#I'm with you on that spiral anon I'm off I'm gone | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

churipu · 4 months

Note

I love you so so much omg ur posts, ur content, un vibe everything. you’re so so nice and yet you have me crying over every single post because of how good this is. Like yesterday i had a whole debate talking to myself abt how good of a person you were and how the likes were not doing you justice.. usually I never send requests mostly because i’m scared they take a look at it and be like “you cannot be srs”. Idk if it makes sense but oh well😭😭

can i request u make a scenario where the reader is insecure and worried their partner is going to leave them for someone prettier but they dont say anything and just start to distance themselves from them from how big of a toll it was taking on the reader? thank you sm😭🫶🏽

YOU BEING INSECURE + JJK MEN

featuring. gojo satoru, nanami kento, sukuna ryomen x reader

warning. cursing

note. ANON YOU'RE SO SWEET OMG BRB SOBBING HAVE ABIG FAT KISS, and i love this request so much, you don't have to worry <33 thank you for requesting my love, sorry it took so long :')

GOJO SATORU. even if gojo didn't seem like the type to be aware of his surroundings — he is very much aware. behind those blindfolds and dark glasses, his eyes darts everywhere, making sure everything is fine. even if one small thing is different to his eyes, he'll notice.

so when you began distancing yourself from him, he notices off the bat. but decided to say nothing just to make sure of it, gojo did not want to jump into conclusions. it started off as you telling him that you're busy to go on dates, or even declining his offers when he wanted to come over to your place.

he didn't think much of it until it visibly worsened, you looked miserable. when he sees you, it was like the shine in your eyes have gone away — gojo didn't know what happened, but he automatically assumed that he was behind the disappearance of it. when he asks you if you were okay, you brushed him off with a forced out smile, and he was dying to push you to just tell him everything.

but he didn't. he was afraid that if he'd push you, it would spiral an argument. for a while, he was walking on eggshells around you, you were like a ticking time bomb ready to blow up at any minute.

it was gnawing internally in gojo's mind, what did he do? what happened to you? what happened to y/n?

his y/n.

so when shoko drops the bomb on him, asking if he had broken up with you. gojo was mortified, is that what it looks like to other people? him and you calling it off? he was terrified, scared, nervous. the strongest sorcerer. yeah — he was scared.

and so he felt like it was a now or never situation.

"y/n, can we talk?"

you grimaced at his soft voice, wondering if this is the part where he's had enough and decided he'd leave you. but you nodded your head, your mind was ready, you were ready to hear it, those words: "i want to break up with you."

"please talk to me. i can't do this whole...you avoiding me, tell me what's bothering you...please." the desperation in his voice was visible, almost as if he was in the verge of tears.

his cerulean eyes were filled with such hopelessness, one you've never seen even when he was fighting a curse. you widened your eyes and inhaled sharply, "i...i'm sorry, satoru."

that was all you managed to muster up and gojo was clueless, he needed more answers, he needed answers to why you were like this, "baby, i don't... is it me? did i do anything wrong to you? please tell me, don't run away.. let me make it up to you."

it pained you to see that he thinks it was him, when it was you behind this. you shook your head, "'s not you 'ts me."

and that made gojo even more terrified than he already is, a lot of questions spiraling in his mind, did you find someone else? did you get bored of him? were you finally breaking up with him because of his constant bothering? so many questions.

"i just...there're so many more people prettier than i am. i just can't stop thinking about it. you leaving and all. 'm sorry i distanced myself from you." when you said that, gojo felt like half of his questions were all useless and he felt a bit relieved to finally get an answer to his speculations.

gojo wasted no time pulling you into his embrace, he needed it, you needed it. both of you needed it just as much, you felt so small in his embrace, head buried into his chest. gojo didn't move a bit, fearing if he moved at all — you'd break, you looked so fragile and so dainty, it scares him.

"i..love you so much." was all he could say,

"'ts you, 'ts you that i love. it hurts me to hear you talk like that." you felt like shit, you really do — so you said nothing back, you kept your face hidden in his chest.

and gojo didn't pry you away, he just needed to be close to you, "sorry."

that was when he pulled away, "you don't have to be sorry, but please talk to me, 'ts not fair if we're happy together and you have to be sad alone.." you hated crying in front of people, especially gojo, and he knew that about you.

so when you cried in that moment, gojo knew this wasn't something light — he didn't need any more explaining from you, he was just there by your side the whole night. and the next day. the next week. month. year. both of you never spoke of it again.

he's in love with you and nobody could change that, he thinks you're the prettiest anyways.

NANAMI KENTO. nanami's eyes are always on you. nobody else. and everyone knows that.

everyone except for you, unfortunately.

usually he comes home and you were always there to greet him, with a hug and kiss. it was an inseparable combo he made a routine, but for the past couple of days — he hasn't been getting that.

instead, he was greeted with silence. and just from the second time, he knew that something was definitely wrong with you. he'll find you curled up in bed, under the covers like it was the only thing that mattered in the world; but he tries to see it as a sign of exhaustion.

nanami watches your every move, for the past couple of days. you have been out of it. to the point where it was plain obvious and nanami tries asking about it, but you tell him it was just because of the stress. a sweetheart he is, he tries telling you to get some rest from work — he'd even excuse you if it's needed, but you tell him that wasn't needed and that you were fine.

obviously lying. he could see it, smell it, hear it.

it was suffocating. everything was suffocating to you, it's like everything was slowly masticating on every fiber in your body. you wanted to just, drop down and cry but whenever you try to, you just end up sitting on the floor blankly staring at nothing.

it scares yourself sometimes how empty your eyes look.

you wouldn't be surprised if nanami didn't come back home one day because he's so fed up — that's what you've been planting in you. that nanami would leave you for prettier people, for people who don't overthink, people who are generally better than you.

"y/n?"

oh. you didn't even hear him come home, you sat on the bedroom floor trying to push yourself up. and you couldn't even do that, so when nanami opens the bedroom door, seeing you on the floor — he said nothing, not even a hello.

nanami just scoops you into his arms and lays you down on the bed mutely, his slender fingers brushing your hair, "i love you," he murmurs quietly.

that was enough to make tears dwell up at the corner of your eyes, and he said nothing, grazing your tears away, "'m sorry. 'm so sorry, kento."

nanami didn't understand why you were apologizing, he hushed you, cradling you in his embrace as you let your tears free fall, "why are you sorry?"

that's when it struck you, why were you apologizing?

nanami didn't question you any further but he held you close, pressing chaste kisses onto your forehead, "is something in your mind?" you nodded slowly, "do you want to tell me about it?"

you nodded, inhaling sharply, "i just don't feel pretty enough...i feel like you deserve better than me, ken."

nanami laced your fingers with his, kissing your knuckles, "why do you say such things?" you didn't answer him, and it just breaks his heart even more, "you're perfect for me."

his words fall into deaf ears, but you didn't continue saying your worries, you just feel like nanami gets a gist of it. nanami didn't leave your side, cradling you in his arms like you're the most fragile being, "i love you," he kissed your forehead, "so much," and he kisses your lips.

nanami makes sure to spend every second telling you how much he loves you, telling you how beautiful you are, and how you're the most perfect for him.

SUKUNA RYOMEN. he hates it when you ignore him without any explanations, he's told you before, "if you have anything to say, say it to my face, don't ignore me."

but this feels like something you couldn't tell him, how you feel. it's obvious that you were distancing yourself from him, when he calls you, you sometimes pretend like you didn't hear him — and when he confronts you later, you tell him that you just didn't hear his calls.

"you're ignoring me, hm?"

"what? no— i just didn't hear you calling out to me."

don't even try to lie to him because he will always confront you about it, he sees right through you and your lies. the second time you try to run away from him when he calls out to you, he wastes no time holding you in place; confronting you right at that moment.

"why're you running away, brat?"

"i...oh, i didn't realize you were here, ryo." sukuna clicks his tongue in mere annoyance — what a bad actor you are, it's so ridiculous sukuna wanted to just burst out into laughter.

"bullshit. why're you avoiding me?"

that was it. you were cornered just like that. sighing, there isn't any way out unless you tell him — sukuna just won't let you go unless you tell him everything behind your recent behaviors.

"just don't feel pretty enough for you," you mutter out, avoiding his sharp gaze, "i feel like you can do much better than me. you deserve better than me."

sukuna gave you nothing but a mere smirk, pushing his lips onto yours. god, he didn't want to admit it — but he hates the way you talk shit about yourself, if he could tell you everything that he loves about you, he would. but he didn't because he's a jackass (and he's too shy to tell you that).

"that's it?" that's it? that's it?

you were about to push him away when he gives you that glare of his, "which person has been making you think like that?"

"no one. me."

he flicks your forehead, "then stop."

if only it was that easy, you grumbled at his response, and said nothing else so you could just leave. but sukuna, despite his ignorant answers always makes sure that you never run away from him anymore, he's a lot more touchy than usual — and he (tries) to compliment you and your appearance.

keyword: tries

he fails at it though. but you gave him kudos for trying, that's all that matters, really. that he makes you feel loved.

1K notes · View notes

spideyhexx · 4 months

Note

sub!snowjanus x dom!reader where she finds them doing it together without permission and punishes them. maybe bratty!coryo idkk. ALSO I LOVE YOUR WRITING -(🍒 anon (IF ITS NOT TAKEN YET))

THAT IS ALL YOURS AND THANK YOU SM THIS IS GREAT

also ty to @goosita and @floralcyanide for talking through this concept with me and making me write this tonight instead of tomorrow <3 I popped off with this.

mdni

Coryo was well aware you told him and Sej to not fool around or even touch themselves this next week. You were busy and you wanted to have some excitement to look forward to at the end of a long and stressful week and this was the way you thought you'd get it; having a night or even a day of pleasure with your two lovers who have been built up all week. It sounded like a dream.

But Coryo is an evil little shit. You knew this. Sej knew it. Coryo knew it. But he's never attempted something as risky as this.

With only half the week gone by, he's losing his mind. He's gotten so used to your and Sej's touches that now he's spiraling without it. He doesn't even think to jack off, knowing it wouldn't feel the same.

Coryo has a different plan.

One night, he gets Sej to invite him over while you're still working. Sej is no fool. He can see it in Coryo's eyes. The way he lingers his hand on Sej's arm or how he kept bumping his knee against Sej's own as they sat in bed, talking.

While Sej usually had a lot more self-control, he has to admit to himself the week has been torturous for him too. Ever since Coryo joined your relationship, the need to satiate his desires has only heightened.

So it's no surprise that when Coryo leans in to kiss Sej, his hand moving from the boy's arm to his thigh, Sej gives in. Coryo is surprised at how quickly Sej leans into the touch, his kisses more urgent than he's ever felt them before. "She's gonna be so mad," Sej mumbles as Coryo's fingers make quick work of undoing Sej's pants.

"She's not here right now," Coryo says, in almost an irritated tone. His brow is furrowed and he smiles against Sej's lips when he wraps his hand around Sej's length, stroking it in slow, painful movements until Sej breaks, pushing Coryo down onto his back in bed.

"We have to be fast," Sej mutters, only pulling Coryo's own trousers down enough to get his cock out as he lays over the boy, pressing himself flush against him and grinding their dicks against one another.

Coryo's smirk etches deep into his face at the feeling, letting himself moan out, "fuck, finally," and Sej laughs, burying his head into Coryo's neck as he rocks his hips against Coryo.

This feeling, his blood rushing only to his dick as he gets harder, the ache burning deep within him as he feels Sej's sweaty body trembling above him, both of them so desperate after only a couple days without a release. The way Coryo was rolling his hips up against Sej to make the boy moan into his neck and the light little kisses that Sej would leave on his skin. This feeling makes it all worth it.

Even when the door opens and you're standing, your jaw about to drop at the sight.

Coryo sees you first, patting Sej's shoulder gently and he turns, going red in the face when he locks eyes with you. Coryo still has a smirk on his face and that is all you can focus on.

Without a word, you put your bag down, your coat following, and then your shoes. You take your time, knowing both of them have sat up and Sej is the first one to speak, "I'm sorry, doll, w-we were so worked up and I...we missed being able to-"

"I know baby," you coo at Sej, moving near him and cupping his face in your hands, giving his forehead a light kiss, mumbling against it, "but you still broke my rules." You feel him try to nod in your hold and his eyes shine big at you. "I'm s-sorry," he says in a hushed whisper and your eyes dart to Coryo who's sat back against the pillows.

"Sej, baby, can you go get the ties from my closet?" His eyes trail up and down your face before nodding and you let go of him, beckoning Coryo to come closer. He obeys, to your surprise and you give him a soft smile.

It almost makes him lose his demeanor because he knows by now you're not thinking of anything soft. "I take it you started this?"

He nods, not afraid to admit this to you, "What was I supposed to do? We wanted to fuck around, so we did. Your rule was pointless."

You raise a brow, a little surprised by his confidence, something you so rarely see from him in bed. "Honey, if you want to be that way-"

"What way?" His head is held high as if he's challenging you, wanting to see exactly how far you'd go.

Your smile drops a little and you lean closer to him, kissing the corner of his lips, "If you want to be a brat, I'll treat you like one. You haven't learned this yet, but I don't take these things lightly, honey." You kiss the corner of his lips again before backing away and nodding over to your desk chair.

"Go sit down there." Coryo takes a moment to listen, his eyes a little wide at your words and you can practically see the gears turning in his head, his shoulders slumping into submission, but he holds his head high again, getting up from the bed.

"Oh, and take all your clothes off?" You smile sweetly at him, it almost sickens him.

You help Sej undress after he brings the ties out for you and you lean to whisper in his ear, "Can you tie Coryo's hands tight behind his back for me? Behind the chair,." Sej follows your instructions and while Coryo scoffs, he lets him do it.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" You ignore him, sitting on the edge of your bed and undressing yourself.

Full-heartedly, Coryo thinks you're gonna be down on your knees for him any minute now. Almost every time he's in your desk chair, you're sitting between his legs on the floor with his cock down your throat, so his mind naturally wanders to that being your course of action.

Sej on the other hand has been at the mercy of your punishments before and he has a faint idea of what you plan to do to the blonde boy now tied to your chair.

"Sej, come here," you say, your voice soft and it's throwing Coryo for a loop. "You know he broke your rules too?"

"I know, honey, but I also know that you're the reason he gave in. So just sit there and look pretty, okay?" You give him another one of your sweet smiles and Coryo takes a deep breath, already starting to squirm against his restraints. You tug Sej onto the bed with you, pushing his head down before he can kiss your lips.

"No, baby. You gotta earn that back." Sej nods obediently, trailing kisses down your chest to your tummy. You lay back where Coryo once was, Sej parting your legs and looking up at you, "will this let me earn it back?"

"Mmm, yes. Good boy." He lets out a shuddered breath and kisses your inner thigh. Once. Then twice, nipping at the skin and urging your thighs to spread more. Sej repeats the same kisses to your other thigh, biting a little more against the skin and you tangle your fingers into his curls, pushing his head closer to your core.

"Enough of that," you grunt, Sej's hands rubbing from your knees up to your thighs and gripping them tightly as he presses his nose to your clit, as if he's savoring, taking in your scent. You let him hold your thighs apart, the feeling of his warm hands against your skin was too alluring, too perfect.

You told yourself you wouldn't even spare a glance at Coryo, but you do. His gaze is laser-focused on the two of you and you smirk as you see his hardened cock resting up against his tummy, his teeth seemingly biting into the skin of his inner cheek.

"Do you..." you trail off in a moan as Sej's tongue plunges into you, licking into you like you're his last meal. "Do you have something to say, Coryo?"

"I-I want to touch you," he says and you chuckle, tilting your head back with a groan as Sej presses his nose to your clit harder, your hips bucking up to grind into his face. "I don't care what you want, honey," you breathe out through little gasps, Sej's tongue fucking into you with a skill that he's only improved on every single time.

You hear Coryo hold back a whine, your cute little nickname for him sounding so filthy on your tongue as his own head tips backward in frustration. He tries to see if he can get out of the ties, but he can't. No tug or pull or twist even lets up the tightness a little bit.

"Sej, baby, you're doing so good for me, f-fuck." Sej moans against you and as his eyes meet yours, you feel yourself come undone on his tongue, his hands holding your hips down so he can lap up all of your release without you squirming too much.

When Sej moves his mouth away from you, you're tugging him up and kissing him. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, pulling his body flush against yours, cock resting, aching against you.

Coryo audibly groans, his hips squirming at the sight and he wants to lash out at you so bad. He feels it on the tip of his tongue, something mean, something so angry that he isn't even sure what you or Sej would do, but he can't say it. All he can do is watch, mouth parted as you guide Sej's dick into you, coaxing the man on top of you to bury his head into your neck, just like Coryo had done earlier.

"That's it, baby," you purr into Sej's ear as his hips slowly begin to roll into yours, the thickness of his cock inside of you starting to turn your brain into pure mush, but you regain your focus, massaging the back of his head as he groans into your neck.

"You're doing so well for me, so perfect, you just needed my cunt didn't you?" Sej whines, nodding and you feel his teeth sink into your shoulder.

"P-please," Coryo gasps out. You hear him, but don't reply, kissing the spot beneath Sej's ear and pushing his hips into you deeper with your legs.

Sej is losing his goddamn mind just as much as Coryo is, despite him being the one that gets to feel you, warm, wet, and snug against him. He wants to move faster, but his hips move easily, languidly as if he's trying to get to know every part of you all over again. He also knows you're loving leaving Coryo ignored. He can tell by the way your lips quirk against him when Coryo lets out yet another whine.

His whines feel purposeful like he's trying to make them sound as sad and needy as he can, but there is a shift that tells Sej they're becoming real. Sej longs to see how Coryo looks all tied up right now, but he forgets about that when you bite on his ear, "I know you wanna fuck me harder, baby. You earned it."

He lets out a shaky breath, keeping his head down, too afraid if he looked at your face, he'd bust on the spot. He ruts into you with more force, starting to set a frantic pace that he doesn't let up.

His pent-up desires unfold completely as he fucks into you, your legs holding him so tight, so deep.

"B-baby, please," Coryo begs a little louder, his own hips bucking up into absolutely nothing. He rarely called you that, so you spare him a look.

His cock, drippy and the tip so red makes you want to give in, but you can't. He has to learn. "Coryo, h-honey, please what?" It's hard to talk to him as Sej pounds into you, but you make do, making sure to tug at Sej's curls when he starts hitting the right spot.

"I n-need to cum so bad, please," he whimpers, his hips still moving on their own accord. That's when you see the shine of a few tears on his cheek. "Are you crying?"

He whimpers again and nods his head, closing his eyes. You laugh. A full-on laugh and Sej smiles into your neck. "Oh, my poor, honey. You can't cum."

Coryo starts to plead with you, "N-No no...I need to cum, baby, please...I need it so bad, you don't understand..."

But you shush him, "Be quiet, Sej's gonna make me cum."

You feel Sej groan, as his pace begins to falter and you feel his arms push under you, holding you so close to his body as he spills himself inside of you. You squeeze around him as your own release washes over you, your moans higher than before and you pull on his hair. Sej keeps thrusting into you as you both ride out your orgasms he leaves wet open-mouthed kisses from your shoulder, up your neck to your cheek.

He gives you a lazy smile when your eyes meet and you return it, ruffling his hair. You're lost in a daze with your lover until you hear a choked-out sob from the other end of the room.

Sej pulls away from you, his cock slipping out of you and you're met with the sight of Coryo.

His chest is heaving, his forehead sweaty and his cheeks wet as his eyes glow bluer from the tears still pricking at them.

His tummy is coated in his release, some of it still dripping down his cock and onto his balls. His dick is hardening again as soon as you make eye contact with him, crawling to the edge of the bed and standing up and Sej's release starts to drip down your thigh.

Coryo sniffs, looking up at you as you stand in front of him, "please," he whispers, his lip quivering. You run your hand through his sweaty curls and he moans at the touch alone. "I told you that you couldn't cum, honey."

"I-I know, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I couldn't stop it, I tried so h-hard. Please, believe me, I tried so hard," he rushes out his words, as a tear falls from his eye.

You look down at the cum pooling on his tummy and your chair, then look back into his eyes, "you look so pathetic, honey."

Coryo's jaw clenches and he holds in whatever noise he is about to make. "Actually, you don't look pathetic, you are pathetic." His cock throbs against him at your words and Sej chuckles from his spot on the bed.

Coryo sends him a glare and you quickly kneel onto the chair, your knees on either side of his thighs and you hold yourself above his lap.

"Don't look at my baby that way, he took his punishment." This time Coryo does let himself scoff and roll his eyes, "What punishment? Not being able to k-kiss you? How is this fair?"

His tone comes off harsh but the way he sniffles after it and the way another tear falls from his eyes has you smirking. "You needed to learn, honey. And I'm not done with you." His eyes close at that, his brow creasing, trying to think of what else you could possibly do to him.

You ghost your fingers on his cock before holding it and Coryo's hips buck up. You let him, his tip, leaking already, just shy of prodding at your entrance. "If you want to fuck me, you gotta do it yourself," you taunt, biting on your bottom lip as you lower down just a little so he can easily fuck up into you.

He stares wide-eyed and sees Sej shaking his head in amusement. You cock your head to the side, "well? Are you gonna do it, honey? It's what you wanted, right?"

Coryo whimpers, still sniffly, and nods, pushing his hips up, his cock sliding into you with ease. He's so loud, letting out strained whines and sobs, his cock so fucking sensitive and needing to release again.

He applauds your own self-control as you stay still for him, moaning when he's able fuck up deep into you. But Coryo didn't take into consideration how tiring this would be. With his hands still tied, his leg and hip muscles began to strain, already exhausted from his first orgasm. "My pretty boy, maybe if you hadn't finished before, I'd help you," you coo at him, your hands so close to touching him, but you keep them on the chair.

You don't give in at all and Coryo lets out a frustrated groan, his bottom lip between his teeth as he desperately tries to thrust his dick up into you but he can't find a decent rhythm.

"y-you're so fucking mean," he sobs, and you almost take pity on the way he's starting to cry more.

You ignore his words though, watching him with admiration as he tries to fuck you. Even though the stimulation is weak, you do eventually feel his cock twitch, and his tummy tightens, but before he can even release you lift your hips up.

"f-fuck! B-baby?" His cries were tempting still, but you were determined. You kiss his cheek, the salty taste of his tears on your lips, then move your mouth to his ear.

"If I find out you've made yourself cum over the next four days, I will do this again, maybe even meaner. I won't even let you be in the same room as me and Sej when he fucks me better than you probably can. And you and your pathetic cock can be alone and untouched for even longer. Do you understand me, honey?" You tangle your fingers in his hair and turn his head to look at you.

His eyes are glazed over, lips parted and he nods, "y-yes." You could almost feel Sej's proud look at how well you've taken control.

"good boy," you whisper and give him a gentle kiss on the lips, realizing just how much you missed kissing Coryo.

let's chat about coryo, sej, or both, here :)

999 notes · View notes

toxicanonymity · 1 year

Note

what abt perverted joel not being able to keep his hands off of u, like whenever hes around his friends he always gropes ur ass/tits and open mouth kisses u

Speakeasy

I ❤️‍🔥 horny Joel. Also covered a fishnets related request from Anon here, so let's see if horny Joel can control himself. . . Master List

1.5k words | NSFW 18+ unsafe PIV sex, very mild dubcon?, drinking, public/semi-public idk what else

Joel has enough trouble keeping his hands off you on a normal day, but tonight, you're wearing something that's really gonna drive him wild. It's a little number you picked up from the abandoned mall when you snuck out of the QZ while he was on a smuggling trip. He's about to leave for a longer trip, and tonight he and the boys are having a send-off at the QZ speakeasy. Joel and his friends are already there. You enter on street level at the back of the trade post and take the spiral staircase down into the dimly lit bar.

You descend the stairs slowly and Joel sees your legs before he sees the rest of you. He's already salivating by the time you step onto the floor. He clenches his jaw and gives you a casual "come here" nod. As you cross the room, he devours you with his eyes. You can tell he's already been drinking. He calls out for the man who's tending bar to get you a drink. When you reach the high-top tables by the darts, the other men try to avert their gazes as you greet each other.

You put your arms around Joel's neck and his big hands slowly slither around you, feeling your back, your waist, your thighs, and coming to rest on your ass. His fingers dig in and he pulls you into him with a soft "Mmm."

Your hand nestles in his hair affectionately and his beard tickles your jaw as he kisses your neck, lightly sucking. One of his hands drifts to your inner thigh and he plucks at the fishnets. He murmurs, “Where’d ya get these, hmm?”

“You’re up, Joel,” Jesse, yells, then looks over and says quieter, “oh, shit. sorry.” He's one of the younger, newer guys and hasn't seen you with Joel before.

You dodge the question and distract him by scratching his scalp lightly. That drives him wild. You feel his cock hard against you.

You give Joel a peck on the lips. “Knock’m dead,” you say. There’s an obvious bulge in his jeans when he goes to take his turn on darts.

"You good, man?" Tommy asks.

Joel takes his turn in silence and still does better than everyone else, even distracted.

When he’s done with his turn, he gets behind you and puts his hands on your hips, pulling your ass into the hardness in his jeans. His lips brush your ear and he lowers his voice.

"What're you try'na to do to me, hmm?"

He grinds his bulge into your ass as he wraps his arms around you. He slips a hand into your low neckline, cupping a breast. Your nipples harden and desire pools in your stockings. He puts his nose in your hair and inhales deeply.

"I'm gonna miss you," you whisper.

"Yeah," he says. His voice is soft, low and horny. "I'll be back 'fore you know it." His hand is still in your neckline for all the room to see.

"Joel," Jesse says.

Tommy looks back at you. Your face heats up and Tommy shakes his head laughing. "I don't think he's playin' anymore, fellas" Jesse looks back and his eyes go wide. You clear your throat and Joel takes his time removing his hand from your breast, then smooths your neckline down and gives you a kiss on the cheek.

"Last turn," Joel says and he leaves you for a minute. You sit down on a stool at the high-top while he's taking his turn.

The guys are ribbing him.

"Gimme a break, we're 'bout to be gone for three weeks," Joel says. Tommy slaps him on the back.

When Joel comes back to the high-top, he wastes no time sliding his hand between your legs. His fingers trace the fishnets all the way to your seam and he inhales deeply through his nose when he feels how damp you are. Then he slips a finger through one of the holes and meets your dripping wet pussy. His lips part and his eyes go dark. He rubs your clit with the side of his finger and you throb with need.

He brings his lips to your ear and his voice is a low, horny murmur. "Go wait for me at the top of the stairs, baby." He kisses you wetly on the neck then lets you slide off the stool. You straighten your dress and he pats your ass as you start in the direction of the stairs.

"Y'all have a good night," you tell the boys.

"You leavin' already?" Tommy asks with a smirk.

"Yeah, be safe out there alright?" You say.

You walk up the stone spiral stairs and stop at the top landing. You lean against the cold, stone wall and wait for Joel. He has the darkest look on his face as he climbs the stairs and your eyes gravitate to the protrusion in his jeans.

When he gets to the landing, you turn to walk out the door with him, but he grabs your hip and spins you back around. Then he steps between your feet and walks you backwards into the wall, pinning you there with his arousal as his lips hungrily latch onto yours and his tongue thrusts into your mouth. He forcefully pulls your dress and bra down on one side, then brings his mouth to your breast.

You say, "I worry 'bout you, baby."

He releases your nipple with a sucking sound.

"Don't you worry 'bout a thing right now," he says, and pulls you off the wall and into his arms.

He hikes up your dress and rubs your throbbing warmth through the front of your stockings as his other hand holds your ass. He breathes heavily, looking at you with half-lidded eyes. He reaches both hands under you, digs his fingers into the fishnet holes, and pulls. The rip of fabric startles you and you feel the chill of air between your legs. The cool air also carries the sound of the guys being rowdy downstairs.

You ask, "Here? We're not going home?" Someone could walk through the door or up the stairs at any moment.

"Can't wait, sugar"

You look around hesitantly. He backs you into the wall and the stone is freezing on your ass. You wince. "On the wall?" You ask.

"You wanna ride?" He nods at the stairs. "cause that's your other option. 'less you wanna get on all fours." The steepness of the stairs is too scary.

He kisses you passionately and rubs you just right with one hand while he unbuckles his belt with the other. You can no longer wait either.

Joel urgently frees his massive hard-on from his tight jeans and strokes it a few times, then he hooks his hand under your knee and you wrap a leg loosely around him. He leans in you and aligns his cock at your entrance, then plunges into you with a grunt that slightly echoes. He breathes heavy, slowly rocks back, then plunges into you again and you sigh softly as you're joined completely. Nothing feels as good as him inside you. You wanna cry thinking about him leaving for three weeks. He can see it on your face.

He continues a slow but powerful rhythm as he says, "y'know I worry 'bout you too, baby–" he cuts himself off with a grunt. "take my cock so good, I dunno how you go without it," he half-whispers. "sometimes, I wanna bring ya. do it fuckin' everywhere." He looks you in the eyes then kisses you passionately as he keeps thrusting into you and your body lifts against the wall with his momentum. The men are still yucking it up downstairs. "sometimes I wanna go," you say. "Too dangerous," he says, and you feel your climax getting closer every time he fills you up. He's hitting your g-spot just right. He sucks your neck and you fail to suppress a moan. The hubbub briefly pauses downstairs then there's quiet laughter and they start talking again.

You take a deep breath as you feel yourself on the edge.

"Imma be hungry when I get home, baby. . ."

He grunts again with a powerful thrust, and you see stars. You clench around his cock and float in another realm, pulsing, pounding, savoring the last minute of him inside you because he's never far behind. When you open your eyes his face looks in agony. One more pump and he erupts inside you. "Fill me up, baby," you say, hand in his hair, lightly scratching his scalp. His groan echoes off the stone as he pulses into you, and your climax continues as his hot seed coats your walls. When he finishes, you sigh, and it's totally silent aside from both of you breathing heavily.

A few seconds later, there's quiet laughter again and the guys get back to it.

Joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #speakeasy!joel #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #perv!joel #perv!joel miller #toxicanonymity ☠️#horny!joel #horny!joel miller #pervy!joel #pervy!joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller/you #speakeasy!Joel☠️

3K notes · View notes

yan-lorkai · 9 months

Note

Good evening! If it’s alright, could you please write some pomefiore boys with a sick reader fluff? I just love how you have portrayed them so far in your work. Thank you!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: anon lmao-- you send this the day I caught the flu, at the time I laughing and coughing at the same time at the coincidence. I'm better now so that means I'm finally finished writing this, hope you like it! ;3

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warning: Yandere content, described symptoms of flu, potions, can be seen as platonic or romantic. Reblogs are appreciated!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Oh, Trickster, if only he could take you in his arms and drown you in his love to heal you, he would without a second thought. First he would look at you with heart in his green eyes, memorizing every feature and line of your face, holding you in his gloved hands and stroking your cheeks. And then, if he could, Rook would lie down beside you and let his hands run up your sides, down your back, down the base of your neck to cup the back of your head, guiding your head to lay down on his chest. Unfortunately he cannot risk getting sick, he has to take care of you.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Sweat bathed your skin as you shivered and breathed heavily through your mouth, letting out gusts of air spiraling out of sight. You were so weak, with a stuffy nose and a fever that never seemed to cease. And Rook is almost happy to be the one taking care of you in this fragile state of yours, your teary eyes squinting to be able to see him through the tears. You didn't even seem to know what was real or not, delirious with fever, dreams emerging with reality and you not able to tell the difference.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Rook is very observant and he knows what to do and how to act as you exhibit your symptoms, supporting you every step of the way to recovery. Rook whispers words of comfort, efficiently working to ease whatever pain you were feeling as he spoke to you, even though he knew you didn't hear him. He knows that you will at least feel that there is someone there taking care of you. Being a great hunter, he is able to prepare a strong medicine with some herbs that heal you in a few hours and also gave you some soft food and lots of water.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ When you recover Rook expects compensation in the form of kisses and your company, he's just so needy for your attention. You're his beloved prey, after all.

⠀⠀

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ You are like a doll to him, one for him to love and care for, and he is so careful with you, bordering on condescending with the way he demands that you stay in bed and rest while he asks Rook to bring you a hot, nutritious meal. Vil stays by your side the whole time you are sick, reading to you, telling you silly stories or just talking to keep you entertained and comfortable, despite being a little possessive of you he really cares for you a lot and he wants you to get well soon. How else could he kiss your cheek?

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Vil almost feels sorry for you, so helpless and fragile, so dependent on him, he would feel sorry if this wasn't your punishment for wanting to spend time with your little friends and away from the safety offered by your queen. And he loves every second he can taking care of you, wiping the sweat off your brow and helping you sit up so you can drink your medicine and the potion that is fully intended to cure you, sure, don't doubt it and drink every last drop.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Seconds become minutes and minutes become hours, your recovery is slow. But at least the cough and fever are gone after the medicine and the potion you drank, your throat still itches and your nose still runs, but you are slowly getting better by listening to Vil's voice and taking the time to rest.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ You might not realize it until after you're healthy, but the potion you've drunk certainly takes its toll. You become closer to Vil, preferring his presence to your friends and being away from him becomes agonizing - almost as if you're under a spell. But it's certainly not that bad, is it? His company is much nicer than those nasty potatoes.

⠀⠀⠀

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Epel is easy to despair. Should he give you water? But what if you want to eat first, or worse, what if you don't want to eat? Reluctantly he asks Vil and Rook what to do in this situation and follows their advice to the letter, making sure you are medicated and have a box of tissues by your side, he also brings a bucket in case you feel like throwing up but are too weak to get up.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Epel holds your hand, rubbing his thumb against your warm skin as he tells you about his day and the silly things that happened, the things he would do with you if you weren't sick. He has to resist the temptation to climb into your bed and lie down next to you to comfort you when you have a coughing and sneezing fit, rubbing your back gently and humming a little song as he helps you lie down, fluffing your pillows.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ He knows a great recipe and while you sleep, Epel spends time in the kitchen cooking. He hopes the food is good, he hopes it works for you like it worked for him when he was sick and he was a kid. It's a recipe his grandmother came up with and one that works extremely well, it smells good, it tastes good, and as soon as you wake up he offers you spoonful after spoonful of food, even if you refuse. He will take care of you, whether you like it or not.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ When you get better, Epel wants you to go on errands with him. He requires some approach after taking care of you, he wants to hear your voice and the things you have to say.

299 notes · View notes

verysium · 26 days

Note

i got a eros pur femme perfume (and everyone complimented me so far for its smells 😋) so i got to ask, What do you think boys smell like? like natural smell or some deodorant/parfume?

🤭 lucky for you anon there's actually official blue lock perfumes lurking somewhere out there in the ether. i did some research for you, so here's a fragrance note compilation (with additional headcanons):

RIN ITOSHI

top notes: lemon, eucalyptus, lavender

middle notes: rosemary, geranium, vetiver, nutmeg

base notes: guaiac wood, herbal green, musk

hc: rin smells like lavender. notice how there's a period there and not a question mark...that's because it is a solid factual statement. i'm guessing the lavender came either from his laundry detergent or shampoo. currently leaning towards the latter. rin definitely uses women's shampoo.

SAE ITOSHI

top notes: thyme, eucalyptus, galbanum, bergamot

middle notes: rosemary, lavender, orange flower

base notes: cedarwood, hinoki, patchouli, sandalwood

hc: sae's hands perpetually smell like orange peels, and you cannot change my mind. it's a concentration exercise he does on long flights to keep his mind off the airplane anxiety. tries to peel them in a perfect spiral without breaking off any fragments. rin tried to copy him and failed miserably.

NAGI SEISHIRO

top notes: spearmint, lavender, vanilla

middle notes: peppermint, violet, carnation, muguet

base notes: heliotrope, amber, musk

hc: nagi is vanilla (in every sense of the word.) i'm surprised he even smells good. will give him some due credit and say that the spearmint comes from him using listerine mouthwash, so at least he keeps up with his dental hygiene.

REO MIKAGE

top notes: bergamot, eucalyptus, peppermint

middle notes: clove, rosemary, cedarwood

base notes: tonka beans, moss, musk, amber

hc: he smells like peppermint because his boyfriend smells like peppermint. enough said.

BAROU SHOUEI

top notes: lime, bergamot, plum

middle notes: clary sage, tea, ambrettolide, cedarwood

base notes: agarwood, amber, musk, incense

hc: barou's fragrance being limes was not on my 2024 bingo card, but i do agree with him smelling like plum tea and incense. i guess the lime scent just comes from him using cleaning spray all the time. probably the type to buy scented hand sanitizers too.

BACHIRA MEGURU

top notes: neroli, mint tea, honey

middle notes: petitgrain, jasmine tea, cyclamen, muguet

base notes: musk, white cedar, iris

hc: bumblebee bachira is canon. he smells so sweet. like childhood dreams and cheerios.

ISAGI YOICHI

top notes: lemon, orange, clary sage

middle notes: muguet, orchid, heliotrope

base notes: vetiver, crystal musk, white cedar, tolu balsam

hc: isagi smells refreshing amen. the only other scent i would add to this is jasmine. he seems more floral than citrusy to me.

CHIGIRI HYOMA

top notes: bergamot, lemon, lilac

middle notes: ylang ylang, mandarin, spike lavender, sandalwood

base notes: cedarwood, fruity citrus, musk, amber

hc: chigiri doesn't need perfume. he is the perfume. he smells like spring personified.

KUNIGAMI RENSUKE

top notes: galbanum, leafy green, lime

middle notes: nutmeg, lavender, violet, rosemary

base notes: tonka beans, musk, cedarwood, labdanum

hc: i feel like it's obvious to everyone that kunigami is going to have a significantly manlier scent cus every panel of him during the neo egoist league arc is literally just him sweating directly through his uniform. the only sane way i can describe this is that he would smell exactly like a pine tree forest. woody and evergreen. he and barou have similar scents because they both have gone through the same masculine rite of passage. smelling like lime = very manly.

#asks #blue lock #blue lock headcanons #bllk #rin itoshi #itoshi rin #sae itoshi #itoshi sae #nagi seishiro #reo mikage #barou shouei #bachira meguru #isagi yoichi #yoichi isagi #chigiri hyoma #kunigami rensuke

136 notes · View notes

reysdriver · 8 months

Note

Sirius x reader where he’s not answering letters all summer and so the reader decides to sneak into Grimmauld Place to check up on him. Up to you if they get caught or not

You pay Sirius a visit after a month of lost contact — sirius x gn!reader fluff

warnings: slight angst, mention of Sirius' crappy family but no details

words: 0.6k

a/n: it's actually embarrassing how long it's taken me to get to this. I may be going through a lot rn but I admit this has been sitting in my inbox and my drafts for a while, so anon, I'm really sorry and I hope you like it

Even though you and your boyfriend had spent the better part of the last month of school talking about how you can still stay in touch over the break, Sirius hadn’t responded to a single one of your letters so far this summer. You’ve sent at least two per week for a whole month and they’ve all gone unanswered.

All kinds of thoughts were digging into your mind as to why this was happening, all of them increasing in intensity the more you let things spiral.

He’s run off with some pureblood girl his parents set him up with. No, he’s just been lying to you about liking you for months. He’s so relieved to be out of your presence. What if something really bad happened to him?!

But you knew Sirius, you knew yourself, and you knew that these thoughts were only going to get more unrealistic the more you let them fester undealt with. So, you decided the best thing to do was run off and pay your boyfriend a visit.

✦✧✦✧✦

You hadn’t brought anything other than your wand—which was concealed in your boot—and two sturdy books on your venture to visit Sirius. They were inconspicuous enough so as to not grab any attention from muggles, but effective at what you needed to do.

After making sure no one was around to see what you were about to do, you placed the two books on the ground and planted a foot on each one, then pulled your wand out from your left shoe and cast a simple levitation spell on each one. It was tough to keep your balance, but you held onto Sirius’ windowsill so it would be easier to stay in one place.

Sure enough, there he was when you looked into his room. You tapped on the pane of glass separating you two to get his attention and it worked; just as quickly as he turned to face the window, he stood up and rushed to open it for you.

“What are you doing here?!” Sirius asked, holding your hand to help you inside.

You shrugged like it was obvious. “You weren’t answering any of my letters. I wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

He looked back at you, defeated. He slumped down on his bed, and you watched him feeling nothing but worry.

“I’m so sorry, love.” Sirius mumbled sadly. “I wanted to, I really did. I just get so stressed when I’m with my family and then writing back slips my mind. Then the more I leave writing to you, I just feel more guilty and I just feel bad writing back at all.”

Instead of a verbal response, you embraced your boyfriend in a tight hug, knowing this is definitely the most loving interaction he’s had since you parted ways at the train station a month ago.

“It’s okay. I understand now that you’ve told me.” You told him. “Do you want me to stay here, Siri?”

He looked at you with teary eyes. “Yeah, as long as we don’t do anything to get caught by my parents.”

“Okay, I’ll stay as long as you promise me one thing.”

He looked up at you, slightly confused, as you brushed your fingers through the silky hair you missed all summer. “What is it?”

“No more one-sided communication. Even if it’s just you sending back letters complaining about your family. I want to hear from my boyfriend when we’re apart.”

He pulled your hand down from the top of his head and brought it down to his lips so he could kiss your palm before answering. “Promise, my dear. I’ll start writing one right now if you’d like.”

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius x reader #sirius black one shot #sirius black imagine #sirius black angst #sirius black fluff #marauders era #marauders angst #marauders fluff #xena's requests

140 notes · View notes

inoreuct · 6 months

Note

I'm loving your drabbles and headcanons so much, esp the hurt/comforty things, thank u for blessing my dash😭❤ if you felt like it, zoro and Sanji x how they would help the other through having a panic attack

aaaaaaa thank you anon! hurt/comfort all day every day 😔🤌🏼LESGO

sanji definitely has them more i think, considering the fuckton of things he’s gone through; not that zoro hasn’t been through some shit but you get my point. sanji had panic attacks as a kid back when he was in the cells in germa. to a certain extent i would say he's used to his body breaking down, so much so that he's learned to hide it very well. a slight increase in breathing, a little more twitchy with his gaze, maybe a very slightly bouncing leg; imperceptible to the normal person.

BUT. zoro is so attuned to him that he notices almost immediately, especially after they get together and he's paying even more attention. the first time, he's confused; sanji seems stressed. those are subtle signs of distress, but... there's no immediate threat around them that zoro can see. nevertheless he takes the cook's wrist and pulls him through a random door with one thumb ready on wado's hilt, asks him what's wrong—

and sanji breaks down. they're in the dark, quiet stockroom of some apothecary; if it had been anyone other than zoro with him he would have tried to hold it together, but zoro is fine. zoro is safe. he slides to the ground and curls up into a ball, hugging his legs to his chest and burying his face in his kneecaps even as he hears the swordsman's noise of concern. he's trembling all over, breath spiralling out of control and fuck, he doesn't even know what set him off— just that he'd started feeling smothered, cold sweat beading on the back of his neck, and then zoro had pulled him back here.

zoro's brain stalls a little. he'd seen some of the older kids at the orphanage struggle with this; panic attacks, shimotsuki sensei had told him, were not uncommon in people who had endured long periods of stress or trauma. but he'll think about the semantics later.

zoro has to ask three times, each increasingly desperate, if he can touch before sanji gives him a jerky nod; the cook's shoulders are hunched up to his ears, nails biting into his arms in a bid to ground himself, and zoro can't stand the thought of him hurting more than he already is— so he gently takes sanji's wrists as he crouches down, unwrapping his arms and sitting properly so that he can pull sanji close.

the cook shudders as he clambers into zoro's lap, graceless and hurried, hands slipping under zoro's arms to grip at his shoulders and zoro lets him cling, presses a hand to sanji's nape and the other to his spine, shifts so that his own back is against the wall.

they sit there for a long time on the stockroom floor. zoro isn't good at this, he thinks. at comfort. he tries anyway, sifts his hands through sanji's flaxen hair as he talks about everything and nothing at all, mindless murmurs as he feels tears dampen the side of his throat where sanji has decided to hide. sanji lets out a shaky breath, fingertips digging into zoro's muscle, and zoro can feel the cook's heart beating out a slowing tattoo against his own chest. his slacks are twisted around the ankle, rucked up above his stupid fancy loafers. zoro smooths them down as sanji pulls back and curls up sideways.

he is loathe to break the silence, but he asks anyway. "everything okay, cook?"

"...yeah," sanji breathes, seeming to deflate as zoro presses a kiss to his crown. "yeah, i'm good." he leans into the arm around his back and tucks his nose against zoro's collarbone, closing his eyes. zoro doesn't move and he won't until sanji wants to leave.

after that first time, zoro kind of gets it down to a routine. when sanji's about to have a panic attack he gets the cook to a quiet, dark space, sits down and talks him through it; it helps sanji to know where he is, who he is, who he's with. a lot of the times he gets set off because something tripped a memory from his past, and it rockets him right back into his childhood. sanji hates it; hates the hold that it all still has on him, but zoro is VERY insistent that his getting through it all, unscathed or otherwise, is something to be proud of.

sanji's always shaken after panic attacks, no matter how much he brushes it off. when they get back to the ship zoro bundles him up in blankets and brings him hot tea; it's a direct opposite of how he was treated back in germa. it helps. they already share a bunk most nights anyway, but on these nights especially zoro makes sure to really hold sanji close, lets the cook arrange him however he wants before they fall asleep because it's the least he can do.

it irks him. the fact that he can't fight something that's in sanji's own head, that he isn't the best at handling these types of situations— but sanji refuses to have anyone other than him for the time being, so he does what he can.

(to sanji, it's more than enough.)

now, zoro. i don't think he gets panic attacks often, but only because his body's kind of in a constant state of alert; he is so focused on being ready to fight, so high-strung, that he doesn't even have the chance to slack and slip into one.

however i think a breaking point would be if the crew was in any sort of perilous situation and he couldn't do anything to help. shit goes down and everybody's alive but he gets back to the ship and it all hits him at once.

sanji finds him sitting eerily still on the bench in the crow's nest. his leg would be bouncing but he's always had incredible awareness of and control over his body, and right now he has himself in an iron grip. his breathing is fast and laboured and his gaze is burning a hole into a spot on the wall— and sanji hovers for a second because it looks like zoro would fly apart at a single poke.

he recognises the symptoms even if they're locked down tighter than a sprung mousetrap. he climbs up gently but obviously enough that he knows zoro will notice, keeps his footsteps soft but lets his soles brush across the floor. zoro inhales sharply when sanji lays a tentative hand on his shoulder and the cook nearly pulls back, but he gives zoro a firm squeeze and sits down next to him.

they don't do much, just sitting there with their shoulders and knees pressed together, and sanji waits because he knows he can't push this no matter how much he wants to and god does he want to. his fingers twist discreetly into the covers on his free side. he wants to pull zoro to his chest and rub his back and show him that everything's alright. he needs zoro to show something other than stone-faced calm, about as convincing as a plaster mask. he needs zoro to not bottle everything in but he will not push, he won't, so he sits there and bites at the inside of his cheek.

eventually the weight on his shoulder slowly grows heavier. zoro reaches for his hand, tentative, trembling, and sanji nearly yells a prayer to whatever god he doesn't believe in. he leans over to pull zoro down and lies on his back on the bench, letting the swordsman curl around him and smoothing his palm over zoro's tense spine.

zoro's exhale is shaky. his fingers grip at sanji's shirt so tightly that the threads strain, his torso laying across sanji's stomach like a shield. sanji shifts down a little when he realises zoro's trying to get to his heartbeat; he sighs when the swordsman's palms bracket his ribcage, ear pressed above his sternum, earrings warming from being pressed against skin.

sanji rubs a thumb over zoro's hairline, kneading into his tense temples. "wanna come down for dinner?" he asks quietly, face soft as tired grey eyes peer up at him. "bet they're all waiting for you."

he knows that zoro needs proof that they're all alright. a night in the galley with gentle hands and bandages and soft laughter would do him some good. cake, if their nakama want, and spiked hot chocolate all around.

zoro grunts, burying his face back into sanji's stomach, and sanji takes that as a later. maybe a soon, if he's lucky; he needs to talk franky into giving this bench seat cushions. a soft huff ruffles zoro's hair, and sanji smooths it back into place.

they go down much, much later. sanji's spine is aching and he knows zoro feels bad about it from the palm that kneads at his lower back, but he doesn't really mind. luffy's indignance at missing dinner is mollified when sanji bakes a massive red velvet cake. nobody notices when he slips zoro an extra slice and gets a soft squeeze around the waist as thanks.

#zosan #one piece zosan #zoro x sanji #roronoa zoro #black leg sanji #one piece #one piece zoro #one piece sanji

129 notes · View notes

spaceyaceface · 11 months

Note

Hey, I'm the anon that requested Right Direction and I just wanted to let you know that I LOVE IT. Thank you so much, it's amazing and definitely my favourite fic I've ever read. As someone who struggles with self-destructive tendencies it really means a lot ♡.

If you're up for it I would really appreciate it if you wrote a continuation to it? Just something about MC struggling and going to Ominis for help since they don't feel like they can trust themself with taking care of themselves.

Totally okay if you don't want to, just decided to shoot my shot, since I didn't even think you'd answer my suggestion the first time (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

Again, thank you so much for writing this and I just wanted you to know that I love it and it really helped me a tonne.

Take care and have an amazing life ♡

Hello lovely! So sorry it took so long for me to get this out, but I hope this helps you once again! As someone who also deals with some self-destructive tendencies, both the first part and this one were very comforting to write. I hope that anyone struggling with this sort of thing can find some peace and comfort <3

Ominis Gaunt x gn!Reader/MC

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Self-destructive tendencies, brief references to injuries, feelings of guilt/regret

You stared down at the plate of food in front of you. Your stomach ached with hunger, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to eat.

With a heavy sigh, you set down your fork, giving up on the meal. Your stomach turned at the thought of trying to take even a bite—the delicious breakfast you had once craved every morning in the Great Hall now seemed like nothing but a sickening sight there to taunt you.

Things always seemed to get worse when you were left alone for a while. You hated it—it made you feel weak, like you constantly had to have a babysitter around to keep you from spiraling. But that’s when the thoughts took over, the guilt and remorse, the regrets.

Last night had been a bad night for you. You couldn’t stand the silence around the castle with everyone studying, so despite your better judgment, you had gone to the Forbidden Forest to blow off some steam. When you returned, you had fully intended on healing your wounds as you had been for the past few weeks to keep your promise to Ominis, but… but you couldn’t. The guilt from the scratches and bruises riddling your body was one of the reasons you couldn’t eat that morning.

You knew you should go find Ominis. Tell him about last night, the way you were feeling now. You had no doubt he’d be gentle with you, only chastising you out of the goodness in his heart, but how could you admit to failing him?

The past few weeks with Ominis at your side had been exactly what you needed. The feelings you had for each other ran deep, as was obvious in the way you comforted and held one another. In any moment of weakness or struggle, he was there for you, letting you lean your head on his shoulder. He would take your hand, tracing shapes in the most perfect of patterns. It felt like the weight of the world slipped away whenever you were with him.

It was within that time that you had come to realize an astonishing truth—you loved him. For a while, you had felt it would be impossible to care for anyone so deeply, out of fear of losing them, but he tore down those walls and planted himself firmly in your heart. The strength of your feelings towards him, however, didn’t overtake the need to be slow. It was what both of you needed. You allowed each other to fall softly. It was beautiful. For all the care and support he provided, you were determined to do the same. He had finally begun opening up more and more about his past and his life, and you felt honored he would share such delicate feelings with you.

After what feels like a lifetime of internal war, you stand, determined to find him. It doesn’t take long—he seemed to be doing the same thing, smiling as he heard your footsteps approach in the hall. You smile, too, though a little hesitant.

“How has your morning been?” he asked, now by your side.

You exhale a shaky breath. “Not the best, if I’m completely honest. I… that’s why I was coming to find you.”

He didn’t frown, didn’t look at you disapprovingly or let a flicker of disappointment come over his face. Instead, he reached for your hand, taking it in his own. “Do you want to talk about it, dear?”

“I… I don’t know. I don’t know how. I just don’t want to be alone,” you said softly. He nodded. Leading you out the castle doors in understanding silence. Your hand in his brought peace to your racing heart, gave solace to your troubled mind. The weight that had been growing in your chest started to ease as the two of you sat near the Black Lake.

You leaned against him, and he against you, taking in the warmth of the spring day. He played with your fingertips and pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“I went to the forest last night,” you admitted softly. “I came back, and… well, I still haven’t taken a potion yet. I tried to, but I just…” you trailed off, unable to put into words the swirling thoughts and emotions troubling you.

“Thank you for telling me,” Ominis said, voice just as hushed as your own. “I know how hard it is to admit you’re not alright.”

You closed your eyes in an effort to keep them from tearing up. It didn’t work as well as you had hoped. “I don’t want you to see me as weak. As a burden.”

Ominis shifted a bit so he could hold your face in his hand. “My dear, you are the strongest person I know. One bad day—or a hundred bad days—won’t change that. The fact that you can come to me and tell me your troubles is a testament to that strength. I am grateful for every day I get to show you how much I care for you. You never have been, nor will ever be a burden.”

Your head fell from where his hand held it to the crook of his neck, silent tears slipping out. He cradled you there, fingers tangling with your hair as he held you close. After several minutes, you rose to look at him, eyes tracing over the lines of his face, the beautiful marks on his cheeks.

“I love you, Ominis,” you said. They were the easiest words you had ever said. No doubt behind them. “And it’s alright if you can’t say the same right now. But I’m sure of it. I love you, and I couldn’t be more grateful to have you by my side.”

A small smile grew on his lips as he leaned closer to you. “I can and I will say the same. I love you, on your best days and your worst. We will get through this together, my love, one day at a time.”

The kiss he placed on your lips was sweet and gentle—it represented everything the boy in your arms was. One day at a time, you thought. You could do that, as long as you had him beside you.

#Ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis x reader #ominis x mc #ominis gaunt imagine #hogwarts legacy #tw self destruction #self destructive tendencies

131 notes · View notes

sir-yeehaw-paws · 3 months

Note

If you don't mind I'm going to be horribly demanding and request more delicious thoughts on Kaz and his female coded story. Sorry but I'm eating this all up!!

No sweat Anon! I will say it's a thought I kinda had offhandedly once and left alone for a long time, so I'm having to think way back a bit as I consider it.

As an obvious quick note too, it's sort of a random interpretation I had. It doesn't have any real bearing on canon anymore than my other random thoughts do. It was kind of like, at some point, I noticed that Kaz had a storyline and writing style I've gotten used to seeing but with women.

The jilted ex hellbent on revenge. Someone who is more well known in story for his emotional issues vs how physically imposing or strong he is or isn't. I don't know about everyone else, but when I first think of Kaz, the most memorable thing that comes to mind is his emotions. Being unable to manage ones anger is very 'masculine' a trait, but being beholden to those emotions is a 'feminine' quality.

I'll say too, revenge as a motivator is a common story theme. And its very present in films and the like. This is certainly not a 'female only' thing, and there's SO much nuance that has to be applied. And to be perfectly blunt, I can't fully articulate 100% why I especially have this feeling with him, but at some point in one of my nightly Kaz spirals, I had the thought of "Kaz is written the way I'm used to women being written", and, after mentioning it, I sat on it, never gave it really much expansion, and haven't given myself the chance to really put into words why I feel this way.

It's sort of like..

Kaz gets dismissed a lot. Kaz isn't taken seriously a lot because he lets his emotions get the better of him. (Which is largely his fault, if he could calm down for five seconds and take a breather, he'd be able to put his very honest, very intelligent thoughts into words). But he doesn't give himself that chance. He screams, shouts and acts impulsive instead.

Meaning he gets written off as being 'too hysterical' to take seriously. Which is something we see a lot in female characters. Who often get pushed aside in narratives despite being smart, or having a point, because "She's too hysterical right now don't listen to her."

Kaz is known for being jealous. Manipulative and 100% ruled by emotions and impulses. He makes extreme decisions at the drop of a hat, but places fall apart without him managing the books and the records. He tries to overcompensate, and get taken seriously, but it leaves him getting underestimated and written off. Because for every serious thing he says, for every legitimate point he makes, its either screamed or shouted.

Or, full of biting sarcasm and snide remarks. He's a 'playboy' in Peace Walker. The man with a full hair care routine in a jungle. He's been 'caught' and brought in by a man more powerful and more respected than himself, and while he tries again and again to be on equal footing with him-and fully believes he ought to be, it falls short.

(This isn't excusing Kaz either, his entrance into the MSF is a rabbit hole I've gone down before, because it's very hard to put into black and white territory and victim/abuser territory. It requires deeper thought and more critical thinking).

Anyway.

I think another way to look at it, is that if I imagine Kaz as a woman, his story..really does not change that much to me? It's got all the elements of the supporting/leading lady role. And as a retroactive character (as in, a character that was originally very much a one note they build backwards by making him more meaningful in the prequels) he gained importance in the narrative, but backwards.

(I'm aware this doesn't make much sense, it's so hard for me to articulate this one properly sorry).

To be a tad crueler about it, think of the stereotype 'nagging wife'. Its not hard to imagine Kaz like that. At all. In my head. At the end of the day, it's something I'd probably have to think about more, but it kinda sits in the back of my mind occasionally.

#character posts: kazuhira miller #and hell this might not even have ANY basis in canon I could've just been tripping but its like #i know what i personally am seeing but I don't know fully why that is #this is one of the hardest thoughts ive tried to put into words but i am doing my best #mgs #thoughts posts #nate rambles #kazuhira miller #asks #answered asks

42 notes · View notes

anxious-witch · 2 months

Text

This post specifically goes for my mutuals/followers who have been struggling lately. I see you and I don't always have something encouraging to reply, but if you have been feeling down recently, I hope this will help.

TW for mental health talk, mentions of suicide (this is an encouraging post, but please don't read further if anything of the sort might trigger you. Keeping your mental health intact is more important ❤️)

It's so very easy to get in the spiral of "I am not doing enough, all these people that I love would be better off without me". And convincing yourself those same people would forget you and move on quickly.

It's not true. I understand the sentiment, I really, really do. I used to fully believe that myself. But that's a lie. Mental illness reshapes the way we think and perceive things. And our brain and wired to remember bad things more than good ones. But when you'd write down everything that happened every day, I'd honestly be surprised if all of it was bad. Of course there are bad days, but even then, depression tend to focus on things you did wrong instead of those you did right.

But I am here to talk about the fact that I'd miss you if you were gone, too. Which seems ridiculous. "Rio, you follow 1000 blogs, you wouldn't notice". *loud incorrect buzzer* wrong! I would notice. As long as we ever interacted, as long as you liked and/or reblogged my posts, I'd notice.

When someone gets busy and I don't see them in my notes for over a week, I hope they are okay and just doing something more fun irl. I am not always great at remembering usernames, but as soon as they like one of my posts again I'm like yes!! They are back! I am glad you are okay!

"But I don't even contribute to the fandom!" No? Do you think creating content is the only way to contribute? Even just lurking and liking stuff counts. And I know some of you send really lovely anon messages that have made my day more than once. It DOES matter. Notes help other people as encouragement to keep posting. That absolutely counts.

"We barely post about the same fandom anymore" ah! But I still see you! I have a mutual that I have been following since 2016-2017, I believe. I have no idea what the hell he posts about these days. I can't rven accurately tell you why I originally followed him in the first place, it was either LOTR or Twilight, but fuck if I remember, because neither of hs posts about it!

And I still care. Because his journey ended up helping me. Seeing people's posts about their little achievements always makes my day. And even if you don't feel like you achieved anything in awhile, that doesn't mean you won't in the future. My point is, you are loved more than you know.

And this is only about online stuff. People notice when you walk down the street. Maybe someone likes your hair, or some detail of your outfit. Maybe someone saw you feed a stray and thought how nice you are. Maybe someone takes the same public transport as you every day and takes comfort in the fact you share the same path, if only for a few minutes.

This tumblr post perfectly described it, actually:

So please, if not for your own sake, for the sake of all the people who love you silently, keep going. It will get better. You might be just a bit further away from getting better. But you won't know unless you keep going.

So let's find out together, shall we?

#rio rambles #mental health #tw suicide mention #I think I might be getting way to ahead of myself #but I have seen posts and heard second hand about a lot of ppl struggling rn #so if this makes even one person feel a bit better it's worth posting

35 notes · View notes

be-ready-when-i-say-go · 7 months

Note

Hi there...I understand you're taking requests 👀. Could I please get an Ashton Irwin x reader friends to lovers? Maybe he confesses his feelings to reader who feels the same but doesn't think they should be together because he has to go on tour (distance). But they end up together with some smut. I hope you can write this one, if not I understand. Thanks so much 😊

Hi, thanks for dropping a request. I hope you enjoy it doesn't get steamy, if I'm honest. I hope that's okay. If it's a problem, please let me know!

Requests are open briefly until the 24th. Any NSFW content (smut, etc) must be requested off anon to ensure no minors (those 17 and below) are requesting the content.

Feel free to look through my masterlist for more. You can submit a request through my asks.

________________________________

It’s a tradition, one that you’d personally be damned in trying to pinpoint when it had grown into such. But lack of clarity on its inception doesn’t undermine the tradition that brings you here, two nights before the tour sitting across from Ashton. He’s giggling at his own story, napkin clutched into one of his hands. Your cheeks hurt from how much you’ve been smiling and laughing at it as well. You and Ashton are always here two nights before any tour with dinner. Whether he cooks, or you cook, or you eat out--it doesn’t matter. The two of you make sure to set time aside for each other regardless.

“I’m so serious,” Ashton giggles. “Guy straight up offered fifty bucks for the t-shirt I was literally wearing. Right off my back.”

“The real question,” you start, setting your bottle down after your sip, “is did you actually give this rando your shirt off your back for fifty bucks?”

Ashton’s smile changes, the bright honey curve of his lips morphs into something softer and more mischievous. “I got a good lunch afterwards though.”

“Ashton!” you scold, tufts of laughter bubbling from your chest. You know the possibility always exists with Ashton. It would be hard to imagine that he wouldn’t do something just for the story of it.

“I didn’t take the cash! But he treated me to lunch, since I did sort of give him the shirt off my back.”

“You didn’t sort of do anything,” you huff, finishing off the last pieces of your food. Ashton’s plate sits with just another bite or two of the pasta. Somehow the food’s gone faster than you two have even calculated for, but that won’t stop you. With the settling evening, Ashton’s backyard is a comfortable solace, a nice place to rest for a little.

“Guilty as charged,” Ashton returns. He scrapes up the last of his food as the conversation lulls for a moment. He watches though, the way you stare up and behind him, like your mind’s taken you to places behind the court of his house. “But how’s work? For you?”

You’d asked Ashton how his life was going and it sent him spiraling. He can go a mile a minute but he’s never far from always checking in on you. You shrug at Ashton’s question. Your life has fallen a little mundane though your work is anything but.

You’d fallen into Ashton’s world when he frequented the record shop you worked out in the last year of your master’s program. You needed the cash on the side. Though the days were long between school, work, and homework, you found a little slice of quiet in that shop. It was a local gem, hidden in the debris of a crumbling shopping center. But locals knew the record shop well and would take the hike to unearth the treasure.

Ashton was one of those locals. He spotted you as you placed prices on new arrivals and asked if anything specific came in worth looking for. You shrugged in response, but lifted out some limited edition vinyls with a yawn. You’re not sure what joke you made specifically, but it was enough. Ashton laughed like his life depended on it and more and more he came into the shop. You two exchanged names, then numbers, growing closer and closer as time passed. In just a year, you could tell that Ashton was going to be someone important in your life. You’d never imagine the scale, and still can’t. But you told yourself even if Ashton was there for a season it would be spring and bring forth all sorts of new life.

Now, you’re four and half years into your friendship and it still grows and grows. You’ve left the record shop, settling into talent management and running in leagues adjacent to Ashton’s. It’s not the most glamorous job on the planet, but it pays the bills. The only downside to the field is that drama from others becomes your drama just by association. You have to get in the dirt sometimes as much as you definitely didn’t want to. And Ashton knows how much you dislike some of the aspects of your job.

“Is that a shrug that means same old, same old? Or is that a shrug that means big shit?” Ashton questions. “I’d hazard a guess closer to the latter.”

“You win another year of friendship,” you laugh, finally focusing your gaze back on Ashton. His honey eyes are melting with concern as he gazes up at you. It makes your stomach flutter and you hate the feeling. Hate that the two of you were always dancing.

“I wasn’t worried for a second about that. You’re stuck with me. It’s in the contract.”

“I signed no such thing,” you tease. “I need to see that one.”

“It’s written in invisible ink,” Ashton snorts. “But seriously, what’s wrong? Do you want to talk about it?”

“It’s just a mess.” You’re not supposed to get into specifics, but it’s never once stopped you when it came to Ashton. “It’s sensitive information really and not something I want to spread around even if it’s to safe ears.”

Ashton nods. “I’m sure you see and hear a lot of shit.” He knows you’re working specifically with someone up and coming. They’re young and if Ashton knows anything from his younger years, it’s that trouble comes with freedom and excitement. Some mistakes though just need to be learned the hard way. So Ashton assumes it’s something big for you to even keep it quiet.

“Too much shit. We’re talking with lawyers,” you divulge.

Ashton whistles. He’s no stranger to lawyers but he knows that when they get into the mix it gets messy fast. But they aren’t there for no reason, no little reason that is. “Fuck. Is this like…criminal?”

You shake your head. “It’s technically a civil matter but it could easily get criminal with my client’s hothead.”

“You’ve mentioned that before,” Ashton comments. Once before the two of you were catching up over lunch and your phone rang. Not the first time Ashton’s been inside a police station but it is the first time he’s been in one where he thought a crime might happen right next to an officer. To say he thought you could spit fire that day is not eloquent enough for your rage. “Well, I hope it doesn't get criminal. I know it’s gotta be a nightmare for you though. You’ve only been working with them for what? 6 months?”

“Eight,” you correct, “but it’s not long enough to be dealing with lawyers on a first name basis.”

Ashton reclines into his seat, arms folded over his chest. You rest your cheek against the flat of your knuckles, elbows resting on the table. Though you’re smiling, Ashton knows just how unamused you are at the situation. “How long have you been dealing with this situation?”

“Two months? Maybe a little less, but like we’re about to get the two month mark.”

“God damn.”

You can only nod, a hum leaving your throat. “Yeah, but that’s boring and a buzzkill.”

Ashton doesn’t miss the way you spin the bottle of alcohol free beer in a circle. He laughs but nods. “Fine, fine. Want another?”

“No, no, I’m good. You excited for this tour?” Ashton hadn’t talked it about in the same way he had the others. He adored what he was doing. He spoke passionately about the tour. But you were fuzzy on some details. Normally, he was brimming with every twist and turn the tour had. He’d trip over himself to tell you. You hate to think it was somehow a sign--that maybe Ashton’s retracting.

Ashton’s nod is fast and hard. You watch him, eyes dropping from you to the green glass bottle in his hands. “I’m very excited. But I don’t want to spoil it,” he offers. It’s soft and you think that the words are somehow going to crumble onto his lap.

“What do you mean spoil it?” you question. You don’t want to start pointing fingers and claiming that he’s not telling you things like before. You don’t want Ashton to go onto the defense.

“I-it’s so silly,” he laughs.

“No, I’m sure it’s not silly,” you offer.

“But it is. I just-I kind of want you just to see it without me telling you anything about it beforehand. I know I normally tell you everything but this time I just want this to be a surprise.”

“Want me to go in blind, Irwin? Trying to give me a heart attack? I’m supposed to have insider knowledge, you know?”

He smiles again. For that, you’re grateful. “No, you do. I’m sure you have more than enough insider knowledge. I just--” His words fall short. He loves telling you everything. God, Ashton loves sharing his world with you. It makes him smile to see you smile. He wants to be there, when he can be, for you. When he can’t be, he wants to know that he’s still one of the first people you call even through the distance. And he does know it. When you got offered a position with the management company, you called Ashton mere minutes after the email came through. When Ashton nailed a drumline, he’d ensure you got to hear the initial take or two.

But there’s something different about this--he wants to watch you when everything comes unraveled. It’s unlike anything else they’ve done. He wants the show to keep some of its magic. That and he wants to keep an excuse to see you again. You visit during the hometown shown normally and you still plan to this time. But he’s hoping to convince you to visit at least one other show too. Because no two shows are exactly alike.

“Are you sure you can only make it to the LA show?” Ashton questions, finally looking up at you.

You pause, nails picking at the label and the label scrunches just a little with your work. “I might be in Dallas too.”

“Really? You mean that, no bullshit?”

You shrug, your own lips failing to hold back your smile. Ashton catches on though and pushes up in his seat. His plate scratches over the top of the table as his forearms move it to the side. Your skin warms. It’s not embarrassment, it’s not even fear or shyness. You just feel alive in a way that only Ashton seems to make possible. You hold up your hands to slow his roll before it’s begun. “I’m supposed to be working the night before but I extended my stay by a couple days.”

“I’ll take it. I’ll take it easily.” Ashton reaches for your hands. Your palms are softer to the touch and it’s not lost on Ashton how the hairs on his arm stand up at your touch--electric in ways that he’s sure he can’t be alone in. When he looks up through his lashes, your gaze is dropped down to your intertwined fingers. Your fingers stroke gently over the top of his hands, over his knuckles.

“You’re such a sap,” you tease softly.

“I’ll have you know that I don’t care,” Ashton hums. His bones are melting at your touch.

“You all packed up yet?” Ashton’s not necessarily a last minute packer, but he does occasionally cut it down to the wire. More than one of your pre-tour dinners has ended with Ashton needing to pack up his suitcase. It almost feels like it wouldn’t be a tradition without that fact.

Ashton shakes his head, tracing the veins on the top of your hands now. It’s a dance, your hands trading who leads and who waits. “Stylist got the show outfits last week. Everything else is sitting around the suitcase waiting for your magic touch.”

“Oh, c’mon,” you laugh. “You taught me how to pack!”

“And I must say I may be one heck of a teacher, but I swear I almost miss something without you.” He pouts at you, lower lip rolling out.

You roll your eyes but tap at Ashton’s forearms. “You clean up the dishes and get me another beer and I’ll get started.” You’d cooked over at Ashton’s place. Your apartment doesn't have the appropriate kitchen space and you hate how cramped it can feel, so Ashton offered up his place.

Ashton squeezes at your forearms in response, “Thank you. Dishes will be squeaky clean.”

It’s all the two of you need before you push away from the table, plates and bottles in hand, and carry on back inside of the house. The floors are cool against your feet and the house echoes in a way that lets you know all is silent. Ashton most often keeps music playing, saying it makes the place feel lived in. You’re not sure how it can’t feel lived in. Ashton’s couch is covered in blankets, walls lined with plaques and photographs. The living room is a bit echoey as it opens up into the kitchen more directly, but there’s plenty of life, if anyone was to ask you.

You set your dishes on the counter next to the sink, listening to the click of the ceramic meeting the marble. “One of these days you’re going to have to pack yourself,” you tease.

Ashton closes the door to the fridge with his hip, holding two bottles in hand. “Don’t you dare say that. You’ll always be my pack checker.” He wants to say more, wants to say the reason you’ll always be there is because you’ll be with him. Forever might be a scary concept, but he wants to see what that could look like with you. Though if Ashton puts anything more than friends out there and you shoot him down, it’ll shatter him.

He’d recover, he knows. But it’s selfish. He’d rather not have to lose you or hurt himself like that.

“Hmm, my tax might get higher,” you tease, sliding the bottle opener off the counter.

“I’d pay it in a heartbeat,” Ashton huffs. And as the two of you get closer, you reaching for the bottle, Ashton wishes he’d just be more direct. He really ought too. He wants to tell you but also worries that it might break everything.

You work loose the top to both bottles. “That’s a lot of game, Irwin. Let’s see if you can back it up.”

“Promise, I can.”

Only a hum leaves your throat before your sip pauses you. “I’ll be upstairs packing your suitcase.”

“Thank you!” he calls out as you push towards the stairs.

“Yeah, yeah, just pay up, Irwin.”

Ashton watches your exit, the stairs taking you further and further from sight. It feels like it’s bubbling up his chest. All the words he’s held onto for years. But if he’s going to be honest, this might be the most selfish thing he’s going to embark on.

You sigh as you enter Ashton’s bedroom. His closet door is open, suitcase splayed on the floor. Inside of the case, you can see his toiletry bag, clothes stacked neatly inside and a couple pairs of shoes on the floor outside the cas. You assume this is all the stuff he’s taking with him on tour. It’s a scene you're familiar with, having grown fond of the ritual as well.

You can’t shake the soft echo of Ashton’s voice earlier, I’ll take it.

It’s eating away at your tongue. What will Ashton take? It certainly couldn’t be just one extra show you’d catch. It certainly wasn’t that. But there was something desperate and earnest in his voice. You think it might mean more. You want it to mean more. The crush on Ashton started slow, so slow you almost can’t pinpoint when it surfaced. But you know it had surfaced.

You longed for his touch and when he was around, you felt like everything made sense. Even if it didn’t actually make sense, there’s a sense of comfort in his presence that slows your racing mind. You don’t have butterflies, but it’s a warm feeling buzzing beneath your skin. A kind of calm that cuts through the noise.

Ashton could have his pick of whomever. It’s a fact made possible by his occupation and his good looks help too. Yet, you’ve noticed a decreasing lack of conversation surrounding relationships. You weren’t sure if he was looking less for them or if he was just keeping that information from you out of respect. You never hated that he talked about other women. You’d sort of grown accustomed to that topic, having talked Ashton off many ledges about love in the midst of drama, familial trauma with relationships, and his own stubbornness.

You’re not less of a suspect about the topic either. You stopped talking so much about your own love life with Ashton as well. Part of it due to its slow death. With work and your crush on Ashton you sort of resigned yourself to a state of limbo--temporarily at least. You know you can’t linger on this crush and unknown forever. But you hadn’t been so bold as to bring it up before.

Perhaps, it was time to breach that line again.

The clack of Ashton’s slippers on his floors lets you know he’s moving up the stairs and closer to the bedroom. You keep your focus on the tuck of his jeans into the bottom of the suitcase. Your heart races though, the closer and closer Ashton gets.

Would you really bring up this conversation now? Two days before tour? It was beyond shitty timing. Yet, opportunity feels like it’s slipping through your fingers if you don’t make a move now. Like if you don’t say something now you won’t say something ever. You’ll resign yourself to swallowing back down everything you’ve been brewing over in the ten minutes you’ve had apart from Ashton.

“What’s the diagnosis, doc?” Ashton teases, slipping out of his house shoes. His descent beside you on the floor is a little slow and he groans just a hair as he gets down.

“Bad knees,” you return with a laugh, taking a shirt from the pile to fold and roll.

“You’re a fucking comedian,” Ashton huffs. He takes another one of his shirts and is acutely aware that he should probably handle his undergarments to spare you.

It falls quiet around the two of you. You’re focused now on folding, rolling, tucking into luggage. You run your fingers over the items. “Got enough bottoms? I’m not sure how often you’ll be near a washer and dryer.”

“We find ways,” Ashton laughs. “Also I’m counting the pants I’m wearing on the first flight, so yeah, I’m good.”

“PJ’s?”

“A couple sets to swap out,” Ashton answers, lifting up to display some shorts and t-shirts beneath his normal attire.

“Space for souvenirs?”

Ashton laughs. “Take me for a rookie, baby?”

“I don’t know, maybe.” It falls quiet again. The scruff’s grown thicker and now might be enough to constitute a beard. “Going to let the beard grow out or shave it?”

Ashton shrugs. “I’ve got some shaving stuff packed just in case I choose otherwise. It’ll only need a couple days to grow back,” he laughs.

Now, as the two of you lock gazes, you see something swimming in Ashton’s eyes. His brows are pulled together. “Everything okay?” you ask. Though the two of you are separated by a suitcase, you still inch closer.

“Can-can I ask you something?”

You nod. “Anything.” And it’s so easy to say that. Because you mean it. Ashton can ask you anything and you’ll answer it. But you’re not even thinking what that might mean to someone else until Ashton’s stumbling over his own words. A man normally so confident, worrying his lips over and over with his teeth.

“I just--I know we’ve been friends for a while and with the tour coming up so soon, I’m not sure this is even fair to ask now.” Ashton pauses. He wants to take the knot of your brows as rejection but he watches for a moment longer and the pieces are clicking. Your eyes narrow, then widen like the bulb might’ve just gone off even before he’s gotten all the words out. “I don’t-I don’t want to ruin anything! I just need to ask.”

The possibility you hadn’t fully wanted to let yourself consider seems to be crash landing into your lip. If you’d conjured up this moment, you were afraid that you’d give it too much weight and care about it a bit too much. You worried that if you did open the door it would slam close, so you let yourself just think, but never dream.

“Ashton, I’m going to ask this because I just need it explicit. What are you asking?”

A beat. Then two.

Ashton moves the suitcase top up and over to shut the half packed suitcase close. He moves closer to you, taking your hands. “I want to ask if I should ask for a romantic relationship with you if the answer might be yes? I-I know we have a lot to work out and I’m gone for 4 months in two days. But, god, I had to ask. I have to ask.”

There’s a lot of unknowns. It’s jumping off the deep end. But the things you do know is that you and Ashton have had years. That surely had to count for something. “It-it could be.” The words make your own teeth chatter for a second. Your guts hurt at the thought that you might even be inching closer to something.

Ashton’s palm is large--it swallows your cheek as he brings your face up closer. Your foreheads brush and you can smell the garlic from your food and the subsequent mint you’re sure Ashton snuck on the way up here.

His smile radiates over his entire face. You can feel the heat of it ghosting over your face and you smile too. “It could be?”

“It could be. I like you. A lot. You make me feel safe. But you’re leaving so soon and I don’t know if right now I can say anything definitely.”

Ashton’s lips brush over the tip of your nose. “I know. I’m sorry I didn’t ask anything sooner. But please know I’m happy at the possibility. We’ll talk. I promise.”

As Ashton draws back, you surge forward, locking him in with a hand on the back of his neck. Ashton had asked but still you need the words. “Promise me we’ll talk at least weekly while you’re on tour? Promise me that there’s a possibility back?”

“I promise there’s a possibility. I mean, more than that too. But it’s--it’s not something you just waltz into. We’ll talk. Weekly at the absolutely least.”

Ashton swears his chest is going to burst when you kiss the tip of his nose. His fingers curl and he wants to do nothing more than to take your waist into his hands, kiss you until his lungs burn. But he won’t do that. The two of you had only promised an exploration, something to talk about more in depth, nothing full fledged. Ashton can’t lie that he doesn’t take that promise to bed like treasure. He can’t lie that he doesn’t lets it bury into his chest. He can’t lie that his dreams don’t water that hope.

He can’t lie that when he wakes to a text from you, Take care of yourself today, with a red heart instead of the pink ones that something ike joy, or maybe just a stronger hope, blossoms.

Your phone shakes and you pull the glasses off your face with a huff. You’d been buried into your laptop trying to read over the headlines about your client and you already know it’s going to be a mess, yet this is all you have just a mess.

Ashton’s name greets you on the screen and your bubble of frustration shrinks. “Long time, no see, stranger,” you tease, taking in the shaky and choppy picture of Ashton.

“Hey, stranger,” he teases. You can tell by the way his hair sticks to his forehead he’s recently either gotten down with a show. “What’s it like on the west coast?” he asks.

“Sunny and on the verge of collapse.”

“Verge of collapse? Your client?” Ashton questions.

“Isn’t it always? I’ll figure it out, I know. Just buried right now in tabloid bullshit. How was the show over there? How’s the east coast?”

“It’s a little cloudy. Heard some stuff about potential hurricanes. I’ll be glad to be further west next week.”

You nod, scotting down a little in your chair. “This time of year is hurricane season. Must be an active year though if you’re catching wind of it.”

“Our tour manager said the same thing. We’ll be getting out just in the knick of time. Just worried about the folks who live out here. Hurricanes don’t sound fun.”

You shake your head. “Mother Nature is always to be feared--fires to hurricanes.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

“How are the shows though?” you ask, knowing that you may not get all the time you want with Ashton on the phone so you try to get the best of it you can.

“They’re fucking phenomenal. Amazing. Not quite the same as when you’re around, but they’re going really well.”

“And you’re taking care of yourself? If I ever get another text from you about being in a fucking hospital, I swear to God.”

Ashton laughs, a kind of laugh that you know is a bit uncomfortable, but he’s hearing you. “No, no, you won’t. Promise.”

“Good, I do not need a repeat.”

“No repeats. But question, is one of your dream dates still to get dressed up to go visit a museum?”

You give a pause, trying to assess with the somewhat clear picture of Ashton on your phone. You know you’d briefly mentioned it once, maybe twice. But you didn’t think it was enough for Ashton to still carry around the knowledge. You nod though at the question. “It is.”

“Why’d you say it like that? Are you getting suspicious of me?” Ashton teases.

“Maybe just a little. Can I ask why you’re asking?”

“If you must know,” Ashton starts, accent morphing into an almost decent English accent, “I am attempting to court you. Dates are a part of such activities.”

Your laughter falls easily, cheeks heating at the thought. “You do not have to say it like that,” you huff with a smile. “Is your dream date still a picnic and painting?”

“And if it is?” Ashton questions, a bit of a tease lilting his voice.

“Then I’m buying paints, good sir. As simple as that.”

“I can’t argue with that. Okay, two good things about your day? Yeah?” It’s a thing--whenever you talk to Ashton now you two share two good things about your day. It’s a nice way to break up the conversation, spin the frustration of the day into something positive. You recline into the cushion of your couch contemplating your day. After you share the good things you ask Ashton about his. Of course he mentions the show.

Conversation winds through dreams--literal and things about that you want out of life. It’s nice to just let the conversation go where it wants. Ashton mentions being inspired on tour for new scents for his candle company and you let that take you to conversations about the smells of your childhood home. Ashton teases that he’ll have to make that another scent. When you ask about the smells of Ashton’s childhood, you notice he gets a little quiet. It’s a slow answer and when it comes, you listen to all the weight he gives the words.

“Mum--she did the best she could you know. I think if I had to describe the smell of my childhood home it’d be a bit of vanilla, grass because god the house was always brimming with our ruckus.”

“Grass after it rains is a nice smell,” you offer after Ashton’s bout of silence. “We don’t have to push it. I appreciate you sharing what you did.”

“No, no, I don’t mind. Just hard sometimes.”

“I get it. It can be hard sometimes. But I appreciate you listening. It means a lot, you know? That you’re willing to let me work through it at my own pace.”

“Life’s hard enough,” you concede. “No need for me to make it harder.”

“But we have Dallas to look forward too.”

You nod. “Yes, we do have Dallas. I’m excited.”

“Good, me too.” Voices echo from further down and Ashton bids his goodbyes, sad and quiet but you ensure to send a message as follow up, I’m here, when you need to call or text or vent. Got plenty of space. You attach a picture of your bed you splayed across the queen sized mattress.

Ashton’s response comes about twenty minutes later, God, that looks comfy as hell. Thank you. A red heart is attached too.

Ashton’s not one to freak--he’s done plenty of it on his own and knows it’ll get him nowhere. But the night before the Dallas show, his phone shakes. Your name lights up across the screen. He thinks it’s just about tomorrow. Maybe an inner monologue about you trying to decide what to wear. But when the message starts with, I’m so sorry, Ashton knows it’s bad.

He doesn't even read the full thing, pushes back from the bar counter and presses to call your number. It rings, and rings, and rings in his ear. “Please pick up,” he mutters to himself.

“Hi, I’m sorry I can’t answer the phone right now. Please leave a message with your name and number and I’ll be sure to return your call,” your voicemail greets Ashton.

He listens for the beep before speaking, “Hey, it’s me, Ashton. I-I admittedly only read like two percent of your text, but I wanted to call, to see if everything is okay. Please give me a call back when you can. Please. I’m worried.”

There’s so much more to say but Ashton can’t get his tongue to cooperate so he leaves it at that and hangs up. Pushing the hair off his forehead with one hand, Ashton swipes back to your text. I’m so sorry about this. Currently at the ER and will probably be on crutches tomorrow thanks to an ill placed step on some gravel. I’ll be sure to update you and call as soon as I know for certain.

You’re hurt, but not terribly so and that’s a win. It’s not enough to quiet the thunder of Ashton’s heart. What had you done? Where had you been? He can only think to type out, Which hospital are you at? Are you going to be okay?

“Hey, Ash, everything alright?” Calum asks. His voice is soft as his question falls. Ashton’s not sure how he even catches Calum speaking if he’s honest, even as he gives a head shake no to the question. “What happened?”

“Just-I need them to text me back. Figure out how far the hospital is from here. I can think then.”

“Yeah, of course. But it sounds bad? Who’s hurt? When you get the name, I’ll see how quick we can get an Uber.”

Panic does no one any good, but Ashton’s not going to talk himself off the ledge of panic when it comes to you. He waits and waits and Calum waits with him, finally getting the pieces of your text in relation to a potential fall. The two men hover in the lobby of the hotel, drinks long forgotten by now. Though Ashton felt the waning of adrenaline leaving his body from the show just a couple hours before, he feels wired. He watches and watches his screen for it to only come alive by the shake of his hands.

I’m sure you just got done with the houston show and would probably prefer some rest. It’s a pretty bad sprain, I’ll be okay, reads the text after a long 45 minutes.

His fingers shake and he nearly can’t get a steady enough press to dial your number. The phone rings--once, then twice. Your voice is the sweetest sound he could ever hear as it floats in through the receiver, “Hi, Ashton. I’m sorry to give you such a scare, I know.”

“You’re okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. Nasty fall. Really bad sprain. It’ll be annoying for the next couple of days. But I’m not dead.”

“Which hospital are you at?”

“Uh, Baylor something or another. I’m getting discharged now actually. I thought I’d be able to call after the initial run of test but they diagnosed it fast. And a lot sort of happened before I could get my hands on the phone again.”

“It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re okay. Do you have someone that can get you back to your hotel safely?” He needs that answer to be yes. He’s not sure where you are though and that’s the thing that’s killing him. Ashton does have the name of the hotel you’re staying at, as you shared your itinerary with him earlier in the week to see if you’d be at the same hotel. Your hotel is about 10 minutes or so from his. Happenstance you both knew but right now it feels like a godsend.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve got someone that can drive me.”

“I’m going to meet you there okay?” You start to protest but Ashton’s quicker. “I know you probably don’t need me. But please, just let me get eyes on you so I know you’re not going to keel over, okay?”

You sigh. “Fine, Irwin. But you better be there before me.”

A smile lifts his cheeks. “I will be. Promise.”

“Are they at Baylor University still? I got the address,” Calum offers when Ashton hangs up. “And yes, yes I was eavesdropping,” he laughs at the pull of Ashton’s brow.

Though Ashton won’t admit this, he’s glad for Calum’s care. “Nah, no, they’re about to head back to their hotel. Getting discharged now. I’m-I’m going to go there and I’ll meet up with you guys for the truck in the afternoon before it leaves for the venue.”

“Sounds good. Keep us updated though? Should anything else happen?”

“Of course, man. Of course.”

Ashton’s quick back to his room to grab his bags. They’re not many, thankfully. All the while he tracks his drivers approach on his phone as he waits at the elevator door. It’s a slow descent, or at least it feels that way but the doors open and Ashton’s back into the lobby. Just as his feet hit the concrete of the sidewalk a car eases to a stop.

“Picking up for Ashton?” the driver asks through the passenger side window.

It’s a quick ride and Ashton thanks the driver before climbing back out into the thick humid Texas air. It’s heavy on his skin but all Ashton continues to think about is getting into that lobby before you. The glass doors are heavy but they reveal a mostly quiet lobby. No one at the front desk and he settles off to the side. Ashton halfway considers calling you to see how far you are, but before the thought can blossom anymore than a hair, the doors open again.

Someone holds open the door and there’s a click and clack that’s distinctly hollow. “Thanks,” you state, working the crutches up and forward.

Not what Ashton expected but you’re whole--together, in front of him. A wrap on your left ankle. “You’re late,” Ashton huffs, a faux annoyance. But it’s all you need to grin. The ache in his ribs eases.

“I’m moving a little slower than normal.” The two of you meet in the middle, or maybe less than that as Ashton does cover more ground than you. But it’s not like you care. Though you are mindful that you are still sort of on the clock. And Ashton catches on too, when you don’t lean in for a hug or more.

“Do-do you have any bags you need me to carry?” he asks.

“Personal effects,” you tease, throwing a look over to Savannah who’s got your shoe in a plastic bag from the hospital. You take the moment though to introduce the small group you’re with--mostly other staff on the team. “Everyone, Ashton,” you conclude with a nod of your head. It’s a quick conversation to ensure you’re all okay and set to go. Once you confirm that you’re good and that Ashton won’t let you do anything to further hurt yourself, the group slowly thins.

You and Ashton remain as the others move towards either the hotel bar or the elevators. You wait, trying to ensure that the group is gone before you sigh, shoulders rounding with the action. “I hope your heart will be able to withstand the show tomorrow,” you tease.

“Oh, quit it. I’m not that old.”

“I don’t know you told you were old anyway.”

“Oh, society says it everyday. Aren’t you listening?:

“Absolutely the fuck not,” you laugh.

Ashton’s glad to hear the sound. “Yeah, I thought you might say that, let’s get you to your room yeah.”

It’s a hobble, still unsteady on the crutches a little but thankfully once you’re inside the elevator, you know it’s a quick walk to your room. Ashton retrieves the keycard from your wallet for you and holds the door open. The room is cool--like all hotel rooms seem to be as they surely must double for freezers with the temperatures they are set at. But it’s clear that maybe you hadn’t been planning to be out--your laptop’s still on the bed. Your bag rest on the lounge chair open, clothes peeking out from the depths of it.

Ashton drops his bag next to yours.

“So what happened?” he asks.

“We got back around 8 or so, a much too early night if I’m honest. So, I did a little work to pass the time. Then around 9 Devin, the stylist, asks if I want to go out and grab a couple drinks. I say yes, we’re sort of bar hopping to find the right vibe. I had like two drinks max at the bars we’d found. But on the way to another bar, coming down off the sidewalk, I just misjudged the distance or something. All I know is that I was up one minute then I was down.”

Ashton’s gentle as he kneels, taking a quiet moment to inspect your foot. “You ought to be elevating it,” he offers.

“I sort of want to change, but I need to shower too. And that’s just awkward all the way around,” you laugh. “Haven’t even taken me on a date yet and I’m already on the verge of having to ask you to help me undress because of my stupid ankle.”

“They don’t mean that,” Ashton directs to your injured joint. “And I am working on that date, you just need to give me a few months.” Though Ashton hopes he can do it sooner. Though with this injury he’s not sure if his plans of stealing you away one day during the break will pan out still.

You know you should be responding. Ashton’s gazing up at you from practically between your legs as if waiting for an instruction, but you’re too caught up in the way his face holds his beard, honey eyes dripping still as they look at you. “You’re handsome, anyone ever tell you that?”

“Some might say you just did.”

“Well, you are,” you return more confident. “You’re very handsome.” Maybe it’s just easier now. You can freely admit to such attraction because you know the possibility exist that you and Ashton have more. You know the tour is just a temporary thing, but it gives you two something to work from. Rather than just the comfort of ease and accessibility, you and Ashton have to make conscious efforts to communicate while he’s away. The discomfort makes you work. It reminds you that nothing worth having has always been easy.

Your fingers trace the line of Ashton’s jaw, from the bottom of his ear to his chin. Feels like his body is melting but he remains frozen, kneeling on the thin carpeted floor of this hotel room. It’s a sort of limbo that if Ashton were to ever work through a metaphor, he might call it the seconds in a summer blaze with ice cream. You know the ice cream won’t stay solid forever, but in the first few moments, everything is as it always will be. The ice cream will still have a shape and the sun will still have a ray, but those paths had not crossed just yet--not long enough to have an effect. Yet, Ashton knows that while he holds still now, while he waits to see if you say or do something more, he is the sun ray. He will cause an effect.

“You, however, sweetheart, are so incredibly dangerous,” Ashton whispers.

“I haven’t done anything.”

“Besides absolutely wiping out and being a danger to your literal self, I do have to say that you are dangerous because if you keep scratching at my beard like this you are going to open a whole new can of worms that we will not be able to get back inside.”

You know it’s a warning. You don’t think you want to heed it though. “Just a kiss?” you ask.

Will it ever be just a kiss, Ashton does not know. “You speak of me undressing you to shower and change and rest your ankle that is still injured by the way, and ask for just a kiss?”

You nod. “Yeah, just a kiss.”

Ashton pushes up, hand capturing your cheek as his lips capture yours. Your lips taste a bit sour, maybe the drink or two you’d mentioned before. But Ashton thinks he could swallow the taste and tattoo it into his lungs. He would tattoo it into his lungs if such a thing were possible.

You swear you’ve never been held in such a more confident and gentle way as Ashton pulls up closer into your body. His hands find your waist, a grip that pushes into the flesh of you that makes you whimper. It’s a pathetic sound and you can’t help but laugh at yourself, interrupting the kiss. Your kiss ends with an echoing pant between the two of you, nose to nose as you hold his face between your palms.

“You can make fun of me for that later, understand?” you huff.

Ashton’s laughter falls out more like a groan when you brush your hands down his chest. “I don’t really think I have ground to talk, so.” Ashton presses another kiss, lighter, but still long against your lips. “I just--I’m a little ill prepared to go any further tonight.”

“Are you, Ashton Irwin, rockstar and drummer for the hottest band, 5 Seconds of Summer, telling me that you do not have condoms?” you snort.

“It may be that. In all fairness, the spare I had I had to end up passing along to a couple of the other guys so, it’s not that I didn’t have them.”

“You just don’t have anymore,” you conclude for him.

“Exactly.”

“No worries. My spare expired, so same boat. Besides, I did ask only for a kiss.”

“That you surely did. And I think this is our last stop on this train lest we decide to risk it tonight.”

You giggle, fingers playing just a little at the hair at the nape of Ashton’s neck. “I think this is my stop anyway.”

“Can I ask for one more kiss though?” Ashton’s grin is small and sheepish, like he knows he’s asking for something he shouldn’t. But you can’t say no as you capture his lips one last time. It’s softer now, rather than holding for fear of life lost, now you know you can taste and taste without worrying about losing your chance.

Though it should be awkward to get yourself changed and cleaned up, you find that it’s easy. Undoubtedly, it’s intimate to have Ashton help you get your pants on and off, but it’s easy to laugh and converse around your work. By the time you’re both settled in for the night, your leg slightly elevated thanks to some of the spare pillows, the blue hue of the TV screen is just an accent to you and Ashton’s laughter,

“You had to have a crush on at least one cartoon character,” you huff.

“No, I’m normal.”

“Ashton, you are anything but normal. So just fess up. Was it Lola Bunny?”

Ashton laughs. “No, it was not Lola Bunny. Who even is that?”

You ignore Ashton’s question and pry for an answer listing Roxanne from A Goofy Movie as another potential. It gets shot down immediately. “C’mon, Irwin! Just give me an answer.”

Your response is only Ashton pressing a kiss to your cheek with an adamant but giggled filled, “Goodnight.”

It’s not what you imagined how the first time you shared a bed Ashton would go, but you can’t think to change anything about it now. It’d always be a story to tell, one to hold close to your heart in the future. You reach over, finding Ashton’s hand easily under the cover. His response is immediate as he threads his fingers through yours.

The TV remains on, a quiet hum and over the soft music of some commercial you’re sure you catch the rumble of a snore. “Thanks, for being here,” you offer. Even if Ashton is still asleep you need to say it.

“You’re more than welcome.”

#ashton irwin #ashton irwin fanfic #ashton irwin fic #ashton irwin blurb #ashton irwin imagine #5sos #5 seconds of summer #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #5sos blurb #5 seconds of summer blurb #5 seconds of summer imagine #calum hood #michael clifford #luke hemmings

56 notes · View notes

redhairedwolfwitch · 1 year

Text

The Sound of Silence - Alexia Putellas x Reader

A/n: So this fic is based off of a challenge where an anon suggests a fic title and you say what you would write for that title, this is what i came up with from the original idea 'the sound of silence', then a couple of anons asked/suggested for a full fic, so here we are.

Just a note: for this fic, the aftermath is the focus here, but it's the aftermath of someone you love yelling at you for the first time, so keep your mental health in mind when reading please<3 and i'm not sure about the ending but it's a oneshot that people were interested in, so enjoy!

///

She never thought you would leave. But the look on your face was haunting her. Time went slowly, but you showed no signs of coming back, only texting that you were safe, but you weren't ready to talk about what had happened. Alexia hadn't meant to yell, but she had scared you, reminding you of a past you left behind when you came to Barcelona. She had no idea where you had gone, but she knew it would take more than an apology to fix things.

You hated yelling, and being yelled at, the loud angry tone sending you spiralling into panic. You'd asked the team not to yell at you off the pitch, even if they were angry. But she'd messed up in a moment of stress, and now you were gone, leaving the sound of silence behind as you shut the door.

She could remember the day you arrived, introducing yourself, even throwing in a nickname that friends call you, but you had one request. “Please don’t yell at me off of the pitch, even if you’re angry at me… I don’t cope well with being yelled at.”

Nobody really knew what you meant by that, Alexia had an inkling, but it wasn’t until she saw the look on your face, the way you flinched, body rigid as your eyes fought back tears. You almost hit your head on the open kitchen cupboard door, but Alexia was so shocked by the loudness of her own voice, and the unfiltered fear on your face.

You were out the door before she could react, two sounds echoing in her mind before silence. The slamming of the cupboard door as you shrank backwards, away from her, then the front door shutting.

Fight, flight, freeze. You went from freeze to flight so quickly that you hadn’t processed where exactly your feet were taking you. Until you stood outside your destination, hand hovering over to knock, but you didn’t, you couldn’t.

It didn’t take long for Narla to realise someone was at the door, getting the attention of her owners.

“Hey, you alright? Weren’t you supposed to have dinner with Alexia-”

“She yelled.” You whispered, not meeting Keira’s gaze, “she yelled, so I left.”

“Have you eaten?”

“Just ran here after she yelled.” Holding your arms around your torso, Keira was quick to let you inside, going into the kitchen to get you some water and when she returned, Lucy had wrapped you in a blanket on the couch, her hand resting gently on your back as you breathed in and out.

The adrenaline was wearing off, and the exhaustion was hitting you. Your phone nudged Lucy’s knee, passing her it after you messily typed, letting autocorrect fix your errors. You needed to let Alexia know you were safe. Even if she yelled at you, making her worry meant she could yell more.

“Alexia yelled at you?” Keira tried, but Lucy shook her head, realising you were not capable of conversation right now.

All you could do was hum, your eyes fluttering shut as you processed the anxiety running rampant on your body and mind.

It took a few hours for you to come out of your near catatonic state, taking sips of the water Keira had brought hours ago, whilst Lucy and her took turns in keeping an eye on you.

“I’m sorry I’m bothering you, by being here.” Your voice was quiet, almost talking into the food that Lucy had brought over to you, Narla’s head resting on your thigh as she gazed up at you.

“You don’t need to apologise. You said at the start of pre-season, you don’t cope well with anyone yelling at you off the pitch.” Lucy pointed out, watching as you took in a mouthful of food, chewing it slowly. You needed the energy from it, but you couldn’t eat quickly with two people and a dog watching you.

“I started saying that every pre-season. I don’t cope well with yelling because of my past. I left that past behind when I came to Barcelona… Alexia didn’t mean to yell, but my reaction. It’s subconscious. I warned you all in case it happens and I go into an anxiety attack.” You started to play with your food, not wanting to discuss your past, even with the two players who were declared as ‘safe’ during your panic earlier.

The room fell into silence, the only sound being Narla’s tail wagging and hitting your leg as you put the empty bowl down.

“I feel better now.”

“You did look a bit shit earlier, but I wasn't sure if Lucy’s cooking would make it better!” Keira joked, gaining a smile from you as Lucy retorted with an ‘oi!’ but the defender smiled and laughed too.

Your phone had been put on silent throughout the ordeal, so when you picked it up during the movie you were watching with Lucy and Keira, you didn’t expect to see so much interaction, but apparently your teammates had been wondering where you were, along with Lucy and Keira.

“Did you two ditch your plans tonight?” You questioned, showing the text you had from Ingrid asking if everything was okay. The two Lionesses exchanged looks as you began to type, sending the same message to everyone who had tried to contact you. You were fine, you were safe, and you would see them at practice tomorrow. Your gaze drifted over Alexia’s contact, letting out a sigh as you ran your hand down your face.

“I don’t think she meant to yell, I just… I used to blame myself every time someone yelled, even when it wasn’t my fault. I should probably go home, I don’t want to keep being a burden.” You tried to rationalise, moving to fold up the blanket you were wrapped in, but Keira shook her head.

“It’s dark out, and you ran here. We’ll drive you to yours to get your stuff tomorrow before practice.”

“Okay. Thank you. For everything…” you trailed off, staring at the home screen of your phone. The picture of you and Alexia staring back at you, before the screen timed out, and the phone locked itself.

“Don’t thank us for everything, the physios will kill you tomorrow if they find out you got a backache from sleeping on a couch.” Lucy pointed out, but you shrugged at that, wrapping yourself in the blanket again before continuing to watch the movie.

///

Sitting in the back of the car, you stared out at the Barcelona streets whilst Lucy and Keira were in the front, driving to your place to pick up your practice equipment.

“Are you doing okay back there?”

“With all the dog hair?” Your joke made the two laugh, before the sat nav cut in with a ‘your destination is located on your right’.

“That was quick, speedy.” Lucy joked as you returned to the car, making you raise an eyebrow.

“I had everything in one place, just grabbed it. I’ll change at the facility. If we’re late, they will, they will make us run more.” You explained, fiddling with the zip of your boot bag. Neither Lucy or Keira knew that you were about to say ‘if we’re late, they will yell’ before correcting yourself. The staff knew not to yell out of anger at you, plus professionalism exists.

You stuck close to the two Lionesses as the three of you went into the facility, but it was clear to just about everyone that you were quieter than usual, more on edge, sensitive to loud noises and flinching when a door flew open too fast.

The training session, you seemed better, but you avoided Alexia like the plague, and whilst it wasn’t abnormal for you to pair up with different people during the training drills, the guilty look on Alexia’s face was unsettling, and the sadder she looked when you wouldn’t look her in the eye.

You were on the other side of the training pitch, sat on the ground with Ana, whilst Keira and Aitana were joking around nearby. A shriek of laughter had you jump for a moment, taking a deep breath as you tried to ignore the look Ana was giving you.

You thought you’d been able to move on past jumping at doors being open too quickly, and people being loud, but Alexia had accidentally opened the tiny boxes you’d shoved certain memories into when she yelled.

“Are you doing okay?” Ana enquired, gently reaching out to you as you rested your head on her shoulder after a moment of hesitation.

Meanwhile, Lucy had approached Alexia, who was watching you from her periphery, you reminding her of a nervous kitten.

“All they told us, when they turned up at mine and Keira’s place, is that you yelled, so they ran. Kept saying it wasn’t your fault, before they went into a kind of shock. I don’t know what happened, but they ran away, didn’t eat dinner until we persuaded them that they were not being a burden to us. They were ready to walk home in the dark because they didn’t want to ‘keep being a burden’. I don’t know what went on, but I think the yelling brought up something for them to react like this.” Lucy began to lay out what she knew, seeing how Alexia sighed, looking at the ground, clearly regretting whatever had happened.

“They warned you, and everyone, when they said at the start of the season that they don’t cope well with yelling. I don’t think anyone expected the result to be this. Don’t yell at them again, I don’t want to imagine how bad their reaction would be if you did, but I know you don’t want to be on that list of people. The list of people that they can’t look in the eye because they think they will be yelled at.” Lucy walked away, spotting how you had your head resting on Ana’s shoulder, playing with your fingers as Ana talked about something Lucy couldn’t hear, but Keira and Aitana were close enough to listen in.

It took you a few days to get your thoughts collected, to talk to Keira and Lucy about everything, the past you left behind, and how your subconscious reactions were influenced by it. But something else caught their attention as you admitted why you were so upset by Alexia shouting, of all people.

“It hurts more, it’s scarier when someone you love so much yells at you. Then you’re scared they’ll do it again, and again, and maybe they stop loving you, or maybe they say that they’re sorry and they love you, but they yell again. I hate yelling. I don’t feel safe about people who will yell without hesitation, because… anyway, maybe they never apologise, and maybe they never say they love you, but sometimes you’re stuck being around them anyway…” you paused to glance between the two, cradling the mug in your hands, “but I’m not stuck here, and I don’t deserve to be treated that way, never again… I know Alexia didn’t mean it, I just need her to not do it again.”

“It should come from you, but I know she regrets yelling, she looked heartbroken when you were with Ana.”

“Ana tells me stories to calm me down. We were roomed together for away games when I first got here. One time, someone yelled down the corridor, then threw something, I flinched and hit my head on the wall. The thump scared Ana, but I remember she asked Jenni to get an ice pack for my head, and sat with me on the floor. Your place is closer than Ana’s though. Oh, you two are nice too, by the way.” You smiled teasingly as Lucy rolled her eyes and Keira chuckled.

The conversation between the three of you was only interrupted once your phone lit up with the notification you had been waiting for.

“I’m going to meet Alexia and talk.”

“Let us know how it goes…” Keira began, about to follow up but you just smiled slightly, fiddling with your keys.

“I have these this time,” dangling the car key in your hand, “and I have you two and Ana on speed dial, but it won’t come to that. Thank you both!” you hugged them both before heading out to finally have that talk with the woman you ran away from all those days ago.

///

It had kept her up at night, remembering how the words left her lips far too loudly. The way you flinched. The look on your face, and then the door closing as you ran out. Over and over in her head.

You wouldn’t look at her at training, keeping close to Ana, Keira and Lucy, and even before Lucy’s warning, she knew she scared you. Alexia swore to herself she would never do it again. So when you asked to meet with her and talk, she accepted.

You’d asked for a neutral location, to avoid pressure. She found you staring up at the sky, in the little alcove in the park that the two of you discovered during one of your explorations of Barcelona. You hadn’t gone exploring as much, due to the busy work schedule, but it had been a favourite thing of yours in your early Barcelona days. It also gave Alexia ideas for dates, and to show you Barcelona’s hidden treasures.

“There’s a cloud that looks like Nala.” Your voice was soft, but you had been watching Alexia approach from your periphery, waiting until she had sat comfortably on the blanket you brought before you spoke.

“Where?” It was almost a whisper, but you heard it, reaching up to point out the cloud in question, guiding her through the shape. The two of you were in silence again, your feet twitching as you went over what you had rehearsed in your head.

“You yelled at me, after I asked you, and everyone else on the team, not to at the start of the season. Now you know what I meant by, ‘I don’t cope well with being yelled at’.” You began, pausing as you took a breath of the fresh air, and hearing the blanket ruffle slightly as Alexia shifted to look at you as you spoke.

“What you probably don’t know is, I ended up at Keira and Lucy’s place. I can’t remember getting there, but I remember feeling physically ill and exhausted, on their couch, wrapped in a blanket. I have not had a reaction that bad, ever. I don’t want to feel like that again. I was frozen in time on that couch, shutting out the world, doing nothing but breathing. That is my reaction, when someone I love has yelled at me. It hurt, not just because you yelled, but because I love you, I do not want to be afraid of you, Alexia. Being yelled at scares me, I thought I left that fear behind when I moved to Barcelona, but… just, don’t yell at me again, please. I hate the idea of being afraid of the people I love… again.”

Turning to look at your captain, and love, you waited as she went over what you said, glancing down to spot her pinkie finger brushing yours, but she hesitated to touch you. Only after you took the first step, linking your pinkie finger with hers, did Alexia relax.

“I never should have yelled, I was not angry at you then, and I am not angry at you now. I’m sorry I scared you, mi dulce.” Alexia began, pausing as a duck began to quack nearby on the way to the waterfront, making you giggle and Alexia smile at the sound of your laughter.

“I missed hearing your voice. You were so quiet after, I was scared I would never hear your voice again. Or your eyes, your beautiful eyes. They were so full of fear, it was haunting. I was so scared, it kept me up at night. I should never have yelled at you, you asked me, and everyone else not to yell, but I did, and I broke your trust. I hurt you, and I hope you can forgive me, one day.” Alexia confessed, freezing as you shuffled over, resting your head on her shoulder.

“Please don’t do it again, I don’t think I’ll be able to take it, and I don’t want to make a mess of the team dynamics and my career because I’m scared my teammate and captain, who I love, will yell at me. I need non-yelling communication, okay? I’m pretty much useless if there’s yelling, then there’s no communication…” you trailed off, taking in every detail on Alexia’s face as your captain raised an eyebrow, biting her lip in amusement.

“I missed more than your voice and eyes… but we’re in public, and I would rather we go slow and work on our communication, if that’s okay with you?” Chewing the inside of your cheek as Alexia hummed, nodding before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“I would like that, mi dulce. There is a lot to talk about, but I love you too.” Alexia said quietly, feeling you tense up for a moment before humming and nodding to yourself.

Alexia wasn’t like those you had loved in the past, she would keep her word, and never yell at you again. The sound of silence she experienced after the first time, made sure it would be the last time.

///

translations (hopefully)

mi dulce - my sweet

#woso x reader #woso imagine #woso imagines #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #barcelona femeni imagines #barcelona femeni imagine #barcelona femeni x reader #alexia putellas imagines

389 notes · View notes