#with hygiene and he knew how gross that makes me feel. and he still called me disgusting for it. and in every argument he had he would | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

romanarose · 1 year

Text

To the Rescue

Pre-Outbreak!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sarah gets her period, and Joel is a bit lost.

Warnings: So much period talk. so much. Thats about it.

EDIT Gotdamn two requests for part two already and it’s been up a few hours 😂 part two it is! Maybe with smut 👀

Let’s see. Comment if you’d like to be tagged!

************

You didn’t wanna assume anything… maybe he knew what he was doing. Maybe he was just trying to find a particular kind.

Or maybe the 30-something-year-old man was wandering lost around the feminine hygiene aisle overwhelmed because his wife, daughter, or sister sent him to buy some, and he had no idea what he was doing.

“Excuse me, sir?” You gently approach the nervous man. When he turns to you, wide-eyed and red faced, you can’t help but notice how handsome he is, soft brown curls framing a strong jaw and curved nose.

“Oh, ‘scuse me, ma’am.” He nods his head to you, and steps back, presumably to get out of your way.

You smile softly at him, trying to put him at ease. “No, no, you’re alright, I was just gonna ask if you needed any help?”

The man blushes harder at that, dodging your attempts to catch his eyes. He looks like he’s about to refuse, but reconsiders. Looking at the floor and shoving his hands in his pockets, he answers. “My daughter, she started… um… yeah. For the first time today… the nice cashier boy is an older brother of her friend so he let her in the employee bathroom, since apparently, they don’t have a public one.” The annoyance laced his voice, and it’s obvious it had taken a moment to get the poor young girl to privacy. He finally looks at you, not so much embarrassed, but more ashamed. “I should’a been prepared for this, but I thought… I thought I had more time, you know? She’s still a little girl to me, I guess I didn’t see it coming. So. Here we are.”

You nod, listening. “Are you able to contact her mom?”

Shaking his head, he looks away again. “She left when Sarah- uh, my daughter- when Sarah was two, I gave up tryna involve her in Sarah's life by Kindergarden- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be dumping all this shit-I Mean, crap- on you.”

He was a southern gentleman, it seemed, not keen on swearing around women. You felt for him, you did. A single dad in this position wasn’t ease.

“I see, well, I’m happy to help, if that’s alright.”

An audible sigh of relief escapes him. “That would be great, thank you. I don’t wanna… well she’s already very embarrassed. The cashier was nice, but he definitely saw the blood on her shorts, and she’s pretty humiliated. You know, teenage boy she knows and all that… I don’t wanna make it worse.” He shuffles his feet. “I don’t wanna make her feel like this is something to be ashamed of, or that I’m grossed out. I’m not.” He glances at you before sighing again but keeping eye contact. “I just feel out of my depth that’s all.”

“I understand. This sort of thing can be confusing for adult women do. We learn new things all the time, what works better and what doesn’t. I don’t think anyone expects you to be an expert.”

With a shy smile, the young man extends his hand. “Joel Miller, pleasure to meet yuh, miss.”

You tell him your name, and get to work, not wanting to leave that poor girl waiting. “Any known allergies, Mr. Miller?”

“Please, you can call me Joel. And yeah, she’s allergic to latex.”

Nodding again, you move to a particular section. “Okay, good think I asked because some have latex. Here.” You give him a box of basic Kotex pads and a box of tampons. “This brand is latex free, and they are a good brand. Just make sure you check any new products if you get 'em. She probably won’t want to use tampons for a few years yet, but let’s get 'em just in case” You grab a box of larger ones. “And these are overnight pads, but the first day or two are always the heaviest each month, and if I’m being honest, I just use these the first day, even with a tampon.” Your face suddenly matches Joel’s blush. “Sorry, that’s probably TMI”

“No!” He reassures, wide-eyed. “I don’t mind, any information is helpful- uh- if you’re comfortable, of course.”

You can’t seem to stop smiling at him. “Yeah. I’m pretty open. Well, for me, my first two days are insanely heavy, and the tampons bleed through really quick, so if I’m at work it's better just to have a big pad on to prevent leaks. I think it’s safe to say she’s gonna like these while she is figuring things out.”

Joel nods, and you can tell he’s trying very hard to take in this information. He grabs another box of the over night pads, then looks at you. “Just in case”

“Okay, now, you said she bleed through her clothes right?”

Joel scrubbed his face. “Oh god, yeah, and they don’t sell clothes here, huh.” He sighs, before coming up with a plan. “That's okay” I’ll just wrap my jacket around her.”

“Here.” You toss him some baby wipes. “You go check out, I got some sweats in my car, I’ll grab them and meet you at the employee bathroom.”

His eyes go wide at that. “Oh! Oh no, miss, thank you but you don't have to-”

But you hold out a hand to quiet the handsome single dad. “I want to. And they are just shitty sweats, don’t worry for one minute.” Before he could argue, you leave him, and soon you return to the front where Joel is trying to get his daughter to open the door… but she’s refusing.

“Sarah, honey, it’s okay, it’s okay I’m just gonna hand you what you need-”

“No!” You can hear her yell from the bathroom, and you can’t imagine she’s older than 10.

You step up to the door. “Hey, Sarah? I’m a friend of your dads. I got some clean clothes for you, if you crack open the door I have a towel you can cover yourself with, and I can help you, or if they you think got it-”

The door unlocked, and Joel looked visibly relieved as you handed her the beach towel through the cracked door.

“Is this alright? I’ll keep the door unlocked and be in and out.” You assure him, and he agrees.

“I really appreciate all your help; I can’t say thank you enough.”

Sarah calls that you can come in, and with a towel covering her you show her the products and explain how to use them. You slip out again and lean against the wall looking at an anxious Joel.

“She okay? She good?” He asks you, the worry evident on his face.

You were quick to reassure him. “She’s alright, just embarrassed, but I managed to slip in that you were absolutely not weirded out and not nervous at all.”

“Already lying for me, huh darl’n?” He chuckles a bit, finally seeming to relax. “You really came to my rescue.”

You could stare at his soft brown eyes all day… “It’s alright. No one really prepares you for this as a dad.”

The smile on his face falls. “But I should’ve prepared myself, you know?” his large hand goes to rub the back of his neck. “I don’t want you to think I didn’t try, really. When her mom left I really tried to… you know… learn how to do both, the mom stuff and dad stuff.” Joel chuckled a bit. “I can throw a mean tea party.”

Smiling softly, you hope your face doesn’t show one of judgment. "I bet you can."

“But then she just got older so fast… ”

“How old is she?”

“10”

“Well, in your defense, that is a little earlier than expected.” You can see his eyes widen, so you’re quick to assure him. “Not too early! Any time between 9 and 16 I think is normal and healthy. 12-13 is the average though.”

He wouldn’t stop beating himself up about it. “I should’ve been prepared, but my ma died before Sarah was born and I work with all men so I just… didn’t have anyone to ask, and then I know I could probably look it up but I didn’t even know what I’m looking for, plus it’s the internet so I wasn’t really sure what I’d see-”

“Joel!” You stop him, laughing and putting a hand on him, hoping to cool his anxious over-explaining… he relaxes into your touch. “I have been getting mine for ages, and I still find myself getting caught off guard without products. You’re a good dad, okay? You’re trying your best, and from what I’ve seen, you’ve raised a lovely, polite young lady. You’re not gonna traumatize her because you didn’t have pads.”

When he smiles at you, you can’t help but fall into those puppy-dog eyes just a little bit more.

Sarah emerges from the bathroom, looking at the floor but trying to put on a brave face. You decide to leave them be, let them go home so the poor girl could rest and Joel could calm down.

“I’m going to finish my shopping, any more questions before I go, sweetie?”

She gives a light smile. “No ma’am, thank you.”

“You’re very welcome. Joel?” You ask the girls dad, and he laughs as he shakes his head.

“Got about a thousand, but I’ll figure it out.”

“Dad” Sarah urges him to stop talking, so Joel does.

“Thank you, miss. I appreciate it.”

You say goodbye to both, and go to retrieve your shopping cart.

Meanwhile, Joel watches you leave, before Sarah speaks up.

“Who was that? She said she was a friend of yours, but you don’t have friends other than Uncle Tommy.”

“Hey now, little lady.” Joel looks down at her, but Sarah just gives him a look. “Fine, you got me. Just a nice lady helping a hopeless old man.”

“Well, she was nice. Can we go home? I think I deserve some of that candy you keep hidden away.”

“How do you know about that?”

“You fall asleep watching TV with your mouth full of chocolate.” Sarah then flops her head back, mouth open, imitating a loud snore.

Joel gently bonks her head, making the pre-teen giggle. “Alright I get your point, fine. Let’s go home.” Joel put his arm around his daughter, walking her outside as he carried the back of products and her dirty shorts.

When Sarah stuffed her hands into your large sweatpants, she felt something in the pocket. “Oh I hope he doesn’t need this.”

“What is it?” Joel hoped it was important so he had an excuse to find you and talk to you again.

Sarah handed him a business card. It had your name, and business and cellphone number printed on it, but it was the back that caught his attention. Written in blue ink, it said: “Call me, cowboy <3”

******************

First Joel with no smut XD

I was debating writing this or a dark!joel one shot, but christ, my dark joel series is *dark* so i needed to lighten myself up a bit.

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

IDK who else is reading none smutty joel so i guess im just tagging fen bc they read all my nonsense XD

#joel miller #joel miller hbo #joel miller reader #joel miller fem!reader #joel miller fem reader #fem reader #fem!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou hbo #the last of us #pre outbreak!joel #single dad!joel miller #reader #pedro pascal #joel miller fluff #tlou fluff

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wheelsup · 3 years

Note

okay but can you imagine spencer washing your hair for you?

like, i never (ever) let anyone (at all) touch my hair, but i feel like he'd be really gentle about it, and there is just something so soft and tender to me about the idea of washing someone's hair for them 🥺

that’s my dream <3 ik you didnt specifically ask for a blurb but i think about this very often. i wrote two versions of this, but this one (with two bickering best friends who are v much in love) won my heart.

wc: 1.6k contains: friends (to crushes, maybe ;) ), injured reader. gn!reader

“Spence, I promise you that I can do it by myself,” you huffed, attempting to yank off your tank top as you walked toward the hotel bathroom, using only one arm while trying to keep the other as still as possible.

“I’d be more inclined to believe you if you didn’t sound like you were going to cry,” he snickered, following hot on your trail as you tried to escape his hovering.

“You’re being dramatic.”

“Oh really? Lift your arm up, then.” He leaned his hip against the marble counter, crossing his arms over his chest as he waited for you to do it. One obnoxiously smug eyebrow arched on his forehead.

Sometime during the case, you’d gotten into a brief tousle with a suspect, who just had to run away when approached. If Morgan had been there, you wouldn’t have even batted a lash, but he wasn’t. So not only had you detained him by yourself, you also wound up with a minor pulled muscle in your shoulder.

You shot him a sarcastic smile, toothless and irritated, and raised your right arm into the air. He let out an airy scoff.

“Other one, smart ass.”

Your arm dropped down to your side, your smile falling with it as you turned sharply towards the shower.

“Look, I’m disgusting right now. So either I suck it up and shower, or you’re going to smell me until the day we solve this case.”

Spencer’s nose crinkled at the gross truth. He wasn’t ungentlemanly enough to tell you, but sharing a bed with a coworker was quite a quick way to discover if they were in need of a shower or not. Your shoulder might be out of service, but both of you could agree that hygiene was a bigger priority.

“You can’t even move. Just… just let me help you.”

You snorted. “Nice try, Reid. I’m not letting you shower with me.”

He rolled his eyes at your use of his last name. You only called him that when you were annoyed with him. He pushed off the counter and turned to the wall, hitting the light switch and earning a shriek from you as the room suddenly went dark.

“I won’t look,” he shrugged, amusing no one but himself.

“You’re a clown, you know that?” you muttered under your breath, drawing back the shower curtain and fumbling around, searching for the knobs in pitch black. “Absolutely fucking theatrical.”

You found them moments later and ran the water, testing the temperature on the back of your hand. By the time it went from cold to warm, you noticed that he still hadn’t moved. From the sliver of light peeking under the door, you could make out just his silhouette in the corner, perched on the vanity.

He was being stubborn about this. That, and the comforting fact that you couldn’t see a single thing –– thankfully, not even his face –– wore you down.

“Close your eyes,” you murmured.

“It’s already pitch black in here ––”

“Close your eyes, Reid.”

Sighing through his nose, he did just that. To make sure you knew it, and also maybe just to be annoying, he made a show of getting off the counter and turning himself around to face the wall. You peeled out of your clothes as quickly as you could. In the process, you caught the long shower curtain under the heel of your foot and, as you stumbled over it, accidentally dragged it along, sending the metal curtain hooks screeching as they slid along the bar.

The second you found your ground, you immediately shot daggers into the back of Spencer’s head, waiting for him to make a joke. As if he could feel them, he bit back his quip. Not without letting a barely contained cackle slip under his breath.

“Okay,” you warned, stepping into the shower. Grabbing the end of the shower curtain, you pulled it tightly over your body to cover yourself as you poked your chin out to talk to him. “I’m in.”

Spencer turned and approached the shower, eyes still shut with his hands out in front of him, feeling the walls for guidance. He was still mocking you for making him close his eyes. You raised your brows; he must’ve thought he was quite funny.

“You look like Velma when she loses her glasses.”

That knocked the funny bone right out of him. His hands dropped to his sides.

“Just get your hair wet and hand me the shampoo.”

You drew the curtain shut again as you dipped your head under the shower stream, coming back moments later with sopping wet hair and a little bottle of complimentary hotel shampoo.

He let you sit on the floor of the bathtub, just slightly removed from the spray of the water. Your back was to him, as he kneeled down on the tile floor, just outside of the bathtub so he didn’t have to get wet. You bent your knees to your chest, resting your chin on them.

Spencer first pushed up the sleeves of his sweater as far as he could before deciding to remove it altogether for the sake of protecting the wool against stray water. The cuffs of his work shirt were unbuttoned and rolled up to his elbows as he got to work.

Taking a healthy quarter-sized amount of shampoo into his palm, he lathered it between his hands before running soapy fingers through your scalp. The pads of his fingertips softly dug in as he carefully massaged the shampoo in.

When he started working his fingers in patterns, putting pressure near your temples and increasing it as he dragged them up the curve of your scalp, you let your eyes close. He was getting rid of a headache you didn’t even realize you had.

The tension you’d been carrying in your shoulders eased a little, and it made him think about how much you probably needed this. One of his hands came down to massage the muscle between your neck and your good shoulder, knowing it was best to just let the hot water do its magic on the bad one.

When the shampoo had been sufficiently lathered, he stood up and detached the shower head, bringing it down to you so you didn’t have to move. You leaned your head back for him as he carefully rinsed the soap out.

You weren’t going to ask, but thank God Spencer told you to hand him the conditioner next. This, he slathered all over the ends of your hair, making sure all of it was sufficiently covered in conditioner before loosely twisting it into a low, makeshift pony for you.

“Mm. I was about to ask how you’re so good at haircare,” you chuckled lowly to yourself, in a half-sleepy voice with your forehead resting on your knees. Dangerously close to falling asleep. “Then I remembered what you used to look like.”

You had a lazy smile on your face just thinking about the days where Spencer’s hair used to be down to his shoulders. He looked so pretty like that (not that he didn’t look pretty now, too), you always wondered why he got rid of it.

“Remember when I got shot in the knee?” he hummed, returning to work your shoulder. He adorned a tiny smile of his own as he started to reminisce. “You came by my house at least once a week. Brought me meals, watched movies with me. Helped distract me from the pain. Even drove me to my physical therapy appointments.”

You mm-hmm’d that you remembered.

“You pretty much did everything shy of helping me bathe. Though, I feel like you would’ve helped with that, too, if I asked.”

You both laughed at that. You hadn’t really noticed the parallels of your situation, being injured and needing his help for once. He was happy to repay the favor.

“I’ll, uh. Let you wash your body yourself,” he said, coming out of his daydream for a moment. He rinsed his hands off and got up, patting down his wet hands on his trousers. With one nod from you to confirm that you’d be able to do it, he quickly exited the bathroom to give you privacy.

You emerged seventeen minutes later, clad in pajamas with towel-dried hair. Spencer was still awake as you crawled onto the bed beside him, more than ready for bed after that. He looked to the side to ask you how the rest of your shower was, and before he could get it out, you shuffled up next to him, winding one arm around his and resting your head on his chest.

“I take it you had a good shower?” he laughed. This was one of his “I told you so” moments, and for once, you didn’t mind it.

“Mhm,” you smiled, chuckling behind it as you shut your eyes. You were falling asleep fast. “Spence, the scalp massage…”

“Was good, right?” he boasted, inflating his own ego a bit.

You nodded against his shoulder, not caring if you helped blow up his ego another two sizes. Burrowing deeper into the covers, nestling tighter against Spencer, you got one more quip in before falling asleep. “S’good that I think I have a crush on you now.”

Joke or not, he pulled the blanket higher until it reached your chin, holding you with both arms and kissing the top of your head before falling asleep himself.

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#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fic #spencer reid blurb #criminal minds fic #b a queue

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fwkei · 3 years

Text

Time.

Kazutora x fem!reader (angst/fluff)

CW/TW: Mentions of suicide, (slight) mention of starvation.

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR VALHALLA ARC

Note! Explanation of story at end just incase you’re confused also i apologize for mistakes, i did not read this over. 🙆🏻‍♀️

WC: 3.4k

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

You sat at the edge of your seat. Watching the clock above your teacher's head ever so closely.

“When you want to find the common di-”

Suddenly the bell rang, interrupting your teacher from his final words.

“Oh my bad, guess I lost track of time, anyways please remember to study for your quiz on Monday! I know it's a weekend, but save some time for academics!” said your teacher as your classmates packed up their stuff to leave.

Today was Friday, meaning it was the day you get to visit Kazutora at juvie for the first time after Keisuke's death, and your attempt. It was 3:30, and visiting hours started at 4 to 5 every Friday for inmates. Running to the metro takes about 5-7 minutes, and walking from the station to the actual juvie takes about 20 minutes, while the ride lasts up to 10, meaning you should arrive there at around 4:10. And there's no time to waste.

You ran out of class, ignoring your fellow classmates goodbyes. You held your book bag tight as you ran fast to the Tokyo station. Seeing you arrived just on time you jumped in just before the 3:30 o'clock train leaves to a different side of the district where Kazutora is being held. You held onto the rail beside you to keep yourself steady as the train started to move .

You felt scared but happy to see Kazutora. He most probably didn't know you would be coming, he probably thought you would at most write letters to him, like before, but again...Kazutora believes that you hate him now. You didn't know what you were going to say to him. Draken told you that he already visited him while you were in psychiatric hold for a bit, and he told you that Kazutora was planning on killing himself. Draken did not specify if he told Kazutora about your own attempt but you didn't worry too much because you were healing, and you now had hope.

Your heart was racing, as the train came to a stop. As the doors opened you ran, and fast. Dodging people to not hurt them and almost stepping on things you shouldn’t be stepping on. You checked the time to see it was 4:01, and you still had about 10 minutes worth of walking/running to cover.

You were breathing heavily when the Juvenile building came into view. You checked the time again to see it was 4:11. You jogged to the doors of the building despite the fact that your thighs were burning from the amount of cardio you had just done.

It's all worth it.

You thought to yourself opening the doors.

Kazutora sat on the bed of his bland and colorless cell. He signed as he looked up at the ceiling light before turning his position to look at the side of the wall. He held his pillow tight. He knew it was visiting day, and his heart was anxious despite the fact that others had already been called to see their visitors, and there was still no call for him. He didn't even expect any visitors.

Kazutora didn't know if he wanted to see you or not. He’s spent so much time alone in his cell thinking. He wondered if you had figured out the other reason for him stabbing his best friend, you could read people, but he knew you had a hard time reading him. He felt his heart ache. He was scared of the karma that would hit him because of it. Maybe not even Karma, but just some sort of punishment, for causing pain to the soul that cared for him so much, and for not being there for that soul when she needed it the most. Which... ultimately lead to your attempt, which Draken told him about during his visit. He shut his eyes as he remembered Draken's words.

“I don’t wanna hear you say there is no point anymore. Because there is, and it’s kinda frustrating and irritating how you can’t see it even though it’s right there. She’s in psychiatric hold right now because she was close to ending her own life. After Baji died, and you were taken away, Y/n couldn't take it anymore, and no one could see it because she just...she just kept it in, like you do. She was going to die on Baji’s birthday if I wasn’t there to make her throw up the pills she took. Her and I may not be blood related siblings, but I know she’s been through a lot and has always gotten over it just fine, you know that...but this time...I got really fucking scared.”

Kazutora felt his heart drop to fucking hell at Draken’s words. He felt his breathing stop as his mouth parted.

“I know you love her, I'm not sure in what way but I could care less about that. I know, Kazutora. All those times you came crying to the brothel, crying into her arms, begging for some type of help and she helped you, lended you her body for you to cry on, I’d hear all of it. I know you’re hurting, but if you go, I don't think she will be able to live with herself. She’ll blame herself for not being there for you like she’s always been. Do you understand?”

He felt his body throb from literal physical pain. Kazutora was feeling and getting the punishment he deserved right then and there.

“You owe it to her, whether you like it or not, to stay alive because she's doing the same for you. And once you’re out of here, you should finally grow up. Let her cry into your arms for once. She’s your best friend, right? Because she deserves for those efforts to be reciprocated. And you deserve to see what she’s gone through because of everything that happened. Take care, Kazutora.”

Kazutora was lost in his own mind, to the point where he couldn't even register that one of the guards was calling his name from the cell door.

“Hm? I’m sorry I wasn't...uh, paying attention. What did you say?” he asked sitting up nervously

“You got a visitor, kid. C’mon get up.” said the man unlocking his cell

“A- visitor?” he said quietly getting up from his bed with shocked eyes

It was already 4:15. Kazutora grew anxious at who his visitor could be. He was sure it wasn't you, your school is too far for you to make it here in time. There would only be a couple minutes to spare if you did try. Could it be Draken wanting to give him a word of advice? Or maybe Chifuyu.. Maybe Mikey? God, who could it be. It made him feel even more congested and trapped than before.

As Kazutora walked, he looked down at his feet avoiding people's gazes. He saw the backs of his fellow juvenile delinquents from the side of his eye. His heartbeat became stronger, and he felt it thumbing in his ears. God, he didn't know what to expect. He was just so...frustrated.

“Here, you have until 5.” said the guard, taking off his hand cuffs. His back was facing you. You grew anxious bringing your hands to rest on your things and skirt, waiting for him to turn around and look at you. You watched as he rubbed his wrists and sat down at the stool still not looking at you. You rubbed your hands together under the table separating you both, as the guard walked away to patrol. Your eyes followed the guard, not even noticing that Kazutora had turned to look at your face.

Kazutora felt his face get hot at the sight of you. You had a school shirt on, with a dark blue tie and a sweater vest, Your hair tied into a low and messy bun with some of you natural and dyed hairs falling out framing your face. He felt his whole body go warm as you turned your head and gave him a nervous smile as a small blush formed. He didn't know why he was scared to see you, because every time Kazutora had the chance to see you, he instantly felt better, no matter what.

You two, and the other inmates and visitors, were all separated by a piece of plastic with a vent to capture sound better. On the side there was a subsection with an opening to the other side where you could pass things through. Such as notes, toys, hygiene stuff, and extra. You brought your hands to the table holding them.

“Hey...sorry I’m late.” you said as you saw Kazutora snap out of his gaze

“Oh no I-, please don’t be..” he said waving his hands frantically, clearly nervous

“I had to run about 2 miles to get here..” you laughed trying to not tense up

Kazutora felt… stupid, why would you do that? Just to see him? It just made him even more confused...confused about how he felt towards you.

“Just to see me? But..why?” he asked without thinking and just speaking, giving a regretful and embarrassed face after asking his question.

“Hm? Oh well it's simple really…” you said bringing your hands to rest in between your thighs on your seat

“I know that I've told you that I don't like saying these words to people because it sounds like some sort of goodbye but it’s time I grow up from my past, and stop keeping things in..so…it’s because I love you... I thought that was fairly obvious but I don't wanna mess up like I did last time. I want you to know that I do love you and care for you.” you said giving him a closed eyed smile, this made Kazutora realize that you deeply regretted not telling Keisuke that you loved him more often when you two still had time. He felt his heart ache. He felt so guilty and gross.

“So, I’m gonna try and start saying that more often..” you said laughing to break the silence

Kazutora was still speechless at what you had just said. He couldn’t seem to process it, and he wanted to say it back but for some reason he just couldn’t. He was afraid that something else might slip out. He truly didn't think he was worthy of your love and care. It became quiet. Again.

“I made you a bento box with your favorite things, I made sure to put some extra meat. Cause you always used to ask for that when I would make bentos for study days with you and Keisuke. And don’t worry! It’s allowed and you can have the kitchen hold it for you till you’re ready to eat it for today's dinner, the guards said so. And the container is microwave safe! So you can warm up the entree section. There’s rice and BBQ meat, little octopus shaped sausages and sauce with it! Oh and a salad with sesame dressing on the side, and desert which is just mochi. Every Friday I'll come by, and give you the new bento and you'll just give me back the old one, so that I can wash it and so we don't have to waste stuff.” you said smiling

Your hand dung into your bag, and you pulled out a wooden bento box sliding it halfway through the subsection, but Kazutora hung his head low. You smiled, trying your best to make things right, as silence grew loud again.

“I can also bring some mangas for you, I know you like shounen and also horror.. So I can buy some and give them to you so that you aren't bored! This week's shonen jump is good… It’s about a boy who is trying to save his mom, and ends up traveling across lands, with close friends, to get this special potion that will heal her, but I’ll make sure to look for some good horror manga too...I know you like stuff about folk tales, that sound okay?”

Silence.

After a few minutes you spoke again.

“I decided to let my hair grow out cause I kinda miss having longer hair…There's this really pretty girl in my class who has long blonde hair.. Like Emma’s but longer and more wavy.. What about you? Anything you wanna do to your hair when you get out? I’ll take you to get it done-”

Silence.

The time now at 4:40. Kazutora bit his lip out of frustration, refusing to look up at you.

“Oh! What about I bring over a sudoku book, so you can work on your academics as well! I can teach you how to play, it’s fun once you get the hang of it. Or I can bring just a simple literature book, it’s really up to you, I think both are great.”

Silence.

“Maybe markers so you can draw on yourself when you’re bored? I remember you doing that while I would tutor you and Keisuke. I can get big and small ones, and ones with different colors too. Also a sketch book, since you’re really good at drawing.”

You were met with silence again. You felt your heart ache. Your eyes looked up at the clock and saw it was 4:47. You both were running out of time. About half an hour went by of your speaking, you giving a couple minutes in between waiting for him to speak back, but nothing. You clenched your hands into fists, biting your bottom lip as you looked down at your hands, resting on your thighs.

You felt a strong feeling in your throat, the feeling you get when you’re about to sob. You were so frustrated, and you were trying to keep a level head. It was hard and you just wanted to fucking cry.

“I- '' you said before closing your mouth realizing you were about to let out a whine. You didn't wanna cry, you wanted to say something but you were afraid that if you did, it would just come out as a sob.

“I know it’s hard on you-” you said holding back your sobs while still looking down at your hands, letting your hairs cover your face

“If you don’t want me here, I promise- that I’m fine with that...but~” you said in between pauses keeping your sobs in, but your last word came out shaky making Kazutora shoot his head to see you about to cry.

He felt his heart ache once again.

“But please….jus-just say something. Anything. At least acknowledge that I'm here.” you cried quietly while tensing up your shoulders

Kazutora frowned. This was his punishment. Seeing you cry, and not being able to hold and comfort you like he desperately wanted to. He opened his mouth, but closed it soon after when nothing came out. Not even a squeak, or whine, or breath.

“I-”

You heard him say. You looked up with tears in your eyes seeing his face of desperation.

Kazutora wanted to speak so badly, there were so many thoughts in his head he just could not push one out of his mouth, and he was afraid he might say something he would regret. He wanted to respond to everything you asked him, add commentary, tell you that you looked pretty today, say thank you for the food you made him. Tell you to not waste your tears on someone like him. Say sorry for making you feel uncomfortable because of his silence. God he just-

“I love you-” he choked up and said in a louder tone causing your eyes to widen and mouth to part from shock at his sudden outburst.

He was avoiding your eyes as he spoke.

“I- thank you, thank you so much for the food! Really! And I would really love whatever and everything you bring me.” he said, quieting down towards the end.

“I...can’t put my thoughts into words… and I don’t wanna say something I’d regret. All this time I’ve just been lost in my own mind. I just want you to know that..that I really am in- that I really appreciate you. I want you..to be here, and I’m so...sorry for making you cry.” he said in between pauses of frustration and embarrassment

You felt your body get warm, your heart beat was strong and you could feel it in your finger tips and temples. You opened your mouth to say something before Kazutora spoke again.

“I..wanted to.. Wanted to help you...in just some way...after seeing you cry for the first time...with Baji in your arms….I shouldn't have stabbed Baji...I took the person you loved more than anything...away from you.. Because I was j- because I was so stupid, and still am. Even when you’ve done...so fucking much for me...I- and I took him from you...I just don’t get it… how can you have any empathy towards me anymore.. It doesn't make sense. I took so much from you… I killed Shinchiro, and I killed Baji. You loved them both...Mikey loved them both, why do..why do you even have any feeling towards me?” he said looking into your eyes with tears

Your eyes softened at him. You took a small breath before saying-

“I thought I already told you why, Kazutora. I love you.”

Kazutora felt a tear run down his cheek. He knew how much thought came behind those simple words.

“I don’t need a reason to love you. Just like I don't need a reason to be hungry. It’s just there, and will continue to be there, you know what I mean? Same thing with everyone I love.” you said

His breath hitched. The time now at 4:52.

“The only difference is I was in love with Keisuke. I still am in love with him. Even though he’s not here anymore. I know you might think I love him and Shinchiro and Mikey because they saved my life and helped me. But I was only so little. I had no concept of it. So was Keisuke. So was Mikey. Keisuke had no reason to come up to little me while I was starving on the ground practically dying. He just did it. He was too young to understand love. You think he understood his feelings for me the second he saw me? Or even with Mikey or Shinchiro. Of course not. They were just focussed on saving my life at the time. We discovered the love that was involved later. Even if it was too late to say anything about it. It took Kei and I about...hmmm..5-7 years maybe...to understand what we felt toward each other specifically. It is different with everyone. The love is just there, it’ll just be understood when the time is right. Like when your hunger just hits you. So when you ask me why I love you, or care for you, or forgive you. I just can’t give you a simple answer, even if I wanted to….because there's so much. Too much.”

Kazutora understood your words. He really did. It made so much sense to him and he just wanted to scream.

Why? Well..

“The time will come where you believe that you're worthy of someone else's love and even your own, and even worth loving someone else yourself. So don’t worry. I’ll wait. I’ll wait as long as it takes. Even if it takes all the time in the world, okay?” you said smiling at him leaving him with shocked eyes

“Alright times up! 5 o'clock!” yelled a guard

“Well, I'll see you next Friday, okay? I’ll bring over some manga, oh! And don't forget the bento!” you said getting up from your seat as Kazutora did the same keeping his hands on the table as the guard came to cuff them

“Y/n I-I’m…”

No. He can’t say it. He can never ever say it. Why? And say what?

Because he will never be him. He can never be like him for you, and he was perfect for you. He was the one there for you. He had the time to love you. He was the one. He could never even compete. Not after what he did. Not after the jealousy and envy grew and brewed inside him towards him. He is filthy. Not worthy of your love. Right?

But someday, he desperately and genuinely wants to allow himself to be loved, and to love. Kazutora will forever be longing for that moment. And when he can love, and allow himself to be loved, he wants it to be with you.

But till that time comes..

“I’ll...really be looking forward to it.” he said biting back his words and smiling softly

“Likewise.” you said smiling as you both parted your ways, at least for the time being.

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

Explanation/note: when i wrote this, i made y/n be a ‘foster’ siblings with Draken and childhood friends with Mikey and Keisuke. << Reason being is because i gave her a backstory where she was neglected and ran away, hence her having a more naturing personality. Y/n and Keisuke were a couple till he died but Kazutora always loved Y/n so it’s a love triangle in a way? I don’t know, but Kazutora grew envious of Keisuke in this ff which ended up being a motive to stabbing him during the fight, to which he later regrets and gets punishment for. Y/n in the story doesn’t know that so that’s why Kazutora can’t accept her love for real because he doesn't know if Y/n will really forgive him after that, and Kazutora won’t be able to learn/accept love till he admits what he did. Holding in that secret, and being in love with Y/n makes him feel frustrated and act out. And obviously time is the theme of this whole story. Kazutora at the end decided to avoid his feelings because the way things are going right now fro the time being for him are fine because he doesn't believe he deserves anything more. But that can only last for so long, so he’s gambling with his relationship with you. He thinks of it as his punishment for now, not being able to tell you how he really feels, and not being able to comfort you.

ANYWAYS hope you liked it, sorry if it’s confusing.

#tokyo revengers #tokyorev x reader #kazutora #kazutora x reader #angst #keisuke baji #baji #mikey tokyo revengers #draken #tokyo manji gang #baji x reader

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hawksky · 3 years

Text

You wake up on your ex's fire escape; wc 2.5k

A/N: I don't really know how to categorize this ? starts as funny, gets into angst with a happy/hopeful ending. I might write this again for another character and make it 0 angst but using Megumi just let this get away from me. Thank you @sixeyesgojo for reading through my first draft, it helped me edit a lot since 😘. Although I have not looked over the ending since I wrote it, I'm done working on this fic so sorry if it falls flat.

CW: Mentions of excessive alcohol consumption.

Suggested listening: song 1 and song 2 you can pick just one to cater your experience (they are VERY different vibes) or switch over around the shampoo situation.

Objectively, there were good ways to wake up. In the arms of a beautiful person, with cold sheets and a warm body, or with the scent of your favourite breakfast wafting through the air. No disrespect to mornings at all, there were good ways to wake up, you were mature enough to recognize this.

A perplexingly rough, wet, and warm sensation gliding across your cheek, while last night’s jeans dug into your waist, and there was a pounding in your head? It was fairly safe to say this was not a good way to wake up.

It spoke volumes for how out of it you were that it was only just beginning to register in your brain that you weren’t at home, you were not even on a bed, and that the continued licks across your face were the work of animal far too large to be one of your friends cats.

“Fucking hell you’re supposed to be intimidating” you hear a voice grumble without much heat behind it.

As you forced your eyes open you are met with an excited dog tapping its paws in excitement of your presence, and the man behind the half hearted grumble. His gaze was unmistakably familiar, but his expression could not be more foreign to you.

“uhm, Hi” you croaked out while plastering a wide grin in hopes he wouldn’t murder you.

His eyebrow raised on instinct in response. You knew he was waiting for you to explain what you were doing, but the reality was you didn’t have an answer.

“I wish I could explain, but honestly I’m not sure what happened – last thing I remember was being bought another shot… Wait, where am I exactly?” You were desperately hoping you came off as charming instead of pathetic given the circumstances.

“How out of it are you?” he scrunched his face in confusion as he muttered to himself. “You’re on my fire escape, it’s in Ikebukuro? Tokyo… Japan, in case you needed the reminder”

It felt infantilizing to have him scold you like this, which only made this next part all the more difficult. You were not supposed to be Ikebukuro. You were not supposed to be in Tokyo. You were supposed to be in Yokohama. What was even more concerning is that you were definitely not supposed to be on your old fire escape, the one connected to the apartment your ex still lived in.

As you painstakingly pushed yourself upright, a warm weight laid on your upper thigh, a furry face nuzzling into your stomach – you wondered if she was aware of tension between you and her owner. You scratched behind her ears, letting Jade know she was in fact a good girl despite the earlier reprimand from her owner.

As much as you’d love to spend the day sitting on a fire escape petting your ex’s dog, you had to go home, you just need to call –

Your phone. Where was your phone? You felt around frantically for your phone, only to come up with nothing. A light sense of panic bubbles in the pit of your stomach, only to be swiftly interrupted.

“it’s already charging, I plugged it in last night, you dropped in inches away from falling down”

So, he was still watching you despite having returned inside long ago. It was difficult for you to parse this sort of gesture, how caring could it be to plug someone’s phone in when you still left them to sleep outside? Maybe he was just doing everything he could to get rid of you. It was too much to try and analyze for someone who blacked out and woke up in a different city.

“Why did you come here?” you hear him bite out from inside. It sounds harsh, but it feels like his stange way of inviting you inside.

“I don’t know what you’ve picked up from these circumstances, but not knowing is kind of a part of the problem. Believe me, there’s no amount of conscious desperation that would leaf me to sleeping on a fire escape, even yours”

You glanced around the apartment to avoid his void expression; it was spotless. But it was even harder noticing, the turned over picture frames, your favourite quilt still on the back of the couch – remnants of the past living in the present.

This tension only increased as a mug of freshly brewed green tea was placed in front of you. How thoughtful to remember you hated coffee, to realize your throat was probably killing you – you would have tasted a creeping bitterness from all these emotions, if it wasn’t overpowered by what was the distinct taste of your favourite brand that had to be special ordered.

He had always complained, there were plenty of good options for tea at the grocery store, why wasn’t that enough for you? It was so much extra effort to special order from a tea shop across town, the only place that you were able to charm the owner into ordering for you.

“How are you still so fucking awful at taking care of yourself?” he spat the words out like an insult, it was jarring honestly. Despite the time away from each other, it was no less strange to feel his detachment.

He moved towards the door beckoning Jade to follow. “There’s a towel and change of clothes in the bathroom, you should probably take a shower. If I’m not back by the time you leave, just lock up before you go, I haven’t moved the spare key.” Without looking back or waiting for a response he left.

You were starting to recognize your growing frustration – you had known him how long? Dated and lived together for a not-insignificant amount of time? Yet here you were, no idea how to interpret this strange morning, much less his last comment. Did he want you to be here when he returned? Were you supposed to leave and act like you had never been there? Could he genuinely be as indifferent as he wanted you to believe? It pissed you that your feelings were probably plain on your face.

You searched for your phone, finding it on what used to be your side of the couch. It felt ridiculous to think you ever had a side of the couch, but you were both creatures of habit and slowly without even thinking you both made your own little sanctuary mere metres away from each other.

You awoke your phone, expecting a flood of texts and phone calls from your friends, only to find nothing. Not a single check in from anyone. You open the group chat and furiously tap out a message.

Your phone vibrates rapidly as you place it down but you’re not in the mood to field their questions.

You’re tempted to leave now, just to get it over with, go home and crawl into bed and forget any of this ever happened. But, you felt gross, it was late enough in the morning that you could run into someone you knew, and you missed the water pressure here.

As you got ready for your shower you surveyed your options. You refused to smell like him, but the only other bottle in the shower was doggy shampoo. Surely dog’s fur and human hair weren’t so different right? Jade did have a beautiful coat, very soft and shiny… You reprimanded yourself for the ridiculous idea, but the point remained, there had to be something else for you to use.

Your brain, far more alert than it was 30 minutes ago, thought of all the things he hadn’t changed, all the fixtures still in place. You had always kept an extra set of all your supplies under the sink. By the grace of all that is good on this cruel cruel earth, they were there, in all their dusty glory, your prized hygiene products sat unmoved under the sink. It would have been sick and twisted to have to leave your ex-boyfriend’s apartment smelling exactly like him, left to spend the rest of the day agonizing over whether you should take another shower.

As you entered the shower you wondered more. He had to have noticed the softness in your eyes, the faint smile you wore just having an ounce of his attention again, the way ti widened at every caring gesture, and falling with every biting remark.

Yes, it hurt every day missing him. Yes, it would hurt if he hated you. But none of that compared to the feeling of not knowing. What were you supposed to do with all these residual feelings that have yet to go away? Were they worth the suffocation or should you strip them away?

You were proud of yourself, all these reminders of what you once had, in a place you once loved, and you had yet to break down, not even shedding a tear. If you weren’t wrapping yourself in a towel, you would’ve given yourself a pat on the back. This victory was short lived, everyone’s strength has its limits and you had taken yours too far past it already. But then you saw it, something you were completely unprepared for.

Laid neatly on top the closed laundry basket was THE outfit. It was nothing special to anyone else, just a grey sweater and loose joggers, but how many days had you spent alone breathing in his scent for comfort while he was gone? How many hard days at work had you reaching for these exact pieces as if they were the cure to all your problems?

Unable to support your own weight anymore, you fell to the tiled floor, tears spilling out, as your already sore throat grew even more hoarse – you felt like everything was collapsing around you. You weren’t expecting to see him, and you certainly weren’t expecting to need him in so many little ways. It was easy to forget how easily he weaves himself into your life, encroaching on everything you do.

The world disappeared behind each shallow breath, and an endless stream of tears you couldn’t control. Your fingers scratch against your forearms repeatedly, trying to ground yourself in some reality you could no longer grasp. It is so exhausting trying to be over him, going through these cycles of strong emotions, over and over and over again.

Suddenly, for the second time in as few hours, you felt an overwhelming weight encompass your body.

Of course, his stupid fucking perfect dog would still know how to bring you out of a panic attack like he had spent so much time training when you started dating. You clutched to Jade as your breathing slowed, but it did nothing to stop your sobs, if anything it was just another painful reminder of everything you let go.

“Uhhh….” Megumi was frozen at the door, for the first time today he didn’t know what to do. His indifferent façade dropped as he observed the scene on his bathroom floor.

There’s nothing left to lose, not for a moment that he has seen this morning have you possessed more than an ounce of dignity, “So that’s it? You don’t know what to do either? You know it’s been a whole fucking year and I still haven’t figured out how to live without you. A whole year and I’m still a mess. I can’t survive being reminded of us, look at me. And yet every attempt to get over you was a knife twisting because they’ll never be you. Now I’m here and I get to witness the wonderful Megumi Fushiguro, unaffected, and you… you have it all together.” You trail off, giving to him everything left in you.

You weren’t expecting the confused and indignant expression on his face, “You think this is having it together?” His voice lightly raising with each word “This place might as well be a sealed shrine to you and our relationship. I haven’t thrown a single thing out, moved any furniture, bought anything new – the only thing that’s ‘new’ is your stupid tea I keep buying even though I hate it, and for fucks sake y/n I should’ve moved out. Every part of me that looks like I have it together is just my version of a mess.” He brushes a stray strand out of your face, his own face moving far too close for this to be purely platonic anymore “y/n I’m no better off than you are, I’ve just kept everyone from looking”.

“So what are we supposed to do with all this?” Your eyes shining, naïve hope seeping through your defenses at the confirmation that he couldn’t live without you either.

“We could try again” Somehow, it wasn’t quite what you needed to hear. “I, am going to get dressed, and then we’ll talk, I’ll meet you in the kitchen.” He nodded lightly, pulling himself up and exiting with Jade on his heels.

Dressed in the clothes you thought would burn your skin to even touch let alone wear, you let out a long sigh as you sit on at the breakfast nook. “Look, Megumi, I need to know if you’ve worked through it, any of it? I can’t, I can’t wait another three years for you to tell me you can’t say the words I love you, that you can’t commit to more than a yearly rental, I can’t just have you here I need more security than that”

He pursed his lips, unsure of what he could say to that, how he could make sure you didn’t leave again.

“Megumi, I don’t need you to say it to me today, I don’t need you to commit to anything today, but I have to know you’ve tried that I can’t keep waiting for you”

“I… Just give me a minute, please” his voice weak pleading with you. You waited, knowing better than to rush him, laying a hand on top of his assuring him you weren’t going to run out the door.

“y/n, I’m supposed to be honest and vulnerable, I’m supposed to tell myself that people won’t abandon me just because I give them access to who I really am. I want to tell you I love you, because there’s no other explanation for feeling this way. For feeling like your eyes outshine the stars, that your mind is more brilliant than the sun. I’ve tortured myself for a year with the idea of you meeting someone who could give you everything I couldn’t, and selfishly I prayed they were awful, I wished you were miserable so I pretend the truth wasn’t real that I was not enough for you, that I couldn’t give you what you needed. I’ve never seen a loving relationship, certainly not for long enough to form memories, but I look at you and I can’t imagine anything else”

Your thumb reaches to brush away the stray tear sliding down his face as he spoke to you. Manoeuvring yourself around to be on the same side of the nook as him, you pull him into you, letting him bury his head into the crook of your neck. You placed a gentle kiss into his hair before whispered into his ear “You were always enough, I just needed you to know it too.”

not not a tag list: @satosuguslut @sandyscastle

#megumi fushiguro x reader #fushiguro megumi #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen angst #megumi fushiguro angst #megumi fushiguro fic #jujutsu kaisen fics #im so bad at tagging yall i never know what works or what people use sos #megumi fushiguro x y/n #i give up ok bye

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saiqherrr · 3 years

Text

.could not be tainted part two (s. getou)

.pairing suguru getou x fem!reader

.content warning mentions of death, jjk 0/gojo's past arc spoilers, angst, fluff :)

.synopsis "that voice. you... heard it somewhere before. it was...it’s his. that’s suguru’s voice. why did he sound so distant to you? why did he sound so far away? why did he sound so unfamiliar? why did he say that?"

.a/n i don't have a lot to say but i am very invested in what i wrote so i wrote a lil part two. i don't see a part three... maybe that'll change. we'll see.

IF YOU DID NOT READ PART ONE, READ HERE.

“PLEASE STOP LOVING ME AFTER TONIGHT, Y/N...”

that voice. you... heard it somewhere before. it was...it’s his. that’s suguru’s voice. why did he sound so distant to you? why did he sound so far away? why did he sound so unfamiliar? why did he say that?

you felt invisible sensations of lips being pressed against your earlobe, cheek and neck. “stop fighting it.” you felt as if your body was being controlled by someone else, your hands reaching to do something until some sort of force is pinning them over your head.

“suguru...” you called out to him out loud, your face strained with your eyes closed. beads of sweat accumulated on your forehead and you laid in your own pool of it on the bed. your hand unconsciously lifts up, reaching for something in the air that wasn’t there. “suguru...?”

“y/n?”

with a large gasp, you hastily shot up in the bed, trying to catch your breath. you placed a hand over your racing heart, feeling it pulse against your hand over and over. the voice that had called your name was the man laying beside you with a baby on his chest.

suguru.

“are you okay, y/n?” he asked you, a concerned look on his face. your one year old daughter, sumiye, laid on her stomach on top of chest, rising and falling with it each time he took a breath. her face was turned away from you and her small arms hung lazily on either side of him.

you eventually steadied your breathing, wiping away the sweat on your forehead with the back of your hand. “i-i’m okay...i just..had a bad dream.”

suguru cocks an eyebrow. “really? you were saying my name...”

unusually, you remembered every last detail. normally, you forgot about your dreams the moment you tried to remember this. this wasn’t a dream you wanted to recount though. the dream felt more like a memory rather than some random scenario your brain had randomly came up with.

“i don’t remember it,” you lie in a soft voice. you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him the details. you look over at your child, leaning over to smooth her black hair down with your hand. “did i wake her?”

suguru shakes his head, no and closes his eyes as he relaxes in bed again. “you were moving a little. i didn’t want her to get squished in between us, so i moved her,” he answers you with a yawn. a relieved smile spreads across your face, adoring how he was always mindful of your daughter.

you were reminded of your physical state when you felt your shirt sticking to your back due to you excessively sweating. you sighed heavily as you swung your legs from under the covers and stood up from the bed, stretching your arms, yawning.

“i’m gonna take a quick shower,” you tell him before trudging to the bathroom. you felt icky, gross, and you needed to further relax yourself from having such an intense dream.

you still couldn’t get over how...real it felt. the way it lingered in your brain didn’t feel right. the dream was too realistic. it felt like deja vu to think about it. as you undressed yourself in the bathroom, you ran your fingers across your forearms as if something was something to be there, but there wasn’t anything there. you felt like you were in someone else's body. nothing felt right to you. nothing felt normal this morning. why?

you hoped that maybe the shower would clear your mind, but it didn't. it only caused you to ponder about it even more. dreadful images of a cold glare staring down at you flashed in your mind. thinking about the sensations of a rough hand around your throat had you struggling to breath through the hot steam that came from the shower. your hand frantically turned the water to a lower temperature, however, the coldness of the water matched the coldness of the words that were said to you in that dream.

“stop fighting it.”

you gave up on taking a relaxing shower, sighing heavily as you turned the water off and pushed the wet, glass shower door aside and stepped out, your toes welcomed by the mat that was in front of you as it absorbed the water that rolled down your legs.

as you dried yourself with a towel and took care of your hygiene, you could hear distant crying on the other side of the door. sumiye. you went still, trying to hear what was happening and you could hear suguru's voice trying to sooth your daughter, followed by a "shhhh, shhhh, shhhh."

you smiled to yourself, blessed to be with such a nurturing and caring man. you never found him to be family-oriented, but maybe that trait came after you had sumiye. you tried to reminisce about what it was like while you were sitill pregnant, but the memories came in like static. everything was noisy, fuzzy. when you could clearly imagine a clear image of when you were pregnant, it didn't have suguru in it.

what the fuck. you felt like you were losing your mind ever since you woke up.

you put on your bra and underwear and wrapped a burgundy, silk robe around your body before looking in the mirror. you body jolted when you saw an almost clear picture of suguru standing behind you, looking disheveled and...malicious. there was an evil glint in his eye that kept your body frozen in place, gripping onto the bathroom counter before you and gulping.

“just because i’ve lost my mind, does not mean i do not love you.”

those words circled around your head like dizzy stars. they were a part of that dream you had. for fucks sake, you really had to get out of your head. with a simple blink, suguru was gone. you waited a bit before moving again.

you rub your temples in circular motions, trying to ease yourself before you came out of the bathroom. your nose followed the smell of bacon that came from the kitchen. you were greeted with the sight of suguru sitting in a dining chair, feeding soft, scrambled eggs to sumiye and bacon was sizzling in a pan.

how long were you in that bathroom?

sumiye brought her attention to you once you entered the room, a blank expression on her face. the corners of your mouth turn upwards as you smile at her.

"hi, pretty mama," you cooed at her, approaching her high chair to pick her up. sumiye responded with a gummy smile and gurgled gibberish. you giggle as you beam at your child, looking back at suguru who had a soft smile on his face.

“i think she doesn’t like scrambled eggs,” he comments with a sigh, getting up after putting the plastic baby spoon back onto the plate. he makes his way back to the stove to check the bacon.

you laugh at his comment and shake your head as you sit yourself in the seat he was previously sitting in. sumiye sat on your lap and you took a spoon of the eggs and pressed it against her slobbered, small mouth until she opened it and swallowed the food. “or maybe she’s just a mama’s girl,” you teasingly respond to suguru.

he turns around, seeing that sumiye was happily eating the eggs while you made silly faces and baby-talked her. “she must be,” he mumbled. he turned over the bacon a couple more times until he was satisfied and placed it all on a plate. by then, sumiye had finished her food and you had placed her in her bouncer. you plated yourself your own breakfast and sat at the table while suguru did the same. you both ate in silence, occasionally bringing your attention to sumiye to make sure she was alright.

suguru had left to go to work shortly after breakfast. the rest of your day was lazy, watching and playing with sumiye. that dream still lingered on your fucking mind. you still kept seeing glimpses of a dark shadow around the apartment, mimicking suguru's silhouette. that evil, twisted version of his voice was playing in your head non-stop. you couldn't catch a break. why was a simple nightmare eating you up so fucking much?!

you put sumiye down for her nap before taking melatonin and falling asleep on the bed to take a decent nap, letting all your worries drift away. you got two hours in before the empty side of the bed sunk in from someone else's weight. your eyes shot open and you rolled over, laying on your back and turned your neck to see... no one.

as soon as you went to turn back around again, there he was, hovering over you.

“please stop loving me after tonight, y/n,” he whispers in your ear as he inclined down and began to kiss your earlobe, moving to your cheek and then your neck. your eyes augment at his sudden words.

that's when it finally clicked. this was all a dream. and as expected, some strange force owned by the universe had pulled you out of such a deep nightmare and had you gasping for air in your bedroom, drenched in your sweat even though vent above your head was blowing freezing cold air. your eyes burned with warm, fresh tears, threatening to dribble over and roll down your flushed cheeks.

a hand was placed against your beating chest as you hiccuped while you tried to recover from the dream, looking around your room to grasp everything - this was reality. even though you knew he wasn't there, you still looked over to make sure the other side of your bed was empty.

you slowly got out of your bed, standing on your feet and took small, cautious steps towards your bedroom door. you opened it, clammy hands anxiously twisting the doorknob. when you finally stepped out of the room, it finally registered that you were home in satoru's apartment. sumiye.

your feet moved on their own as you found yourself quickly making your way to your daughter's room. you opened the door slowly, still being careful not to wake her. besides the moonlight that had seeped through her window blinds, the room was just barely illuminated by a pastel blue nightlight that was plugged into an outlet by her crib.

inside of her crib, there she was, being held by satoru. he had crammed himself in the decently large crib, legs bent while his arm laid over sumiye's small body which was obviously an endeavor to calm her down earlier. his lips were parted, drool seeped through the corner of his lips and he lightly snored. your daughter was peacefully sleeping in the arms of her godfather. this was reality.

even in your dreams, your perception of the evil, wretched man you once loved could not be tainted. deep down you knew that you wanted that dream to be a reality so desperately, for suguru to come home and shower sumiye with kisses - for him to be there.

yet he died happily knowing you were safe, that sumiye was safe, and that you'd be able to live happily without him.

#jujutsu kaisen getou #getou suguru x reader #getou suguru smut #getou x reader #getou suguru imagines #getou x you #suguru geto #jjk suguru #geto suguru #suguru getou fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk imagines #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen

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boneswriteswords · 4 years

Text

Showers: Slasher Version (The Bois)

Hi, here is a thing. None of the writing is even. I don’t care. I struggled.

Hope y’all like it. :) Its my usual crap quality. Also if there is someone you want me to add to these sorts of things, let me know. I just picked based on who I know best.

Warning: Some of these are kinda NSFW. Like not really but its h i n t e d.

This is unedited and unbeta’d because we die like men here.

Jason Voorhees:

Jason had issues with water. Even before you knew he was more than an urban myth, you figured he’d have major hang-ups being around water. His tragic drowning at the hands of cruel children and incompetent counselors would have given him lasting trauma around water.

And you were right.

However, you weren’t prepared for the hang-ups to extend to showers simply because it didn’t involve large bodies of water. Granted, he never needed to shower before. The only times the layers of grime slipped off his body were when it was raining and even then, he often took shelter in his cabin to avoid it. All water was bad water.

That changed when you came around. He chose you to be loved by him. His mother encouraged him, telling him that you were his and you were there to love him and his mother has never been wrong before.

She wasn’t this time either. You looked at him in all that he was and loved him so truly that his heart would have stuttered a beat if he had one. In turn, Jason’s diamond sharp focus centers on you, keeping you away from harm as best he can. He keeps you close to him, his world off-kilter when he can’t see you immediately.

You had never felt so safe in your life, knowing he was there guarding you. Knowing he was killing to make sure you stayed safe.

To his dismay, however, he discovered that you liked water. You liked showers and baths. You liked swimming. You liked to sit on the porch and listen to the rain. You liked taking walks when the rain was light enough to not get completely drenched. You liked it all.

He hated it.

But he loved you.

And he trusted that you would never lead him into danger.

“The water is warm. The steam rises and shrouds everything in a dream. The day washes from your body and prepares you for a new day. There is is healing in cleanliness,” you told him as you undressed one evening, unperturbed by his eyes roaming over your body. It wasn’t a new sensation, the feeling of his gaze on your naked body but it still delighted you.

Jason watched you as you turn the shower on and stepped inside.

His hunger for you stirred, clawing its way to the surface as he watched you squirt some delicious smelling concoction into your hands and lathered into your hair. He liked the way the suds slithered down your body.

If he wanted to join you, he’d have to get in.

Slowly, he undressed and stepped inside behind you, your hand already reaching out for his.

Michael Myers:

Michael is not going to shower unless there is some benefit for him. If he feels inclined to bathe, he will just stand under the spray (or the rain) for a bit and call it a day. No scrubbing. No washing. No actual removal of anything other than the surface layer of gross. He doesn’t care all that much about how dirty he is. He’s just going to get dirty again.

That doesn’t mean he won’t join you when you shower. Michael is hedonistic; he does what he wants and searches for things that feel good to him. It is part of why he kills so much – it feels good to him. In the months after he followed you home and refused to leave, he found that he very much likes how it feels when you run your hands along his body with soapy water.

A lot about you makes him feel good – its why he’s keeping you alive and protected – but the sensations of warm water, small hands, and the different smells of your bathing products are at the top of the list.

He insists on being present during all your showers as a result.

You sighed at the familiar squeak of the shower door, the rush of cold air against your side, the grip on your wrist dragging you a step over towards the intruder.

“Hi Michael,” you sigh, wiping your eyes with your free hand so you can look up at him. His mask was still on, the steam from the shower not so intense that he felt the need to remove it this time, and his eyes pierced yours from behind it. He didn’t respond, he hardly ever did, but the hand griping your wrist brought it up and laid it on the soap.

You could feel your lips twitch as you lather it in your hands, “Where do you want me to start?”

Michael grunted, taking your wrist again and laying on his chest. You suppressed a grin. Michael didn’t like when you pointed out that he liked things and would stop doing them out of protest.

“Okay,” you whisper, the sound getting lost as you run your hands from the top of his shoulders to the dip of his waist, doing your best to ignore the soft contented grumbling vibrating under your hands.

Brahms Heelshire:

Contrary to what you expected from him, Brahms loves to take baths and showers. He likes being warm above all else, having been forced to endure harsh cold weather during his years in the walls of his home.

(You once asked him why he preferred to be running hot, given what happened to him, and, in a rare glimpse of Adult!Brahms, he told you he has issues with flames and not warmth. Warmth does not mean fire.) The showers and baths provide it in a way your arms can’t and he likes to revel in the sensation.

However, just because he likes it, doesn’t mean he is going to make your life any easier by getting in when you instruct him to. He is a brat and while he loves you more than any living that has ever or will ever exist, he loves to make your job taking care of him harder. You have to work for it.

‘Its only fair,’ he tells himself, grinning behind his mask as you get the shower ready for him, scolding him as you do, ‘You made me love you without having to work for it. I continue to love you without you having to work for it. You have to work for something.’

“Okay Brahms, get in. Its nice and warm but not too hot. Time to get clean,” you say, stepping away from the shower, frowning when you see that he was still fully clothed.

You sigh, “Brahms, we talked about this. You need to shower. Its been four days. You promised me.”

“No,” he stomped his foot, child voice in full effect, “I don’t want to.”

“Brahms -”

“No!”

“Brah-”

“No! No! NO!”

“Bra-”

“NOOOOOOOO!”

“Okay! Fine. No shower for Brahms,” you grumbled, pinching the bridge of your nose and his grin widens at your mounting frustration, “You can go now.”

He lets out a childish yell, grabbing your hand so you can play with him, but you stand firm when he tries to tug you along.

“Hey?!”

“Oh no Brahms. You may not want this shower,” you grin and his heart beats hard against his ribs, “But I do. You may go but I fully plan to enjoy this shower.”

You pause, letting go of his hand so you can remove the cardigan he had forced you into earlier in the day and letting it drop onto the floor. You start to work open the buttons on your shirt, taking a peek at him from under your lashes as you did.

“Its a shame that I’ll be in there all alone. We could have shared it but I guess I can’t make you now can I?”

Your shirt fell to the floor.

He knew he was being tricked. He knew this was a ploy to get him to bathe. He knew he was losing the game he started.

You slide your pants down your legs, your underwear going with it, and turn around. The length of your back, the dip of your spine as it curves into your ass, the little crease of flesh that he loves to stroke and bite....all open for his consumption. He watched as you reached behind, unsnapping your bra and peeling it away from you.

Fuck it, he decided as he pulled his cardigan off, he’ll just have you work for something else.

Bubba Sawyer:

Baby Boi Sawyer is a sweaty boy. He is a hard working man. He works on the property during the morning, cuts and prepares the meat during the afternoon, cooks dinner in the evening, and passes at night out most days. Bathing was something he didn’t do as much as one should simply because of how impractical it was.

And, a lot of the time, there wasn’t any decently tempered water left after his brothers showered. Drayton always got first dibs because he ‘worked out of the home and needed to look presentable.’

Bubba immediately took up a better hygiene routine when he met you. Short showers in the morning. Two rinses in the afternoon depending on what you were doing that day (he’d skip them if you were at the gas station for the day). A longer shower before dinner. There was a bar of soap in one of the pockets of his apron at all times.

You quickly became family to the Sawyers, accepting and falling into their lifestyle seamlessly with little to no bitching from Drayton.

And under no circumstances did he want you to think he was stinky. He was already struggling with the fact that you’d think he was ugly and dumb. He couldn’t change his face - the masks helped hide it but he knew there was no fixing what was underneath - and he couldn’t change his inability to speak - he tried so hard to learn so you’d think he was smart but he just couldn’t make the words come out - but he could change how he smelled.

You also seemed to like to seek him out during the day, bringing out fresh lemonade and snacks so he was forced to take a break from his work and chat with you.

Bubba loved it. He loved you.

But he hated it. He hated himself.

He had to work and when he worked, he sweat and when he sweat, he stunk and if he stunk, you wouldn’t like him. He was anxious, tipping around you throughout the day to wash down and decrease the smell before you found him. He had never been so paranoid in his life.

It was only a matter of time before you caught him off guard though.

It was the best day of his life.

Not only did you not mind the smell (“Bubby, sweetest of men, you work all day outside in the heat. You sweat. I’d be surprised if you didn’t have a bit of smell”), but you told him you thought he was attractive (“You are literally so attractive when you’re working and covered in dirt. Its not fair.). You leaned into him, paying no attention to the dampness of his clothing and how some of it transferred onto yours, and gave him a kiss, paying even less attention to the sweat above his upper lip. You leaned into him during dinner - the first time he hadn’t showered beforehand since knowing you -, pressing into him as close as possible while eating and interlocked your leg with his under the table.

But the best part was when you pulled him into the shower when the day’s work was done and scrubbed him clean, smiling into his mouth as you did.

Bo Sinclair:

Showers are one of the few places where Bo can be soft with you. In public, he maintains a carefully crafted visage of a stereotypical tough guy. Toxically masculine. Overly rough. Dominating. Borderline violent in every twitch of his brow and flex of his fingers. Bo would rather chew his own tongue off than admit he was anything softer than a rock.

But you knew better.

In private, away from the prying eyes of the living and the dead, he becomes pliable, veneer slipping away from where it’s settled in the tension in his shoulders and clench of his jaw. His touch loosens into a grip less desperate. He breathes deeper.

He folds into you like clay, allowing you to guide him. He relaxes in your arms and allows everything to drift away. Nothing can get him. Not his victims. Not his responsibilities. Not his mother. Not his trauma.

He is safe.

Showers were a way he could let you know that he was feeling vulnerable, that he needed to get away to break. The shower was a place where no one will follow. In the months following the birth of your relationship, it became a way for him to communicate to you what his needs were.

And you adapted.

So when he barges into the house, huffing and growling with murder in his eyes, and says he needs a shower, you know what he means and what you need to do.

You get in the shower first, going through the motions of washing you hair, and push open the glass door you hear the rustling of his clothes. You let him lean on you, first gripping onto you from behind, and then turning to look into his eyes.

The shower fills the room with steam and in the blur, he will break and you will put him back together.

Vincent Sinclair:

This man has no concept of time. He lives in his basement and gets so wrapped into his projects that the world fades to background noise. He barely takes the time between the wax town and his own art pieces to sleep so taking a shower is very much not a priority for him.

He will if he must. There have been times when a victim gets too close and things end up bloodier than intended. Vincent does not like how blood gets tacky on his skin.

Other than that, he won’t. Its not to be gross, he just has no idea of how much time passes between one shower and the next and he’s rather work in the basement.

He does argue with you about it because of that. After three days, the stank will start to become prominent when you breathe near him. After four days, the stank becomes visible. After the fifth day, you get involved because his smell literally wakes you up from a dead sleep.

You’ve mastered the art of arguing with him though so its not too bad. You go into the basement and tell him he needs a shower. He’ll grunt. You will reiterate that he promised he would take more showers, because he had. He’ll agree that he did but it is not time for a shower. He just took one. You will bring out the calendar you use to mark when he showers - one of your only big fights involved not having proof of when he last showered so you got a calendar and marked it together - and count the number of days between the last mark and the current day.

(You can and will get Bo to confirm what day it is currently. He thinks all of it is stupid but no one asked him)

He will realize that he is wrong, apologize, and shower before its time for bed. You rarely ever join him. Vincent considers showering to be a very private activity and his insecurities about his face and body are something you and him work on every day. He is fine with you seeing him as he is in dim lighting but the bright florescent lights in the bathroom are a different story and you respect him.

(You wonder if the bright lights in the bathroom are part of the reason why he avoids showering but its something you won’t bring up just yet.)

When he comes out, damp and warm and smelling nice, you wrap him up in your arms and hide away in your duvets until the sun comes up and Vincent will whisper thank-yous into your skin.

Thomas Hewitt:

Thomas was used to not bathing as often as he’d want. Between the hot Texas sun, the heavy-duty (and often bloody) work he did on a daily basis, and the lack of hours in the day, taking a shower was on the low end of his priorities list. He’d rather catch 20 minutes more of sleep.

After your relationship got more physical, he made showering a larger priority for the simple fact that he likes to wipe your body down. Especially after sex. He likes to hold you so you are facing the water and he can press his entire body against your back. Grabbing the body wash – something you introduced to him-, he’ll lather it up and run it over your body until the only thing left on your flesh are his marks.

You are so small compared to him. He loves to watch how his hands encompass and grip your flesh, pressing into the proof of your love for him, the trust you give him.

“Oooo,” you breathe, leaning back even further into the wall of man behind you. Thomas’s hands dipped lower, fanning out over your thighs and you could feel the beginnings of renewed arousal. He purposely avoided your cunt and you knew he was unsure if you were feeling sore. “That’s feels nice, lovely.”

A deep grunt. He’d never admit it but he loved when you called him lovely. There was something precious in the way you cooed the word at him that caused his knees to buckle. His hands moved up to your waist, pressing and searching. He grabbed your breasts and your returning whimper was lost in the sound of the spray. You could feel him at the small of your back, hot and heavy but he made no move to buck into you.

He could, if he was inclined. He could lift you up and fit you on him with ease, forcing his way into your body like a sword in a sheath. You knew it. He knew it.

But he wouldn’t.

Not without your consent.

Not without your permission.

Gripping one of his hands in your significantly smaller ones, you lowered it back down, cooing at the stretch of his fingers dipping inside of you and gave him all the permission he needed.

~~~~

End

~~~~

835 notes · View notes

hajimewhore · 3 years

Text

Body Swap 👫 (Iwaizumi Hajime/Reader) ➸Rated T, fem!Reader, 2.1k words ➷Humor, fluff, awkwardness, mild miild nsfw but not explicit, I will say I can only assume this kinda thing happens when you swap bodies lol ➷ Masterlist, Part 1, Part 2, ✈Part 3, Part 4

You initially dreaded the conversation with Hajime’s parents, wincing on the way through the door with a slight panic washing over you. But after a short and pleasant talk with them, you came to find the conversation flowed more naturally than you’d anticipated.

They’re not as doting to Hajime as they are to you, you note, but they’re friendly and pleasant and you feel as if you’re talking to your own family. Much like your own parents wanted a son, Hajime’s always wanted a daughter, so they often acted as your second set of parents. You feel a bit silly in retrospect, they’re as charming as ever with Hajime as they are with you.

They mostly inquire about Hajime’s day, and after a bit you excuse yourself to ‘study’, escaping to Hajime’s room. You’re beginning to feel positive about the next school day after the interaction, confidence boosted.

Who knew you would turn out to be such a good actress, better than you thought! Award winning, honestly. This whole body swap will be a cake walk. You can totally pull off being Hajime!

It seems you can definitely pull off the acting portion, but the sweat sticking to your clothes from your exhausting (emotionally and physically) practice is starting to make you consider the hygiene aspect of the swap. Which, has you feeling wildly uncomfortable.

This cosmic joke, shitty trope of a situation has you experiencing humiliation and embarrassment at levels you didn’t even realize were possible to achieve.

Normally after a grueling practice, you wouldn’t hesitate to hop straight into the shower and blast the hot water over your skin, feeling your muscles and aches soothed. But this isn’t your skin, or your muscles. You’re consistently reminded every hour, minute, and second, that it’s all Hajime. You should feel comforted that he’s definitely experiencing the same emotional crisis as you, but it only serves to heighten your distress.

Cheeks immediately heating at that, you recall the conversation with Hajime from earlier at the park.

“Just... let’s not think about it. And let’s definitely not talk about it. It’s a natural part of life.”

You know full well of the agreement you came to with red stained cheeks, but is there any way you could go without it? And drench yourself with Axe body spray? Or whatever it is guys like to use. You bet it would make a good repellent, no one would want to talk to you if you smelled like that.

You scrunch your nose, dashing the thought immediately, definitely not. Not only would it make you feel gross, Hajime would whack you first thing in the morning, and probably shove you in the shower himself.

‘No big deal, no big deal, it’s no big deal, you can do this!’

You find yourself chanting silent encouragements as you peel your shirt off, pitching it into a laundry basket. When you catch your reflection, a dark pink creeps across your features.

Yep, that’s still Hajime’s face,

‘Gaaah, don’t look at me like that!’

You press your hands to your face, but you end up peaking through your fingers anyways. The low sweats definitely don’t help, and neither do Hajime’s well defined abs.

You’d been true to your word when you told Hajime you hadn’t seen anything, but now you’re a little desperate to know what the deal is downstairs.

You won’t look. You shouldn’t. You don’t look. You definitely do not look.

You look,

pulling the sweats down, and shoving the briefs just past your thighs, you bite your lip at the revelation.

Okay.

Alright.

This is fine.

This is totally fine.

Hajime is just secretly packing.

WHAT THE FUCK?

You suppose it wasn’t necessarily a secret, it was always assumed of Hajime. You’ve also been privy to the third years’ cock talk at lunch, and he always did exude big dick energy, but damn Hajime.

Wait. Are you—

NOPE.

NOPE NOPE NOPE YOU ARE NOT DEALING WITH THIS RIGHT NOW.

You cover your face again, a recurring action today it seems, cheeks burning rampant and hotter than ever before. You feel a prickly hot and itchy feeling light a fire up your back to your neck, the heat of pure, unbridled, embarrassment coursing every vein.

Were you... getting a boner?

NOOOOOOO.

From being turned on by Hajime? While you are Hajime?

This is some paradoxical bullshit you are simply not having right now, not tonight, not tomorrow, and hopefully never again.

Despite the shame and humiliation beating down on your psyche, you risk a glance to see how much bigger he looks than before.

“Cold shower, yep. Cold shower helps, right?”

You immediately shove the briefs the rest of the way down, before hopping in the shower, starting it up at the coldest setting. Hopefully the freezing water will wash away not only your transgressions but also your mortification.

You squeak at the cold, bite your lip and shiver, tough it out, and will away the uncomfortable situation.

You sigh, hoping the morning will go smoother than the swell night you had, hopping down the steps of Hajime’s house.

You cross the street to meet up with him and Tooru, already seeing their figures across the road.

“Ha-Hey.”

You almost slip up with his name, but you make a clean save. Mentally patting yourself on the back, you glance to see Hajime’s bitter expression and—

Your jaw drops when you catch sight of... yourself. Your silent wish for a trouble-free morning is cast aside as you examine his appearance.

Hair unkempt, face completely bare, not even moisturizer or at least sunscreen to be seen, did he even try?

“Ha hey to you too, Iwa-chan.”

Tooru raises a brow at the odd introduction, clearly noting the slip up (and also the fact that Hajime usually settles for a short grunt and never a ‘Ha-hey’), but you can’t be bothered to entertain him right now with the current Hajime dilemma.

“Right, whatever,” you direct your attention to Hajime, “can I grab that thing I lent you yesterday?”

“What are you talking about? You’re being weird, Hajime.”

He warns you with a stern look, but you aren’t having it,

“I’m not, I know you have it, we can grab it right now. Tooru, you go ahead. I’ll see you later.”

You push Hajime back in the direction of your house, and Tooru frowns at his abrupt seclusion with zero explanation.

“Are you guys seriously ditching me?”

Tooru raises a brow, arms akimbo with a disgraced look.

“Yeah, we are, Shittykawa. Let’s go.”

You hate to diss Tooru without a solid reason, but it’s pretty on brand for Hajime, so you bite out the nickname with minor discomfort on your lips. You impatiently grab Hajime, before pulling him towards the steps of your house, Tooru’s complaints going unheard behind you.

“Hajime! You’re not wearing any make up! And my hair is a mess!”

You whine out, sitting him down at your vanity.

Hajime merely scowls,

“Seriously? That’s what this is about? Don’t scare me like that, I thought there was something wrong.”

He moves to stand, but you shove him back into the seat with a little more aggression than intended, you lowkey forgot how strong Hajime was.

And Hajime looks up at you with a incredulous expression, feeling a little scandalized, as a woman, that you would handle him like that.

“There IS something wrong though. I look awful! At least wear some foundation and mascara, that stuff is easy to apply!”

You pull out your make up box, flicking on the mirror light.

“I think you look fine this way,” he huffs, “you don’t need all that shit.”

A frown tugs at his lips, and you feel your heartbeat quicken at his earnest display. You bite back a wistful sigh, this is exactly the reason you’ve always been so drawn to Hajime. Rough around the edges, but there there’s no bullshit when it comes to him. He doesn’t disguise his intentions, doesn’t waste time saving face. He’s just genuine, unadulterated, Iwaizumi Hajime, what you see is exactly what you get, and you honestly wouldn’t have him any other way.

Setting aside your thoughts for another time to privately dwell on, you ignore the feeling.

“Really? That’s nice of you to say. Keep going.”

You smile, pink dusting your cheeks. You hope your expression doesn’t look too soft as you continue to apply the makeup to his face.

“Fishing for compliments now? No way, Shitty-L/N.”

“Nooo! Don’t call me that!”

You pause mid powder to cry out in your indignation, to which he masterfully ignores fixating his gaze on something more interesting than your whining, like the window sill.

After a bit of complaining, back and forth bickering about how uncomfortable the make up feels, you continue with a light highlight and mascara. You stop once you’re satisfied with your work, not bothering to deal with any extras like eyeliner or eyeshadow.

“All this for what? It tickles, and you can’t even touch it.”

Hajime’s hand hovers over his cheek, careful not to smudge anything. You must’ve smacked his hand away too many times, it seems.

“You get used to it. Plus it can be fun to try different brands and colors, and the little confidence boost isn’t bad.”

“Not that you need it.”

Hajime sighs out, standing from the seat to stretch. You’re sure it’s meant to be an insult to the crude ego you (and Tooru) tend to display, but you sense an underlying meaning that winds up boosting your ego even more.

“Anyways, we’re all done! And with time to spare.”

You chrip, gleaming with pride at your work. Add that too the list of things you should be, actress, and make up artist (next to pro volleyball player of course).

Hajime glances to the mirror, “’looks nice, I guess,” he hums in very faint approval.

That’s as good as a compliment to you, so you’ll take it!

He shifts to make way for the door, hooking his school bag over his shoulder.

“And it was definitely easier to do it on you than myself. Hey, maybe when you learn how to put it on yourself, you can do it for me when we switch back?”

You hover around him eagerly, and he rolls his eyes, resisting the urge to not smack his own body.

“No way in hell. The most I’ll do while we’re switched is that eyelash shit and the foundation or whatever,” he pauses, averting his eyes, “and only because it makes you so happy for some damn reason.”

You grin, ecstatic with his unexpected compliance, pulling him into a hug,

“And that’s perfect, eyelash shit and foundation or whatever is good enough for me!”

“H-Hey! Knock it off!”

It feels weird, being so much taller and hugging your body, but it still feels right considering it’s Hajime despite it all.

He tentatively returns the embrace, albeit awkwardly with one arm.

“We’re gonna be late if we keep bullshitting. Let’s go!”

He gently pushes you off and hightails it out of your room, and you laugh trailing after his awkward stomps.

“Also, wear your skirt higher!”

You call out behind him.

“What? No way in hell! This is the school standard, you always wear it too high!”

He spins around, uncomfortably smoothing out the skirt pleats as if the action could make it lengthier.

“I have nice legs, and I want to show it off!”

You growl, chasing Hajime down the stairs, grabbing onto the waistline of the skirt.

“That’s stupid and you know it. Just who are you trying to impress?! They shouldn’t like you for your legs!”

He holds a tight grip on the skirt and you scowl, prying Hajime’s hands away to yank up the garment.

“No one, it’s called fashion!”

You successfully tug the skirt higher, but a bit too much considering your panties are on full display.

You snort at the sight, “Hajime, you dog, are you wearing my strawberry panties?”

Hajime feels a sense of shame at the sudden breeze, mockery, and unfathomable humiliation.

“Knock it off, it’s just a school uniform idiot! And what the fuck else was I supposed to wear?!”

He tugs the skirt back down and you click your tongue, grabbing a fist full of the fabric to hike it back up.

“What are you two doing, we’re gonna be late!”

Tooru swings the front door open with a huff, eyes locking onto the both of you. You freeze position, instantly dreading the conversation that’s sure to take place shortly, whereas the tall setter halts at the display before him.

His precious, dear, sweet, childhood best friend’s hands are grasping at his brutish, caveman, heathen of a best friend’s biceps.

Said precious bestie’s hands are trying to shove aforementioned despicable heathen’s grip from her skirt, cheeks bright red

“Uh, this... isn’t what it looks like?”

A/N: I had extra extra fun with this part hahahaa,, sorry for the cliffhanger but I had to do it to ya, next part soon!

taglist: @cybergovl

Masterlist, Part 4

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu reader insert #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fic #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi hajime/reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader

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nekowriteshaikyuu · 4 years

Text

Temptation

it’s contagious to touch you, but it’s also tempting to do so.

pairing: Sakusa x reader

warnings: fluff (?)

summary: you love affection, but Sakusa doesn’t. For your sake, will he come out of his comfort zone?

a/n: so,,heard haikyuu is ending TT. i’m so sed i haven’t even finish reading the recent chapters so i’m slowly catching up. But anyways after like a 2 week hiatus, i’m back so weee. hope this one will make up for being gone for the past 2 weeks. enjoy !!

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ sakusa kiyoomi ♥

you and Sakusa have been dating for about 3 months now. Surprising, huh? considering he’s a clean freak. Despite that, you see through his habit as a really loving and understanding person. And you’ve always love him for that. But there is still one thing that has never change for these few months.

his fear of affection with you. You’re the captain of the soccer team, and every practice, there is never a time you’re covered in mud. You’re constantly running in the field, under the scotching hot sun or lightly drizzling rain. Both of your practices ends at the same time but Sakusa always finishes earlier to clean up and do his daily cleansing routine. By the time you’d change into some thin dri-fit shirt, he’s already squeaky clean from head to toe. Don’t get me wrong, Sakusa adore you, he loves you. He really do. But just by looking at you all sweaty, mud on your shirt and some on your legs, as well as your really chapped hands, he feels really uncomfortable. He basically gags and cringe over the sight of you all dirty and contaminated with germs.

This actually was an issue you both face. You’ve always love affection, and he knows that from the very start of your relationship . Forehead kisses, back hugs, cuddles when watching a movie, just thinking about it puts you on cloud nine. But Sakusa is never one to give you affection. Maybe some light hand caresses, but even that makes Sakusa pull out his hand sanitiser and spread it all over his hand. It does upset you on how cautious he is with his hygiene but it’s wrong for you to force him out of his comfort zone to satisfy your needs. So you just live with it. As time goes by, your constant yearning for affection slowly dies down. You just felt impatient waiting for the day to arrive. Sakusa noticed it as well. You began to be cautious with your hygiene around him. You’re at least arms length away from him everytime he waits for you during practice so he won’t feel grossed out, you’d scrub your body hard, making sure you felt like every bacteria just dies from the shampoo you applied, you’re always never touching shoulders when walking home together.

Sakusa felt a slight guilt that you’d do all these small gestures so he’d feel comfortable around you. He felt like he’s not doing enough to make you happy. He did tried to hold your hand once, but soon pulled his back to his side after the thought that he’d be at risk if taking that step forward.

As time flies, you’ve already picked up the habit. Arms length away, keep clean at all times, shoulder width apart. You don’t feel like the relationship is as lively as it used to be. It felt as if there’s a wall, blocking you away from Sakusa, forbidding you to touch him.

You sighed silently as you stare at the black board, chalk scribbles of math formulas across the board. You turned to your left and looked out the window, admiring the green grass growing in the soccer field. It’s been a week since you’ve been in the field. Your team finally graduated and it wasn’t compulsory to attend daily practices. You took this opportunity to rest and work on your studies, and just have moments with yourself to recollect your thoughts. As for Sakusa, he still attends training so you’d often wait for him in your class until he’s done to go home together.

It was after school and Sakusa left for training. You sat in your seat, watching the trees swayed from the wind. You yawned after staring back at your paper filled with black ink. You’ve been rewriting your english essay for a while now and you felt your hand ache. You decided to take a small nap, which turned into sleeping for a whole hour.

Sakusa ended his practice and was obnoxiously exhausted. He was constantly passing the ball without break. He slowly got up from the bench and went to wash up. As he continue to do his daily cleansing, he noticed how you’re not replying his messages. Normally it’d take only seconds before you’d see his messages and reply. He even gave you a call but it wasn’t answered. He knew where you were waiting and immediately went to your class after cleaning up.

As he open the door, he was welcomed with you resting on your hand on the table, pen in your other hand. He slowly walks up to you and sat on the corner of the table beside yours. He envyed how you were able to rest peacefully while he was having difficulty keeping the ball constantly off the ground. He slowly admire your features. Your hair falling on your face, your eyes twitching and your light snores, He couldn’t help but smile under his mask. Unconsciously, his arm stretched out to tuck your hair that was covering your face behind your ears. He basically lost his breathe just watching you sound asleep. That small moment, he realised, how much he yearned for your touch. your hands weren’t chapped, but instead it was so smooth. Your shirt wasn’t covered in mud, but scented with your strong floral perfume, For once, he just had the temptation to pull you closer to him, and rest at the crook of your neck and take the moment to ease down after a tiring practice

You slowly woke up when you felt someone beside you. You slowly got up before making eye contact with your boyfriend who was silent for a while.

“how long have you been here?” you asked with a groggy voice. He took a deep breathe, exhaled hard, and looked back at you before speaking.

“shouldn’t you have gone home if you’re tired? it’s not necessary for you to wait.” you slowly stood up , your hands up your head as you stretch from your nap.

“it’s okay, i had some work to do anyways” you struggled to reply as you continue to stretch. To you, it was nothing. But to Sakusa, it was like an opening.

Your waist wasn’t blocked by your hands, and it was just nice for Sakusa to pull you in his arms. The thought of it made Sakusa at ease. But he wants to experience as well aside from just imagining it. As you mindlessly stretch, twisting and looking out the window, you flinched as you felt a bold, firmed hand grabbed your waist, pulling you closer. Before you knew it, your boyfriend was settling into the crook of your neck. Just like how he wanted to for the longest time.

“o-omi?!” you’re practically panicking. The action was so sudden for you to process properly. You thought he did it out of force so you won’t feel sorry for him not giving you enough love. You tried pushing him away, but his grip tightened around your waist, giving you no way of escape. Sakusa slowly sinks in your touch, sighing under his mask. He could practically hear your heart beating faster than usual. So this was how it feels like to be touched, to be loved, with affection. For a moment, the thought of being contaminated and germs was washed out of his mind. All he was thinking about was how amazing it felt to hug you after so long of distancing from each other. (social distancing kidz)

You watch him as he rests onto you. You couldn’t help but smile, before placing a peck on the top of his head. You began to slowly play with his curls, feeling how soft and silky it is for the first time. You stood there silently as Sakusa takes the moment to wine down and ease up after an exhausting day.

“omi, we have to go home.” You said but he pulled you closer, sighing once more.

“just,,a few more minutes” He didn’t want this to end. He wants to hug you for as long as he can take it. But at last he soon let go after you lightly tapped his back. On the way home, he took the courage to hold your hand. You’ve never felt this happy. For a while, you’ve always been waiting for this moment to come, and it finally did.

You could see the invisible wall fade. Your shoulders were finally touching, hands intertwined with one another. You were so close to Sakusa you could rest your head on his shoulder.

“you’re gonna have to get used to this new habit of mine” Sakusa broke the silence. You looked up at him and noticed a hint of redness on his cheek, even with the mask on.

“hmm? what habit?” He turned away from you as he mumbled under his breathe, but you could hear clearly.

“...hugging you..” you just smiled before wrapping your arm around his.

“of course, omi~”

Well, let’s say that Sakusa is no longer fearing your touch no more. In fact, he yearns for it everytime now.

------ 𝕤𝕒𝕜𝕦𝕤𝕒 𝕜𝕚𝕪𝕠𝕠𝕞𝕚 ------

a/n: yeaa i kinda changed my layout and style so i hope it’s slightly better !! i’ll try to improve it as time goes by but this is not bad for now teehee. also feel free to send in requests, i’ll try to write them :) but yeaa hope you enjoyed it <3

#sakusa x reader #hq sakusa #sakusa imagines #sakusa scenarios #sakusa x you #sakusa fluff #sakusa x y/n #sakusa kiyoomi #kiyoomi x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyu x reader #haikyu #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x you

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thevioletjones · 3 years

Note

48. “You make me want things I can’t have.” 💜

Thanks for the inspiration! 💜

Prompt 3

Buffer

Ian Gallagher was starting to become a problem.

And the worst part about it was that he wasn’t even a problem that Mickey wanted to resolve. No. He just kept holding Ian closer and refusing to push him away like he should. He was just letting him ruin Mickey’s mediocre life. Because something about Ian was unshakeable. It wasn’t just that Ian kept coming back no matter what Mickey ever said or did, either. Ian was definitely persistent, but Mickey had formed an attachment too, even though he did everything in his power to hide it. It was still there, buried under layers of caustic remarks, aloof expressions, and occasional lashing out. He wasn’t proud of his behavior, but it was just who he was, and remaining unchanged in his ways was easier than the alternative.

Ian was definitely too good for him. Sure, he was hood trash too, but they were on two different levels. Ian was buffed up with a certain surface shine that Mickey lacked. Although, he would admit he’d come a long way in his style and hygiene game since his early days as an unwashed miscreant. Mickey was a gay man after all, and not immune to gaying certain things up, despite his tendency to flout homo conventions. If he wanted the ability to get a decent dick in his ass, there were standards that he’d learned to push himself to meet. This was the glossiest Mickey was ever gonna get, and it still came with a pinch of grime and hostility.

Maybe he’d developed enough sense to give a fuck, but he still didn’t give two shits either; a concept that walking contradictions the world over could likely comprehend.

The thing about Gallagher was that he was sweet. Not in an annoying, cloying, obvious way that was anathema to everything Mickey was about, but in a low-key, casual, incidental kind of way that somehow managed to be attractive, even to someone with Mickey’s abrasive nature. Ian played tough, and he genuinely was in many ways, but he had a gooey, marshmallow center that evened him out. Mickey didn’t see himself as having that sort of balance.

But there were these unsettling moments like this, usually in the middle of the night or early in the morning, when Mickey would catch himself watching Ian unawares. Unawares because he only ever did it when the redhead was deep in sleep. Suddenly, Mickey would be Mr. Contemplation, burning a hole into the face of the dude he was banging, daring to wonder what could happen between them if he wasn’t an emotionally stunted asshole. And then he’d reflect on what Ian’s life was like whenever he wasn’t around; the things Mickey acted like he didn’t care to know.

These circular thought patterns never led anywhere good, because at the end of the day, Ian wasn’t his. And Mickey could never be Ian’s. He’d long ago resigned himself to a certain destiny that involved long-term solitude until his dying day, which he’d always been fairly certain would come prematurely and most likely in violent fashion. It would be ridiculous to drag someone else into his vortex of apathy for life and the general traditions of living it. Especially someone like Ian, who was good; who helped people because he genuinely cared about, like, the well-being of humanity and shit. Despite the occasional soft look or revelatory comment that Ian would throw his way, he knew better than to think he’d want to be saddled with Mickey’s non-reciprocating ogre-y ass.

Usually when one of these intense, one-sided staring sessions would take place, Mickey would overcompensate for silently slipping by adding an extra dose of rudeness when he kicked Ian out after the fact. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure why Gallagher still bothered with him. It wasn’t like he couldn’t get laid elsewhere. Ian was the type that would never have trouble finding a willing ass. Yet somehow he kept coming back to Mickey and ignoring all the negatives thrown in his path. It didn’t make much sense on either of their parts… allowing each other in on any terms. Probably meant that Ian was just as fucked up as he was, really.

Blowing out the last hit off his smoke, Mickey glanced at the bedside clock and stubbed out the cigarette butt. 3:26 AM and he was wide awake, just gawking at his slumbering ginger fuck buddy, and trying to repress the multitude of emotions swirling within him. It was truly pathetic.

He could just get the hell up and drag his ass to the living room to play video games or watch late-night TV, but no. Apparently he liked suffering and feeling conflicted. What a pussy.

Not ten minutes went by before there was slow movement from the other side of the bed... Ian turning over in his sleep, reaching an arm out, and searching. Searching for the warmth of Mickey’s body, it would seem.

A big hand landed on his thigh, rubbing it softly as tired eyes blinked open, and a groggy voice sounded, “What’re’y’doin’?”

Oh, just fuckin’ lying here starin’ at your pasty ass for some reason. “Can’t sleep.”

“Didn’t wear you out?” Ian asked with a breathy titter, squeezing the sensitive flesh precariously close to Mickey’s groin.

Maybe it made his dick twitch a little.

“When did one round ever wear me out?”

“Pretty sure there were two rounds. Did you forget about the couch?”

“Random handies while watchin’ mediocre porn barely counts as a round, carrot-top.”

“A, it wasn’t that mediocre, and B, do you only consider it sex if penetration is involved?”

“I mean… it helps.”

“What about blowjobs, then? How would you classify them?”

“Sex act, but not sex, sex. Know what I mean?”

Ian laughed. “Not really. What about lesbians?”

“Definitely don’t wanna have my cock anywhere near those.”

“Har har. I mean, what would you call lesbian sex?”

“Gross? Boring? I don’t fuckin’ know. Never had it, don’t plan to.”

Ian laughed harder and it made Mickey feel good. “Pretty sure lesbians don’t want fuck all to do with you either, bottom boy.”

“Hey, likin’ what I like don’t make me a bitch.”

“No, but you seem pretty hostile toward anything but a real live human cock poking you in the asshole. I mean, naysaying getting your dick sucked? That’s a bold bossy bottom stance to take.”

“What can I say? I’m a simple man with simple kinks. Aren’t you glad I don’t need any freaky extra shit to get me off?”

“What kinda freaky extras are we talkin’?”

“Fuck off, Gallagher. Don’t act like you don’t just live for stickin’ that big red dick inside any tight manhole that’ll accommodate it. Does that make you a hungry top just begging for it?”

“I prefer ‘brutal top,’ since it’s so big, as you were so kind to mention.”

Mickey rolled his eyes into tomorrow. “Gotta remember to stop accidentally complimenting it. You get so fuckin’ uppity about it.”

Ian rolled over and boxed him in, nuzzling around his face and neck, while Mickey tried to bat him away.

“Come on,” prodded Ian. “Big hard cock seeks tight little hole for another round of deep penetration.”

Mickey could feel said big hard cock firming right up against his hip. “Ixnay on the cutesy man seeking man dirty talk, fuckhead. I will make you take that hulking boner elsewhere.”

“No you won’t,” Ian replied, humping down against him.

Of course he wouldn’t, but he had to front at least a little bit. That was the nature of his inner beast.

While they were fucking, Mickey could just let himself get lost in all the appropriate heightened sensations that really good sex immersed him in. Immersed him and Ian in. Ian and him. Them. Reveling in the pleasure of carnality was totally kosher… as long as it limited him from basking in that additional Ian stuff. That feelings stuff that he had no idea what to do with. That unfathomable connection that existed between them.

He let Ian kiss him a lot too. Like, a lot, a lot. That wasn’t customary for him with other dudes. In fact, it barely ever happened. It was just another habit Ian had slipped under the wire to form with him when he wasn’t paying enough attention. Mickey was pretty sure he’d kissed more girls in his life than boys, because that was always an easy, less disgusting way to publicly appear straight during the years he’d spent in the closet. With guys, there was nothing to prove and everything to hide, so it just wasn’t something he incorporated into his casual sex routine.

Before Ian, he hadn’t exactly attracted the kind of dudes that warranted sticking around for in any capacity, or who made any kind of effort to stick with him. There were never any near-miss boyfriends, or pine-worthy hookups. Sex was always transactional and he’d been perfectly fine with that arrangement.

The truth was that once he’d fucked up and invited Ian in for repeats over and over again, he started to figure out that the sex just kept getting hotter and hotter. That when two bodies really took the time to get to know each other, things fit better, motions got smoother, and orgasms got a thousand times stronger. Turned out that one-night-stands were not where the fuck it was at. Those were always crapshoots with odds that were at best 25/75 in favor of mediocrity. With Ian, it was guaranteed total fulfillment 100% of the time.

That was the only explanation he could find for this unexpected addiction he was stuck with. An addiction to Ian and his stupidly perfect cock. The rest of his body was alright too. And when he spoke, he wasn’t completely fucking annoying. His personality and his nature were tolerable. Mickey didn’t want to gouge his eyes out every time he got sucked into a conversation.

They didn’t really hang out, though. Outside of the bedroom, that is. It was like the whole game changed when they were in bed. They could fuck, they could goof around and have a laugh, they could wrestle, they could accidentally say something profound once in a while… but if Ian had a bag of food when he dropped by, Mickey wasn’t about to sit on the couch and watch TV with him while he ate it, and he definitely wasn’t going to accept a portion for himself.

Until tonight, that is. Or last night, or however the fuck time was identified when you were a natural night owl.

Tonight, they’d crossed another invisible line in the sand, and Mickey had found himself chowing down on tacos, while heckling some shitty 90s action film; his part-time lover chuckling next to him with a sloppy mouth.

It was fucking terrifying.

So as soon as he’d realized what was actually happening, and how much he didn’t hate it, Mickey had switched over to some hardcore porn. They’d cracked jokes about it at first, but it’d done the trick of quickly leading to the familiar comfort of sexual gratification. With that justification, Mickey could just sweep the whole ‘watching a movie and eating together like they were on a date’ thing under the proverbial rug without further examination.

At least until Ian had fallen asleep around 2 AM. Then it was dwell city.

By 4:30 AM, Ian had fucked him into the mattress once again, and promptly fallen back asleep without a care in the world. Mickey was more than sated, but felt even more awake than he had an hour ago, his brain full of fresh bullshit about the man next to him and what was happening between them.

He opened his bedside drawer and pulled out his stash, knowing the high would fog up his brain enough to go off on thought tangents, and eventually shut down for at least five hours. Within ten minutes, he felt a little better, or at least more distracted. He was still very aware of Ian’s looming presence in the darkness, though. He wanted to be comforted by it, but he just couldn’t relax.

There’d always been a buffer between them, which Mickey had been diligent in maintaining, and he could see it slowly falling away now. If he didn’t step up and push back, pretty soon there’d be no barrier left standing. Who the fuck knew what could happen then.

He hated it. He felt so fucking out of control, when it should be the easiest thing in the world to control. All he had to do was break it off. He knew exactly what to say and do to make that happen. Knew enough to be able to really hit Ian where it hurt, both literally and figuratively.

But goddamn it, he didn’t want to.

He didn’t want to make Ian sad, and he didn’t want to give into his own desire to try for more. He would always fuck it up, because he was a fuck-up by nature. His goddamn knuckles spelled it all out in block letters.

He wanted Ian, but he didn’t want the responsibility. Didn’t trust himself, because no one had ever trusted him before in his entire life. What kind of dumbass wanted that kind of damaged douchebag for a boyfriend? No sane one.

Against his better judgment, Mickey rolled closer to Ian and wrapped an arm around his middle, spooning him the way he secretly liked it when Ian spooned him. He held him close and breathed in his scent.

“You make me want things I can’t have,” he murmured to himself, exhaling heavily against Ian’s neck.

He fell asleep swiftly, and in the morning, he didn’t ask Ian to leave.

#ian x mickey #fanfic #gallavich #fanfiction #asks #answers

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raysofcrosby · 4 years

Text

NOW THAT I FOUND YOU – M. BARZAL

requested: yes | no

warning(s): cursing, slight mentions of sex, but other than that, nothing.

word count: 5,868

authors note: welcome to my new series :) i have no idea how long this is going to last, but i’m pretty excited for it. so, first things first, considering what i have planned for the character of jeremy, i didn’t want to use a real rangers player. so jeremy is a fictional dude on the team. i think that’s it for now, i’m not really sure what else i can think of about this series. so, oh well, enjoy :)

my masterlist | stuff i have planned | who i’ll write for | requests

"I can't take it anymore!" Tito said, storming into the locker room and stomping his way over to his cubby. "I am literally going to take her to the Brooklyn bridge and throw her into the Hudson."

Mat looked up from his skates and over at his best friend as he plopped down into his cubby, huffing, and puffing as he got undressed. He looked over at Anders, who was looking at Brass...the three of them all sharing confused looks at their locker neighbor. "Uh, you okay over there Tito?" Anders asked, looking at Mat for at least the slightest hint as to what he could be rambling on about.

"No clue," Mat mouthed, shrugging his shoulders and looking back down as he continued to tie his skate.

"No, I'm not okay," Tito tossed his sweatshirt into his cubby and stepped out of his joggers. "Does anyone want a newly 22-year-old female college student? Because I have one and I'm not opposed to passing her off before I result to murder."

"I'm pretty sure that is illegal, buddy," Jordan said, walking by and patting him on the shoulder. "Both are, actually. Like, highly illegal."

"Oh, God Tito," Matt said, coming out from the bathrooms. "What are you bitching about now?"

"She ironed my underwear." Tito tugged on his pants over his compression shorts and sighed, shaking his head.

"What?" Mat laughed, reaching behind him and grabbing his compression shirt.

"Y/N...she ironed my underwear," he stood up and turned towards his cubby, pulling a pair of ironed boxers out of the duffle he had carried in with him and turned back towards the guys. "I went to grab a pair this morning and I was greeted with this! They're stiff, feel powdery and quite frankly smell like shit–"

"Are you sure that's the soap and not just your horrible hygiene?" Matt joked, tossing a water bottle at him.

"Manchuk...Matty," Tito smiled, turning in their direction. "How do you two feel about having a live-in nanny? Her cooking skills are subpar unless even worse if the recipe comes off of Pinterest. She consumes more wine than water– but she's great with kids."

"I'm just finding it hard to believe your only problem with Y/N is the fact she ironed your underwear," Jordan said, shaking his head. "What's the catch?"

"Yeah, there's got to be something else that has you considering pre-meditated murder," Matt chimed in with a loud laugh.

"I NEED TO GET LAID, all right?!" Tito yelled, tossing his ironed pair of boxers back into the duffle bag. "I need to have hot, drunken sex with a stranger who lets herself out in the morning! I need to get laid so fucking bad, but I can't do it with my sister in the room across from mine! It's gross."

The locker room was silent as his teammates just stared at him. Mat wanted to laugh at his best friend but didn't want to do it at his expense. Sure, he'd been there a time or two, what young guy in his 20's hasn't. But never had he yelled about it to his teammates in such an exaggerated fashion. "Have you thought about telling her that?" Mat asked, grabbing his practice jersey and sliding it on over his head. "Y/N's pretty reasonable, I'm sure she'd agree to go to a friends or something for the night."

"Oh yeah, let me just go ahead and tell my little sister, 'hey, do you mind getting out of the apartment for the night? I need to get my dick sucked. Thanks, don't tell mom!'" Tito sat down to put on his skates, giving Mat a sarcastic look. "Does that sound good to you, Barzy?"

"I don't know about Barzy, but that sounds great to me," Matt laughed as he tied his pants. "Why is she staying at your place? I thought she was in Uni? Doesn't she have a dorm?"

"Nope, she followed her doucheface of a boyfriend down here and he convinced her to stay in his apartment instead of getting a dorm." He stood up and reached into his locker, grabbing his practice jersey. "Next thing I know, she shows up at my door crying, saying they broke up and she's been at my place ever since."

Mat remembered that night. He and Tito were pre-gaming, finishing off their drinks, and waiting for the uber to arrive. They were coming off of a high, absolutely destroying the Maple Leafs 5-0 and that high followed them home. Everyone on the team was going out– it was a well called for a celebration, even the guys with families at home. Normally, the team would pregame together before taking ubers over to whatever club or bar they decided to take over for the night. But those who did have kids at home wanted to stop at home and say goodnight to their wives and kids before heading out.

They were talking about whether or not they wanted to wait up here for the uber or wait down on the street when a knock barely made noise about Tito's playlist. Mat thought he had heard something but wasn't sure if he had confused it with the bass or not. So, he brushed it off. It wasn't until a small break in the song when the two of them could hear three rapid knocks, followed by the sound of your voice coming from the other side of the door, did they know that you were there.

Mat was closest to the door, so he was the one who walked over and looked through the peephole. He knew it was you just based on the sound of your voice from when you knocked, but, it didn't hurt to be safe and check to see who was at the door– that way Tito couldn't blame him if he let a random into his apartment. He recognized the hoodie you were wearing, it was the Beauvillier Islanders hoodie that Tito had gotten you for your birthday just this past summer. Mat told him it was a stupid gift, but Tito laughed, saying that it was his way of tricking you into finally wearing something in support of him since you had stopped wearing Islanders gear the moment you started dating Jeremy last fall. A Rangers player you had met on a girls' night out in the city. "A mix of interests" as your excuse, and Tito was bothered that his sister wouldn't wear his team's logo anymore– but instead, the logo on their top rival.

It was a mess, but one that Mat never, ever wanted to get involved with.

But there you were, dripping wet from the thunderstorm that had been hovering over the city from the moment he walked into Barclay to play. You had the hood on your head and you were avoiding eye-contact with the door– but he knew it was you. So, he opened the door with no hesitations, barely getting out a simple hi before you brushed by him and darted down the hallway, a door slamming behind you.

Tito, in true fashion, paused his music and stomped after you, mumbling about how you were just going to stroll into his apartment, that he pays for, and slam his doors without even saying hello. Mat remembered laughing, just because the Beauvillier sibling dynamic was an interesting one. He came back a few moments later, shoving his phone into his pocket and walked over to Mat. He said that he couldn't get much out of you but the fact that you and Jeremy had broken up and he needed to pay the cab driver downstairs $40 for driving you from Manhattan.

Tito was a good brother. He could be a huge pain in the ass, sure. You and he had had more than your fair shares of endless, rigorous chirping fights that most of the time, left Mat standing there just looking between the two of you like he was watching a match. But still to this day, Mat could never understand why Tito didn't seem all that bothered about how abruptly you had walked into his apartment. Tito had you and Francis, and more often than not, always brushed you off as one of the guys thanks to your tomboy upbringing. Mat had a sister and she's dated one too many assholes for his liking, so he could spot it from a mile away.

Your face was swollen and red and he was more than positive that you had cried the entire car ride there.

And you've been living at Tito's ever since.

"I'm serious, I need her to leave," Tito was following behind him as they left the locker room to head out to the rink. "And I can't just kick her out."

"You literally just talked about shoving her into the Hudson," Jordan laughed, shaking his head. "I think you can do something as simple as, 'hey, maybe you should find someone to stay with for a while.'"

Tito just rolled his eyes as he stepped out onto the ice, skating beside Matt. "I'm serious Barzy, I think she's driving me insane."

"It was one incident, Tito," Mat said, shaking his head. "Y/N isn't that bad."

"It wasn't just one incident," they cut the corner, Mat pushing himself ahead. "She almost burnt down my kitchen trying to make breakup cupcakes. She's redecorated my bathroom with bath bombs and make-up, she even got rid of my Shrek shower curtain!"

"To be fair, that's your guest bathroom and that Shrek shower curtain was hideous"

"Regardless! She's slowly taking over my entire apartment and turning it into her...her...her stupid lovesick breakup reno project!" He tossed his arms up in the air, letting them fall back down and almost hitting Brass in the head. "Oops, sorry bud!"

Mat laughed as they cut another corner, shaking his head. "Have you ever tried talking to her?"

"No, because then she'd get her puppy eyes all going and I'd feel like even more of a douche for wanting her out." He huffed, shaking his head. "I need an excuse, something to just...get her out for a few weeks until I can find her someplace to stay for the rest of the year. Then plead with her housing office to find her a dorm."

"I don't know what to tell you, man." Mat said, skating ahead.

"I'll come up with something, I'm sure I can cash in a favor somewhere." Tito sighed, as the two of them joined the rest of their team at center ice for stretching.

Mat just laughed, shaking his head at his best friend. Sure, if he was in the same position, it wouldn't exactly be his ideal living situation to have his sister living across the hall– but he definitely wouldn't be as against it. At least, he didn't think so.

"I've figured it out."

Mat felt his foot slip against the wet tile and his heart practically jumped out of his chest as the slipping feeling. He held his right arm out, holding himself steady against the tile before ducking his head beneath the shower head, letting the conditioner rinse from his hair. He looked over his shoulder to see Tito standing at the opening of the shower area, freshly showered with a towel wrapped around his waist. "Yeah, can we not talk about this right now?"

"I'm just letting you know, I figured it out." Tito smiled, nodding before walking away from the shower.

Mat shook his head, spitting out some water before turning off the water and grabbing the towel he had hung up just to the right. He wrapped it around his waist, shaking his head as he ran his fingers through his hair to get all of the excess water out. He almost dreaded making his way back towards the locker room. Tito had been pestering him all practice, trying to make him come up with ways he could kick you out.

Fake an insect infestation? No, then he'd have to leave his apartment too.

Figure out a way to get some flooding in her room? But then he'd have to hire someone to clean up all of the water.

Every outrageous idea possible had crossed his mind and Mat had to listen to it for the entire practice. As if the practice itself hadn't been draining on him, listening to him go on and on was even more. But, he was playing the best friend role, and did say he would help him on one condition– it didn't involve hurting your feelings.

"Great, you're here, now listen–"

"No to the insects. No to an animal break-in and we already decided that pouring water on her stuff and saying a pipe was leaking wouldn't work," Mat said, sitting down in his locker and looking at Tito. "What in the hell could you have come up with now?"

"Remember how I said I could cash in a favor?"

Mat nodded, standing up and grabbing his street clothes as he turned his back to Tito. "Yeah, did you figure it out?"

"I sure did."

Mat stepped into his boxer briefs and dropped the towel as he picked up his joggers. "All right? And who's the poor sucker?" Tito hadn't replied as fast as he had been and Mat would be lying if he said it wasn't a little concerning. He tugged the waistband of his joggers up before turning to see Tito smiling at him. "What are you looking at?"

"I'm looking at the poor sucker who owes me a favor." He had his classic shit-eating smirk on his face, the kind cameras always zoomed in the moment he checked someone hard.

Mat blinked once, twice, three times before the reality set in. His brain was racing through every recent time he spent with Tito, never once remembering an event where he said that he owed him a favor. "I'm sorry, what?"

"You owe me a–"

"Yeah, yeah, I know what you said," Mat put his arms through his sweatshirt, tugging his down and over his head before running his fingers through his hair again. "But I don't know what you're talking about. When did I ever owe you a favor?"

"When I saved your ass that night at Nest when you were picking up the redhead but that hot tinder girl with blue hair you invited showed up." Tito stood up and walked over to Mat, still smiling. "I performed the perfect, switcharoo maneuver so that the redhead never noticed you took tinder girl home."

"You took the redhead home! How is that helping me?" Mat turned towards his locker and grabbed his phone and Gatorade, shaking his head. "Besides, that was two years ago."

"It was a win for both of us! You didn't get totally bitchslapped in the club and I got laid," Tito followed behind him, staying on his heels. "It may have been two years ago, but you still said, 'Tito, man...I owe you one.'"

"I don't–"

Tito cut him off, standing in front of him as they stood in the hall. He crossed his arms, his smile falling from his face. "And now I'm cashing it in. You're helping me get Y/N out of my apartment."

Mat rolled his eyes, resting his hands on his hips. "And how exactly am I supposed to help you with that? You've literally exhausted every plausible option." When Tito didn't come up with a reply, Mat just shook his head and brushed by him.

"I've got an idea bro, I swear," He jogged up behind him as they walked out of the arena to head towards the parking lot. "But, you're probably not going to like it."

As the crisp fall air greeted them, Mat could hear the voice in the back of his head telling him not to entertain Tito. A gut feeling deep inside that this wasn't going to work out– none of Tito's ideas ever worked out. "What is it?"

Tito hesitated, unsure just how his best friend would reply. Sure, he's had plenty of other crazy ideas before– but this one might just be way out there. But he didn't care, he was a young, physical and thriving man in his early 20's– and at this point, he didn't care about logical reasoning. He just desperately needed to get laid. And if that meant brushing his sister off onto his best friend, he'd do it.

"You're going to pretend you're utterly heartbroken from some break up and can't be alone–"

Mat stopped in his tracks, whipping around to Tito with wide eyes. "Dude what the–"

"Y/N is a total empath and when I tell her all about your emotional turmoil and that I don't know how to help, she'll no doubt step in. Then I'll just figure something out to keep her out of my apartment and boom, problem solved."

"Problem not solved!" Mat yelled, waving his hand at Tito. "Your problem literally has about a million plot holes in it!"

Tito closed his eyes and took a deep breath, sighing before opening them and looking at Mat. "I'm going to need you to hear me out before you say no– which, may I remind you, isn't an option anyway."

Mat took a deep breath and sighed, knowing damn well that somewhere down the line, he'd regret this very moment he even gave Tito the chance to explain. Even his initial explanation seemed so fucking stupid that there was no way it could ever work out. But maybe, if he allowed him to explain, he'd realize just how unrealistic his plan was, and just drop the entire idea then man up and tell Y/N to stay with a friend. "Fine," he stopped at his car, unlocking it so Tito could get into the passenger seat. "But you're buying lunch."

This was such a bad idea– he knew it would be. From the moment the suggestion left Tito's mouth the first time, Mat knew it wouldn't work. There's no way it could. Hell, even Liana said it was when he called her for advice after his lunch. And as far as common sense goes, he likes to think that Liana has a lot more

Tito's plan stayed the same– Mat was supposed to play brokenhearted and after lunch, the two of them would go over to his apartment, where you would be home from class. Tito would comment on how Mat 'hasn't been the same' and make a joke about how the two of you should just live together in your misery. You, the empath that you were, would take an interest in Mat's "broken heart" and offer to help in any way. Tito, knowing Mat was actually in the middle of turning the third guest bedroom in his apartment into a man-cave/gaming room and how much you love decorating, I.E. his bathroom, would suggest that maybe you could help him with that too.

It wouldn't work, Mat was convinced of that from the moment the entire idea left Tito's mouth. He'd known you almost as long as he knew Tito, meeting you the summer after the 2015 IIHF World U18 Championship. You were only a year younger than them both and for the three weeks that Mat had stayed with your family, he felt like he got to know you pretty well. You guys weren't best friends by any means, but you were definitely good friends. Your friendship growing when you decided to transfer to Fordham and when you weren't hanging out with Jeremy or your classmates, you were with Tito, Mat, and their teammates.

Needless to say, he was confident walking into the apartment knowing that there was no way that you would fall for this horrible excuse. You wouldn't leave your room in Tito's apartment to come and stay with Mat because he was "too brokenhearted to function." But leave it to Tito to think that you would fall for it. He tried not to break character, he really did. But how the hell was he supposed to pretend to be brokenhearted from a failed relationship, when he's never felt that?

He's had relationships before, sure. Break-ups? Absolutely. But none so bad that he felt like he wanted to drink himself into a slumber or just hide under the covers for the rest of time. He had outlets to get out any negative emotion. He had hockey and he had the boxing classes he attended with Tito every now and again. Besides that, he never had strong feelings for someone to the point where he was feeling what you were feeling.

As predicted, you had agreed to go with Tito and Mat over to Mat's apartment to see just what he had to deal with. He felt a twinge of guilt when you started to ask the simple questions:

How are you feeling?

Do you want to talk about it?

What happened?

He and Tito hadn't gotten that far in the plan– creating a backstory, which should have been another sign that this was never going to end well. So, on the ride to his apartment, he just stuck with short answered replies– "fine" "not yet" "it's still too soon." And he wanted nothing more than to smack Tito in the passenger seat, who was trying his damndest not to laugh.

When they got to the apartment hours later, Mat led you to the third guest room, showing you just everything he had. In a corner on tarps, he had three cans of paint, all unopened and a bunch of painting supplies. In the middle of the room, boxed furniture he'd been too lazy to move. He was barely focused on what you were saying when he felt his phone vibrate and saw Tito nodding at him.

Tito: see? i told u. total diy/renovator. you could get free labor out of this.

Mat: one problem there, bud. she doesn't seem too keen to get out of your apartment. all she's done is offer to take me to lunch for the next week to 'talk about my feelings'

Tito: okay? go talk about your feelings.

Mat: I DON'T HAVE ANY FEELINGS

Mat: I DON'T HAVE A RECENT EX-GIRLFRIEND

"Are you two okay?" You asked, almost scaring the two boys. Mat shoved his phone back into his jacket pocket, staring at you with wide eyes. You had an eyebrow raised and looked awfully suspicious of them both.

"Do you guys want dinner?" Tito asked, already heading towards the door. "I can order some pizzas from down the street."

"That's okay," You said, following him towards the door. "I've got this new enchilada recipe I wanted to try and–"

"No!" Tito couldn't be any less obvious that he didn't want you to follow him, his raised voice causing you to step back and look at him in shock. "I uh, I mean...I already ordered them. Barzy and I talked about it...right?"

Mat glared at Tito, wishing deep down that this plan would fail, but knowing that he couldn't leave his best friend out to dry. "Yeah...we did." He turned to you, crossing his arms. "Hope that's okay."

"No, it's fine," you replied, nodding. "Pizza is good."

Tito clapped his hands together and smiled. "Great, I'll be right back!"

He couldn't have run out of the apartment any faster, leaving you and Mat there standing in the middle of the room. This wasn't part of the plan and Mat was pissed. He stared at the door, contemplating telling you about your brother's ulterior motive to all of this– but it wouldn't hurt Tito...it would hurt you. So he decided against it and turned to you, sighing. "We can go wait in the living room for him to come back."

You nodded and followed him out of the guest room, walking down the hallway. "Can I have something to drink?"

"Water? Wine?" He asked, waving you over to the couch as he stopped in the kitchen. "Tequila?" God, how he wanted a drink. At least it might alleviate the headache Tito's antics were causing.

"It's Monday," you laughed, leaning against the back of the couch. "I guess I could go for some wine."

"White or Red?"

"You have both?"

He laughed, turning around and placing two unopened bottles– one of each. "My mom likes red, I like white. It's her leftover bottle from when she was here a two weeks ago."

"I'll take a glass of white, thank you."

He nodded, putting the bottle of red back into the fridge before moving towards his cabinets and opening the drinking glasses– reaching up to the top and grabbing two wine glasses. When he turned back around, he looked over at you, ready to say something, but he stopped.

You were still leaning against the back of his couch, left arm draped across your stomach as the other held onto your phone. You were chewing on the inside of your cheek, your eyes glued to the screen. He normally wouldn't think anything of it, except for the look on your face. Even from where he was standing, he could notice the frown and the way that your eyebrows were burrowed towards each other. He noticed your fingers on your left hand were fidgeting, plucking at your Fordham long sleeve. Everything about you standing there was just...small, quiet– radiating energy that said, 'I don't want anyone to see me.' Which, in all of the years that he knew you, was the complete opposite of who you were.

He couldn't help but wonder what the hell Jeremy did to screw you up this bad.

He poured your glasses, putting the cork back into the bottle, and made his way to you. You were so lost in your phone, that it wasn't until he cleared his throat, that you realized he was standing there.

"Oh," you stood up a little straighter, putting your phone into your front pocket before taking the wine glass from him. "Sorry, I was just..."

"No need," he said, waving you off. "I don't need an explanation." He walked around the couch and sat down, nodding at you to join him.

You sighed, taking a sip of your wine before sitting down beside him, sinking back against the cushion. "So, Tito hasn't tried taking you to a strip club to help you out of your breakup funk?"

Mat laughed, his head leaning back against the cushion. "No, he hasn't," he took a sip of the wine, tilting his head to the side. "I don't think he'd leave if he did."

"He tried to offer to drop me off at that knockoff Magic Mike, two days ago." He looked at you like you had two heads, his mind spinning in circles at just how long Tito has been trying to get you out of his apartment. "It didn't work, it's not my scene."

"Male strippers?"

"Male strippers that aren't the cast of Magic Mike," you joked, laughing softly as you stared down into your wine. "I don't know, I just haven't really been in the mood to do anything besides go to class and sleep."

He wasn't sure how to reply. Even with Liana, he'd never really been that open with talking to her about his relationships or hers. That was a no-touch topic in their siblingship– only ever talking about it, just to say that they were seeing someone new. Never what happened during or after. Not to mention, he was supposed to be like you, heartbroken. He tried to copy your mannerisms– slumped into the couch, relaxed face– he even went as far as to try and tell himself to copy the tone in your voice.

But all he felt was guilt for playing into Tito's scheme and a genuine need to talk to you about what happened. He just didn't know how to go about it.

Your phone rang before he could ask you the dreaded 'how are you feeling' question, and you sighed, digging your phone out of your pocket and putting your wine glass down on the table. "What, Anthony?"

Mat held back his laughter as he took a sip of his wine. One thing was for sure, your attitude towards your brother hadn't changed from pre-breakup. He looked at you, your eyebrows knitted together as you brought your hand up to your forehead, rubbing it. "What do you mean? Is my stuff–" you sighed, closing your eyes. "No, you won't get electrocuted if you–"

He reached out, bumping his elbow against yours and raising an eyebrow. "Everything okay?"

You looked at him, shaking your head as you pulled your phone away from your ear. "He forgot his wallet at home and went back to the apartment– I guess something leaked and my bathroom and room are flooded."

Mat had to act like he was surprised, but if anything he was pissed. This was the one scenario that they didn't agree on– simply because it wasn't fucking plausible. "Well have you talked to him? Maybe there's–"

Your head fell back against the cushion and you closed your eyes, sighing. "I didn't leave a faucet on, I didn't even go into my bathroom before we– can you stop interrupting me?"

He could hear Tito rambling on through the other side of the phone, no doubt barely giving you time to talk because he didn't want you to fill in the gaps of his fake story. "Well, where am I supposed to go?"

Mat chewed on his bottom lip, bringing the glass up to his lips as he knew this was when Tito was suggesting that you stay with him. He couldn't look at you because the guilt was taking over. He could tell you were stressed and obviously, Tito hadn't been exaggerating at just how bad you were after the breakup with Jeremy. And if he looked at you any longer, the guilt would swallow him up and he'd cave in and tell you everything.

"No, I'm not asking–" you sighed, taking a few deep breaths and exhaling before speaking again. "Because Anthony, it's rude! "

Mat felt like reaching over and grabbing your phone, ending the plan then and there. But again, he knew that the Beauvillier sibling dynamic was a lot different than any other one. Tito knew when to stop pushing, you were his sister after all. So, he sat next to you, sipping on his wine and waited for you to ask the question they'd been pushing you to do all along.

"Can you just...ask, please?" His eyes went wide the moment he heard the emotion in your whispered reply. "I can't just...move everything, I don't even have everything. It's all at Jer–" you stopped yourself, sitting up and hunching over, resting your head in your free hand. "And he said that's all that was available?"

He kept sneaking looks at you from the corner of his eye, trying to gauge whether or not the emotion in your voice was leading to tears. He brought his phone out of his jacket, opening to type a message to Tito.

"Fine, I'll...I'll just ask," he froze as you turned to him, holding your phone away from your ear. "Hey Mat?"

He placed his phone face down and away from your sight of vision you couldn't see that he was about to send a text to Tito. "Yeah?" Yikes, that wasn't casual enough. "What's up?" Better.

You were holding back tears and for the first time, he could see the dark circles beneath your eyes, still peaking out from whatever make-up you had put on that morning. Yeah, this plan wasn't good– this on was definitely a punch in the gut. "Do you think I could stay here? I don't have much and I–"

"Yeah, no," he cleared his throat. "No, I mean yeah...you can. I've got the guest bedroom."

You nodded, looking away from him and brought the phone back up to your ear. "There, happy?"

Oh, you have no idea how happy Tito was, was all that Mat could think as he brought his phone back out. "Can I at least come and get some stuff to– Yeah...okay. Yeah, see you."

You hung up the phone and your head fell back against the cushion, eyes closed. Mat looked at you, wondering whether or not he should dare to see if you were okay. He started to reach a hand out to nudge your arm when his phone vibrated.

Tito: IT WORKED! I'M FREE!

Tito: well...at least for the next week i am. i’ll need to figure out another excuse for the extra week i guess.

Mat: dude...i don't think this is a good idea. y/n's like...really emotional right now.

Tito: AND I'M GOING ON A TWO WEEK DRYSPELL.

Mat: okay, get laid tonight and let her come back.

Tito: nope. i'm using all seven days of this time and look on the bright side, now you'll get the guestroom done faster than you planned.

Mat: are you at least coming back with the pizza?

Tito: no, just her clothes. caroline is coming over in an hour.

He laughed in disbelief, shaking his head as he looked at you– still lying in the same position from when you hung up the phone.

Mat: dude, you so owe me one.

Tito: 👍🏻

Mat put his phone back into his jacket pocket and turned to you. He was sure that the movement on the couch would have been enough to get you to open your eyes– but you didn't budge. He reached out and nudged your arm and you opened your eyes and turned to look at him. "What do you think about Chinese?"

"Let me guess, he's not getting the pizza?" You asked, drained of any energy.

Mat bit the inside of his cheek, shaking his head. "No, he said they were packed," the lie was a lot better than telling her the truth. "If you're not feeling Chinese, we can go to Chipotle?"

"I don't know," you sighed, picking up the wine glass and taking a long sip. "Do you think we'd miss him?"

Not in a million years. Even if they did, he'd just drop the bag of belongings in front of Mat's door, no doubt.

"I'll buy you a large guac and a large queso," He smiled, shrugging his shoulders. "Free of charge."

"You had me at large guac." You looked at him and then back at your wine glass, downing the rest before placing it back onto the table and turning towards Mat. "Besides, he's the one who didn't bother to offer me the couch in the new 1 bedroom he'd be staying in until everything is fixed. He can wait a few extra minutes if we're not back in time."

Mat just nodded, standing up with you and playing into your mood. "Yeah, fuck that guy."

You laughed, and for the first time since he walked into yours and Tito’s apartment...he saw you smile. He felt proud of himself for being able to cheer you up in some way. And maybe, he thought, if Tito wasn't going to look out for you...he could.

It was only for seven days, how bad could it be?

#mathew barzal #mathew barzal imagine #mathew barzal writing #mathew barzal oneshot #new york islanders #new york islanders imagine #new york islanders oneshot #new york islanders writing #hockey oneshot #hockey imagine #hockey writing #my writing

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waitlifted · 2 years

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here it is, the promised post on cassandra and periods! honestly this subject should not be so taboo imho, it's a natural thing nearly 50% of the population experiences. and like I know making posts about it on my small tumblr blog isn't exactly making a huge difference but hey. if she's dealing with it once a month it's enough of an element of her life that it's worth touching on.

still under the cut for menstruation and related topics like fertility and puberty (which while normal can have trauma attached for some, hence the read more)

cassandra was woefully unprepared for her first period. she didn't know what was happening, just that when she was going throughout the day she kept getting this gross stomachache sensation— but when she went to change out of her clothes at night she saw the blood and started to panic, running to her dad for help. he had to very awkwardly explain it to her as best as he could (which was not well, as this was the closest he had to any personal experience as well— he knew of the concept but like many cis men was deeply uneducated about the details).

given that he was not much help with how to deal with it— he knew it was a regular thing, but not what to do about it— he wound up awkwardly roping in one of the older maids into helping her. that was very uncomfortable, talking about something so very private and taboo with someone who she only knew in passing, but at least it was helpful to know that she wasn't alone in it and that there were known ways to deal with it.

judging by the historical research I did, cass would likely have been using rags tucked into her underwear to catch the blood, rinsing it out every so often and reusing it. there were no tampons back then, but even if there were she couldn't use them anyways (for those that don't follow my r18 blog: cassandra deals with vaginismus and that would include problems with using tampons). modern verse uses pads as well for the same reason, just disposable ones as is more era appropriate.

her periods are very irregular. she has a hard time tracking them, meaning they can catch her off guard— she's started to realize any time she gets that feeling in her gut that she better make some time promptly to check she's not bleeding all over herself. this also includes the blood flow— it can be very heavy one day, calling for a changing of the rag multiple times that day, and the next day be weak and spotty.

her cramps are probably in the medium range: not "holy shit take me to the hospital I'm dying" bad, but definitely not easy, especially since her dad kinda shrugs it off and goes "you have to work anyways". she also can get more short tempered from that + the hormone imbalance at the beginning of her cycle, but since she's already a fairly grumpy person people tend to barely notice, and when they do they usually don't attribute it to anything besides "she must be having a bad day".

this isn't technically a menstruation hc but it's related and I can't imagine I'll get to share it anywhere else so: cass is infertile. she doesn't ever find out— she's a medieval lesbian with vaginismus who honestly finds the idea of pregnancy terrifying— but because of her unusual birth circumstances her DNA is not stable enough to produce viable offspring. her body menstruates anyways because it did not get the memo apparently.

like basically everything else about her body, it shuts down during the moonstone stuff. probably a good thing since the black rock armor didn't come off so y’know. hygiene issues.

#ooc.#waiting in the wings (hc.)

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weakeninghope · 3 years

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Clean freak

Pairing: Joseph Joestar/Caesar Anthonio Zeppeli

Rating: Explicit

AO3 link here

Summary:

So Joseph starts working on his plan. If his room was out of the question, even if they shared the bathroom, he’d lock himself on there and jerk off in the shower. He’s sure that no matter the excuse he makes up Caesar is going to butt into it and ask him about it, but he’s too stressed to preoccupy himself further with this issue. He’ll just say that he is tired and needs some stress relief.

Fuck, no, forget about that. “Stress relief” can easily give out that he’s talking about jerking off, and he definitely doesn’t want Caesar to know, or even think that he’s planning on jerking off (even if the thought of the blonde getting the hint is a little bit arousing).

Maybe he could say that he’s thought about his personal hygiene and that Caesar has always been right when he’s told him that he should take better care of his body? That’s it. If he says that, even if Caesar tells him “I told you so” and pesters him about it, he’ll have a magnificent excuse.

Joseph has always been an excellent strategist, after all.

Notes:

Hello! long time no see, right?

This has been sitting in my drafts for months... but I have a job now and I've been really stressed, plus fighting against depression and anxiety, which has proven to be really complicated. Anyway, hope you enjoyed the first chapter! I'm going to upload the next (and last) one as soon as I can hehe

if you want to talk to me or request something you can hit me up in:

Tumblr: @weakeninghope Twitter: @Tsumikans

Thank you for reading! As always, kudos and comments are much appreciated <3

Excuse me for the OOC and grammar mistakes, I’m a poor Spanish person doing their best ;_;

fic under the cut!

After a really long day of training, Joseph collapses against his bed, not even bothering to take a shower first. He’s sweaty, and he’s one hundred per cent sure that if Caesar were to find him in this state, he would call him gross and tell him to take a shower already.

But it wasn’t that easy. Even if they had separate rooms, they still had to share the bathroom, and Caesar was always the one to shower first, and he took his sweet time. Joseph doesn’t understand why, because his hair is short, so he doesn’t have to take long washing it, and, theoretically, Caesar’s clothes are covered in something soapy that always smells good, so he shouldn’t be that sweaty, or at least, he didn’t feel sweaty. But he knows Caesar is a clean freak, and he probably has an obsession with smelling nice all the time, probably to charm a lady or something like that. If his stomach churns at that thought, Joseph pretends not to notice it.

What is hard not to notice though, are all the small details in Caesar. He spends most of the time wrestling with him and in really close contact with the blond, so of course he’s noticed small details about his body.

The first thing he noticed were his pink birthmarks, he had been wondering what exactly they were ever since they first met, but their first meeting wasn’t exactly casual, so he wasn’t going to say “hey, asshole I’ve just met, what are those things in your cheeks?”. He’s never asked Caesar about them, and he’s never brought up the subject on purpose either. Still, he wonders how they would feel against his hands.

The second thing he noticed about Caesar was how expressive he was, overall, but mostly how everything he was feeling was reflected in his eyes. Joseph hated to admit that, but Caesar was a guy with charisma, and his eyes sparkled with an enigmatic sheen that honestly, he understood how they could make any woman crazy. It made him crazy as well. It really wasn’t funny at all, how often he’d fall on his butt or on his face while they were wrestling just because he looked at Caesar in the eyes and he’d found the blond staring right back at him, conveying all the right emotions, conveying all the raw honesty and fire in their encounter. But looking anywhere but Caesar’s eyes wasn’t an easy task either, probably because Joseph had always been really observant, and Caesar Zeppeli had plenty of… quality material to offer. Quality material. Joseph cringes at his own thoughts as he squeezes his pillow, trying to keep his thoughts from wandering to dangerous and uncharted territory.

But he fails miserably, obviously.

The third thing he noticed about Caesar was his… clothing choices. It isn’t as if they were bad. Just… weird. But not a bad kind of weird. Just a kind of weird Joseph hadn’t felt before. Because the bastard insisted on wearing those incredibly short and tight tops that Joseph himself also used to wear, but that was a completely different story, seeing them on someone else, seeing them on Caesar, was a completely different story. The first few outfits he’d seen on the other boy were completely horrendous, but as a few days passed, he seemed to find them less ugly. That, or he was just enjoying himself too much.

Which brings up the fourth thing he noticed about Caesar. How fucking ripped he was. And considering Joseph was almost 6’5 feet tall and built like a goddam wrestler, that was a compliment, but he wasn’t going to tell that to Caesar, that might boost the bastard’s ego further. In all honesty though, Joseph started to let himself be pinned down by Caesar more often than not, to see how it feels, and it took every ounce of his mental control not to sport a boner right then and there, because if he got hard thinking about Caesar that meant that he had to get off, and the walls of his room were ridiculously thin, and he didn’t want to risk the blond hearing him moan. In other circumstances (if he weren’t dangerously close to death and with two deadly rings inside his organs) he’d think about his sexuality. But honestly, he couldn’t care less right now. The person he lusted after right now was Caesar, and what if Caesar was a man?

And maybe… maybe he didn’t only lust after Caesar. Maybe he felt… something more.

But his feelings were really hard to approach when he had to spend every single one of his days in close contact with Caesar. To tell the truth, he was kind of proud of himself that he has managed to control his desires until now, it would have been really unfortunate if he hadn’t succeeded and a boner had appeared between his legs during training. Caesar would certainly never let him live it down, even if Joseph never told him that it was because of him; but since Caesar was the self-centered bastard he was we would start questioning him about his dirty thoughts, and this kind of conversation was not on the list of topics he wanted to discuss with Caesar.

That’s it. He had to get off. At least once, because if he kept going this pent-up he would be even more unfocused in his training sessions and he could not risk it because his life, Caesar’s life, hell, humanity was in danger.

Joseph has always been an excellent strategist, after all.

So that’s it. Tomorrow he will tell Caesar that he wants to shower first because he can’t stand to be his sweaty and dirty self anymore. And there, in the private space of the shower he will be able to think about Caesar as much as he wants, having the knowledge that Caesar has showered there some time prior.

Anyway, he doesn’t want to think about it that much now because it wouldn’t be the first time a boner appears between his legs at the thought of Caesar in the shower, because every time training is over and they retire to their rooms, Joseph lays down on his bed trying to stop himself from getting more turned on than he should, and Caesar, always, at the same time, knocks on the door and tells him that he’s going to the shower.

And today is no exception. In fact, in five minutes approximately, Caesar is going to come to knock on his door and tell him that the bathroom is going to be occupied for at least an hour. Why does Caesar need that much time, Joseph doesn’t know, but it’s always been like this. The good thing is that when Caesar leaves and Joseph goes there to take a shower himself or to just take a piss. He wonders if Caesar washes his hair more than twice and spends the rest of the time carefully impregnating his body with his body gel that smells like wild berries. He can easily imagine it, Caesar locking the door of the bathroom, putting his towel and a fresh set of clothes on top of the bathroom cabinet, not quite close to the shower but not far either. Then he would remove his headband, leaving his hair sticking out in different directions and tousled as if he had just woken up. Joseph wonders how Caesar would look with unkempt hair, or even how would Caesar look outside of his usually calm and composed demeanor. But since he knows that Caesar can’t stand a single second like that, he wouldn’t linger more than the necessary time in taking his clothes off, which is, in reality, such a pity, because Joseph knew for sure that it would be really enjoyable to watch. It would put on a great show to say the least. And that would only be the starting point. Because one thing that Joseph knows and doesn’t need to see to confirm his suspicions (even if he would very much like to) is that Caesar would take his time to put his dirty clothes on the basket for Suzie Q to take when he left, instead of leaving them scattered on the floor like Joseph always does. Which means that there is a time lapse in which Caesar is naked and not in the shower.

God. This is really not helping Joseph’s determination to wait until tomorrow to jerk off in the shower.

And once Caesar stepped into the shower, he would have to wait a while for the heater to kick in, so that’s more time of naked Caesar without the shower. But when the heater kicked in and Caesar stepped into the warm water maybe he would release a hum of satisfaction once it hit his exhausted body. The warm droplets would slide down his skin, his dampened hair would stick to his nape and his wet hands would caress his body to release the stress and tension from his muscles. Then he would grab the shampoo and carefully thread his fingers in to his hair and massage his scalp to make sure his hair is thoroughly taken care of soaking up every fiber and enjoying the fact that, after an arduous day of training, he can wash the sweat and the dirt of his hair. Joseph is sure that, considering the amount of effort Caesar must put into selfcare (not only his hair, but his skin too) he must be really soft, in all places possible. If he closes his eyes he can vividly picture it, His hand finding its way to Caesar’s hair, threading his fingers into golden locks, and the other hand caressing his face, soft, pleading skin as the result oh skincare and expensive shower gel and shampoo. After his hair is washed up, he would start with his body, bubbly soap in his arms, his face, his long, muscular legs, his abs, everything this perfect body has to offer, standing naked under the water as the stream washes the soap off and Caesar relaxes… exposed skin under warm droplets…

Every possible bit of skin, even those that Joseph hasn’t seen yet…

How would it feel if Joseph were to…?

… Stop it before it’s too late, Joseph thinks.

But maybe it is too late because in these five minutes Joseph’s head has been full of thoughts of Caesar practically rubbing himself in the shower and, as it was destined to happen, Joseph has now a growing tent between his pants, and thinking of Caesar stepping into the shower again this afternoon to repeat the process that Joseph has pictured in his head only spurred him on even further.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to… just a little…

So Joseph carefully brings his right hand to his crotch, and even through the barrier of his clothes he just groans at the contact, and abandoning himself to his instincts, he begins rubbing himself through his trousers, pleasure making its way to his brain and transporting himself to another reality where he can fantasize about Caesar as much as he wants.

Wait.

Caesar? Was that his voice?

“Jojo!” Comes Caesar’s voice through his door. He’s demanding, which means that he’s probably knocked before and Joseph didn’t realize, too busy pleasuring himself. “Since you’re not answering, I’m going to come in to make sure you’re here and that you didn’t remove your mask or do anything funny.”

Shit.

Joseph has literally a few seconds to flip his position and lay face down the bed (as uncomfortable as that is) to hide his raging erection. He grabs a comic book from his nightstand and picks a random page to pretend he’s reading, and then Caesar steps into his room, probably to make sure that he’s wearing his mask.

“Oh, so you’re reading one of those lame comics of yours” Caesar chastises, trying to make Joseph to turn around to look at him, plus stepping closer to him so now he’s standing close to Joseph’s face, if the former tilts his head just a bed he will be able to see him. But that won’t happen. Caesar mustn��t see what Joseph is hiding. In no way whatsoever. So he pretends not to hear him and flips through his comic.

“Jojo, are going to keep ignoring me? Are you angry because you lost again today? Oh, come on, I didn’t take you for such a baby” Caesar taunts. He’s definitely trying to pick up a fight. And Joseph has enough of that. So he turns his face slightly.

And that’s when he sees it.

Caesar is half naked. He’s only wearing a towel, covering his nether region. His torso is full on display, his chiseled abs at plain sight. His pale skin shining with sweat. The sight is so breathtaking that Joseph even ignores that he reeks of sweat. From this angle he can’t even see his face, which he doesn’t know if it’s for better or for worse.

“So, you can’t bother to even look at me?” Caesar inquiries, still trying to taunt Joseph. The brunet doesn’t even know which game Caesar is trying to play, coming to his room half naked like that and pretending Joseph to stare at his face ignoring that, were the towel to full, everything about the blonde would be full on display.

“I have already had my fill of your ugly face, thank you.” Joseph retorts, returning his attention to his comic. Stay calm. Caesar will eventually leave, and this will be over.

Then Caesar crouches besides the bed, and Joseph turns upon hearing his knees crack.

Their eyes crash. Joseph can’t stand the enigmatic sheen of those green eyes for more than two seconds, and averts his eyes. In other circumstances, he would have no problem to participate in a battle of stares, being confident in his victory, but with a tremendous boner between his legs and the object of his desires a few centimeters away from him, he would rather this to end.

“Your next words will be ‘I’m going to use the shower, make sure to wash your dirty body when I come out’” Joseph lets go, staring at his comic. He knows that now Caesar will leave, and fortunately, he will have some alone time to enjoy himself. Fuck his plan to do it tomorrow. An emergency is an emergency.

“I’m going to use the shower, make sure to wash your dirty body when I come out” Caesar spits, even though there’s no malice in his voice, he’s just tired of Joseph’s antics. With no further ado, he gets up, leaves Josephs room and heads to the bathroom.

Joseph rolls into his bed and now, face up again, looks down at his crotch.

The boner is still there, and knowing what Caesar is going to do now…

Usually, when Caesar goes to the shower, Joseph hears him lock the bathroom door, he’s usually very quick doing this, because he knows Caesar enjoys his privacy more than anyone else, but today, Joseph still hasn’t heard the lock.

So that’s when he has an idea.

It’s a very dangerous idea, but it’s worse to fail than not to try at all. And just a peek won’t hurt.

Yeah, that’s it. He’s too horny to function though, in other circumstances he’s sure that this wouldn’t happen, but it’s too late to be a rational human being right now.

That’s it, he’s made up his mind. Joseph carefully stands up and, boner still standing proudly between his legs, removes his shoes from his feet and carefully walks to the bathroom, which is between Caesar’s room and his.

As he suspected, the door isn’t locked. In fact, it’s slightly open. Not half open or something like that, but it’s enough to see something if you try hard enough.

And, indeed, he does see something.

He catches a glimpse of Caesar’s ass when he removes his pants. It looks so plump, so inviting. And he can hear Caesar humming a song in Italian, an unknown song he has heard him hum before, and, as he had imagined many times prior, when he steps into the shower, even if he disappears from Joseph’s sight, Caesar hums in satisfaction. And that’s when Joseph loses it. He makes a mad dash to his room, and, T-shirt still on and all brings his pants and underwear to his knees.

Ready to start pleasuring himself, Joseph brings his hand to his cock, ready to start pumping.

He almost releases a moan at the long desired contact, but someone beats him to it. He hears a voice which is not his own release a sweeet, pent-up moan.

Joseph stops dead in his tracks because the only person who could do this is Caesar. How loud must he be moaning for Joseph to hear him through the sound of the water running down his skin? But still, the walls of these rooms are ridiculously thin, and the bathroom door isn’t locked so…

Well, hearing Caesar moan isn’t what he was expecting but it’s a sign that he has to jerk off now, that he can’t wait anymo-

“Jojo…”

What? Maybe he’s hearing things…

“J-Jojo…”

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Caesar is a room away, jerking off to him?

Joseph’s cook is already flushed red, precum falling onto his stomach, and he has only touched it.

So this is what Caesar Zeppeli is doing to him.

Screw self-control, Joseph has had enough of that. How is he supposed to control himself when this is happening.

So he doesn’t waste any more time and starts pumping his length. He starts nice and slow, still hearing Caesar’s moans. Every time he hears his name Joseph can only close his eyes and imagine that it’s Caesar’s hand on his cock, driving him crazy. Or even Caesar’s clock sliding against his, the friction too much for Joseph to handle. He’s sure that were him to do this with Caesar (if sex was on the table) he wouldn’t last very long. His hand feels rough and calloused against his dick, but it feels amazing. He hasn’t felt like this in a long time, probably because since he’s here he hasn’t had the chance to jerk off properly, and now he’s dragging the moment as much as he can.

But this isn’t enough. He wants more.

So he slides a hand under his t-shirt to caress his nipples, long, circular motions at his buds, once again, imagining that it’s Caesar who is doing this. He also pictures how it would feel like, to have his moist tongue lapping there and sucking hard. He wants to feel Caesar eating him whole. He wants to feel Caesar on top of him, roughly grabbing his hands, putting them over his hands, tying him up so Joseph can’t move, wants Caesar to tell him that he’s being a good boy, wants to cum for Caesar.

Joseph’s hand starts speeding up his pace, and, apparently, Joseph has no control over his voice, even if he’s trying to muffle his moans through his hands, because when he reaches his climax and he’s teetering over the edge, a long, erotic “Caesar” escapes his mouth.

And that’s when he realizes that he’s left the door of his room open.

#jjba #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #caejose #Joseph Joestar #Caesar Anthonio Zeppeli

23 notes · View notes

nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 4 years

Text

Imagine:

Erik cuddling with Reader while she is on her period/having sex with Reader while she is on her period.

Warnings: FLUFF, SMUT, mentions of blood, cuddling, College Boy Erik.

Y/N woke up from an hour nap with her books at the foot of her bed. She was in the middle of studying for her Bio Chemistry class that she had to take as a prerequisite for Dental Hygiene. The pain is what woke her up after tossing and turning. Sharp, painful cramps sprang to life out of nowhere causing her to wince in pain while reaching down to rub her lower belly. Y/N pauses, picking up her phone to check her period app.

“Seriously? I thought this devil was coming tomorrow. Screw probation.”

Y/N called it probation because she couldn’t get any dick that she would surely crave since her menstrual days are her horniest days. Y/N groans, lifting out of her bed carefully in the loose fitted grey sweatpants that her boyfriend, Erik, left when he spent the night a few nights ago. That wasn’t the only thing he left. His durags, t-shirts, sneakers, and some hoodies were in her room as well. Y/N stood up with her shoulders slouched forward and her body feeling weak. Sure enough, as she pulled the waistband to Erik’s sweats, fresh crimson blood stained the crotch area of the pants heavily. Y/N then turned to the bed to see a stain in her white sheets. She was used to this. She wore underwear and certain clothes for things like this but this time around she wasn’t prepared. Frustration flowed through her veins as she walked with her knees buckled to the bathroom for another shower.

Y/N reaches under the sink to grab the peroxide so she could soak and scrub the blood from Erik’s sweats. Stripping naked, she felt the fresh blood trickle down her inner thighs since she always had a heavy flow during her menstrual cycle. Rushing so she wouldn’t stain the new white faux fur rug that she purchased for her bathroom, Y/N steps into the shower the blood only splattering on the edge of the tub. She made the water run hot while she lazily stood under it, staring at the wall and hugging her lower belly. All she wanted right now was a rub of Haagen Dasz coffee ice cream, some herbal tea, her favorite long u-shaped plush pillow that Erik purchased for her and watch crap TV. Another thing Y/N craved was her man’s big, strong arms wrapped around her while he rests his chin on her shoulder. Erik’s rubs to her belly always soothes the ache she felt. Then he gave Y/N soft kisses to her cheek and forehead. She was going to text him when she gets out of the shower.

———————

Pain on 1000, Y/N twists painfully from side to side in her freshly made bed. Erik didn’t reply to her cry for help. Where was her big strong boyfriend when she needed him? Then, it dawned on her. He had an evening course for school since he was going back to become an MRI Technologist. His evening hours where from 6PM to 9PM. It was currently 8:45PM. In the fetal position, Y/N whimpers, tears forcing out of the corners of her eyes like a pipe ready to burst because of how hard she squeezed her eyes. All the medicine in the world couldn’t stop her from being in pain.

As if Erik could hear her cries, Y/N’s phone vibrated with an incoming call. She reached out for her phone from its wireless charger on her bed, hitting the green button to accept his call.

“Baby, baby, where are you?” She spoke before he could even say what’s up or what’s wrong.

“I’m driving, class got out early. Everything okay, love?” Erik asks with concern.

“I need you,” She spoke softly with a whimper, “Can you come be with me?”

“I was going to do that anyway,” Erik chuckles, “I haven’t seen you since a few nights ago I need my baby girl.”

“Good, because my period decided to creep up on me and I’m having cramps right now. I need you to cuddle me and rub my belly.”

“Aww, Damn, no loving for me then, huh?”

“Sorry, Erik,” Y/N’s body tenses up from another affliction that made her tear up more.

“It’s okay. Did you need me to bring anything before I come over?”

“Just some ice cream. The coffee kind.”

“Bet, my sweats still over there, right?”

Y/N knew that he would ask about that. She had them in her washer right now. The blood successfully came out but it took a lot of effort.

“Um...about that-“

“You stained them?”

Y/N felt embarrassed. She didn’t want Erik to think that was disgusting.

“I’m so sorry, I’ll buy you another pair-“

“Girl, chill out. I don’t care about all that I just wanted to know if I needed to make a stop at my place before I came to you. Don’t trip, I don’t give a fuck about that shit.”

Y/N giggles while rolling over into her back, “some guys do-“

“Well, I ain’t some guys, I’m Erik, and I don’t think it’s gross.”

Y/N blushes while biting her lip, “Thank you,” she spoke timidly.

“Always, baby, listen, I just pulled up to 7-eleven I’ll let you know when I’m close, okay?”

“Okay, love you,” Y/N smiles.

“Love you too.”

She adored him.

—————————

Erik Stevens had a key to his girls apartment. He opened the door, stepping inside of her darkened living room. The chain lock secured, Erik takes off his sneakers by the door, heading into the kitchen to grab a spoon for her ice cream. Erik walked down the narrow hallway leading to her bedroom, finding Y/N on the bed laying on her right side staring at the TV. She was currently watching Family Fued. She had on a long plaid buttoned shirt that Erik remembers her purchasing from Good Will since she loved thrifting. Her big brown eyes went from sad to happy in a millisecond when she saw her man. She hopes up onto her knees, arms out like she was a toddler asking to be picked up. Erik smirked, walking over to his girl, bringing his arms around her waist and picking her up from the bed so she could straddle him. Her lips found his, kissing him gently at first before the taste of his tongue took over her senses, her kisses more forceful. Erik’s hands ran over her ass, palming it and squeezing it. She made sounds of pleasure in his mouth, her eyes closed.

“How is my baby feeling?” Erik looked up at her, “You look like you need all my love right now.”

“I do,” Y/N played with one of the strings of Erik’s hoodie, “I need my big, strong man.”

“Aww, my baby is so needy right now,” Erik kisses her forehead, “Come on, let’s get you on the bed.”

Erik lays Y/N down delicately before walking away towards her closet. He removes his khaki colored hoodie, revealing a loose fitted white tee underneath since he has so much muscle mass. He had on another pair of sweats too, the same design except they were black. His kinky fro was covered in a beanie but he snatches that off, using the tips of his fingers to pull out his curls. Y/N always found watching Erik undress to some degree satisfying. Erik comes back to the bed, bringing the 7-eleven bag with him and the spoon. He grabs the ice cream, removing the seal, and sank the fork directly in the middle for her to have at it. Y/N sits up, Erik wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her over in one motion so she would lean against him while his arms rubbed her belly. She went limp against him, making sounds of pleasure and relief to finally have her ice cream and her man.

“Are you going to spend the night with me?” Y/N asks in a sweet voice, “I don’t think I would be able to sleep if you weren’t here.”

“Yeah, baby,” Erik looked from her tongue licking the ice cream from the spoon to her angelic brown eyes, “I’ll keep you nice and warm.”

Y/N giggles, scooping some more ice cream, “You treat me like a princess.”

“It’s because you are.”

Y/N wasn’t helping situations. She smelled like coconut oil, touching her belly made him want to rip the buttons on her plaid shirt so he could see her naked body, the way her curly hair tickles his chin and neck from the pineappled fro she had made his body shiver, and loved to bat those pretty brown eyes at him which got her whatever she wanted. He was horny for her. No sex since a few nights ago. That’s always how it was. Erik craved Y/N every second of every day. Now, his dick was hard and tenting the front of his black sweats. This night was about her and making her feel better but every little thing she did made him horny.

“What do you wanna watch,” Y/N looked over into his eyes, “We can watch Blade.”

“Sure,” Erik was always down to watch that it was a favorite of his, “I really just want to feel your ass on my dick while we cuddle.”

“Baby...stop it,” Y/N rolls her eyes. She was already horny just from him rubbing her belly, “You can’t talk like that when I’m on my period.”

“I can’t help that I’m hard right now and that I need some.”

“You are not helping,” Y/N places the ice cream on her side table in her room, “okay, let’s cuddle.”

Erik helps Y/N down on the bed, pulling the comforter over them both before pulling her close with his big arm. The second Y/N’s ass hit his dick, Erik’s nose went into her curls and his jaw tightened. His hand ran up and down her belly, eyes watching her lashes move up and down from her blinking while she puts on the movie. Erik pushes his dick further between her cheeks, eliciting a tiny moan from Y/N.

“Babyyy,” She complains, “Stop.”

Erik kisses his teeth, “Didn’t you tell me that masturbating and sex helps with cramps?”

“I did,” Y/N looks over her shoulder and back at Erik, “what are you suggesting?”

“I want to have sex so I can make you feel better.”

“Baby...that’s gross,” Y/N chuckles, “Plus, I’m not in the mood I just want to cuddle and be near you.”

“You are in the mood,” Erik reaches up to pinch one of her nipples, “That’s reason number one. Reason number two I can’t figure out since you don’t want me down there.”

“I’m wet regardless because I’m bleeding out,” Y/N cold feel it leaking as she spoke, “It’s messy and too much-“

“I don’t care. It’s a natural thing, Y/N. Period blood doesn’t bother me, girl.”

Y/N didn’t respond, she just turned her head back to watch TV. Even if she did say yes how would that feel? She thought about sex during her probation before but then that all ended because she assumed every guy wouldn’t be in to that. Here comes Erik Stevens, a guy who doesn’t give a fuck and who thinks pussy is pussy no matter what.

“Have you done this before, with another girl?” Y/N was curious.

“Nah. This would be my first time if you let me do it.”

Erik turns Y/N around to face him, using his fingers to stroke some hair from her eyes. Y/N knew that staring into those eyes would make her second guess the disgust she felt about having sex on her cycle. His fingers lightly stroked her lower belly directly over the area that hurt.

“The pain is right there,” Y/N spoke with a crease in her brows.

“Right here?” Erik rubs while looking her in her eyes.

“Uh-huh,” She bites her lip, “That feels good.”

“I can make you feel better though,” Erik pulls the waist band of her floral cotton panties, “Can I see?”

“Why?” Y/N felt her heart race.

“I just wanna see what makes you feel so icky. I wanna see why you’re shying away from me having sex with you.”

“Erik...it’s just not sexy,” She laughs nervously, “I’m bleeding-“

“I don’t care.” Erik reassures her.

“You are serious?” She couldn’t believe it for a second.

“YEAH,” He spoke with annoyance.

“I’m sorry it’s just-I just-I’m shocked I guess.”

Erik gave Y/N a soft smile, “I told you, I’m a different breed of man, Y/N. Consider yourself lucky.”

“Trust me, I do. Everyday.”

Erik leans forward to kiss her before trailing those soft kisses down her neck. He left a wet trail behind each time. Y/N’s body arched and she couldn’t tell the difference between wet pussy versus the blood. What she did feel between her legs however was a throb for attention. Her pussy felt neglected in all of this.

“So, what’s up then? Can you show me?”

Y/N looks away from Erik shyly, “Okay.”

Y/N watches as Erik pulls the comforter back from her legs, her panties revealed. His large hand cupped her pussy, rubbing it up and down. That felt amazing too. Y/N always felt a little sore down there during her cycle. Her legs opened further, her hands shaking from how nervous she was.

“Erik, maybe we shouldn’t-“

“STOP.” He ordered her.

“But, baby,” Y/N gasps when she felt Erik’s finger rub between her pussy lips over her panties.

“Shhh, cut it out,” Erik thumbed her clit, “Stop, tripping, okay?”

“Okay.”

Erik takes his fingers, pulling her panties down and over her knees. She has a tampon on right now. Her panties weren’t stained. Erik folds them and places them on the bed next to him.

“You okay?” He whispered to her.

“Yeah,” She could feel him using the tips of his fingers to spread her, “Baby, Wait, Wait...I have a tampon on,” She was overly bashful, “Why do you want to do this so much? I don’t feel confident.”

“You shouldn’t feel like that. I love you. All of you. I don’t care about blood, ma. It’s the same pussy I fuck when it’s not bleeding. Relax, baby. I got you, okay? Now, let me see.”

“Can I at least remove my tampon first?” Y/N sat up, thighs clenched so blood wouldn’t mess up the bed.

“Go ahead,” Erik helps her from the bed, “I’ll grab a few towels.”

He was dead fucking serious.

Y/N went to her bathroom, closing the door halfway and sitting on her toilet. She removes her tampon, wrapping it, and then throwing it in her trash can. Y/N nibbled on her bottom lip nervously. She wanted to try it and see if she liked it but on the other hand she didn’t want to make a mess and appear disgusting. Even though Erik said he did didn’t care there was still a small part of her that thought he did.

“Baby?” Erik’s voice could be heard calling out to her. He smooth, husky voice, “Do you need my help?”

“No, I’m coming,” Y/N wipes herself before flushing the toilet and washing her hands. Quickly, she made it back to the bedroom, Erik laying out black towels with the sheets pulled from the bed. He was in nothing but his black sweats, shirt off and tempting. She gets onto the bed, laying back on the towels with her thighs tightly shut.

“Are you gonna be difficult?” Erik questions with a raised brow, “Because I told you, I don’t give a fuck. Ain’t gonna stop me.”

“I’ll try not to be,” She spoke truthfully.

“Try really hard for me, okay?” Erik got onto his knees in the bed between her legs, “Now, spread your legs for me.”

With a shake of her thighs, Y/N opens them, her beautiful pussy spread open for Erik to see. She couldn’t look at him while he stared at her pussy. Y/N turned away, eyes closed. His silence is what made her close her thighs.

“Did I tell you to close your thighs?”

“No,” Y/N opened them again, “You just didn’t say anything-“

“It’s because I was admiring that pussy, ma. Stop reading into everything.”

“Ugh, okay,” She opens her thighs again, “Just...day something, anything.”

“It’s beautiful, even with the blood, it’s still beautiful.”

Y/N glances at Erik, “Really?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t lie to you, wouldn’t do you like that,” Erik takes his fingers to spread her more, “Fuck,”

“Huh?” She got up on her elbows, “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Erik didn’t remove his eyes from between her legs, “How could a nigga find this nasty? It ain’t nasty, it’s precious.”

“Erik,” Y/N couldn’t believe that’s how he felt.

“I’m so fucking horny right now,” Erik leans over Y/N while his fingers rubbed her clit, “Damn, baby, you’re so damn pretty down there.”

“Erik,” She couldn’t say much but his name. His free hand unbuttoned her shirt, her breasts with extra hard nipples ready to be sucked on.

“Keep saying my name like that. It’s only gon’ make my dick harder,” Lips sucked on her nipples, “You gon’ let Daddy fuck that pretty pussy to make you feel better?”

“Yes,” Her nipples were electrified from his licking and sucking.

“I just want my baby girl to feel better,” Erik picked up the speed of his fingers on Y/N’s clit.

“Mmm, fuck,” Y/N could feel her hips moving in tandem with his motions, “Erik-“

“What?”

“Fuck, Erik, that feels so good.”

“Your so messy on my fingers,” His teeth lightly grazed her left nipple, “Cum on my fingers, girl.”

“Please,” She begged him to keep going. Y/N was past the point of caring about her bleeding when Erik deliciously rubbed her hardened clit the way he did.

“Say my name again,” Erik ran his tongue up Y/N’s neck.

“Erik”

“Good girl. That pussy cumming ain’t it?”

“Uh-huh,”Y/N gasps and pants heavily, “Yes, I’m gonna cum, baby.” She bites down on her bottom lip as her release rocked through her. Her thighs closed around Erik’s hand. She could feel herself creaming on the towels.

“Damn,” Erik looks at his fingers covered in her wetness mixed with blood, “Fuck, baby, fuck.”

“Y/N reaches out to feel on Erik’s dick, “Umph, baby, it’s so fucking hard.”

“I know, that’s why I need you. You ain’t even gotta suck it,” Erik whips his fingers on the towel before getting off the bed to take of his sweats. He pulls out his wallet, grabbing one gold wrapped condom before crawling back onto the bed. Y/N watched Erik’s dick bounce up and down as it stood straight from how solid it is. He was fully erect, 100% rigid. All of that because of how much he needed to be inside of Y/N no matter how much she bled. Erik pulls Y/N’s thighs up and over his shoulders to decrease the amount of mess. With his dick in his grip, Erik slips inside, no resistance, just sliding right in because of how messy she is. It was so slippery from the blood and her natural lubricant. The sensation sent tingles from the tip of his dick all the way down to his heavy sack filled with cum. Erik looked down between her legs to see his condom covered dick crimson. He couldn’t stop himself from fucking her fast. That’s how good it felt.

Y/N could feel all of Erik inside her aching pussy. The slippery sex felt so damn good that Y/N couldn’t muster a word or a sound. She wanted to kick herself for not trying this before. She felt the exact same pleasure from when she wasn’t on her period but sloppier and wetter. The noises her pussy made turned her on so much. It was like music.

“Fuck, you feel so damn good, girl,” Erik mumbled in her ear, “oooooo I don’t wanna get out of this pussy.”

Y/N drags her nails down Erik’s back, “You don’t have to stop, Daddy, remember, you’re supposed to make me f-feel better,” Y/N’s eyes rolled shut.

“That pussy feeling better already,” He swiveled his hips deeper, “Mmm, girl, I wanna feel you cum on Daddy’s dick while I beat it up.”

“Yes, yes, Daddy, yes,” Y/N felt the pressure from his dick dragging over her G-spot and pulling on her clit, “Shit-shit, Daddy, that dick is on my G-spot, Umph, ima squirt-“

Y/N felt the rush of liquid fall to the towels and on Erik’s dick. Her hips moved up and down with his strokes because she needed to feel him inside of her.

“Keep still, let Daddy fuck you,” Erik held her hips in place, “Ain’t so disgusted now are you? The way you fucking me back let’s me know you don’t care about that silly shit. Who in this pussy?”

“Daddy-“

“Daddy a man, baby, Daddy ain’t no little boy. Daddy don’t give a fuck about some blood,” Erik felt her walls hug him, “mmmm, such a greedy little pussy.”

“YES!” Y/N gave herself to him. She couldn’t keep up with his strokes to her walls.

“Damn, you about to make Daddy bust a nut already?” Erik slows down, “This what you do to me, girl, you always get me like this. It don’t matter what you do, you always get Daddy’s dick hard.”

“Fuck, baby, you’re so big,” Y/N could feel her warm wet pussy leaking, “you feel so good inside of me.”

Y/N tightened her walls around Erik’s dick, pulling him further inside until his hips let hers. His groomed pubic hair was warm and wet from her blood mixed with her wetness. The more he tried to pull his dick out all the way to the tip, the more she pulled him back with her greedy pussy.

“You don’t want me to go huh? You like me in this pussy? You don’t care about making a bloody fucking mess on me? Answer me.”

“Fuck! No!” Y/N shook her head from side to side, “No, Daddy, I just want you to keep fucking me!”

Erik’s sweaty face rested on Y/N’s cheek while his fingers squeezed the fat of her thighs to keep her still and for leverage so he could pound her pussy. Slippery and messy, Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, an arm wrapping around Erik’s neck to hold on while he aggressively pounds her pussy.

“Daddy! Slow down! It’s gonna get everywhere!”

Erik completely ignored her.

“Fuck!!!!! Oh my God, oh, oh, shit, baby, fuck!!!” Y/N opened her mouth and her voice went mute. She beat the on Erik’s back weakly with her fist with her powerful release trying unsuccessfully to get him to slow down since she was overworked and sensitive.

“Baby, fuck, this precious little pussy on you got me cumming, “Y/N’s thighs almost choked him, “Stay fucking still.” He spoke through clenched teeth with a barely audible voice. Y/N stomached the deep penetration she felt and the way her walls tingled while Erik’s dick grew to a cum inspiring length. Filled and stretched, Erik grunts in Y/N’s ear as his cum shot into the condom, filling it up and damn sure almost breaking it with how much he exploded. It was like opening a cap on a shaken soda bottle.

“GODDAMN.” He was swimming in her tight pussy, “GODDAMN GIRL.”

Y/N looked towards the ceiling with disbelief.

“OH MY GOD,” Erik pulled his still hard dick out hesitantly. He still wanted to stay inside of her but his girl was whimpering. The condom was so tight around him from his cum stuffed inside. Erik could see Y/N’s cream coating her clit and labia and all of her menstrual blood mixed with her lubricant making her pretty pink pussy shine and glisten. Her outer lips were puffed and engorged from the beating Erik gave her. Watching her pussy convulse and jump, releasing more cream made Erik want to put on another condom, turn her over, and fuck that pussy some more.

“I actually feel better,” Y/N rubbed her sweaty belly, “I don’t feel the cramps anymore.”

“I told you, baby,” Erik leans forward to kiss her, “Now, you know how we can take care of that, right?”

“Yes,” She smiles weakly, “It was exactly what I needed.”

Erik leans over with a flex of his abs to see her fluids that stained his pubic area. The sight of it turned him on so much. Y/N sat up carefully, her thighs trembling. Even though her cramps were gone, her pussy still aches.

“I’ll run a bath,” Erik walked into the bathroom, flicking on the light and removing the condom. It was heavy with his cum. He grabbed some of Y/N’s natural soak with Aloe Vera, coconut oil, and lavender oil, placing it in her bath and spreading it around with his hand. He walks back to the room, spotting Y/N undressing.

“Come on, we’re taking a bath together.”

“How are you going to fit in my small ass tub. You know your much taller and bigger than me, Erik.”

Erik shrugs, “we’ll make it work. How do you feel though, you’re good?”

“I’m better. You just beat my pussy up, that’s all,” Y/N walks towards him with shaky knees, “Nothing I’m not used to from you, Daddy.”

Erik bites his lip at her, watching her walk past him before his hand reached out to lightly tap her but, “Mhm, that’s right. I’ll beat it up no matter what.”

#killmonger imagine #killmonger x reader #killmonger fanfiction #nahimjustfeelingit-writes #erik killmonger

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rovewritesit · 4 years

Text

Angel Of My Dreams (Chapter 3) John Deacon x Reader Series

Meant to get this out last night but I’m on call 24/7 for my job so ya know, life.

Series Summary: After reluctantly joining a band with your childhood best friends, you are thrust into oncoming stardom with no sea legs and an overwhelming sense of anxiety. But you just might find your way, thanks to some seasoned pros by your side. And the interest of one particular bassist.

This series is a work of fiction, and is loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 4

Pairing: John Deacon x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Strong language, you know the deal. Feelings of anxiety. Slightly sexual dialogue. Reader is kinda horny? Misogynistic comments towards reader.

Chapter Notes: I may have written out an ENTIRE episode of Pop Quiz before realizing that shoving music facts down your throats isn’t the best use of our time. Apologies if it got a bit disjointed in the trimming process. I work in TV so I just had to add in a cliche meet-cute. Sorry not sorry.

Song/Title Inspiration: Angel - Fleetwood Mac

Taglist: @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @brianmays-hair @deacyblues @squishy-geckboye

April 1982 - BBC Studios, London

“It’s not funny, Y/N! Stop laughing. You’re gonna ruin all my hard work!” Dawn chastises you as she sweeps a pale blue eye shadow across your lids, trying her best to complete your request to tone down your usual stage look.

You try to muffle your laughter, teetering on your chair set up in the spacious green room. It comes out as a wheeze, a soft whistle escaping through your nose. “I’m sorry, you said what!?”

“I kid you not, I took one look at his penis and said ‘What the fuck is that?”

A sharp laugh escapes from your mouth once again, failing miserably to prevent tears from leaking out of the corners of your eyes.

“I feel awful! It’s just that I had never seen one before,” Dawn whines.

“Okay, I know for a fact that’s not the first dick you’ve seen. Hell, even I’ve seen some of those. Like ships passing in the night as they raced out of your dorm bed,” you giggle.

“You know what I mean. I’ve never been with one that’s… intact.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, “Oh c’mon. Uncircumcised can’t be that different.”

“It wasn’t! I was just drunk and got spooked, I guess. It was actually kinda cute. Like it was wearing a little turtleneck or something.”

You lose it, yet again. Laughter falls freely from your lips, helping to alleviate the dreaded stress that has now become your constant companion these days. Appearing on a game show alone was not something you thought you’d have to tackle on your third day in London. You’re sure the boys were off exploring the sprawling city that none of you had stepped foot in prior to the trip.

Pop Quiz was apparently a big hit for the BBC, featuring a bevy of famous musicians battling out their knowledge of the industry. You’d never had the chance to watch, obviously not readily available to viewers back home, but a harried man had come in earlier to give you a basic rundown of the format. You were somewhat confident in your knowledge of music, having been a regular at your hometown’s local record shop, you just hoped it would be enough to keep you from making a fool out of yourself in front of an entire country. But your anxiety mostly stemmed from your upcoming appearance in front of the camera without the boys there to play off of.

“How was it, though? I heard they’re supposed to “feel better” or something like that,” your curiosity getting the better of you. “Ooo, was it curved? Sometimes that can be a great thing. Except for one I encountered that was going in the opposite way then you’d think. Like even it knew it should be running away from the dude.”

Dawn’s face screws into a pinch, “Was that Tyler... Wait, don’t tell me. Ew. And I wouldn’t know! The poor guy was so embarrassed he couldn’t even keep it up after that!”

“What a waste,” you sigh. “I thought I’d be at least getting some field research out of your antics. What did I even bring you to London for?” you joke as she holds a tissue out to blot your lips.

“Uh-huh. The day you do some “field research” of your own is the day I chop off my own hair,” she quips, narrowing her eyes at you.

You casually raise your right hand to flip her off. She wasn’t wrong; it had been a while since you’d been with anyone, let alone entertained the fact of jumping into a relationship. There were partners in the past, of course. A few geeky high school boys, a woman who worked at said hometown record store, and the occasional pretentious film kid while at NYU, who spoke condescendingly of women working in film but scratched an itch when needed.

“And there’s no time like the present! You know what they say. When in Britain…” Dawn trails off, failing to finish her bit.

You left eyebrow quirks, “Throw dental hygiene standards out the window?”

Her face twists in disgust again as she uncaps a can of Aqua Net. “Gross. Now close your eyes and shut up so I can be done with you.”

The spray sputters, emitting little from it. “Dammnit,” she curses, turning to rummage around her sprawling kit. “Of course, I didn’t pack a spare. I’ll be right back. Hopefully, their hair department has one we can borrow.”

She rushes from the room in a sweeping motion, knocking over a coffee that was precariously placed on your chair’s armrest in the process.

“Fuck me,” you breathe, jumping up, your white blouse now doused in caffeine.

You hurry to jog out of the room, trying to catch up with her. “Daw- Shit!”

Your face collides with a hard chest.

Two large hands grip your shoulders to stop your momentum. “Oh! Apologies,” comes a light voice from above, muffled by your full head of ringlets. You jerk your head away quickly, and your gaze lands on a pair of startled greyish, green eyes.

“S-sorry,” you stutter out. “Completely my fault.” You glance down to the hands that still rest on your shoulders for a moment before looking back up. The pair of eyes go wide, and the hands quickly retreat back to the man’s side.

The man being the bassist of Queen, John Deacon. You scold yourself for only having glanced at the day’s detailed itinerary this morning before heading out. How did I miss that one? Sweat begins to gather on your palms immediately.

“John Deacon,” he hesitantly smiles at you while extending a hand.

“Y/N L/N,” you squeak out as his hand engulfs yours, inwardly cringing at how moist it must feel. You hold it for a bit too long. “I’m one of the contestants on Team A today,” you yank your hand back to your side.

His brow knit together. “Oh? I was told I’d be with Nick Rhodes and Jon Moss today.”

You shift your weight uncomfortably from side to side, having yet to meet his eyes again. “Nick had to cancel, I believe. I’m a last-minute replacement.”

“Okay,” he replies with a tight smile. “Well, good then. I hope you’re ready,” he glances down, noticing the stain splashed across your top. “Or, at least close to it...”

“Huh?” you blurt out before realizing, looking down at your shirt. “Oh, yes. The reason I so rudely ran into you. I should go-” your eye catches something as they finally travel back up to his. “Aw, fuck.”

“Pardon?”

You grimace, pointing directly at his chest. Right to the giant imprint on his tight blue shirt. One that had been left by your bright red lipstick.

He follows your finger. “Ah! Will you look at that.”

“I am so, so sorry,” you rush out, absolute mortification seeping into your voice.

He dismisses your apology with a wave of his hand. “Not to worry. That’s what jackets are for,” he says, zipping up the oversized grey jacket slung around his shoulders. “And at least now I know this shade of red really isn’t my colour.”

You smile up at him, not really knowing what else to say—the full weight of your not-so-smooth first encounter with this man hitting you fast, as people squeezed around you two in the tight hallway. “I should go get fixed up,” you tell him, pointing your thumb back over your shoulder towards your dressing room, ready to make a quick exit.

“Alright. I’ll see you out there then. Cheers!” he smiles back with a wave of his hand, turning to find his own space to get ready.

You stand there watching him in a daze, mentally berating yourself for now having had two inappropriate run-ins with a member of Queen.

Dawn materializes into your field of vision, hands-on-hips.

“Honestly, what the hell. I left you alone for two minutes!”

- - - - - - -

20 minutes later, you follow a stagehand through the back of the soundstage, fidgeting with your outfit while trying not to crash into anyone else. Dawn’s top that she quickly switched with your own was cut much lower than you would’ve liked and left you feeling even more exposed than your current bout of nerves did.

You’re dumped onto the set with the point of a finger over to a tall man. Mike Read, the host of Pop Quiz, stands by a large desk, crew members bustling around him. You stick to your spot out of the way, not sure if to interrupt the conversation he’s currently having to introduce yourself.

You take in the spacious stage, never having been on a show of this size before. A wave of longing suddenly washes over you, yearning for days on set where you were a part of the crew that moved around you. While at school, you’d worked on several student films, usually as a 1st Assistant Director or Line Producer. You loved the pace of production. Keeping everyone on time, on budget. It was where you felt most confident. While there were a variety of different types of personalities on set, you found it exhilarating to be the one to settle disputes and help everyone stay on track. Your subtle superpower of putting out little fires everywhere you went. Never had it crossed your mind that you’d be on the other side of the camera one day.

“A change of wardrobe, I see,” a voice says from behind you, pulling you out of your daydream. You turn to catch John’s smirk, his eyes trained intentionally on your own.

“It would appear so,” you reply, glancing down at yourself quickly.

“Have you been introduced to Mike yet?”

“Nope. I was working up the courage,” you admit.

“C’mon,” he gestures for you to follow him as he strolls towards the man. “He doesn’t bite.” You follow, trailing behind his long strides as he daintily weaves between the many bodies in your path.

“John!” Mike exclaims as you both approach. “Good to see you, mate,” he claps him on the back.

“You too. Thanks for having me back,” John greets him cheerily. “And look, I brought a present. All the way from America, I’m assuming. Mike, this is--”

“Y/N L/N!” Mike says, a genuine smile forming. “I can’t tell you how happy I am that we fit you in.”

“Oh, thank you. I’m excited to be here,” you mumble as he brings you in for a hug.

“Can I just say, your video for Heart of the Night is absolutely outrageous. I thought my eyes were going to pop out my head when I’d learnt that MTV in the States had aired it,” he laughs. “Daring stuff, really.”

You feel a heat creeping up your neck as you try to accept the compliment. “Yeah, thanks. Glad to hear that you’re all a bit more relaxed in terms of watching the explicit murder of a teenage girl on your screens.” You immediately wince at your own bluntness.

You can’t help but peek over at John, curious if he’d seen the violent clip now making its rounds across UK television sets everywhere. He’s staring at you with eyebrows raised and his mouth hanging open slightly.

Great. He thinks I’m a lunatic.

“We certainly are!” Mike chuckles. “Have you been briefed on the logistics of how the taping will go?”

“Mhmm, I got the rundown from one of your producers.”

“Excellent. Well, you’ll be in good hands with John here heading your team,” he says, slinging an arm around the man’s shoulders and adjusting his large glasses with the other.

Good hands indeed, you think to yourself, remembering how large they felt when they gripped your shoulders earlier. No, stop that, you scold yourself.

“We’ll be getting started in just a few minutes if you’d both like to find your seats. And you’ll have to regale me with the gory details from that shoot of yours afterward,” he winks, gesturing towards your spots for the show. You turn to follow John to your side of the set.

“Oh, and Y/N!” Mike calls out. “I do hope you’re good. Deacon got absolutely spanked last time he was on.” You bring your hand up to your face to stifle your giggle. John makes a show of rolling his eyes but keeps walking. You notice his face is now tinged a lovely shade of pink.

“You must think I’m daft,” he says, turning to you slightly.

“Me? Oh no, I’m sure we’ll do great!” you reply, a bit too happily.

“No, no, not that,” he laughs lightly, his hand finding the back of his neck. “For not recognizing you during our... colourful meeting in the hallway. It seems you and your band left quite the impression on our dear Freddie.”

“Oh! That’s nice to hear. You can tell him he left quite the impression on us as well, but I’m sure he makes an impression on most everyone,” you shrug. “And don’t worry about it, please. It’s not as if I’m a part of the biggest band in Britain or anything,�� you tease. He smiles shyly. You catch the crinkles on the outer corners of his eyes before he turns them downwards.

You reach the long table on your designated side of the studio. There’s one on the other side mirroring it, with three somewhat familiar faces already sitting behind it. You glance at the empty seats before you, moving hesitantly towards them until John pulls out the closest chair, gesturing for you to sit. He gingerly pushes it under you as you lower yourself down.

“Thanks,” you mumble. He nods and moves to sit beside you.

There’s a loud bang to your right, causing you both to jump and look to the source; a large Grip gingerly picks up the c-stand he’s knocked over. John hovers above his chair, watching on as a producer shouts at the poor man, his waist now at your eye line.

You had never understood the fascination with men’s butts. That is, until now. The tight jeans John had on left little to the imagination. As if that would stop you. You shake your head back and forth as if to clear your thoughts. All of Dawn’s talk earlier must have you seriously whacked out.

“Are you alright?” John asks, now situated in his seat.

“Hm?” you break out of your daze. “Yes, fine. It’s just- I haven’t done anything like this,” you gesture to the large room teeming with various crew and a studio audience, “before, on my own. Usually we’re all together, and I’m slightly less charismatic than the rest of them, I’m afraid.”

“Well, I would tell you that it’ll get easier, but I still feel like I’m rubbish without my lot as well,” he sympathies. “And I happen to find you quite charismatic as you are,” he adds softly. “You certainly had Mike going back there.”

“Oh boy,” a voice huffs from the other end of the table, drawing away John’s attention. You’re thankful for the distraction, finding yourself at a loss for words due to his comment, coupled with your previous thoughts.

“I see you two actually arrived on time, ya goodie-two-shoes,” the flamboyant man complains as he plops into the third and final seat at the table.

“Jon, welcome. Good to see you,” John acknowledges, shaking the man’s hand.

“And who’s this little thing at the end, then?” he points at you.

John’s expression turns slightly sour at the informal greeting directed towards you. “This is Y/N L/N of Lo & The…” he struggles to remember, “Legs?”

You bark out a laugh. “The Limbs. But The Legs sounds better actually.” You share a smile, holding onto John’s eyes even though it makes your insides flip.

An outstretched hand is shoved past his body. “Jon Norris. Drummer. Culture Club.” You accidentally brush John’s arm as you move to return the handshake, not missing how he jumps a bit at the contact. “Pleasure,” reply, tearing your eyes away.

The drummer retracts his hand, settling back to swing his shoes up onto the table. “I’m glad to have a bird on the team, actually. Maybe we’ll get a few extra points thrown our way for that tiny top of yours,” he smirks, not even glancing over in your direction.

You look down at your slightly exposed chest, but the color red quickly clouds your vision. John sucks in a breath as he sits up straight in his chair. “That’s a bit ru-,” he starts in an annoyed tone.

But you’re quick to cut in, leaning your body forward on the table to lock eyes with Jon, “Actually, we might get docked a few for that obnoxious suit you’ve got on. Didn’t anyone ever tell you that stripes bleed on camera, sweetheart?” you seeth.

He glances down at his bright pink and green striped suit, clearly taken aback by your quick comeback. “N-no…” he falters, shutting up for the moment.

You catch John’s expression, a mixture of confusion and awe while he gapes at you. You lean back, crossing your arms over your chest. Luckily you don’t have much time to stew over the misogynistic comment as the stage manager’s voice rings out a 10-minute warning.

“Just try not to show me up too much, would you?” John whispers, leaning in closer to you. Obviously, trying to lighten your mood.

You give in. “You, sir, are lucky to have me on your team,” you point at him. “Tell me, what’s more important? The scoreboard or your fragile ego?” You’re not sure where your sudden wave of confidence is coming from.

He brings his hand to his chest. “You caught me,” he says, trying to hide his smile. “One could say I’m overcompensating, given who my bandmates are. Roger’s won this twice already, and it only started airing last year. I’ll never hear the end of it if I muck it up again.”

“Well then, I’ll do my best to save your sorry ass, and maybe that one down there too, if he’s lucky,” you tease.

Great. Now I’m thinking about his ass again. Fuck you, Dawn.

“If you’d be so kind,” he says before turning his attention elsewhere, content to watch the happenings around him until the show’s start. You hear him start to softly hum to himself, not able to place what the tune is.

You try not to watch him out of your peripherals for the next few minutes, hardly even noticing your lack of nerves as the studio audience starts cheering.

- - - - - - -

“And to end out round one, we have Adam Ant’s team with 3 points. And with a slight lead, John Deacon’s team with 4.” The studio audience erupts in a deafening cheer. “That’ll bring us into round two, which will be a team question. John, your team to go first,” Mike directs from his desk in the center of the set.

John lightly taps his pencil against the notepad in front of him, the current tight score starting to bring about his competitive side. He peeks over to check on his teammates. Y/N looks like a radiating ball of energy. Her feet are tucked up under her on the chair as she hunches forward, pencil already hovering while her teeth chew on the eraser. To his right, Jon doodles away, drawing exaggerated characachers of select members of the studio audience.

“Right, question coming to you in a moment, but first here’s the band, The Band.”

A large monitor towards the front of the set comes to life with a clip from their concert film, The Last Waltz. The chair to his left gives a loud squeak as Y/N begins to scribble furiously as if already knowing the question before it’s been given.

“Here’s a clip from The Last Waltz, The Band’s famous taped last concert. Please name 10 of the 20 rock legends that joined them on stage that night.”

John’s face scrunches in concentration, trying to recall the recording of it that he’d listened to many times before. He writes down the first few that come to mind, struggling to get past 6 names that he’s sure were present.

“Bloody American bands and they’re American friends,” Jon says, shoving his own piece of paper into John’s view. It has 4 names on it, 3 of which John already has down.

“They’re Canadian,” John replies, transferring the extra name to his paper.

“What?”

“The Band. They’re from Canada, I believe. At least most of them are.” Jon shrugs as the clip fades out, their minute of deliberation up.

“Alright, that was The Band with a famous clip from The Last Waltz. If you’d please, John, name 10 of the acts that accompanied them that night.”

A sheet of paper smoothly glides in front of his, Y/N’s messy scrawl covering it with 10 names hastily jotted down. He raises his eyebrows to her, but she just nods at the paper, urging him to read it.

He starts, completely disregarding his own list. “Erm, yes, we have Eric Clapton, Joni Mitchell, Bob Dylan, Dr. John, Van Morrison, Ronnie Hawkins, Neil Young, Bobby Charles” he struggles to read the small scribbling, almost illegible. “Um, Muddy Waters? Yes. And Neil Diamond.”

John lets out a breath, silently praying that the young girl beside him is as bright as she seems.

“Right you are! 10/10,” Mike exclaims. “For a bonus point, can you name the two artists that recorded pre-taped performances with them for the film as well?”

“Uh…” John glances at Y/N for support. She shoves another scrap of paper to him. Emmylou and Staples the only thing written on it.

“Emmylou Harris and The Staples Singers?” he answers, more like a question.

“Wonderful, a full 4 points to you all.”

He watches as a deep grin breaks onto Y/N’s face as she finally reclines. She looks over to him, a bit proud of herself, he thinks, as the other team begins their own round of questioning.

He’s quite intimidated by the American next to him if he’s being honest with himself. Her anxious demeanor seemed to have vanished into thin air once the game started, tackling each question thrown at their team with a hungry reverence. But her laugh is what keeps him on edge the most. It’s brash and full, consistently breaking him from his determined concentration to send a confusing jolt through his body each time.

“While your knowledge reigns superior, your handwriting leaves something to be desired,” he whispers in jest, not being able to help himself. She simulates a shocked expression as she leans over to look at her own paper that sits in front of him.

Her accent is thicker as she returns his whisper, “What ya tawking about?” She moves her eyes closer to examine, her shoulder bumping his. “That clearly says Muddy Waters.” Her hair hovers below his chin, almost tickling his stubble. It smells of something citrusy and light.

“Y’ smell lovely,” he sighs, almost inaudibly.

“Hm?” she questions, bringing her body back into her own seat.

“E-ever-ly,” He stumbles out, still quietly. “I thought it read it as the Everly Brothers at first,” hoping to god his bad save is enough.

She snorts. “You sure you didn’t leave your glasses at home? Would’ve thought you’d bring them to something like this.”

He quickly fixes the flustered look on his face, “Hm, glasses aren’t conducive to my rockstar type of lifestyle. Take Rog, for instance. Always wearing those bloody prescription sunglasses indoors, looking like an absolute git.”

She lets out that sharp laugh again, immediately covering her mouth, embarrassed at the thought of interrupting the other team. “I’ll have to watch out for that. Eat my carrots, all that nonsense,” she answers softly. If Brian were here, he’d ramble on about how there’s no scientific evidence of that or some bollocks, he thinks to himself.

“Let us hope my ears are in far better condition. Then you won’t have to keep, how did you put it, saving our sorry asses?” She smiles down into her lap and bites her lip. Oh hell, don’t do that.

Mike is now wrapping up with the other team. “No, I’m sorry. Their other top 10 hit was “So You Win Again. 3 points it is.” He once again turns his attention back over to John’s team. “Moving on to our third round, we have individual questions. Y/N, we’ll start with you. Here’s the hit Then You Can Tell Me Goodbye. Please name the artists you hear in order.”

The sound bites begin, and Y/N is once again bent over her paper as she listens, brow furrowing. John identifies the first two singers instantly but is at a loss for the third, making him grateful the question isn’t his. The clips fade out.

“Y/N?”

“I think it was Glen Campbell.”

“Correct.”

“Johnny Nash.”

“Good. Last one?”

“And... Bettye Swann?”

“Yes, top job! Known for her R&B hit Make Me Yours. I’ll give you a bonus if you can tell me who the song was sung by originally,” Mike counters.

“The Casino’s,” she says confidently.

“No, I’m sorry. I’ll give you one more chance.”

John realizes she was probably too young or not even born yet when the original was released. He slyly slides closer to her. “Don Cherry,” he mumbles lowly, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.

“Don Cherry?” she shouts as if to cover up his assistance.

“Yes, John Deacon, you’re right. It is Don Cherry. The point is yours for at least attempting to be subtle,” Mike laughs. Y/N shyly smiles over at him, silently thanking him for his help.

John and Jon mostly breeze through their questions with ease, racking up a hefty amount of points in favor of their team before turning over to the others. He takes a sip of water as he smugly watches on.

“Glad to know my own ass is in good hands if it’s ever in need of saving again,” Y/N quietly comments. He chokes lightly on his water as an image flashes quickly through his mind. John racks his brain for a reply, but only overtly cheeky responses come to mind.

“Anytime,” he manages, afraid to catch her eyes. She lets out a light giggle, starkly different from her usual roar. It sends a warmth of color to his cheeks.

Intriguing, he thinks, silently hoping that he’ll get the chance to hear it again.

#queen fic #queen fanfiction #queen fanfic #john deacon #john deacon fic #john deacon imagine #john deacon x reader #john deacon series #deaky fic #deacy fic #deacy x reader #deaky x reader #angelofmydreams

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atlafan · 4 years

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Take it Slow - Part Twenty-Nine

a/n: okay this is my first shot at a harry:y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. y/n had a bad experience with an ex over a year ago, and finally accepts her coworker and good friend Niall’s invitation to go on a blind date with his friend Harry.

Warnings: Smut, and a whole mess of fluff.

Masterpost (all previous parts can be found in the masterpost)

“C’mere.” You say to him. You sit up slightly. “I want you to like hover over me while I suck on you.”

“Are you sure you want my balls in your face like that?” He chuckles.

“Won’t bother me.”

Harry comes closer to you, and grips the top of your headboard. You grip him in your hand at first, and then put your mouth right on him. He sucks in a breath when he feels your hot, wet mouth around him. Sometimes you think back to when you were younger. You absolutely hated sucking dick. Some guys just had bad hygiene. But you loved doing it for Harry. He really made you see how hot it was to pleasure someone else orally. He also kept things trim and clean, which you very much appreciated.

He rocks against your face, going deeper down your throat. You groan against him, and he grips your headboard tighter. His eyes are screwed shut, trying to picture his dick inside of you where he really wants it. It’s not that he didn’t love it when you blew him, he just wanted to feel how tight you were.

It doesn’t take him long to come down your throat. You swallow up every bit of it, and he climbs off of you. You get up to rinse your mouth out.

“Holy shit!” You scream, and he rushes into in the bathroom to make sure you’re alright. He finds you inspecting the back of your body in the mirror. Your front wasn’t nearly as fucked up. “Jesus, Harry.” You say rubbing a spot on your shoulder. “I look like a leopard.” You start laughing.

“You said I could…”

“I’m not complaining.” You assure him.

“Looks good on you anyways.” He gives you kiss on the cheek and pats your bum. He leaves you to do your thing in the bathroom.

You wash your face and brush your teeth. When you come out of the bathroom you pick up his t-shirt and throw it on over you. He’s sitting up in bed reading.

“Harry, you look so cute in your glasses, have I ever told you that?” He looks at you and smiles.

“Maybe once or twice.” He teases. He finishes the last page of his book and sighs.

“What?” You ask getting into the bed.

“Nothin’, just sad. This was the last book in this series.”

“Did it have a happy ending?”

“As happy as it could be, yeah. It’s my second time readin’ it, still gets to me.” He takes his glasses of and wipes a tear away.

“I wish I liked reading as much as you do. I much prefer television.”

“I just like getting’ lost in the pages. I mean, I read garbage novels, but they’re just so addicting. Has a television show ever moved you to tears?”

“Oh, tons of times. I think TV has made me cry more than film.”

“Really? What shows have made you cry?” He pulls you into his chest and turns the light off. God, you loved pillow talk before bed.

“Okay, don’t laugh, but when I was in high school, and college too, I was really into Glee.”

“That show about the nerds in the acapella club?”

“Yeah.”

“That show made you cry?”

“I think just about every episode in the third season made me cry, and I sobbed during the season finale. To be fair, I was like sixteen.” You giggle. “There were a couple of scripted series on MTV too that made me super emotional.”

“Like what?”

“There was a show called Awkward that just really fired me up. And there was Teen Wolf.”

“Teen Wolf? Isn’t that a movie with Michael J. Fox?”

“Yeah! But then MTV made a show based off the movie, much darker though. It was really good. Well, it got worse as the seasons went on, but I watched through to the end. Same with Awkward.”

“Do you watch anythin’ now that tugs at your heart strings?”

“Um…I really like that show Roswell: New Mexico. I didn’t think I would like it so much, but it got to me. The first season is on Netflix, maybe we could watch it sometime.”

“Sure, I’d like that.”

“I used to like live blog and write reviews for the shows I’d watch. I still do sometimes.”

“Where do you blog?”

“On Tumblr mostly.”

“That’s cool that you do that.”

“It’s funny because I hate reading reviews of things. I like to try things out for myself. Oh! Do you watch Stranger Things? That’s a good one. Niall and I always binge watch it together when a new season comes out.”

“That’s right!” He starts laughing. “I remember he like blew me off during the day on the 4th this summer to go meet up with you.”

“That was an incredible binge, if I do say so. Speaking of him, he wants to have a movie night Friday so we can all celebrate our good news. I was thinking of having everyone over here. What do you think?”

“Works for me.” He smiles at you.

Your period was a killer this week. There were several times during the week you found yourself on the floor in your office. You had run out of your stash of ibuprofen, and hadn’t had time to get more. You were forced to just suffer in silence. The pain would pass eventually, and then you could get on with it.

Harry was good about not getting on your nerves too much. He was slowly learning what you needed while your hormones were at their peak. Every morning you’d examine your body, almost becoming sad at seeing the marks slowly fade away as they healed. You were incredibly horny, but there wasn’t anything you could do. You’d had sex on your period before, but you certainly weren’t going to let him use his fingers or mouth on you right now. You had contemplated maybe in the shower, but you were afraid of residue. You didn’t tell him this, but you got yourself off a couple times in the shower on your own. You had to, the ache between your legs was just too unbearable.

Your body was trying to tell you something for sure, but your mind tried its best to keep you at bay.

You were delighted when your period ended Friday morning, but your stomach felt like shit. The first week of a birth control pack was your least favorite thing, even more so than your period. Your dosage wasn’t even that high, but it still would make you feel like you were going to vomit.

“Anythin’ ya need me t’pick up for tonight? I can do a run to the market before ya get home from work.” Harry says to you sitting up in bed, watching you pick your outfit for the day.

“Think I have everything we need. I have chips and dip, we’ll probably order pizza or something.” You decide on a pair of dark jeans and blouse/blazer combination. You throw your hair up in a high pony, and take a few strands out to frame your face.

“Know what we’re watchin’ yet?”

“Nope.”

“Who’s comin?” You sigh and look at him.

“Harry, I love you, but you’ve reached my capacity for questions this morning, okay?” He blinks at you.

“Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, I just feel gross and I’m hormonal. Not a great excuse.”

“One more question.” You nod. “Is Aunt Flow still in town?”

“No she left early this morning, thank god. This was a rougher month.” You sit on the edge of the bed. He places a hand on your thigh.

“Sometimes I wish I could just take all your aches away.” You smile at him.

“You do, in more ways than you know.” You stand up and give him a light kiss. “See you tonight.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too, babe.”

You felt better as the work day went on. You were excited to have a little double date with Niall and Sarah. Harry got out of work around 4PM, so he went straight to your apartment. He knew you’d want to have the place ready to go so you could relax when you got home. He fluffed up the pillows on your couch, and folded up the couple of blankets you kept on the back of it. He made sure all of the beer for him and Niall was in the fridge, and he picked up your favorite wine.

You keyed into your apartment around 5:30, and kicked off your shoes. Your nose was pink from the cold air outside. Harry had his legs slung over one of the large chairs you had near the couch. He had his laptop, and was working away. He looked up at you and gave you a smile.

“Hi, love.” He says.

“Hi honey.” You yawn.

“I tidied a bit for ya.” You kiss the top of his head.

“Thank you. M’just gonna go change quick.”

You change into a pair of leggings and a t-shirt, and come back out to Harry. He puts his laptop on the coffee table, and gestures for you to come sit with him. You sit in his lap, and rest your head on his shoulder. He rocks you back and forth slowly, and you let out a calming sigh.

“How’s my baby girl today, hm?”

“Tired.” He rubs your back. “But I’m happy to have friends over tonight.” You nuzzle into his neck.

“I bought that wine you really like.”

“Mm.” Is all you muster out as you start to doze off in his arms. He chuckles, but lets you drift.

Your eyes snap open when you hear Niall and Sarah walk into your place. You practically jump off of Harry.

“Sorry, did we disturb you two?” Sarah giggles. “We brought a veggie platter.” She hands it to Harry.

“No, I fell asleep. I was exhausted.” You stretch, and hug your friend.

“Alright, what are we watchin? TV, movie?” Niall says.

“Oh! You know what was on the other night that I’d love to watch all the way through?” You say.

“What?”

“The Forty-Year-Old Virgin. I refrained from watching it because it was halfway through. It’s on Netflix, do we feel like a comedy?”

“Works for me.” Niall says.

“I love that movie!” Sarah says.

Harry and Niall grab their beer, and you and Sarah fill your glasses with wine. You and Sarah sit in the middle of the couch, and your boyfriends sit on either side of you. Your apartment was filled with giggles right off the bat.

“God, we love a young Paul Rudd.” Sarah says.

“We love a Paul Rudd at any age.” You clink your glass with hers. Harry pinches your arm, and you giggle. “What?”

“I’m sittin’ right here. You’re attracted to him?”

“You’re not?! He’s beautiful!” You and Sarah start laughing.

“Isn’t he like fifty?” Niall chimes in.

“So?” You and Sarah say at the same time.

“He’s a hall pass for sure.” Sarah says, kissing her boyfriend on the cheek.

“Agreed. What I would give for a night with Paul Rudd.” You look up at Harry and burst out laughing.

“Jesus, mate, here I was thinkin’ she liked the tall, tan guys, but clearly I was wrong.”

“Now you’ve learned your place.” Niall says laughing. You kiss Harry on the cheek.

You and Sarah laugh so hard you both cry when Jonah Hill makes his small cameo. The guys end up laughing pretty hard at several moments too. You get up to grab the veggie platter out of the fridge and set it up on the coffee table for everyone.

“Thanks for bringing this by the way.”

“Oh no problem, figured it would be better than pizza. Are you excited for Hanukkah to start tomorrow?”

“Yes! I look forward to the gift card my uncle gives me every year.” You giggle.

“Is Harry going with you?” Sarah asks.

“Yup.” You two share a look and start laughing.

“Alright, why does this keep happening? Has everyone been to this party but me?”

“Pretty much, lad.”

“What’s the big deal? Is there somethin’ I should know?”

“Y/N’s great uncle is just a really funny guy. I would just watch out when he greets you.”

“Sarah!”

“You’re not even going to warn him?”

“Warn me of what?”

“If she didn’t warn me, she doesn’t get to warn him.” Niall says.

“Harry…just…” Sarah giggles. “He’s just an older Jewish guy with different ways of saying hello. That’s all.”

“What’s he gonna do? Hug me? M’fine with that.”

“Sure, he’s going to hug you.” Sarah shrugs. “It’s a really great way to know you’re part of the family.”

Sarah and Niall leave around 11PM. You and Harry clean up the living room, and head to the bedroom.

“What time should we leave tomorrow?”

“Party starts at six, so we should probably leave here at like quarter of five, might be traffic.”

“Oh great, so we can sleep in a little?”

“Yup.” You kiss him and turn over. He wraps himself around you, being the bigger spoon.

“That was fun tonight.”

“Yeah, I’m glad we were able to do it. Gotta make more time for them.”

“Definitely….so, Paul Rudd could have you huh?” You turn over to face your stupid boyfriend.

“You’re not serious?”

“Nice to know how you really feel.” He fake pouts.

“I’m sure you have your own celebrity crushes.”

“I suppose. None I would leave you for to go fuck though. Wouldn’t be worth it.” You bite your bottom lip to keep from smiling. “You would really ask me for a hall pass for Paul Rudd? Of all people?”

“Hypothetically speaking, if he wasn’t married with kids, I would consider it. More than anything I think I’d like to just have dinner with him, pick his brain.”

“So you want to go out on a date with him?”

“Sure!” You giggle.

“Who else do you swoon over?” He gives you a crooked smile.

“That’s a very personal question.” You tease.

“Why?”

“Because you’re essentially asking me about who I’ve fantasized about.”

“Jesus, if you tell me you’ve touched yourself thinking about Paul R-“

“I haven’t! Not with him.”

“Who then?” Your cheeks flush. “C’mon, I wanna know who my competition is.”

“Harry, it’s embarrassing.” You shove your face into his chest.

“Please, I’m so curious.” He begs.

“You’re going to laugh at me.”

“Promise I won’t.” You lift your head and look at him.

“I would bone Andy Samberg if I had the chance, again, if he wasn’t married with a child. I will not be a homewrecker.”

“What is with you and older Jewish dudes?”

“Don’t know. It’s not because they’re Jewish. I just find him really attractive, plus he’s funny. You’re funny.”

“Right, the key to a girl’s heart is humor.” He rolls his eyes.

“Harry, if you didn’t make me laugh on our first date, I wouldn’t have seen you again, attraction or not.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. Sense of humor is very important to me. You’re so quick when you joke around, you could be a comedian yourself.” He lifts your chin up to kiss you.

“So, you were pretty hot f’me when we first met, huh?”

“So hot.” You roll your eyes. “I had never seen a man quite so handsome. What about me? What did you think of me when we first met?”

“I wanted to hit Niall for not doing you justice. I mean the lad told me you were beautiful, but shit, when I saw you, I nearly got the wind knocked out of me.”

“Oh stop.” You swat your arm at his chest.

“M’serious. And you were so cute at the end of the night, when you simply kissed me on the cheek. It was so innocent and sweet. Not somethin’ I had really experienced before.”

“How do your first dates typically go?” You giggle. Harry scrunches his face.

“Do ya really wanna know the answer t’that?”

“Are you seriously going to tell me that you usually bone on the first date?”

“That’s usually the only date I want, so yeah.” He says a little too honestly.

“What about the girl you dated for like seven months, or whatever?”

“Uhh, we got frisky…didn’t do it til the second date I think. I don’t know, I was such an asshole, I basically just thought of her as the girl I was consistently hookin’ up with.”

“Were you sleeping with other people?”

“Nah, just her.”

“And she thought you were dating, but you didn’t think you were?”

“I just thought of her as the girl I was seein’.” You often wondered what made you so goddamn special. You and Harry had talked about it before, but it still baffled you. “I know what you’re thinkin’. You know what I really liked about you, like, right off the bat?”

“What?”

“You were just so open and lovely. You were genuinely interested in what I had to say. I thought it was sweet that you complimented m’nails, like not in a judgey way. I couldn’t wait to see you again, honestly. I’d never felt that way before.”

“So you didn’t want to just fuck me then?”

“I wouldn’t have turned the opportunity down. I mean, you looked so fuckin’ sexy in that little black dress you wore.”

“I’ve never seen a man wear a pair of pants the way that you do.”

“What?” He laughs.

“You have a bubble butt babe, and it’s incredible. Love sinking my nails into those cheeks.”

“Are you still drunk?”

“Maybe just a bit buzzed, but I mean what I say.” You prop yourself up to really look at him. “You have a chonk, my dude.” Harry burst out laughing.

“Who talks like that?” He says with a big smile.

“Me and my friends. You’re not the only with a dirty mouth.” You wink. “You know what, I think that’s why I like Paul Rudd and Andy Samberg so much. They both have pretty big butts.”

You both giggle about a bunch of different things until you fall asleep.

The next morning you both happily slept in. You got up before Harry. You decided to do a light workout in your living room since you didn’t go to the gym much last week. You put on a pair of spandex shorts and sports bra, and tip toed out. You were just finishing your cool down when Harry walked into the living room, blanket wrapped around him. You guzzled down some water. Your body was drenched in sweat.

“Morning baby. Thought I’d get a quick workout in, we’re going to be eating a lot of food tonight.” He squints at you.

“You…you weren’t in the bed when I woke up.” He rubs his eyes, his voice was still thick with sleep.

“I was just out here, did you think I went somewhere?” You turn the TV off, and walk towards him.

“I don’t know what I thought. I just reached for you and you weren’t there.” He pouts. “I like when we snuggle in the mornin’. You’ve deprived me.” You giggle at him.

“Is baby a little cranky this morning?” You pinch of his cheeks and walk by him.

“Where you goin’ now?” He whines.

“Harry, I’m caked with sweat, I need to shower. You can join me if you want.”

“Not awake enough to shower.”

“That makes no sense. Showers wake people up all the time.”

“Too much work.” He curls up on the couch, and closes his eyes.

You take your shower, alone. You take full advantage of having the privacy to shave every last inch of yourself. You blow dry your hair, and throw your robe on, not really feeling like putting clothes on yet. Harry was still wrapped in your blanket, but he was sitting up and had a mug in his hands. He was watching something mindless on television. You sit down next to him and smile. You throw your legs over his lap.

“Feel how smooth my legs are, I just shaved them.” He gives you a funny look and giggles, rubbing his hand up and down one of your legs.

“Mm, so soft.”

“You’re a sleep boy today.”

“Yeah, I am. Not really sure why, I’ll perk up once the coffee’s in me.”

“Want me make something for breakfast? I have oatmeal and grapes.”

“If you don’t mind, that’d be great.”

You turn on the electric kettle Harry had sneakily bought you. He said it was for him so he could have tea quick, but you know he wanted you to have one of your own. Once the water was boiling, you poured it into the two bowls of quick oats you made up. You but a dash of cinnamon in each, and topped it with some grapes. You come back over and hand him his bowl.

“Thank you baby.”

“My pleasure.”

You both scarf down your breakfast, and sit on the couch a while longer. Harry gets up to clean the bowls, and puts them in the dishwasher. He stretches out, and lets out a moan.

“Alright, guess I’ll shower now.”

You bring the blanket back to the bed and make it up. Harry’s in and out of the shower quick. He has his towel wrapped around his waist. You’re sitting on the edge of your bed, filing your nails, he sits down next you.

“How long we been together now? Little over four months?”

“Yeah, it’ll be five in January.” You smile. “Why?” He twiddles his thumbs.

“Well, it might be too soon to be bringin’ this up, but s’not like that’s ever stopped us before. I’m here a lot, and I love your place. I still like my place, but I love your place because this is where you and all your things are. I didn’t know if maybe when we got back from holiday, maybe we could entertain the idea of finding a place of our own?” He looks up at you. You’re speechless. “I mean, I’d say let’s just live here, but I need a space for my desk and monitor. I think a two bedroom where we could split the other room as a conjoined office or somethin’, would make the most sense.” He chews on his bottom lip. “I’ve totally freaked you out haven’t I?”

“How long have you, um, felt this way? When did you realize you wanted to live with me?”

“Can’t pin point it. Just somethin’ I’ve been thinkin’ about. I know it seems fast, but we’re practically livin’ together as it is. We can talk about it later if you’re not ready now. Just wanted to put the bug in your ear.”

You were amazed. You hadn’t even fully slept with the man yet, and he already wanted to live with you. You put your hands on his shoulders and push him back on the bed. You crawl on top of him, and kiss his face all over.

“Harry, I would love to live with you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! Maybe like towards the end of January we could start looking for a bigger place. You know, once all of the holidays are over. Can you break your lease at any time?”

“Pretty much, yeah. Why?”

“Well…you could move in here before we find another place. Doesn’t make sense for you to keep paying rent. It could take us months to find a place, I’d rather have you here during the in between. We can rearrange the furniture to fit all of your things. And I have that storage unit, we could keep your bed and bulkier furniture there for a little while.”

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” You kiss him. “Um…not that I don’t wanna tell the world, but I’d like to keep this quiet from my family for a bit. I still have to tell my dad about England. I’d rather ease them into something like this.”

“Of course. Better keep it quiet from my mum too. Keep everything nice and light.”

“I’m so excited!”

“Me too!”

Harry always seemed to be able to read your mind. It was a conversation you were hoping to have with him after you got back from England. You just couldn’t believe that he beat you to it. You were practically living together, and it didn’t make sense for you both to be paying rent separately. You’d miss his little place, but you’d eventually find a bigger place you both liked. You still loved the idea of potentially living in Niall’s building. Once you start making more money, you’d be able to afford it no problem.

#harry styles #take it slow #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles fluff fic #harry styles smut #harry styles smut fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles y/n #harry styles y/n fic #did you guys think they'd move in together so fast???#i'm starting to get caught up #i only have through part 30 written #may not be able to update as often soon

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