully took the gun out of Peter’s hands and pulled him in for an embrace. Peter hid his face against the man’s chest and couldn’t help but sob into it, adding another stain to Tony’s expensive suit. “Oh, Peter.” Tony’s voice was muffled against Peter’s hair. “You’re okay, we’re okay.” Just like he did earlier that day in the coffee shop, his fingers tangled in Peter’s hair and started massaging his scalp. “You’re with me now, ‘s all good.” Another time, Peter would’ve been embarrassed for being pulled into Tony’s lap in front of all these strangers, but right now he couldn’t care less. His arms wrapped tightly around Tony’s torso as the man left his dragged out, flat kisses on Peter’s head. “M-sorry,” Peter mumbled between sobs, curling up into Tony’s embrace and tugging in his legs. “Sorry-“ “Ssh, ssh- you have nothing to be sorry for, my sweet.” They stayed like that for a short while, Tony rocking Peter back and forth until his heartbeat settled and his muscles relaxed. Eventually, Tony stood up, carrying Peter bridal style. “Let me take you home.” … Peter woke up among the softest of silk sheets, surrounded by an abundance of throw pillows, wearing nothing but his underwear and an oversized white T-shirt with a V-neck. Everything smelled like Tony. Peter groaned at the stiffness of his muscles and turned around, half surprised by Tony sitting on an armchair next to the large canopy bed. “Morning, sunshine,” he said with a smile. Tony was wearing sweats and a similar T-shirt. The corners of Peter’s mouth curled up too and he instinctively folded into himself, pulling the sheets up to his chin. “Morning.” “How are you feeling?” Tony leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Little stiff,” Peter answered honestly. As if on cue, his stomach growled. “And hungry.” “My cook’s making us breakfast as we speak. Should be here soon.” “I knew you were rich, but a personal chef?” Peter chuckled. “Isn’t that a bit overkill?” “Look, kid,” Tony laughed, sitting up straight again. “I don’t have time to make my own meals. I’m a busy man.” “Busy enough to visit me every Tuesday at two,” Peter teased, the sparkle in his eyes evident. Tony seemed relieved Peter was acting like his usual self. “Hey, hey,” he said, shaking his head. “I scheduled in that time. I always wanted you to have my undivided attention. That was my me-time.” Peter’s smile faltered. “Was,” he parroted quietly. There was no way he could go back to his barista job. To mister McDougall. Not that he particularly wanted to work for that man anymore, but it felt like this pleasant chapter of this life ended with a terrible cliffhanger. Now, Peter was at the start of the next chapter, going through the repercussions of what happened before. “Pete, I-“ “Where are we?” Tony seemed taken aback by the interruption, but collected himself swiftly. “Home,” Tony replied matter of fact. “My home, to be precise.” He cleared his throat and looked away uncharacteristically shyly. “Could be yours too if you want.” Peter didn’t reply straight away, which caused Tony to stand up and raise his hands in a defensive manner. “But we shouldn’t get ahead of ourselves.” There was a knock on the door and Tony cocked an eyebrow at it. “Breakfast,” a muffled voice spoke. “Come in.” A man with a giant tray opened the door. He walked in quickly and placed it on the table next to Tony. “Take the rest of the day off. Paid leave. Tell the others the same, save for the guards outside. I want this house empty within an hour.” The cook nodded and thanked Tony for his generosity. Not long after, Peter and Tony were alone again. Peter stared at the over-filled tray and licked his lips. “Anything that tickles your fancy?” Tony’s words are accompanied with a smirk. “A coffee sounds good right about now.” Tony immediately perked up and turned to grab the carefully made Frappuccino, but before he could curl his fingers around the cup, Peter continued: “Actually-“ Tony looks at Peter surprised. Peter grins and nods at the other cup on the tray. “After everything that happened, I could go for something stronger.” “Peter Parker, are you taking my black coffee from me?” Tony chuckled. Peter pulled himself up so he sat up straight among the throw pillows. He then reached forward with both arms, making grabby hands at Tony. “Mayyybe,” he teased. Tony laughed as he complied, handing Peter the black coffee. Peter gratefully took a sip and pulled a face at the bitterness burning his throat. “Sure you don’t want the sugar, sugar?” Peter snorted and nearly spilled the coffee on the bed. He looked into the deep black of the cup in his hands and then up at Tony. “Fine,” Peter said with a grin, offering Tony the black coffee. Peter waited for the older man to give him the Frappuccino, but instead, Tony stood up. “Here,” he said, lifting the tray and placing it on the bedside table. “Mind if I join you?” Peter didn’t answer, he just lifted the sheets. Gratefully, Tony slid in, placing himself flush against Peter and handing him the Frappuccino. For a short while, they just sipped their coffees, not exchanging any words. Peter occasionally glanced at the food on the bedside table, unable to choose where he’d even start. He let go of his thoughts for a little bit, letting his mind wander to yesterday. To Obadiah Stane, to the rope burn on his wrists, the feel of the gun against his head, in his hand, the trigger under his finger. Tony. Tony was there to save him. “I’m here to take back what’s mine.” Peter was his. And while his rational brain was scared of this mob boss side of Tony that he only just learned about, there was something exhilarating about it too. Tony was still Tony- still the same man Peter made all these black coffees for, the man he had late night conversations with via text. Peter thought back to before he lost himself to sleep, how he was being cradled by Tony, sitting in his lap. The memory made him feel warm, somehow. Peter swallowed and took a breath. “I felt safe,” Peter whispered. “Hm?” Tony turned his head slightly and put down his now empty cup on the nightstand. “Yesterday.” Peter’s brows furrowed as he kept staring ahead. “In your lap.” He paused, trying to put his thoughts in a row and say something a bit more sophisticated. However, he couldn’t think of the right words, so he just repeated himself. “I felt safe.” It was quiet for a second. “Do…” Tony sniffed once and tugged at the tray on Peter’s side of the bed. “Do you want to sit on my lap now?” Peter’s mouth went dry, even though he just finished his coffee. The tension between them hung thick in the air. He looked at Tony wide-eyed, but quickly averted his gaze again. “Yes,” he mumbled, nothing more than a whisper. “What was that?” “Yes… Please?” “Good boy.” Peter shivered and closed his eyes, but only until he felt Tony gently pulling at his arm. He didn’t struggle as Tony guided him to sit on his thighs, back pressed against the older man’s chest. “Oh, Bambino,” Tony cooed as Peter’s ass pressed against Tony’s already hardening shaft. “Been through so much. Let me help you.” Peter wanted to ask what Tony meant, but the man had already taken the mug from Peter’s hands, placed it on the bedside table and grabbed a blueberry muffin from the breakfast tray. “Hold this,” he ordered, giving the muffin to Peter. Their hands grazed past each other, eliciting a small gasp from the younger man. Tony immediately moved to rip a small piece off of it and brought it up to Peter’s lips. Peter stared entranced at Tony’s rough hand. “Go on, my sweet,” Tony whispered into Peter’s hair. “Eat up.” Peter leaned in and opened his mouth. He carefully maneuvered himself in an attempt not to touch Tony’s fingers, not wanting to be weird or gross, but Tony had other plans. He pushed in his fingers to help the piece into Peter’s mouth and then brushed his fingers over Peter’s lips. Peter didn’t realize his eyes were closed, but there wasn’t much to see anyways- save for the lusciously decorated room. Peter was more occupied with feeling right now. And boy, did Tony’s lips on his neck feel absolutely perfect. He chewed slowly, savoring the sweet taste on his tongue. Tony’s free arm was possessively curled around Peter to caress his neck from the front, grazing past his Adam’s apple and gently squeezing right under his jaw until he swallowed. Tony presented Peter with another bite, but this time he really pushed his fingers in. Peter wrapped his lips around the digits and sucked, moaning softly. “That’s it…” Peter absentmindedly spread his legs on Tony’s lap, arching his back to grind into Tony’s groin. Tony’s other hand found its way down Peter’s body until it cupped Peter’s balls through his underwear. Peter immediately pushed into it and gasped at the gentle rubbing of Tony’s thumb. “Thaaat’s it…” Tony took his fingers out of Peter’s mouth, a small string of saliva dripping down, to take the muffin out of Peter’s hands, put it on the tray and then stick his fingers into the small bowl of jam. His other hand fondles Peter at a steady rhythm and Peter rolls his hips along with it. “Feeling good for Daddy, Peter?” The young man smiles lazily and nods, letting his head fall back against Tony’s shoulder. “Y-yes,” Peter whimpered. “Feels so good.” An overly sweet scent filled Peter’s nostrils. He opened his eyes to see Tony’s jam covered fingers. He stared at them transfixed, mouth already opening, tongue hanging out, ready to take it all. “Atta boy,” Tony whispered, suckling on Peter’s skin. “Don’t hold back. It’s all yours…” Peter didn’t hesitate and grabbed Tony’s hand with both of his own, pulling it toward him to lick the sweet strawberry jam off of Tony’s fingers. The fingers of one hand were curled around just the thumb, while the other gripped onto the man’s palm. “Don’t hold back,” Tony repeated with a squeeze of his hand around Peter’s clothed cock. The young man immediately moaned louder, pressing himself against Tony harder and licking the man’s fingers clean in a near-obscene manner. “Aren’t you a good boy?” Tony growled as he slowly started to push up against Peter’s ass. Peter groaned and clenched around nothing, working his way down Tony’s hand and suckling at the golden ring on his index finger. “Yours,” Peter gasped between licks. “Your good boy-“ Apparently those were the right words, because Tony let out a guttural moan and within seconds, they were flipped over with Peter lying on his back on the bed and Tony possessively hovering over him, caging Peter with his arms. Peter was met with Tony’s dark pools and twitching nose. There was something animalistic about the otherwise so collected man Peter had served coffee to. It had Peter’s cock throb with anticipation. Tony’s wet fingers pushed under Peter’s shirt to tweak and tug at one of his nipples. “Mine,” Tony pushed out, immediately moving in to ravage Peter’s lips himself, tasting the flavors Peter had only just taken in. Peter, in turn, could taste the bitter coffee. “My sweet.” Peter pulled at Tony’s shirt, quietly telling Tony he wanted them to get naked. The man seemed to understand and within a minute all clothes were discarded. Tony’s cock stood tall and proud and had a girth that had Peter drooling. He wanted it in his mouth. ASAP. “Eager, eager,” Tony chuckled darkly as he saw Peter’s eyes locked on the swaying dick in front of him. Peter’s gaze broke free and he gave Tony a pleading look. “Next time, my sweet.” Tony leaned in to give Peter a short, passionate kiss while his hands squeezed nearly half a lube bottle all over Peter’s groin, slicking him up as Tony massaged every inch of skin. Peter immediately granted Tony access into his mouth and Tony eagerly licked the insides. He pulled back again and grinned. “You first.” Tony’s free hand grabbed hold of Peter’s cock, squeezing it until Peter saw stars. His hips bucked up into Tony’s touch while his hands grabbed at the sheets in an attempt to ground himself as Tony’s hands pleasured him. He moaned with every loudly-squishing jerk of Tony’s hand, but it wasn’t going fast enough. “More-more-more, please, Daddy-“ Tony seemed pleased with the begging, because the hand at Peter’s nipple slowly travelled down his toned body, grabbing and coating itself with the excess lube. “Sure you want more?” Tony had a wicked grin on his face. “Cause I can give you everything.” He curled his tongue up to lick his own teeth. “If you think you can handle it.” “Yes,” Peter gasped, arching his back more, pressing his head into the throw pillows. “Please, please, want everything, want it all, want you-“ “Good answer.” Tony’s praise goes paired with him mercilessly pushing his index finger into Peter’s tight hole. The young man gasped at the sudden sting, but his expression turned to absolute bliss in an instant. He clenched and unclenched around Tony’s digit and soon enough, Tony started pulling out and pushing back in, curling his finger in the process, in search of Peter’s… Sweet spot. “God, yes, T-Tony, Daddy-“ Peter moaned as his body rocked under Tony’s attention. “Mr. Stark-!” Tony’s eyes went wide, revealing a previously unseen aggression behind them. His movements became more forceful and he lowered his face until it was right in front of Peter’s. “Yes, boy, call me that again. Do it.” “M-Mi-“ Peter squeezed his eyes shut, completely overwhelmed by all the sensations and the tightening knot in his abdomen. His balls were tight and his heartbeat throbbed everywhere. “Whose cock is this, Peter, tell me who it belongs to-“ Tony let his thumb glide over the tip of Peter’s cock as he quickened his pace and the intensity of his jerks. “Yours- Mr. Stark, it’s y-yours!” Peter’s reply was rewarded with Tony’s mouth sucking marks on Peter’s neck. “And this hole? Huh? Who does this belong to?” Right when Tony uttered the words, he found what he’d been looking for. Peter opened his mouth wide in a silent scream as his body convulsed. “Yes, yes, yours, yours-“ Tony attacked Peter’s prostate without remorse, not halting any movement. He was good at this and he owned it. He owned Peter. “And your mouth? Your chest and your arms and your legs and your neck-“ Tony cut his own rambles short by biting into the skin right below Peter’s jaw, eliciting another loud moan from him. “Mr. Stark’s, his- his, yours!” “That’s it, good boy, it’s all mine. You’re all mine!” “F-fuck, I’m gonna come, Mr. Stark- Please, please-“ Peter’s gasps were erratic. The complete polar opposite of Tony’s near robotic movements. Along the way, he had added two more fingers into Peter’s sopping hole and he kept pumping mercilessly, curling his fingers at just the right moment. The young man was practically folded in two on the bed, taking everything Tony was giving him. He’d never felt this good in his entire life and he basked in the hot sheen covering his body. All his fantasies, all their sexts, were now reality. Tony stayed true to his word. Everything he had promised Peter, he was now giving- almost forcing- upon the young man and he loved it. They both did. “So close, my sweet, stay on that edge for me, don’t tip over just yet-“ Tony growled. “Make...” The young man found himself humping into Tony’s fist, moaning at the trademarked line that had started falling from the mob boss’s lips. “It…“ Peter whined as his body shook, trying to hold onto the last bit of sanity that he had left before he would lose it all and spill. “Last…“ Every part of Peter’s being writhed and convulsed at the scorching pleasure pumping through him. He had to make it last. He had to wait. Had to drag it out. Felt so good. Too good. Yes, yes- yes! “That’s it… Just a little longer,” Tony encouraged. Peter’s eyes rolled back and to his dismay, Tony sped up even more. “Haaa-,” Every muscle in Peter’s body shook with tension, ready for that blissful release. “Yeees, good boy, such a good boy, hold on…” Tony’s breath was hot on Peter’s lips. His deep voice vibrated through Peter’s body, sending even more surges of arousal through him. “Open your eyes. Look at me.” Peter’s jaw was locked as his eyes fluttered open. He stared straight into Tony’s and the sight had his toes curl. “Come.” Peter’s vision went white at the intense eruption bursting from him. If he screamed, he didn’t hear himself. All he could do was experience it. White streaks covered his abdomen and Tony’s hand and the overstimulating sensation of his orgasm seemed to last forever. After who-knows-how-long, Peter came down from his high, panting and twitching on the mattress, body completely limp. Tony was lying next to him, whispering sweet praise into his ear and slowly bringing Peter back to reality with his calming voice and caressing hands. Peter blinked a few times, his vision sharpening again until Tony was completely in focus. The man smiled. “Good morning, sunshine,” he repeated himself. Peter chuckled and cuddled up against Tony’s chest. Tony immediately embraced him, tangling their legs together. “Morning,” Peter laughed softly. It was quiet for a minute while Peter cleared his mind, basking in the afterglow of what was the most intense orgasm he’s ever experienced. “Thank you,” he whispered against Tony’s body. The man kissed the top of Peter’s head, humming softly. “No, my sweet, thank you.” After another hour of cuddling together Peter shuffled back so he could look Tony in the eye. “We should probably get out, don’t we?” Tony smiled kindly, pressing his fingers through Peter’s curls. “Work can wait.” “I wasn’t talking about work…” There was a playful sparkle in Peter’s eyes. “I want to explore this place.” “Can’t we cuddle a little longer?” “I’ll stay naked,” Peter teased. “We’re alone anyways… And I’ll make you coffee?” “Are you trying to bribe me with coffee that requires pressing one button?” Tony teased right back. Peter moved to sit up straight and tossed the sheets on top of Tony. He jumped out of bed, his cock already hardening again and bouncing with every movement. Tony grinned and seemed to be enjoying this newfound confidence Peter had. “I don’t know, Mr. Stark, am I?” Peter sauntered towards the door and opened it swiftly, arching his back and showing off his toned body as he walked through. Tony’s cock, that had started softening up after not getting any attention last round, sprung back to life at the sight. “Could make the coffee last, but… I’m sure there are other rooms in this place where I could make it last?” Tony laughed positively wicked and crawled over the bed towards Peter. The young man squealed delighted and ran out into the hallway. Tony stepped out of the bed and started chasing his good boy through the mansion.

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soulwillower · 4 years

Text

heather • richie tozier

(richie tozier x reader)

[based off the song heather by conan gray]

requested: OMG I HAVE AN IDEA IDK IF ITS GOOD AND IDK WHY IM TYPING IN ALL CAPS BUT CAN U DO A FIC WHERE LIKE ITS BASED OF YHE SONG HEATHER BY CONAN GRAY WHERE THE READER AND RICH HAVE BEEN BEST FRIENDS FOR SO MANY YEARS AND HAVE FEELINGS FOR EACHOTHER BUT THERE BOTH SO OBLIVIOUS- SO WHEN RICHIE LIKE GETS A GF ONE DAY THE READER JUST WHSKWHDIWHWIW IDK HOW TO EXPLAIN IT BUT LIKE AT THE END THEY REALIZE THEYRE IN LOVE. SORRY IF ITS TOK SPECIFIC. LOVE U. IM RUNNING OUTTA CHARACTERS

warnings: swearing, mentions of underage drinking, themes of cheating but no actual cheating, angst, fluff at the end, unedited.

thank u guys so much for being so patient with this fic <3 love u all so much!

[losers + reader are 18+ in this.]

4.4k words

(also, this fic starts with a flashback and idk if i like this style, but lmk if it works)

♡

the persistent beat thudding in your ears seems to do nothing more than dim your already low mood as you sip on lemonade by yourself in someone's basement bar, sitting on an uncomfortable metal barstool and leaning your head heavy against your chin.

these days, it seemed as though the world was painted in gray.

you look around almost lazily; bev and ben went outside in the snow a couple minutes ago, stan just took a girl upstairs - you're left alone now, because mike and eddie had to study for their exam and bill was feeling under the weather. and richie, as usual, was late.

there's almost twenty other people in the room right now, but you have no desire to speak to any of them. you've been trying to have fun tonight, but you're just having a hard time, feeling distracted and unable to stop thinking about wire framed glasses and a certain bright smile.

your wandering eyes halt your thoughts as a girl in your class - heather perez - catches your eye from across the room, her hair falling in natural curls that makes you sigh in envy. she smiles and waves at you warmly, gesturing for you to come and sit with her. you swallow and look down into your cup of dreary, graying lemonade as you try not to think about how you look in comparison. she's so fucking pretty. you look back up and shake your head with a friendly smile, faker than a plastic flower, and nod to the bathroom. she shrugs and smiles, turning back around.

she was too sweet, it hurt.

her naturally dark hair, long and wavy, her smooth dark skin, her laugh.... but suddenly, your head snaps back up after recognizing a familiar sight on heather's figure.

-is that richie's sweater?

your heart thumps and churns in the most unsavory way as all the breath leaves your lungs in one swift exhale. you feel sick to your stomach and your hand falls to hit the counter to stabilize yourself, the lemonade sloshing out of the cup slightly. but you pay no mind. heather's wearing richie's sweater...

you know that sweater really well. it's definitely his, and for some reason that makes you want to cry.

you blink and force yourself to suck air into your lungs as you look around quickly, anywhere but at heather perez wearing richie tozier's sweater, with all the stripes and patterns and the rough polyester material. you're not sure why you're so caught off-guard, you knew that heather perez was maybe-kinda-sorta seeing your trashmouth. he'd mentioned it in passing a few times and you've not been able to keep it off your mind as bev and bill whisper to richie about it in the halls or during hangouts when you were laying in stan's lap pretending not to hear it.

it hurts, though. holy hell, does it hurt when richie turns the corner and the typical, 'hey, richie!' choruses through most of the people in the basement - and yet his eyes are just set on her.

it hurts even worse when you make eye contact with him and he smiles at you, nodding in greeting and calling a "hey there, toots!" over the thumping of the noise before turning back towards heather.

your heart thumps erradically as you eye him sliding an arm around her shoulders easily, pulling her into his tall lanky frame, crushing your chest and deflating your trembling heart. heather's head falls onto richie's shoulder and you shiver, feeling colder than you've felt in so long. the lemonade you force to your lips tasting like stale water as the sight of richie pinching heather's shoulder and thumbing his own sweater on her frame make you feel empty.

even now, weeks later, you remember how it felt. you sip on the boiling tea and immediately burn your tongue, making you swear as you stare out your window, the snow falling around your house in the dark making you feel an odd, empty kind of peace. that fucking sweater.

you haven't talked to richie in almost a week and a half - he got in trouble the night after the party and his parents took his phone away - at eighteen years old, his parents took his phone - so that he could 'spend time with family' (a task that made you chuckle to yourself when bill had explained it to you about twelve days ago).

it's winter break, though, and you've been missing the last piece of your eight-person puzzle the last few times you've hung out with your friends. it feels empty without richie's boisterous shenanigans, snarky looks and goofy comebacks... you feel really embarrassed for missing him so deeply.

tears well up in your eyes as you think again about his damn sweater, the one that heather was wearing, the same one he'd given you not even three weeks prior.

"well look at you." richie says with amusement trickling through his voice like melting icewater through a calm creek. you spin towards him with a grin eclipsing your face as you shrug around his sweater, pretending not to smell his strong scent and pretending not to feel the immediate comfort it gives you.

"you know, for as dumb as it looks, i kind of like it." you tease, brushing some hair back from your eyes as the sweater sleeves fall back down past your hands. he laughs, eyes not leaving you for a second.

"shit, doll. keep it." he says, sounding serious. it makes you pull a face at him, starting to lift it slightly over your head to return it to its rightful owner.

but he shakes his head, hands gently gripping your arms and halting your motions, subsequently setting your heart on fire. his lips are set in a gentle grin as he shakes his head again. "it looks so much better on you."

it's spoken simply, in such honestly that it makes you blush nearly immediately. in fact, you're so flustered that all you can do is shove him a bit, stuttering out a quiet, "shut up, richie, you- i - okay, whatever."

it makes him chuckle as he takes the soft blow of your hands against his shoulders, deftly running his hands through his curly locks as he shakes his head. "you're adorable, kid."

you're lucky he'd turned around to gripe around on his messy bed for his laptop, because the stupid grin you're sure is painting your face is enough to make you dig your own grave and then hand him the shovel. if only he knew how much you liked him.

you didn't keep the sweater after that night, though. at the time, you'd told him it was because it was putrid; that the colors and patterns were a sin to man and that you'd never be caught dead wearing it out. he laughed the whole time because you had literally worn it to the store with him it with him that same day. but now, you'd give anything for richie to give you that sweater again, to feel that polyester inseam fall against your stomach and your arms and chest, like a huge richie hug (without all the bones and the cologne and the caffeine-pulsing heartbeat - so not a real richie hug, but as close as you could get to the real thing without actually just having it).

god, you like him too much. you rub your face with your palm, the moisture from the tears that had accidentally escaped your eyes smudging against your face. you're tired, almost - it's like an empty, heartbroken exhaustion that sags your shoulders and chokes your throat and makes you zone out for minutes at a time. one thought overwhelms you right now, so as you see a car's headlights shine out your window through the falling snow, you don't even notice it.

you just wish you were heather.

you've tried to hate her. really, you have - you figured maybe, just maybe, if you were able to rant to bev or eddie about how much of a bitch heather is, how she's terrible to richie and how boring she was, maybe you could justify the heartbreak in your chest.

but god, she's so perfect. heather, with her shiny hair, bright smile, her flawless mind and caring heart. she's, as far as you're concerned, an angel. of course richie would choose heather, who wouldn't?

the other day at that party, you'd tried your hardest to ignore your intrusive thoughts, but you can't help feeling like it would all be better if heather didn't exist. and even that thought alone hurts your heart, because you remember the smile on richie's face when he looked at her, swathed in his sweater and floating around the room like a beacon of light.

and you could never, ever in good conscience take that from richie.

you almost laugh at how absurd it is - now you're talking to yourself while you stare out the window, half asleep, dreaming of freckles placed just like constellations and crooked noses, of jawlines that jut out and long, lanky fingers; of loud, chipping laughter and beat up high-tops with cuffed corduroy pants.

"y/n?" a voice behind your door makes you jump a bit, unsettling your already disconcerted bones. you’re imagining him, now? you laugh into your scalding mug for a second, but after a double-take at the doorway you find the angel himself to be standing there with a perplexed look.

"richie, what're you doing here?" you ask, rubbing your eye to make sure no tears are left. he looks troubled. "i knocked, but nobody answered. so..." he says with a shrug, and you ned, tucking a leg under yourself and nodding.

"what are you doing, toots?" he asks, backlit by the hallway light. and then you finally can see what he's wearing, and you almost laugh at your own misery.

but you don’t laugh, your brain short-circuiting as you feel the knife twist further into your abdomen. the stupid fucking sweater.

“-um, nothing. y- did you get that back from heather?” you try to deliver the line as smoothly as possible, but by the look on his face, you did a real shit job at that.

“what?” he asks in an exhale as he shakes snowflakes from his hair and shoulders, closing your door as he walks towards you and falls to sit next to you on your windowsill seat.

“i thought you gave her that sweater.” you say and he raises a brow, “yeah, like two weeks ago.” he says slowly, eyeing you. he adds, “she obviously didn’t need it after that.”

you frown, “did she need it then?” you didnt try to sound bitter at all, but your voice comes with more of a sting than you’d anticipated.

as always, richie meets fire with fire. “it was twenty fuckin’ degrees out, she was wearing a tank top.”

you don’t know what to say so you just stare out the window with a quick huff, crossing your arms. "why does it matter? it's a sweatshirt." he mutters. "i was just being nice to her."

you nod, pain twisting around in your stomach. he's right, it's just a sweater. but he gave it to her, because he likes heather better.

“what’s up with you, kid?” he asks, gentler this time.

“don’t call me kid, richie.” you say sharply, not meeting his eyes. “and there’s nothing up with me.” you know you’re being difficult, but you really don't have the energy to argue with him right now.

it’s quiet again, and the silence is even more awkward. you take another scalding sip of your tea.

“um, y/n... is this because of heather?” he says after a bit. you feel the tension that the acknowledgment brings as it hits you in the thick, cold air. richie’s tapping a rhythm on his thigh, so you can tell he feels it too.

"richie." you say weakly, your voice coming out too quiet, too obviously broken and exhausted. "i cannot do this. please don't do this right now"

he blinks at you, eyebrows furrowed. "sugar, i'm so lost right now."

you decide to change the subject. "-why'd you come over?" you ask, actually looking at him then immediately regretting it. he looks hurt and confused, like a lost puppy.

"oh. um, i just need to tell you something.it's about heather, too." he sounds anxious, and you roll your eyes, looking down at the tree outside your room as wind blows powdery white mounds off its branches.

“can this just wait until tomorrow?” you whisper. doesn't he get it?

it's quiet and for a moment you believe that he's going to leave it, to not bring up the obvious jealousy brewing in your chest. but he breaks the silence too soon.

"i tried to kiss her." he says and you immediately look towards the door, the most immediate escape possible.

your breathing gets heavy; if you have to hear this, you know you'll admit your feeling to richie, and you don't want to do that to him. but you have a suspicion that he already knows.

"richie, i'm so, so glad to see you. and that you like heather. really, i am. but- it's not a good time. i'm not- i'm not okay." you say, voice thick as tears well behind your eyes.

richie’s eyes widen almost comically as you make eye contact and his hands immediately find purchase on your arms, his thumbs rubbing in the way that he has done ever since that one foggy summer you spent in the sewers. "y/n/n, what's wrong, sweetheart?" he asks, watching sadly as a tear slips from your cheek. it breaks your heart when he calls you sweetheart, and you shake your head.

you can't tell him the truth - that you love him, so instead, you mumble, "i've missed you. there's a lot going on, and i just really need you."

he looks guilty as he pulls you into a warm hug, one that takes you off guard but that you return gratefully. "you've been too busy spending time with heather and with your parents, and i understand that, i just - you know, i miss you." you say, voice muffled as your cheek is squished into his shoulder. he sighs shakily, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “i know i’ve been with her a lot, i’m sorry sugar.” he mutters.

it feels like you’re both holding something back from the other.

"i wish i were heather." you say against his shoulder, knowing richie’s completely unaware of the depth of your statement. but he pulls back and stares at you, an unknown look on his face. you open your mouth to say something, but you're cut off before you can get anything out.

and his lips fall against yours lightly, almost as if they’re ghosts against yours. his presence feels fleeting.

you barely close your eyes and press closer to him before you snap out of it, jerking backwards with wide eyes.

richie’s eyes fall open too as he looks at you questioningly. your heart is thumping heavy as you shake your head, more shocked than you thought ever possible. “what?” he asks, as if he’s surprised you’re not kissing back.

you give him a sad, broken look. you think you’ll cry as you mutter, "why would you ever kiss me? i'm not - i'm not nearly as pretty as her, i'm just-"richie suddenly looks like he might get sick, his face paler than usual as the steam from your tea dwindles idly between you. he cuts you off. "-why are you - why are you saying all these things y/n/n-”

“heather. you like heather.” you say frantically, trying to remind him so you dont have to live through this fresh faced heartbreak twice as painful if he kisses you again.

but richie shakes his head, and your confusion skyrockets just as much as your heartbeat."no. a-amy asked her out." he says breathlessly. "-she said yes."

you blink, pulling even further away as it dawns on you. "wait. so... so you only want to see me after the girl you wanted finds someone else?" you ask, watching as the smile gets smacked off of richie's face so quickly you think it may give him whiplash. "wait, no-" he starts, but you shake your head.

“richie, do you understand how hurtful that is?” you say, voice heavy as you try not to let tears fall.

he shakes his head, eyes glossing with tears as he gapes at you, “n-no, y/n-“

“fuck, richie. i know you know about my feelings for you. how could you do this? i’m not heather, i’m reminded that every time i’m in the same room as the two of you. she’s had you completely mesmerized for the last month, you can’t just use me to distract yourself.” you say, your tea completely forgotten as a tear escapes your eye.

he shakes his head, looking at you with an emotion you don’t have the energy to decipher. “leave, richie.” your voice is broken and it shakes as you look away from him.

you’re not sure what you were expecting, but when richie stands up silently you dont even look away from the window. you see him wipe his cheek in your peripheral before he sighs quietly and walks out of your room, shutting the door quietly.

you cry openly as you hear your door shut downstairs, your hands shaking as you cover your face, your shoulders shaking with sobs. you make it under your covers just as you hear a car engine sputter outside, your heart empty and lips still tingling as the feeling of richie’s lips linger on yours. you groan into your pillow and let out another sob, your eyes squeezing in agony as your heart feels like it’s ripping in two.

because even if they’re not together, richie still likes her.

why couldn’t you be heather?

you cry until you’re asleep, your now cold mug of tea resting on the windowsill as your phone charges next to you and snow swirls in the dark sky.

when you wake up the next morning, your headache is nearly blinding. you feel like crying more as you remember last night. you roll over and rub your eyes, unlocking your phone groggily.

but you check your notifications and your heart immediately stops as you see a missed call from richie at 3:49 in the morning last night, and a voicemail left a minute later.

well, you guess he got his phone back.

your fingers tremble as they hover above the play button, feeling like you may vomit from anxiety - the message he left is two minutes long.

closing your eyes, ready for even more heartbreak, you press play and hold the speaker to your ear.

“um, y/n.” the voicemail starts off, and you’re already tearing up because richie’s voice is full to the brim with anxiety and he’s not using his usual nicknames for you.

“uh... okay, i- i know it’s four in the morning, and you’re probably asleep - god, i hope you are, and that you’re not ignoring me. not that i dont deserve it, but i just want you to get good rest. uh, a-anyways. fuck,” there’s an awkward pause and you’re holding your breath.

“you know i’m not good with phone calls or voicemails-“ his rambling just adds to your anxious feeling, but you think if you don’t listen to this, your anxiety would eat you alive.

“- fuck, i don’t know how to say this. kind of ironic, i guess, since i’ve been thinking about saying it like every day for probably more than a year- okay, i’m... god, spit it out, trashmouth.” his voice gets thicker and you can hear the emotion as he takes a shallow breath.

“y/n/n, you make my hands shake. i swear, my heart feels like it’s going to backfire and explode when we touch... and it scares me so fucking bad.” you feel your heart halt in your chest, the air leaving your lungs.

you keep the phone pressed tightly to your ear as richie’s recorded voice goes on.

“-fuck, y/n. i’m terrified. sometimes i think.... like, whoever created me... they designed me just to be yours. and... it’s not in the same way i feel about bev, or bill, or eddie-“ his voice breaks as he sniffs on the other end and it dawns on you that he’s crying. “-you’re you. you’re y/n. i tried to like heather as more than just a friend. but...” it’s silent for a second.

“i just kept comparing her to you. i do that with everybody. i think i’m broken. i love you so much that it hurts.” he’s crying enough by now that it’s leaking into his speech; he’s hiccuping, stuttering slightly, his inflection changing as you can almost picture the tears rolling off his thick eyelashes and onto his rosy cheeks.

“-and i can’t sleep right now knowing that i hurt you like this. i can’t believe that i let you think of yourself as lesser than heather in any way-“ he sobs quietly in the recording and takes a stuttering breath. "i can’t believe i put myself before you. i’m such a shitty friend. i should’ve been giving you my stupid fucking sweaters the whole time.”

tears are pouring out of your eyes as you sit up, ripping the comforter off your legs. you’re pulling on socks and your shoes as you continue to listen to richie’s voicemail.

“i’m sorry that i kissed you, and i’m sorry that i dragged you into this m-mess, that i used heather as an excuse to ignore my feelings for you. i-i love you so fucking much, and i’m just so scared of hurting you. i’m so sorry that i hurt you, y/n.”

you have to see him.

“-and, um, i’m sorry i left this voice message. this is probably the worst way to find this out but i figured that it would be easier for us to ignore if it wasn’t in person- y’know, because you don’t have to respond. just- now you know. that i’m sorry, and that i don’t expect you to forgive me or want to speak to me for a while. i just- i need you to know that you’re so loved, y/n. and that you deserve so much better than me.

“so, um, okay. i’ll let you sleep now. b-bye.” he whispers the end and then the line cuts dead.

you’re left with shaking breath and tears in your eyes as his voice rings in your head. you try to take in what he’s just said, but you think you’re about to pass out.

how can richie love you back?

you brush your teeth almost aggressively as your heart beats erratically in your chest and then you’re suddenly flying down the snowy road towards the tozier’s house.

you realize too late that you look completely awry, hair unbrushed, eyes puffy and swollen, shoes untied as you knock on the front door of richie's house.

went opens the door, richie’s younger sister sat on his hip as he smiles at you, "y/n! long time no see. richie's upstairs in his room."

you smile at him in thanks, too rushed to say anything to him or munch. then you’re all but sprinting up the stairs, only feeling the anxiety as you throw open the door to his bedroom.

you're relieved that he's laying in his bed, surrounded by pillows and fluffy comforters as he jumps from the noise of your arrival.

when he sits up, neither of you say anything. his eyes are red and rimmed with tears, a heartbreaking sight as his lower lip trembles slightly. you're sure you look the same as you take a step towards his bed, your eyes not leaving each other's for a second.

he looks incredible, still.

"y/n..." he whispers finally, his eyes wide. "did you get my message?" he says, lips tilting in a stupid, forced smile. his voice holds no humor in it's sad thickness, though, and you sigh as you look down to the carpet.

you shake your head, "can you not joke for a minute, rich?"

he laughs wetly, standing up fully and although he towers at 6'0, he looks so small. "i can try, doll, but then i'll start to cry a lot, and that's just not what anybody wants-"

"richie." you say, effectively ceasing his rambling. it's cold in his room, bright white from the snow outside, and silent. he looks at you with huge eyes and a red nose.

but you don't know what to say. you’ve spent so long wanting to be heather, but now you've found out that richie's loved you this whole time. it hurts, but you can't wait another second being away from richie.

you launch yourself towards him, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him down to your mouth.

this time, the kiss is warm, unexpected again but much more loving. it's a kiss that tastes like tears and love and trust, and all you can feel is richie as his hands find purchase on your cheek and back, pulling you so close to him that you can feel is rapid heartbeat.

he pulls back to mumble against your lips, "i'm so sorry." you shake your head, pressing another kiss to his and loving the feeling of richie against you finally. "i love you." you say, feeling his grin against your mouth.

"i love you so much." he says, pulling you lightly to fall onto his bed with him and tickling your sides.

you laugh lightly, swatting at his prodding fingers. "please stop crying." he whispers, laying above you with a small smile. you roll your eyes, "you stop crying rich." you retort, and he shakes his head, one of his tears falling onto your cheek. you jump from the feeling and wipe it away, sniffling a gasp and pulling him into a tight hug, his legs tangling with yours.

“i’m sorry.” he mumbles. you cup his cheeks so his lips pucker out and you smile at him, whispering, “i forgive you, rich. i love you.” and then you place a soft kiss to his lips and he kisses you back enthusiastically. he pulls back and hugs you again, burrowing himself in your neck.

"i didn't think i'd ever get you." he says, muffled by his face in your shoulder. "thank you for trusting me. i love you so much." he kisses your collarbone lightly and your fingers play through his curls lightly as you smile, eyes closing. you're so tired.

"i love you more, richie."

you fall asleep with richie curled up beside you, his breath light on your chest and arms clutching you against him. you fall asleep with richie’s lips on your neck, his legs entangled with yours.

you fall asleep contently, knowing that you no longer have to wish you were heather.

tag list: @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @stenbrozier @simplesammyx @brxken-heartsclub @clownsloveyou @moon-shine-baby @daughter-of-the-stars11 @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @finnskindofwoman @kait-tozier @upamongthestarss @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @diorbubs @leighjaenikhowell @cowbellies @deepestofwaters <33

#richie tozier x reader #losers x reader #losers club x reader #jewish richie tozier #bill denbrough x reader #stanley uris x reader #beverly marsh x reader #eddie kaspbrak x reader #ben hanscom x reader #mike hanlon x reader

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crossovereddie · 4 years

Text

Thoughts on 11x06

I had to come back to type this after the episode. I was gonna wait to post until more people are active but everyone’s safety is more important than notes. This was really hard for me to watch. It took me two hours because I kept needing a break. It’s a tough one yall. It’s heartbreaking and really brought out issues I didn’t know I was still dealing with until I reacted so badly to some stuff. Take care of yourselves and I’m here if you need to talk. I’ll have timestamps for major tws in another post coming right after this. I just gotta go back and get the end of those scenes. I only go the time they started.

Okay. So. There’s some trigger warnings that I’ve reblogged earlier. This recap WILL have thoughts about those triggers. If you think you’ll be triggered just message me or send me an ask and I’ll give you the non triggering recap. Stay safe please.

Kev and v intro. They’re having sex behind the bar

I’m extremely nervous for some reason I might not be able to get through this

Bike heist!!

LICKEY RIGHTS

LIP CALLS HIM MICK

MISSION IMPISSIBLE

Mickey is unimpressed

Lip telling Mickey what to do yes please

Fucking Mickey omg

HE LOOKS SO GOOD

THE WAY HE SAYS BRAD

Again Mickey is unimpressed

Lip :(

MICKEY CONCERNED ABOUT LIPS SOBRIETY

AGAIN I SAY LICKEY RIGHTS

Frank is falling the chick he’s boning Monica

Not sure that’s her real name

Wait yeah it is

Frank??? Has to get to work???

Wait her name isn’t Monica

Oh shut now I get what’s happening

“Can I speak to Pope Francis please” LIAM 😭

Poor baby

Lip cooking breakfast. Hot.

I forgot about camis baby

I actually beep bad for lip and Tami

We already heard this argument with Mickey and Ian get new material writers

PRODIGAL THEIF

PINK BOX HES SO CUTE

HE LOOKS SO CUTE GOTTA SQUEEZE HIM PLS

Yeah don’t tell Carl that traitor

MICKEY BROUGHT DONUTS PLS

HES SO CUTE

ITS TOO MUCH

I LOVE HIM

HIS SMILE!!!!!!!!

GALLAGHER YOUTH

THAT MEANS MICKEY TOO BYE

CARL CALLING HIM MICK TOO PLS

I CANT TAKE IT

Poor Liam he’s terrified

“I was hoping the fucker would just die” :(

Shut up Debbie

Mickey is beautiful

Leave Mickey out of it debbie goddamn

I cant fucking stand her

Frank just observing his kids and smiling

Same frank

SHUT UP DEBBIE

OH MY GOD HIS LAUGH IS THIS WHAT YOU HEAR WHEN YOU FIRST GET TO HEAVEN????

“And the smartest” lol

Someone save Liam

“I want Sandy”

We all do kid

Fucking manipulative little I CANT STAND DEBBIE

Sandy deserves better

I hate the Milkovichs!!!!

How did smart sensitive sweet beautiful loving Mickey come from this disgusting family????

MICKEY IS THE BOSS

My heart hurts so him

“Homo sexy” dear god

Mickey is too good he deserves so much better

I love him so much

Let him be happy

Mickey has the biggest heart

They’re actually talking and not fighting

CHAPO STFU

You’re so funny and smart and beautiful don’t forget that baby

SUGAR TITS

And no one is fazed lmao

“He’s actually my uncle and my dad” I fucking hate this show

I forgot Carl makes legit money now

Wtf kinda school is this

This is so fucked up

The twins are so adorable

SHUT UP DEBBIE

“You guys” I hate that but also she’s acknowledging Mickey as “hers” and he’s family :(

Okay this horrifying comment

I hate that it’s just nonchalant

Debbie just keeps talking.

Let’s move on

Mickeys face when she says “butt naked”lmao

LIP CALLING HIM MICK AGAIN

“Talk to you for a minute?”

“Yes. Please”

I LOVE IT

Mickey is unimpressed by lip once again and I’m smiling

They love each other they’re secretly best friends ITS A FACT

HAND SHAKE SO CUTE

MY BABIES

“Blue like my balls” fucking frank lol

They’re going in on Frank’s storyline now

Boss Mickey at it again

Terry’s home

The way his face falls im sick

SANDY BABY

My heart is racing

Mickeys face is breaking my heart

Great now I’m crying

Mickey got emotional

Ian sensed it and touched his neck all fucking sweet

Okay I had to take a little break because I started crying

I love him too much

Fucking Noel is so damn good

My heart is fucking breaking

“Frank’s not a homophobic psychopath who tortured you for years”

Please Mickey deserves better

I don’t wanna hear any Ian slander either.

In this house we protect my son and my son in law I will fight you

“Let’s get the fuck outta here. Lip you coming?” 😭

That was so hard to watch yall. I’m not gonna lie to you. My parents weren’t half as shitty as terry but growing up feeling unloved your whole life fucks you up anyway and that brought out some emotions and feelings I didn’t realize I still dealt with. I had to pause for a good while and cry.

Leave Sandy alone debbie

Terry is disgusting

Okay the homophobic language he uses is definitely triggering so I’ll time stamp that too

Debbie you selfish bitch

Everyone leaving terry outside it’s a yes from me

I honestly can’t concentrate on the other scenes now I’m sorry y’all

I try to cover everyone’s scenes but it’s hard for me today

I’m not okay

Liam is too innocent poor kid

MICKEY LIP AND IAN THE BEST TRIO

We need more scenes

I PAUSED TO TYPE AND THE FUCKING LOOK HES GIVING HIM STOP

They’re besties

Mickey is beautiful

MY BABY BUSINESS BOSS MAN I LOVE YOU

he really hasn’t called him Philip the entire episode wtf

Ignoring Debbie

Now I want fries

Carl is cringy

Mickey drove them home and pulled a gun

Honestly again another heartbreaking scene

Ian’s trying to make him stop

Terry is disgusting and also a coward but we’ve been knew

Noel is the most amazing

Mickey gets teary but doesn’t cry bc I cried enough for the both of us

He’s the strongest bravest ever and I’m so proud of him

I need a hug

My heart hurts so much y’all

I just want him to be happy

I’m a fucking mess

I can’t handle Lip being emotional too

Oh I thought lip wanted to sell the house for himself only but at least they all get their share

Horrible music choice

I wanna tuck Mickey in with his favorite tv show on(911) make him his favorite food to eat in bed and not let anyone but Ian around him for a good 72 hours

The way Ian is looking at him

“Would you take care of me if I was paralyzed?”

“....yeah. Yeah”

“Top you whenever I wanted” “asshole”

His smile is back that’s all I need in life

MICKEY IS TOO GOOD FOR THIS WORLD

RIP DOWN THAT FLAG YES BABY

“That was big of you” “he’s an asshole...I wanna be better than that”

WHEN I TELL YALL I LOST IT I MEAN FULL ON SOBBING

YOURE ALREADY A THOUSAND TIMES BETTER THAN THAT PIECE OF SHIT

YOURE SO KIND AND BRAVE AND BEAUTIFUL INSIDE AND OUT

Ian’s like “back of the head? Gotta grab and hold my boy”

“You are so much better than that” IAN MY SWEET SON IN LAW I LOVE YOU THANK YOU FOR LOVING OUR BOY SO WELL

IAN IS THE MOST SUPPORTIVE HUSBAND

V spitting truth

I want terry to fucking suffer

Don’t do it frank

“Nah” LMAO

Frank loves his son in law

Sandy I love you

I need to hold her

No debbie I LOVE HER

NO SANDY LOVE ME INSTEAD

DEBBIE DOESNT DESERVE YOU

Carl scene was so awful I feel so bad for him this girl is a fucking psycho

That was an actual rape scene what the fuck

Mickey making frank laugh

Debbie explaining? Really?

I hate her

“How long is this gonna take? I’m fucking starving Lip” WHY WONT YOU CALL HIM PHILIP

“We could get on with our lives” well that hurt more than it should’ve

It’s really the end soon huh? 😢

According to captions Ian says “we’re in”

Frank reads his diagnosis

Carl goes to report his rape

That took me nearly two hours to watch. Yeah I usually pause to type but I had to take long breaks after the hard scenes. It was a really hard episode to watch. A lot darker than it has been. I’m not really okay right now. It was emotional but a really good episode overall.

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iwriteficsandtragedies · 3 years

Text

One Year Later

Is this.... Is this part ten to Number 20? Omg, it is!

Warnings: naked bathtub time (no hanky panky)

________________________________________

Rome scampered after the tennis ball for what felt like the thousandth time that day. You’d been outside for a good hour with him, trying to run off all his puppy energy. As usual, you were getting tired before he was, and he slid to a stop in front of you and dropped his ball, ready to go again.

“Who’s a good boy? Is it you?” You rolled his furry little face between your hands. “Yes, you’re the best boy, aren’t you? Aren’t you?” He yipped with excitement and you launched the ball across the grass again.

Igor stuck his head out the patio door. “Hey. Marco called, he wants us to bring Rome to the training grounds.”

“We can do that?”

“Yeah, come on.”

“Alright, well give me a few minutes.” You called for Rome, ushering him into the house. You made a quick stop in your bathroom to fix your brows and your hair, grabbed your hoodie and your phone, and met Igor and Rome at the car. The dog climbed into your lap and settled in for the ride, nosing at your hand for pets.

“I didn’t know visiting training was allowed,” you said. “Marco’s never mentioned it.”

“Probably because he didn’t want you showing up and embarrassing him,” Igor replied.

“Oooh, sick burn, think of it all by yourself?” Had he not been driving you would have shoved him. It had been more than a year since you’d moved in, and Igor had become very much like a brother to you - that included friendly insults. It was nice that you two got along well, especially since sometimes you saw him much more than your actual boyfriend.

A year ago, Igor had been in the process of moving out, and their dad was making noise about moving into an apartment of his own. You and Marco were on the cusp of making your own life together, not alone, but independent of the family presence that had been the one constant in Marco’s life until you.

And then Marco’s knee had blown out on that awful summer night. You were watching from your bed, and you couldn’t tell what had happened. He’d just fallen over. You rewound it over and over, trying to see if someone had kicked him or if the knee had twisted, desperate for an explanation better than “just one of those things.” His studs had caught in the grass, and the rest of his body kept going. The ligament hadn’t stood a chance.

You’d watched him scream and bite into the collar of his jersey, watched him pound the ground in agony and anger, unable to do anything but cry with him from across the Atlantic. Gilberto had been inconsolable, and in the hours that followed, you and Igor decided that you’d stay home with him while Igor flew to the States to be with Marco. It took three days for them to return, and you and Gil spent the entire seventy two hours frantically moving furniture, getting rooms switched around so you and Marco now lived on the the ground floor of the house; you cried constantly over those three days, as though your body were trying to get it all out before he returned home and the real hard work started.

Igor gave up his plans to move out, and you had taken a leave of absence from work. Marco’s recovery had been long and painful, full of tears and more than a few fights. It was hard to see him struggle to even walk, and he didn’t always react well to your attempts to encourage him. He hated having to depend on you to get to the bathroom the most; the day he was able to take ten steps on his own, the exact number of steps from your bed to the toilet, you decorated a cake with poop emojis. The two of you ate it in bed, laughing and crying at how excited you were over a few steps. Months and months later, when he finally touched a ball on a real pitch again, you had a whole feast catered for the four of you. Marco nearly wet himself laughing when he saw the cake yet again covered in poop emojis.

And now here you were, almost a year later - he was finally back on the pitch. He was also, quite frankly, easier to live with now that he was playing again.

You tried to pay attention as Igor drove slowly through the gate and around the winding driveway. You’d been to the training grounds once before, but only to pick Marco up in the parking lot. Igor seemed to know his way around, though, and led you and Rome to where the first team were scrimmaging. Nobody seemed to notice as the two of you took a seat in the stands.

You loved to watch Marco play. He still struggled some days, when his knee was swollen and painful after too much time on the ball, but today seemed to be a good day. When the players were dismissed, Igor whistled for his attention and he started slowly towards the stands.

Rome saw him coming, and started to whine and squirm in your lap as he got closer. Marco patted his legs as he gingerly climbed the steps, and Rome leaped out of your lap towards him. Marco gathered him into his arms, ruffling his fur and making cooing baby noises as the pup licked his face. He paid exactly no attention to you or Igor.

“Well, I guess we know where we stand.” Igor nudged your arm.

“Mmm hmm. Maybe we should give them some privacy.” You pursed your lips in mock annoyance.

“They’re just jealous, aren’t they buddy?” Marco spoke to Rome, still ignoring you and Igor. “Yes, they’re jealous of your handsome face, aren’t they?”

“Hey, between the three of us I’m definitely the best looking,” Igor said.

“It’s true,” you nodded. “It’s because he spends more money on makeup than I do.”

Marco rolled his eyes as Igor sputtered, trying to come up with a retort. “You two are the worst,” he said, setting the dog down and motioning for you to come to him.

“Oh, so you do see me here,” you said sarcastically, but you slid out of your seat to let him fold you into a hug. Even after all this time together, you still got butterflies when he put his arms around you.

There was a commotion on the steps, and you turned to see Lucas and Isco coming towards you. You made to pull away from Marco to greet them, but he squeezed his arms around you and kept you close to him. “I’ve barely seen you all week, hug me a little longer please.” His voice was quiet, a little needy.

You turned back to him. “Are you ok?”

He nodded. His teammates were carrying on loudly about who knows what with Igor, so you had a few moments to yourselves.

“Are you sure?” He looked tired, more tired than he usually did these days.

“Just ready to go home.” He lay his head against yours. “I’m beat.” Rome sat impatiently at your feet, ever demanding of your attention. “I’ll get that one,” he nodded towards his brother. “If you get this one.”

You had the easier task; Rome just had to hear the words “car ride,” and he was ready to go. Tearing Igor away from conversation was decidedly harder. Marco had to physically pull him away and promise him McDonald’s on the way home, which worked out well for you and Rome considering French fries were your guiltiest pleasure. The fluffy good boy sat beside you in the back seat, taking each offered fry with tender enthusiasm. “You’re my favorite Asensio,” you told him, scratching him between the ears.

Marco was slow to get out of the car, and even slower up the steps to the house. “Tub,” you ordered. He needed to soak, and you needed to massage his knee, something he often hated but always felt better after. His physical therapist had given you a metal tool to scrape over the scars and the underlying adhesions, too. He really hated that.

He grimaced when you entered the bathroom, tool in hand. “Just what a girl wants to see when she’s about to take her clothes off,” you teased, slipping quickly out of your shorts and hoodie and stepping into the water with him.

“You’re not the fun naked, though,” he said, adjusting his body to accommodate yours. He leaned back as he raised his knee.

“Pobrecito,” you tutted. “Has to have his naked girlfriend massage him in his luxury tub.”

He sighed, a deep contented hum as you worked your palms over his knee and the surrounding area. “This part’s nice. It’s the torture after.”

“I’m sorry, honey.” The metal scraper was uncomfortable. The therapist had stressed its importance in keeping scar tissue from forming and causing new problems though, so you scraped it dutifully over his poor knee every other day. “It’s getting better, isn’t it?”

He sighed again, eyes closed. “Yeah.” He was worn out from training. “I want another cake when we’re done with the damn thing, though.”

You laughed, and thought maybe you’d treat him to a little longer massage today. “With poop emojis?”

“With poop emojis.”

#number 20 #marco asensio fic #marco asensio fanfiction #marco asensio imagine #marco asensio one shot #football fic #footballer fic #football imagine #footballer one shot #football one shot #footballer imagine #footballer fanfiction #football fanfiction #real madrid fic #spain nt fic

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harrysgoldenline · 5 years

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can i get a harry one shot where you are really insecure about the whole album/ camille thing and u talk to sarah about it and ur crying and harry notices and comes over but u run away and sarah tells him everything and he comes to find you but you pretend like ur fine but he sees through it and he goes off on this lone speech about how much he loves you and how ur the only person he will ever love and u both are just happy it’s out and the open and a happy ending ?

OMG MY FIRST REQUEST!! YES OF COURSE! I REALLY REALLY REALLY HOPE YOU LIKE IT ! and if anyone else has any requests, send them my way!!! :)

——————————————————————————

My Muse

Y/N was distraught.

She loved Harry, his music, his career and could not be more proud of him, his success and who he has become.

Although, she was struggling.

This whole album has been about Harry discovering himself, who he is... but also about his ex-girlfriend Camille.

Y/N knew about Harry everything he went through after their relationship ended, he was struggling greatly. They met around half a year after the break up, but she could see Harry was still struggling. She could see how he would keep to himself around new people, especially out in public. He was quite and wouldn’t speak out much, very different then how their mutual friend, Sarah had always described him.

Sarah has always talked highly of him, being in his band they grew very close and she often got to see how he went through his different writing processes. She saw him before and after shows and she knew him before and after Camille. Something Y/N could not relate to.

As time passed, the two got together, forming what their friends called a power couple. Harry and Y/N were completely inseparable, growing closer and closer as each day passed.

Harry opened up to her a few months into the relationship, sitting her down and letting her know exactly what happened in the relationship and why it was so difficult for him when it ended. He told her that since it was a huge part of the album, he might have to talk about it a bit, without saying names of course but she knew that everyone else already knew who he was going to be talking about.

“It’s okay, Harry. I totally understand. Don’t worry about it.” She would always say, giving him a smile and a soft kiss onto his jawline.

Y/N wasn’t lying, she did understand why and she didn’t want him to worry about her, not now. Not when his second album is taking off, hitting the top of the charts in preorder alone.

She did enjoy the majority of interviews. Hearing him tell funny stories of the writing process, or always getting emotional as he opens up about finding himself, his true sound and how he doesn’t feel like he needs to hold back anymore. But interview after interview, it got harder. Hearing him talk about the love he felt and then the unbearable pain after it was gone. She felt inadequate. Wondering if nothing went wrong, where would she be? Would Harry still fall for her when Sarah introduced him like he said he did?

Although, Y/N never brought up these concerns to him. Especially after the album drop he was on top of the world, explaining how he has never felt happier and more free, but she couldn’t help thinking if he would be happier with her by his side instead.

“Y/N, are you alright?” A voice brings her out, looking up and seeing Sarah standing there at the door, offering her a soft smile.

“Oh hi! Yeah, I’m totally fine don’t worry about me.” She nodded, looking back at the monitor, watching Harry messing around on stage with Mitch after finishing up a soundcheck nearly a minute ago. They often liked to stay for a while, messing around on stage, this often gave Sarah and Y/N sometime to catch up as their boys hung out together.

“Are you sure, sweetheart?” She asked, eyebrows furrowing as she sat next to her on the couch, “Cmon (Y/N), you know you can trust me with anything.”

“How’d Harry do?” She asked, trying to ease in, hearing Harry strum in the background to Cherry, causing Y/N to bite her bottom lip.

“Good... was just a sound check. Everything running fine- seriously what’s going on?” Sarah insisted, interrupting herself.

“What was he like? With her?”

A silence fills the room until Sarah let’s out a sigh, muttering a soft ‘oh honey’ before scooting closer, arms going around her friend protectively. Sarah knew she was struggling, but with it being such a difficult subject, she didn’t want to pry too much. She wanted to wait until Y/N was ready to confide in her, but instead she bottled it up.

“Fuck, sorry I shouldn’t have asked thats... sorry it’s none of my business.” Y/N quickly says, forcing a laugh and wiping her eyes, standing up quickly and going to look for her purse.

“You have nothing to apologize for. I know how hard this has been for you.” Her friend agrees, standing and following her, “have you and Harry talked about it? Talked about how this has been for you?”

Y/N shook her head, biting her lip hard as her eyes were squeezed shut, knowing if she spoke a word she would break down, she had been holding it in for too long.

“Do you wanna talk about it with him?”

She shrugged at this, honestly not knowing the answer. If she did, she didn’t know if Harry would stop all together, making his album less authentic or If he would be upset she held it in, or even said anything about it at all. But she genuinely didn’t know if she could hold it in any longer.

“You can tell me.” Sarah nodded, hugging her tightly, “let it out.”

“It hurts” Y/N breaks, letting out a sob, “it seems like- like all he talks about is her! And I know he wrote this whole thing before we met and- do you think he still loves her?”

“Y/N, no.” She says, pulling her back and wiping the tears from her friends face, “I’ve seen this man before, during and after both of you, and I have never seen him this happy. Ever”

She shakes her head, not believing her. “It can’t be me. It’s the album, the success! He’s himself now, so that’s what’s making him happy. I didn’t help him- she did.”

“Y/N stop” Sarah demanded, grabbing her shoulders and moving her hair out of her face, “Harry is in love with you! I remember him coming to me, asking me for advice when you went out on your first date.”

She shakes her head, disbelief and doubt being pumped through her veins, “it just doesn’t make sense! Look at her and then look at me. Who would you choose?”

“You”

“Stop.” She argues, rolling her eyes, “she’s skinnier and prettier and older! She’s way older than me, way older than him. Is that what he wants? I’m younger than him, Sarah. Young enough where there’s a million articles about it.”

“You’re going to make yourself sick if you don’t calm down.” Sarah demands, “please? Just calm down and we can talk about this. What does your age have to do with anything? You’re so beautiful, Y/N.”

“No, I should stop. Mitch and Harry will be back any second.” She sniffles, looking at herself in the mirror and sighing, dabbing at the skin around her eyes to try and depuff them.

“You can’t hold this in.” Sarah whispers, hugging her friend again, “please? Talk to me?”

“I love him and it’s scary because I don’t know-“ Y/N begins but quickly stops, hearing her boyfriends loud laughter, soon getting louder as he opened the door.

Y/N shoots Sarah a sympathetic look, silently begging her to remain quiet and not say a word, which she nods, giving Mitch and Harry a smile as they walk in the door, each boy going to each of them.

“Hey babe!” Harry smirks, kissing her before pulling back, eyebrows furrowing together and he lowers his voice, “are you alright? You look like you’ve been crying.”

“I’m okay!” She smiles, “poked my eye when I was fixing my makeup. Anyways, what are you guys up to?”

“We were gonna go grab some food before the show! Where do you wanna go?” He asks, hands going around her waist.

“Oh I’m not hungry.” She quickly responds, “been feeling a bit off all day so I might stay behind. I wanna feel better for your show.”

Harry frowns, pulling her closer to him before leading her out of the lounge room, leaving Mitch and Sarah as they continue their own conversation. Harry leads her off to his private dressing room.

“What’s up?” He frowns, lifting his hand to her face and rubbing her cheek softly, “what happened?”

“Nothing, Harry.” She smiles, her heart growing at his concern. Yet, she knows she can’t tell him. Not now, hours before his mini Fine Line show in London. The last thing she wants to be is a distraction, “don’t worry about me, really! And I feel like I’ve been budging in too much, go bond with the band!”

“You’re not interrupting anything. I want you here.”

“I know and I appreciate that, really, love being around you and everybody.” She giggles, “but I’m not gonna be there the whole tour and I gotta get used to that.”

“I wish you could be.” He frowns, pulling her right against his chest, “always want you next to me.... or below me.”

“Harry!” She laughed, pulling back and playfully pushing him, “you’re crazy.”

“Crazy for you, my love.” He dopily smirks, kissing her, softly.

She giggled against his lips, pulling him closer for another, each kiss making her worries drift further and further away. Mind reeling as his hands fall down her waist, gripping her bum as he pushes her closer, his lips falling down to her neck.

“Hey man, Sar-“ Mitchs voice causing them to jump away from each other, the three of them turning red as he clears his throat, “Um- sorry. I was just saying that Sarah said she’s gonna take a nap before the show too so I think it’s just just gonna be us and the other guys.”

“Sounds good!” He smirks, feeling a bit smug after what Mitch just walked in on, he turns back to Y/N, tucking a hair behind her ear, “you can stay in here if you want, lock the door and take a nap or whatever you need. Nobody should bother you and I’ll be back before you know it. Okay?”

She nodded, thanking him before pressing a kiss to his lips, “I love you, Harry.”

“I love you more, babygirl.” He smiles, kissing the top of her head before waving goodbye, following Mitch out.

She sighs, falling back on the couch and closing her eyes, mind muddled with confusion. Moments like that make her feel so silly, wondering why she ever worried in the first place. She does trust Harry, she doesn’t worry about him going out to try and find someone else, but she always wonders if he prefers to be with her, just has Y/N because he doesn’t have that option anymore.

She can’t help but lay awake, spending many sleepless nights just comparing herself to her. Camille was beautiful, and nobody could deny that. She had such grace and Y/N felt like her French accent and demeanor made her much more interesting then her own plain American ways. She wonders if Harry wishes Y/N was older, rather than being multiple years younger. She wondered if it annoyed him, bothered him that she had a great lack of experience. Harry was all she’d ever known and all she wants forever.

But did he feel the same? Did he actually love her? Does he actually find her as beautiful as he said? She found it hard to believe, especially seeing all he has had in the past. It makes her feel guilty, guilty for feeling so upset and hurt by seeing and hearing about people he was with prior, even though they’d never met at the time.

The door swings open, startling her and causing her to jump and heart to pound as she prepared what she would say next to Sarah, but it wasn’t her, it was Harry.

“What? What are you doing here?” She rushes, clutching her chest to try and calm her racing heart, I thought you were going to get food? Did you forget something?”

“Yes.” He mumbles, sinking down onto the couch next to her and holding her face in his hands, “I forgot to tell you how important you are to me. More than any album, place on the charts, anything.”

“W-what? Where is this coming from, Bubs?”

“Sarah told me what you said to her.” He frowns, eyes sparkling, “and I’m the biggest fucking arsehole I didn’t stop to talk to you about it once. To stop and actually ask you about it.”

“Harry, really, I’m just being-“

“Y/N listen, you are the best thing to ever happen to me. You’re my person. You’re it for me.” He whispers, leaning his forehead against her, tears forming in her eyes as she’s filled with so many emotions, “you gotta believe me, lovie.”

“I love you, Harry.” She sniffles, “I believe you, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, you didn’t do anything wrong. This is all my fault. I should’ve talked to you more, I didn’t even think about how hard this would be for you, I’m so sorry.” He rambles, “you are the love of my life Y/N. Yes, I was in love before but this? With you? It’s so strong and real and terrifying. I’ve never felt this before. I want to be with you. Forever. Nobody else. And I cannot begin to tell you how sorry I am to not have made that clear.”

“I should’ve told you from the beginning how I felt.” She admits, “I don’t want you to stop talking about it in interviews if that’s what you want to say, you should say it. It’s just really hard to hear you talk about her all the time.”

“I’m sorry my love. I don’t deserve you, don’t deserve your support.” He whispers, kissing her hands, “I am so beyond lucky to have you. You are the most beautiful, kind, considerate woman in the whole world. I don’t know how I got you.”

“Stop it.” She blushes, bringing her hands away from his lips and up to his face, shaking her head in disbelief, wondering how he even existed, “you are truly the most perfect man.”

“Now you stop.” He chuckles, cheeks turning pink, “I’m praising you here... really though love. You are my muse. I have millions of songs written about you.”

“Really?” She whispers, eyes wide, “you’re not just saying that?”

“What do you think Mitch and I are doing all the time?” He laughs, “we make Sarah go because we know she’d tell!”

“Well you’re right, because she told you what I said after I told her not too.” She blushes, looking down at her lap.

“Oh stop that you know she did the right thing.” He laughs, dragging her a bit closer to him so her legs lay over his lap, “Honestly, I was scared to show you them, thought I was open before wait till you hear these.”

“Can I? Can I hear them? Please?”

“I guess since you have good manners.” He smirks, pulling her on top of him. She giggles and he pulls her onto his lap, “you can hear ‘em all. Don’t know what I was waiting for... guess I was just scared?”

“Of what, Bubby?” She frowns, arms resting around his shoulders as she looks up at him.

“I don’t know... I just... I know you’re the one, so it’s kinda scary I guess...not knowing if you feel the same.”

“I do.” She squeaks, “I love you so much- wanna be with you forever.”

“Yeah?” He smirks, squeezing her hips tight causing her to squeal, falling into him, “I’ve been yours since the day we met. You inspire me, Y/N. You are my muse. I’d choose you over anyone. You are my priority.”

He leans in, kissing her softly, almost as if he was afraid of breaking her in two. His lips fell to her neck, sucking on her favorite spot and her grip tightened on him, head falling to the side a bit and she lets out a soft whimper.

“Harry, please...” she squeaked, hips pressing down into him involuntarily.

“I’m gonna take care of you.” He whispers lowly, pulling up the bottom of her dress and over her head, “gonna take care of you until the day I die, my love.”

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