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lo1k-diamonds · 17 days

Text

SX Seoul series | Namjoon entry 💜 Closer

GIF by namchyoon

PAIRING: Namjoon x Reader (You can also read it on AO3)

SUMMARY: Namjoon and you were friends for years — he was your confidant, protector, and haven. You didn’t want to risk it, no matter what, but some things can’t be kept in the dark.

WORD COUNT: 8.2k

GENRE: friends to lovers, smut (it's lovemaking tbh)

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: reader is shy and introverted, mentions of anxiety, being in the dark in an agitated crowd (reader is safe w/ NJ), fear of losing a friendship, porn w/ plot (lovemaking, or my version of it), unprotected sex (wrap it up), dry humping, riding, they're both shy and idiots in love but they make it 💜

A.N. Is this a slow burn? Am I searingly slowly taking you all on the journey that is kissing and feeling Kim Namjoon? Some could say there was no need to describe it in such detail. They would be wrong 💜

Someone called your name and you looked up.

“Come on! Don’t fall behind!”

You gasped mutely and rushed in between the ever-growing crowd to join your friends and coworkers atop the stairs. The line wasn’t too big tonight but you still preferred to stay close to them — no way you wanted to be left alone in a bar street in Itaewon in the middle of the night. You pressed your hands nervously, looking around while your friends laughed about something you didn’t hear. No, you didn’t want that. There could be weird people and drunk people, and you were the designated driver anyway—

“Hey!”

You blinked at Juhyun through your glasses with big wide brown eyes like a deer caught in headlights.

“Come along!” She sighed, extending her hand so you’d grab it, and you did with relief.

You gave your coat at the reception with a polite head bow, following closely after everyone. The noise hit your ribcage with the force of an alarm, making you grin with gritted teeth but you took a deep breath and hurried along. It wasn’t like you never went out, or had never been there before. SX Seoul had become the preferred club of people working in the industry, and so you found yourself with a vibrating ribcage and sweaty hands every once in a while. However, you did get anxious in crowded loud places like bars and clubs. An elbow sank into your side as you followed after Juhyun and despite the person’s apology and head bow, which you returned, you smiled with a hint of tiredness. The night had just begun.

You got set on the couches, saying hi to everyone you knew who was already there, and smoothly offered to help everyone get drinks. That was an easy way for you to get an alcohol-free drink early on and successfully avoid being offered drinks for a long while.

“Look who’s DJing tonight!”

You had sat near Juhyun after handing her a drink and smiled happily, engaging in light conversation.

“Didn’t you write his breakout music video?”

“Yeah, I did!”

You smiled politely, a warm fuzzy feeling settling in your stomach — you might have not liked the constant background house beat that had you all screaming to be heard, but you did feel proud of your work. Of every concept you had written, every storyboard you had designed, and every screening you helped with that led you to where you were now — in a creative atmosphere surrounded by like-minded people who just wanted to bring joy and artistry to the world.

As the night continued, you were more and more comfortable, surrounded by people you knew. You didn’t think it could get better, but as soon as Namjoon arrived, you grinned from ear to ear and chuckled at your silliness.

“Hi everyone!” You instantly scooted over and made space for him to sit beside you and join in the conversation, yet as you tried to keep up, he leaned in, “Driving?”

You turned to him and smiled sheepishly, something he returned with a sweetness of his own. You had been friends forever; he knew the answer to his own question.

“Your hair,” he added.

You blinked then felt for it over your shoulders and chest, trying to see in between psychedelic blinding lights if something had happened to it or something.

“No! Just— It’s loose!”

You blinked again, pressing your glasses up the bridge of your nose, “Well, yeah.”

He smirked briefly, looking down before facing you again with a gentle puff, “It looks good!”

Your lashes batted once before someone asked for his attention, and just in time. You could feel the heat spreading from your chest to your cheeks and turned to sip at your drink seemingly absentmindedly.

He noticed? You didn’t know why it surprised you so much; Namjoon was an attentive friend. Caring too, he always noticed when something was going wrong or a project was difficult. He always offered to help you out, and you did the same. You had that kind of relationship — friendly and supportive. Of course, that didn’t mean he had to notice your hairstyle for tonight. You had just let go of your usual braids for something more casual — just loose over your shoulders. And now there you were, playing with the long hair locks over your chest like your heart wasn’t fluttering at the simplest interaction.

“Hey! Let’s dance!”

You nodded at Juhyun and got up with a smile that crumbled just a little when Namjoon got up too. He scratched the back of his neck, sheepishly smiling at you and Juhyun.

“You don’t mind if I join you, right?”

“Of course not!”

She had answered for you because yet again you were pressing your lips. Namjoon wasn’t half as bad a dancer as he thought he was and you had all danced together before. Had you blushed then as you did now? You wondered as you beelined to the center of the dancefloor; you couldn’t remember. In the end, it didn’t matter. You smiled as you turned to Namjoon in that circle of people just randomly facing each other in turns. It didn’t have to be anything much, you were just having fun. All of you. It was absolutely fine.

He grabbed your hand and wiggled it for you to pivot and move around and you just laughed and did as told because it was fun. And not a big deal if he didn’t do it to the others, they were busy shouting in each other’s ears anyway.

You felt light and didn’t think it could get better than this when all of a sudden everything became pitch black. The music shut down and suddenly all you could hear was your ears ringing annoyingly and people either shouting or wondering a bit louder than usual about what was going on. It took you a couple of seconds to realize that it couldn’t be normal for a club to just abruptly shut down like that, and it was enough for your anxiety to instantly spike and sting your chest. Yet a pair of arms circled you lightening fast, pressing you safely to a firm chest.

Your cheeks were squished against his pectorals and you could hear a heart racing equally to yours under your ear. A question never formed itself, you knew exactly who was hugging you. It was safe now. You hugged him back and closed your eyes, using his body like an anchor to keep your anxiety from releasing you into the rowdy sea.

Namjoon could hear people getting agitated all around you two, making him squeeze you harder against him. People got nervous in situations like those. They could start running for the exit, pushing and stepping over people without a care if the panic was big enough. And as the absence of music and light continued, mere seconds felt like minutes cracking under the pressure as people became agitated.

He knew crowded places made you anxious. That was how you justified the way he was pressing his lips to the top of your head. It made your already racing heart jump with a foreign feeling, which mixed with his musky cologne had you sweating and not out of nervousness.

A louder shout not so far from you startled you into pressing your fingertips into his lower back and he immediately hugged you tighter. His lips brushed the top of your head again but the agitation around you was too loud, making it impossible to discern what he had said. Yet, regardless, you were safe. You could feel people shifting around you, voices becoming louder, and the occasional glimpse from people's phones. A wave of appreciation and gratitude flooded you, flowing over your anxiety and you unglued your cheek from his shirt to tell him.

His lips pressed lightly atop your cheekbone and your breath caught. His nose had tapped against your glasses and you instinctively squinted though you couldn’t see. None of it bothered you though, on the contrary. Your lips parted in surprise, his thumb dragging across your jawline as if to make sure of where you were in the dark.

You forgot about the world around you. You were suspended in the air, in a trance, waiting for what would happen next, and it happened unexpectedly. His forehead touched yours and you closed your eyes, letting him cradle you sweetly. Little did he know that you could feel no anxiousness now, you were a blank page waiting to be written on.

Or maybe he knew. He didn’t force your chin but he did mutter something while his lips brushed your jawline, and you turned your head. Curiosity, it was all it was. Because you hadn’t heard him, but as your skins brushed, your lips caught the subtle hint of something plush and wet for the tiniest of moments.

You became dizzy and gripped his shirt at the end of his back. Was that what you thought it was? Was that—?

All it took was a millimeter for him to give you the hint that you took without hesitation. His lips pressed to the corner of your mouth and you sighed, eyes scrunching with the tension inside your chest. You were no mind and all instinct when you parted your lips further to get more, just a bit more. All you were ready to do was react, so when it felt like he was about to break away, you closed in.

You were incredibly aware of everything that involved Namjoon. The way his long fingers supported your jawline with a feather-like touch, his short hair falling just above his eyes tickling you where it got to your skin around your glasses, the softest touch of his plush lips as even his breath eased, the gentlest breeze caressing your face whenever you tentatively parted and rejoined like waves kissing the shore.

You were aware of everything, and yet when the lights and music came back on, you were helpless. Namjoon straightened up to look around, trying to figure out what was going on, while you were just looking up at him, gripping him still, trying to figure things out on your own. What was that? What—

“Are you okay?” Juhyun asked right behind you and you jumped in place, startled. You let go of Namjoon, and it was he who answered.

“Yeah, we stayed cool. Are you?”

“Yeah, they pushed around a bit though, geez,” she complained, running a hand through her hair. “What do you think happened?”

“Good question, I don’t know.”

You didn’t hear anything anymore, you were just staring up at him as he talked. Good question. You had no idea either. What happened? Did you really just kiss—

“Listen, if you’re bummed out, that’s okay,” Juhyun shouted above the music, pressing your arm gently. She looked concerned and you tried a smile.

You could guess you looked as befuddled as you felt, “Yeah, I kind of— But I’m your driver!” You shouted instead, remembering your responsibility with a firm shake of your head.

“It’s okay, we’ll catch a taxi!” She shouted with a nod. She knew you were usually anxious; something unnerving like that was surely too much for you. “I’m just worried about you going alone!”

“I’ll go with her,” Namjoon nodded, unwavering, and before you got to say something, Juhyun agreed.

“Take care, text me when you’re home,” she asked you, squeezing your hand once.

You were frowning, about to suggest staying a bit more so you could take her home too when a firmer hand replaced hers. Namjoon returned your gaze, said a quick goodbye with a wave to everyone else, and then pulled you behind him as he made your way out.

Your mind slowly got back on track with every step you took. His hand was firmly wrapped around yours, and despite his wide shoulders in front of you, sheltering you from the chaos, your anxiety guided your thoughts back to the surface with a forced gasp.

What were you doing? Maybe this would turn awkward. You and Namjoon had been good friends for years, you had always counted on him. Maybe that was a mistake, maybe he would be uncomfortable around you now. You didn’t want things to change, you didn’t want to lose his joyful grins, relaxing bicycle rides, and long quiet reading sessions back at his place.

You bowed as you took your coat at the reception and put it on before stepping out into the cold. He was no longer holding your hand, which was holding the coat’s collar to your neck instead. You swallowed and looked down, freezing atop the stairs while you ran by the options and he stepped down ahead of you. You don’t have to leave earlier because of me. I can get home safely by myself. I’m sorry if that was awkward, I—

“Where’s your car?”

You sucked in a breath and told him before turning to walk intently as quickly as possible. The cold was rough on your cheeks, despite the big round lenses of your glasses. You gritted your teeth not to quiver as you stepped carefully over the slippery sidewalk.

When you got to your car, you got in quickly and turned it on to give it time to warm up a bit. Namjoon had followed you inside in silence and was so quiet that his presence could have been buried under your anxiety.

You brushed your flushed cheeks and tried pulling your long hair free, realizing it was trapped between your blouse and the coat. You were so used to having braids that you forgot you needed to tend to your hair properly whenever you put your coat on and now you were stiff and stuck and—

“Easy,” he rasped, reaching to help you and you froze. You glanced up at him and stayed still as he alleviated the tension of the fabric over your shoulders to gently pull your hair out before leaning to repeat the same action on the other side. By then your eyes had lowered to his hands. The way he was handling your dark threads of hair as if it was the most precious silk, worthy of care and attention. “There.”

Your eyes jumped up in time to see him leaning back, a perfectly blank expression making your chest pang in nervousness. You were overthinking again.

“Thanks!” You squeaked, clearing your voice immediately as you leaned forward to reach the GPS screen, “Now, to Joonie’s…”

The drive was easier than you thought it would be. He commented on the cold, and then on what happened at the bar. He had never seen something like that at a bar, only at festivals or concerts. He wondered if the whole street had a power outage or if it was just that room. You mused that if it had been more than just the room, you’d surely hear about it in the news.

And just like that the car became quiet. Seoul always had traffic, even at 2:52 AM, it was nothing new. So while you comfortably focused on taking him home safely, your thoughts wandered elsewhere.

His lips were the softest thing you had ever touched in your life. Just the delicateness with which you had kissed, you didn’t think you had it in you. Weren’t kisses supposed to be messy? Powerful and passionate? Then how had you touched the pillowy clouds above?

Just remembering it had your guts burning in excitement, and you pressed your lips. Were you making any sense? But you had really done that; hiddenly in the dark, yes, but really. You had acted on your instinct for the first time and gotten a glimpse of the sky.

You wondered why now. Your friendship was old and comfortable, and he had always been a gentleman, protective but never overbearing. You thought he saw you as a colleague initially and then a friend with similar tastes. You pressed your lips right as you stopped the car in front of his apartment building. One glance at him and you knew that was the same old Namjoon you were used to. Maybe you had dreamed it. Maybe it was supposed to stay a dream.

“Would you like to come up?”

Your eyes jumped and widened, the shock as evident in your expression as a blinking billboard sign.

“I finished the new Murakami,” he continued swiftly, “so you can take it if you want. Or any other book.”

Your lips instantly twitched into a smile, “You finally finished it, then.”

He smirked as you turned off the engine and reached to get your bag, “Finally. You know how I am with his books.”

You nodded and got out of the car, the negative temperature clashing with your blushing cheeks. Yet you only smiled, locked the car, and teased him while you both went inside. Even the ride up the elevator was lighter; you two were back to your eased friendship where you got to poke fun at his annoyance with the repetitiveness of Murakami’s plotlines while enjoying every other detailed introspection he had to offer.

So when you passed the threshold of his apartment, you were as always. You both got your shoes off, though you kept your coat because you weren’t going to stay long. He offered you a drink despite you insisting that it was a quick visit, and as he disappeared into the kitchen to see what he could offer, you beelined to his reading corner.

That space always brought a smile to your face and comfort to your heart. That corner of the living room had a bookshelf from floor to ceiling separated by squared compartments that combined books and small plant pots in a myriad of colors. His most cherished one, however, was the bonsai on the small table next to the gray reading chair and ottoman. He'd let you take up the chair whenever you would read or work at his place, with him preferring the couch so he could stretch his legs more comfortably. You preferred the reading chair because the setting was a mood changer for you and you could use the different shelves to place your open books, especially when designing or writing ideas. Each square was organized in a particular way: some by authors, others by category, or type of work.

“I don’t have much,” you could hear him returning to you. “But I can make tea.”

You shook your head while you crouched, taking a look at your favorite section, “It’s okay, I won’t stay long. Where’s the Murakami?”

“Right here,” his voice sounded from above your head, and you glanced up to see him towering over you, reaching for the book lying by the ledge on the appropriate shelf. He eyed you and you smirked, pushing your glasses up your nose bridge before looking back down. The corners of his lips twitched as he gripped the book inside his hands; he knew you were just happily skimming through your favorite shelf, and that wasn’t the issue. You weren’t the issue, you were— He took a deep shaky breath, “Oh, right, I have another one.”

He placed the Murakami book on the small table and left your side in the direction of his bedroom, you noticed. You pressed your lips and got up, grabbing the book he was holding just now. Blood was rushing to your cheeks and you took a short breath to ease yourself. You were there just to grab that book. You were alone at Namjoon’s, and that had happened hundreds of times before. Not that you had ever kissed before, but you could be cool. It was in the dark anyway. Conceptually, if you were thinking of the outline of a music video, that meant it was a secret. You could keep a secret. You could pretend it never happened.

Overhearing his steps pulled you from the depths of your thoughts to check what he had in his hands.

“Here,” he grinned, showing it to you.

It was a book and you gasped before you grabbed it. The cover had the digital drawing of a little girl on her bed, not lying down, but facing the wall behind her that had become an ocean with sparkling rays floating above. The title read, ‘Windows to Worlds: The Art of Devin Elle Kurtz’. You thought the name rang a bell as you opened and skimmed through it.

“I thought of you,” he smiled, dimples sinking sweetly into his cheeks at your interested demeanor.

“Woah, her use of color and lighting looks absolutely astounding,” you breathed, alternating between gasping and stopping your breath altogether with each new page.

“I’m glad you like it.”

“But why did you get it?” You finally caught up, looking up at him. “Because I was struggling with lighting?”

Your tone was appreciative and almost savvy as if you knew you had guessed his intent correctly. Yet he shook his head once, “Because of the braids.”

You lowered your eyes to the cover again and indeed, the little girl had two braids, much like you usually sported. You smiled, “Do you think she has glasses too?”

“Maybe,” he acceded, nodding with ease.

You looked back down at the cover — the girl had her palms against the glass as if she was staring into a new magical world. It brought warmth to your chest. Not just because it was beautiful or because it was going to help you, but because Namjoon saw some of it in you.

You pressed the books to your chest, facing him to thank him when your smile fell. His expression had lost some of its casualness and you were immediately flooded with apprehension.

“Are we going to talk about it?”

His tone was so gentle it brought tears to your eyes. It was Namjoon. All of it, all of your doubts and anxiety were about one of the most important people in your life. Who cared how you might have felt; you absolutely could not jeopardize your friendship.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed so sincerely your voice shook.

“Oh.”

“I… It was…”

Your gaze was on the floor around his feet on the white carpet as you tried to find words. You half expected him to move or make things less awkward with his spirited humor, but he waited.

So you said what came to mind, “An accident. Right? It was an accident,” you repeated, ignoring the heat making your glasses fog ever so slightly. “It was dark and…”

You sucked in a breath and pushed your glasses up your nose bridge to soothe yourself, and froze when he nodded slowly.

“I… can’t call it an accident.”

Your eyes widened impossibly, “But— But then— I mean,” you blinked, “that would mean…”

You were just stammering and he smiled, “Yes. I don’t just— I wouldn’t just—” He smirked, scratching the back of his head, “I’d be lying if I said—”

His voice got caught inside his throat. You were looking up at him with eyes so big he feared they’d pop or something. He thought he was ready to talk about it and get it out in the open but— Were you even breathing?

“You know what? Never mind,” he shrugged, with a smile that pressed his plush lips too thin.

Your eyes widened even more, “No—” You almost choked from your impulse and instinctively stepped back, and everything went dark.

You held your breath as if you had been caught in a trap. You could have been back at the club, but there was no crowd, no fear, and no pressure. There was light still shining from his bedroom, reassuringly outlining his silhouette. You were safe, just like then. And it formed the words out of your mouth.

“I can't call it an accident either,” you confessed, and instantly your shoulders relaxed. He didn’t move and you couldn’t see him, but you knew him. You knew of his presence and the way he would never judge or hurt you. “I kissed you back.”

The silence continued between you but you found comfort in it. It was as though you had time to process, to put yourself back in your shoes moments earlier when exactly like that, in the dark, you let something from deep within surface.

“I was… curious,” you voiced quietly.

“Curious?”

“What would you… feel like? How would you…” you were getting lost and closed your eyes. You could almost feel him again, his warmth, his scent, the firmness of his arms around you, helping you levitate safely into the clouds. Your eyes opened at the sound of a footstep and you instantly flushed, “I mean, I— I’m sorry, I—”

“No, don't say sorry.” His outline drew closer until he stopped right in front of you. “You were curious about that?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

Why was your heart racing so fast? You were so hot that you knew for a fact your glasses were fogging, despite not being able to see it. You swallowed and fanned your face a little, self-conscious about your hands becoming sweaty and dirtying the books.

Yet as you tried to calm down, you realized silence was stretching. He was waiting, of course, gentlemanly as he was. And you were embarrassed but in the dark, you also wanted to be brave.

“I liked it.”

You left it there, your sincere answer to his question. Your heart was thrumming wildly but you were not half as nervous as you thought you’d be.

“I liked it too.”

Your breath caught as you looked up despite barely seeing a silhouette. What?

“Would you do it again?”

“Now?” Your voice pitched.

“Yes.”

“Yes?” Your tone was inquisitive, but it was more out of shock that he said yes. You were heating up so much you didn’t think you were processing thoughts logically, and you weren’t. Your head was blank, “Yes.”

It felt like an eternity, but you knew that wasn’t true. You were just too eager to see what happened next, to feel him again and check if your head would be caught spinning as you floated away to the clouds again.

The books in your hands disappeared quickly, only the sound of them hitting the table told you their fate, and not that you cared. His breath was fanning your face and your head instantly fell back, tapping the wall as your lips parted and you waited for what you wanted most.

When it didn’t instantly come, you had no issues soothing his hesitation by guiding his hands to your jaw. You wanted him to know where you were; exactly there, between the wall and his safe embrace, waiting.

Finally, his breath was so close it fully stopped when your lips locked together in a feather-like touch, and you moved. You pressed yourself closer, brushing his lips so you’d match completely. Your mouth dove into a sweeter taste, fingers tracing up his neck tentatively to grasp that feeling. And he let you, falling in with you, leaning into you as far as you’d let him.

Your lips parted in an invitation that he took promptly, leaving a wet trace on your bottom lip before he committed. You sighed into his mouth, gripping his shirt to pull him closer. He could reach into you and all around you; you were falling. There was an expanse behind and all around you and it reminded you of free falling; it was probably what skydiving felt like. Only you weren’t nearing the ground but going further from it. That sky was about to catch you; a sweet, soft, endearing sky about to clasp you affectionately and carry you into a dream.

You only stopped because he pulled back, kissing the tip of your nose before pressing his lips to your cheek. It was when you noticed that you two fit together like puzzle pieces, with your fingers buried in the nape of his neck, his into your lower back, your breaths mixing as your legs intertwined.

His breath was heavy against your warm cheek, “This can stay here. In the dark. If you want.”

You were too far to recognize the concern in his voice, “Is that what you want?”

“No,” his reply was instant, a subtle shake of his head as his lips dragged over your heated skin. “No, I'm curious about way more than this.”

You opened your eyes, eager to see in him what he meant, but the darkness hid his expression. It protected you, yes, but now, it made you uneasy. There was a moment when it had soothed your fears, maybe even made you brave, but now it was enough.

“Would turning the light on bother you?”

You felt his smile before he pulled away, “Not at all.”

His hands were still supporting your waist as you felt the wall behind you until you flipped the switch. You shut your eyes instantly with a grimace and knew he had done the same.

“Sorry,” you whispered.

You couldn’t see it, but he smirked, “I told you you could.”

His eyes opened first, eager to bypass the sudden sensibility so he could look at you as soon as possible. Your eyes and nose were still scrunched, your glasses had fallen lower on your nose than you liked normally, and the top of your cheeks was beautifully blushed. He didn’t resist cupping your cheek to brush his thumb over the red hue and your eyes opened, looking up at him over your glasses. You were so close to each other but you couldn’t look or move away.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, eyes set on yours as if he was seeing stars.

“How can you see anything, we’re so close,” you whined with a huff.

He chuckled, “Yeah?”

You pouted; your glasses were falling down your nose bridge again, and he grinned. He was so unbelievably happy right now, and as you pressed the glasses further up, he wished it would never end.

“Is it…” you were quiet, “better like this?”

“Much better,” he assured confidently, looking into your eyes intently.

Every time you blinked, wherever you glanced, he kept his cool and tried holding his fear in check — what if you suddenly pushed him away, became uneasy, or regretted this?

Yet your eyes fixed on his as your hand returned gently to the side of his neck, “You said… you’re curious about more?”

He couldn’t breathe, “Yes.”

“What… does that mean?”

Your voice was a thread and he swore he became dizzy, “You. I—” His lips twitched as he found words, “I want to be with you.”

He settled on that simple fact and shushed his racing heart. It was too soon to confess how long he had been thinking about this, how far he had fallen, and how deeply sure he was that there was no one else he wanted. Nowhere else he wanted to go, no other person who could be home, no other soul he wanted to share his time with. Shit, this was not the time for a love confession.

“Not in the dark,” you mused, thinking back. “But here,” you searched his eyes with a light line between your eyebrows. “Do you want that? To be… a moment of—”

“No,” he interrupted firmly, making sure that every point you touched each other conveyed that. “I want more than a moment, than one night, than a place, than— No,” he breathed. “I want so much more.”

You weren’t sure there was any reaction you could have given because you were floating again. His arms were around you, his mouth speaking words you had long wished to hear, and you waited. It felt like the right thing to do; you just waited for him to become so much more.

“And you?” He asked after waiting to hear your thoughts. “Where would you take this?”

You almost choked with your instant answer, “All the way.”

His eyebrows jumped before his expression scrunched into a rapturous smile, and you filled your chest with air. You needed it, you needed a big deep breath before the dive. When his forehead touched yours, you stayed close, eyes half-hooding, waiting, and ready. You had been ready for a while, all there was left to do now was fly.

You were waiting for his kiss when he grabbed your head, both of you eager and gentle in your grip on the other. His lips were as soft as before but now he was pressing harder, searching for something in the depths of your kiss, and you met him halfway. There was the passion you had thought of before, making your skin pucker as your breathing dragged. It was curious how you were so focused on every little detail of his — his jawline moving under your fingertips, the soft skin at the column of his neck, his wide shoulders where your arms found support to press him closer to you — but had no actual thoughts. Every brush of his lips had you sinking further, every lick of his tongue had you immersed until his hands were pulling you to him and barely letting you touch the ground.

When your feet did touch the ground you lost your balance a little and inadvertently fell into him, which had him feeling behind him to make sure he could sit down. Your lips parted and he looked up at you, hands supportive but not pressuring you. He waited for you to decide if you’d follow him or not, and you didn’t hesitate. You raised a knee to his outer thigh and he instantly supported it, helping you to straddle him effortlessly before he leaned back into the reading chair.

You towered over him a little bit and as he hugged you close, you couldn’t help remembering how many times you had sat in that same chair just to read. Now he was there with you, under you, kissing your neck gently, and you kissed his head with the excitement bubbling under your skin. This was really happening, you could barely contain yourself.

He pressed you to sit closer to him and you guided him to look up just so you could dive into his kiss again. His skin was so soft, his touch so gentle as he let you steer your mouths until your head started spinning. You went deeper with every kiss, and with every sparkle, you became daring. Your fingers laced around his hair, your breaths one and the same as your hips moved on their own accord to fuse you two in any way possible. Your instinct was taking over, regardless of how you ground against him or leaned into him as if it would merge you two together.

You were hot and breathless when you felt a hint of his fingertips brushing the skin at your lower back, and instinctively you pulled back. He looked up at you, instantly wary of mistakenly crossing a line, but in a rustle of clothes, your blouse went up and away, thrown on the floor.

You faced him then, the goosebumps forming on your skin wherever his fingertips brushed your back as you seemed to exude heat. Not even for a moment did you wonder if you were going too far, despite being in a bra only in front of him. Rather you eyed his shirt and pouted, and he got it; in a second it was gone too.

Your lips twitched as you stroked down his neck, over his clavicles, and to his wide shoulders. You knew he’d be perfect, you knew you’d go well beyond liking every inch of him, but reality was far sweeter than your imagination. Before you could lean in and kiss every inch, he beat you to it. His pillowy lips grazed over the expanse of your neck before lowering down your chest and you sank your nails on his shoulders. It was the lightness of his touch, the warmth of his breath contrasting with his tongue as he explored everything until he dared lower. He moved slowly, maybe hesitated, and your hand darting to the back of his head to support him eased him.

He kissed and nuzzled every inch of your chest then settled over your sternum, breathing you in between your breasts just above the center gore. You knew why he stopped, but you were riding the shivers and throbs his every breath drew out of you, and you didn’t want it to stop. You reached behind you and unclasped the bra, letting the straps slide off your arms while you held his gaze. Yes, you wanted to do this. Yes, you wanted him to touch you, to know how he—

His hands over your waist raised to cup your breasts and rub your nipples and you shivered, goosebumps covering you from head to toe. The more he brushed over the hardened tips, the less control you had over a deep whine wanting to escape your lips.

You were biting your lip in this sweet struggle when he glanced up at you before leaning in to take one inside his mouth, and you whined. Your hips bucked over him, drawing closer while your cries grew and expanded with every lick of his tongue. You were grinding hard on him now, unaware of how unruly you were being. Your cries just needed to be heard, your hunger satiated as you searched for friction and wondered why it wasn’t as intense as it should be.

Your chest was wet by the time he parted his mouth from the delicate skin, but you didn’t have time to think about it. His hands gripped your hips to press you closer, and you jumped out of his arms in a mix of outrage and eagerness.

So that was why you couldn’t feel him properly, you concluded, as you unbuttoned your jeans. Of course, how stupid. At least it was easily fixed.

You only stopped when your clothes hit the floor. His eyes locked with yours and you hesitated. You were totally naked in your eagerness, maybe you were going too fast. But his hands guiding yours to his shoulders before he leaned in to kiss over your tummy made you realize you were being silly. His eyes were glistening, looking up at you before closing to enjoy the taste of your skin, his cheeks were red, and despite his pants, the tent was very visible.

You wanted to be close so you raised your knee again, and once more he guided you to straddle him. He kissed quickly up your chest before eying your mouth, and you obliged. Kissing him like this was more vulnerable, open, and raw, but you wanted to. His fingertips stroked your sides softly downwards and you sighed into his mouth, gripping him closer. You wanted so much more.

His hands settled atop your hips and it made you whine and wiggle so they would move. It didn’t occur to you to separate your mouths and tell him to touch you; in fact, no thoughts were occurring to you. He seemed to hesitate on where to go while palming your hips, and in the end, it was your hand that guided him to where you wanted him. You froze amidst your kiss, mouth agape as your eyes opened when his fingers skimmed your sex. A shiver ran down your spine, your breath halting as you waited for him. His eyes were set on you, carefully taking in your expression as he dared to brush lower, exploring down your mound, around your hooded clit, and gently over your folds before retracing his steps.

A strangled quiet moan had you closing your eyes to get lost. His fingers were drawing circles over your clit, ever so gently, prodding how to please you without hurting you, and you sank your nails into the back of his neck. You could worship that man now — it was all you knew as you looked at him between half-hooded eyes. Every circle brought a spark, a throb, a buck of your hips until the tension inside you made you jump away from his touch. You kissed him hard then, grabbing his head desperately — you wanted him, not just his hand.

You reached between your bodies to cup his bulge and he choked in your kiss. You pressed harder, too curious to let him breathe or get away, and searched for a way to open his pants, but it was difficult without looking. Fortunately, he understood perfectly what you wanted and got to it.

He raised you off his lap for the single moment it took him to squirm and slide his clothes down his legs before settling you over him again. His skin was burning hot against your inner thighs and as you kissed him, you imagined it was because he wanted you the same way.

You reached again for him and this time there were no barriers. You felt his hard length gently, caressing its soft skin carefully before stroking him against your palm.

He grunted into your cheek; your lips had parted so you both could focus on those new sensations. Something wet was making it easier to stroke him and press the head gently, with every movement earning you something, whether a groan, a sigh, a twitch of his fingers over your hips, or more precum.

You loved seeing and hearing every reaction, but you didn’t want to wait. You were tense and overheating, and that hard cock in your hand belonged somewhere else.

You moved on your knees to straddle him closer, positioning yourself with nothing but the intention to feel him, but you paused. Before the sight of the pink swollen tip at your entrance could steal your logic, you looked at him with an implied question. He nodded with glistening eyes, hands gripping a bit more of your ass to convey just how much he wanted this. And so you leaned to touch your foreheads before you guided him inside you.

You were unbelievably wet but still, it took a moment for him to become coated enough to slide in without any attrition. It felt like a trial and error; every time you tried sitting lower, there was resistance, and so you raised yourself and tried again. And again and again, with his fingers sinking into your skin as he hid his scrunched-up expression. Your eyebrows were knitted too, especially when he hit a particular spot, and soon he bottomed out.

You wiggled a little to make room, your tension gripping him inside you so hard that both of you groaned. You bucked your hips over him and sighed before reaching back, taking support on his legs. The hunger in his glistening eyes as he observed you taking your pleasure from him was like straight out of a dream, except he was really there, stretching you to the edge, bubbling a tension up your spine so good you knew you wouldn’t last a minute.

So you leaned forward again, palming the expanse of his chest as you let the fluttering subside for a bit. A smile bloomed on your lips as he reached to kiss your skin, supporting you closely while he grazed up your neck. Yet as it had blossomed, your smile faded when your eyebrows knitted further and your pleasure sunk in your gut. He had taken a firmer grip of you and used his leverage to thrust his hips up and into you, successfully crumbling whatever excuse of a restraint you had.

You moaned unreservedly and as he pulled away to face you without relenting, you met him with glistening eyes. It wasn’t a betrayal but because of him, you couldn’t hold back. He understood; he told you with a nod as he tried keeping the rhythm steady for you. So you hugged him to you and let the pleasure spike once, twice, until a moan burst out of you with the knot in your lower gut releasing the tension.

However long it lasted, it was long. It left you powerless and radiating heat like a furnace, only he was even hotter than you. He was sweaty under your arms and legs as you embraced him, and it mixed with your wetness and cum, but you didn’t care.

He waited for you to pull away and kiss his humid forehead before he asked, “Can I take you to bed?”

“Yes,” you sighed, still up high in your haze.

He could tell how languid you were so he picked you up carefully, hugging your legs around his waist and supporting your lower back. His heart was racing as he carried you, not because he was afraid of dropping you — no way in hell that would ever happen — but because this was really happening. He was really carrying your naked body across his apartment, your sweaty bodies pressed together after you reached your pleasure in his arms only for him to take you to bed and continue to show you how much he cared for you. He sighted the bed when your limbs squeezed him more firmly and he smiled from ear to ear. It was like carrying a koala bear who didn’t want to let go of him, and he loved that.

He sat on the bed with you on his lap before carefully supporting your back so he could lay you down gently while hovering over you and you finally blinked.

Your senses were coming back; Namjoon was over you, caging you between his biceps while your legs laced around him. He was inside you, and even if you had forgotten, he reminded you when he moved tentatively. Your eyes were set on his, and that was how you saw the concern crossing them, and you blinked again. You and him were connected like you had only ever dreamed, and it was good. You reached to cup his cheeks and guide his mouth to yours; you wanted him to know that. That you knew what you were doing, with whom, and how, and your heart was completely in it.

If he wasn’t kissing your lips, then he was pecking the tip of your nose, grazing your cheeks, or brushing down the column of your neck as his hips gained speed. You raised yours to feel him as deep as possible, and as you held onto him, you let the emotions flood you. The safety of his arms, the completeness as he filled up all the gaps, the nurture of every tender kiss, the shared warmth, tension, and torture of your bodies rocking together. You were meshed inextricably in an ascent that you had never dared to imagine, and you grabbed him even harder, in case the intensity had you floating away.

Your voice had a life of its own; every time he sank further into you, your soul expanded. Every time he buried himself inside you, your moan released into his ear, and over and over again as he hid in your neck, revering you in all the ways he could.

“You feel so good,” he rasped against your throat, and against all odds you heard it in between moans. Maybe because he was slowing down. He pulled away to face you so closely you saw him blurred despite your glasses, “I don't want it to end.”

Your eyes widened and watered but no words came out in time; he pressed your lips sweetly and you buried your fingers in his hair, feeling your heart swelling with every beat. He restarted his hips, guided by your legs pressing him into you, and you thought that nothing else mattered than him knowing. You also didn’t want it to end, you wanted to stay with him forever, linked, safe, accepted, hidden from anything that wasn’t blissful peace, and happiness.

His hips snapping into yours brought groans, moans, and whines out of the both of you, with wet sloppy sounds echoing in the bedroom along with the slaps of skins colliding. It became fast, forcing you to wrap your limbs around him firmly to never miss any sensation he could give you until you tensed unbelievably.

You surrendered to your climax immediately, letting it wash over you as you throbbed and reveled in scream-inducing spasms. He grunted and swore into your neck, but to your surprise, he didn’t come with you. On the contrary, suddenly you could feel his intent to pull out so you crossed your legs behind him and searched for his ear so you could tell him, “Inside me. Stay inside me.”

He groaned and you rocked with him, keen on extending both your pleasure as much as possible when he twitched inside you. You closed your eyes and his lips immediately caught yours. He kissed you with every peak, groaning into your mouth at every turn, making you shudder.

He stilled and you kept petting his damp hair at the back of his head, slowly waiting for both your hearts to calm down. You couldn’t believe what just happened yet at the same time it was as natural as breathing.

Finally, he moved from the crook of your neck and faced you. A single drop of sweat dripped along his nose to the tip and you caught it with your fingertip. He nuzzled you then, recovering his breath with a tender smile, and you smiled back.

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helen-with-an-a · 1 month

Text

Anxiety

Hi. So this was a request and I absolutely loved the idea. Some of it is based off of my personal experiences with anxiety but I'm aware that everyone if different - but please don't feel like you have to read it if you don't want to. But anyway, I hope you enjoy it

Viv Meidema x Reader (platonic)

Description: R has significant anxiety and Viv helps her out

TW: Anxiety; Mental Health

Word Count: 2.4k

You used to pride yourself in how well you could hide your anxiety. Back at your old club, no one noticed your knuckle popping or lip biting; no one saw your toes tapping in your boots or rapid blinking. The minor manifestations of your unease went unseen by previous coaches and old teammates. You used to take a weird level of satisfaction over it – you could hide your struggling so well that no one checked up on you.

And then you moved to Arsenal. It was a bigger club than you were used to; at just 18, you weren’t really used to playing at big stadiums or having sell-out crowds. You knew you were brought in primarily as a bench warmer – often only being utilised as a sub in that 75th minute to offer the Big Stars a small respite. You were comfortable in that role; you could do 15 minutes of a game. Yes, your heart beat so fast before you stepped onto the pitch that you thought you would drop dead from a heart attack any second. Yes, you felt so nauseous as your number flashed on the board that you often needed to take a second to centre yourself once you were in position. But you could manage 15 minutes of this feeling.

And then Beth got injured. That was tough—seeing someone you admired so much go down with the dreaded injury. But Arsenal regrouped and pushed forward, growing closer as they attempted to navigate this blow to the team. You had your friends helping, and even though they didn’t know the extent of your struggles, they did what they could for you.

And then Viv got injured. You were close with Viv; she said you reminded her of her younger self. You didn’t know whether to blush and deny or blush and be quietly proud. Seeing her go down made your nerves soar to unprecedented levels. Your toe taps became leg shakes, your lip biting led to bloody tissues being dapped at the raw skin, and your knuckle popping developed into picking and scratching at your fingers – often resulting in plasters being wrapped securely around them. But still, the team grew closer yet again, helping each other negotiate the struggles of losing some of their greatest players but also their closest friends. Yet you still didn’t go to anyone for help. How could you? Not when everyone was trying to find their new place in the team or their own injuries to contend with.

And then Leah got injured. It reminded everyone of their own fallibility. Leah – Arsenal Vice-Captain and Lioness Captain; destined to lead England to a World Cup win. It was a concern for the whole nation, not just your team. And yet Arsenal bonded even more, using this as a chance to develop an impossibly stronger bond. You still didn’t talk to anyone – not even the team psychologist that was brought in to help the higher stress levels. You didn’t think your worries were worth discussing – especially because you couldn’t pinpoint the cause yourself. You were just anxious … about everything. It was nothing new to you.

And then Laura got injured. The Tiny Tank was down, and it was terrifying. You were on the bench when it happened. That horrific orange stretcher lifting her off the pitch. You had squeezed your eyes shut, trying to hide the sights and sounds of the world from your memory. Your breathing became shallower, and your nails dug into your palm. You hadn’t even noticed the full-time whistle being blown until Steph jolted you from your panic.

And then you were being asked to start. If you thought you were nervous before, you needed to think again. Not only were you now a part of the Starting XI, but you were starting your first-ever game for Arsenal in front of a WSL record-beating crowd. You're nervous about starting the Wednesday before the match. Jonas came up to you during a water break to tell you he needed to speak to you after the session ended. That was it – that was all the information you were given. It made your heart jump and your head spin. You automatically assumed it was something terrible – had Arsenal realised they made a mistake and were letting you go? Had Jonas recognised that having you on the bench, even as an unused sub, was a liability that Arsenal couldn’t risk? Had the team spoken to him to discuss how much they disliked you and that you needed to leave the team? If possible, you were even quieter during the rest of training, silently communicating if someone asked you a question; not even Gio or Jen could bring you out of your shell, and they were always guaranteed a slight laugh from you.

Jonas had brought you into his office. It wasn’t too big, especially with the desk overflowing with papers and the armchair in the corner. He gestured for you to sit, and you did so—perching precariously on the edge of the chair, muscles tensed and ready to spring up as soon as needed.

“Y/N, look … we know you haven’t been used much this past year, and we hoped to do this a bit more gradually, but with all the injuries that have happened …” Jonas sighed. This was it; you were being let go. Your dreams of becoming a professional footballer were down the drain. “You’re going to start on Sunday.” What? No, no, that couldn’t be right! You couldn’t start. You just couldn’t. Talent aside, your body simply could not allow you to begin on Sunday. You felt violently ill during the warmups when you wouldn’t even be a used sub; you couldn’t imagine how you would feel if you were starting. You didn’t reply – what could you say? ‘Sorry, Jonas, I think that would be the biggest mistake in history’? ‘Jonas, I don’t think that’s a good idea – I feel like I have a heart attack before being used as a sub in the 80th minute. I think I will die if you make me start’? ‘Jonas, I understand you are my boss, but you are the biggest idiot alive if you think starting me is a good idea’? You couldn’t say what you were honestly thinking. You didn’t say anything at all – just sat there wide-eyed and terrified at the news. He dismissed you, and you bolted.

You staggered halfway down the corridor, leaning heavily on the wall before you stumbled, knees buckling and your body sliding to the floor. Your heart beat loudly in your eyes; the blood rushing made you feel sick, making you panic more. You couldn’t catch your breath. Everything was too much. You couldn’t do this. You were sitting in a small ball, knees pressed tightly to your chest, your eyes unfocused as you stared in front of you, and your mind spiralled out of control. To anyone passing by, you looked like you were waiting for someone to finish in the gym. There was nothing external to indicate an internal panic. It used to be something you were proud of – your ability to privately panic even in a busy changing room.

You hadn’t noticed that you had stopped opposite the door to the gym. You hadn’t noticed that it was the end of the physio session for the injured players. Leah and Laura didn’t notice you as they left, the door swinging shut behind them. Kim and Beth didn’t notice you as they walked by, either. It was something you used to hold so dear to you – the silent anxiety – and yet now, you wanted nothing more than to be loud and have someone come to help.

“Schatje? Hey, are you ok?” Viv’s voice barely registered. No! No, I am not ok. I am absolutely terrified. I can’t breathe. I can’t move. I can’t do anything. You didn’t even blink. She knew it was a dumb question to ask, and you were very much not okay. She had been watching you quietly since Beth’s injury – she watched as you bit your lip and popped your knuckles. She had tried to approach you, but you ran off as soon as she got near. You never looked her in the eyes anymore – not like you used to do that much before the string of injuries, either. But because she was no longer in most of the training sessions with you or the changing rooms, she didn’t see the extent of your struggles. “Oké schatje, lie down for me.” She didn’t really wait for a reply, gently guiding you to lie with your feet flat against the floor, knees bent and back straight, your head in her lap. “Arms by your sides,” she instructed again, guiding your limbs into the desired position. She didn’t know what to expect when she touched you, but she hadn’t considered that you would be numb, almost unresponsive. If it wasn’t for the slight flicker in your eyes when she spoke, she would have thought you were catatonic. “Goed gedaan, lieverd.” You had once told her that you liked hearing people talk in their native languages, even if you couldn’t understand them. She hoped this would bring a little bit of comfort to you when you so obviously needed it. “We need to get your breathing sorted, so I want you to push my hand away with every breath,” she said as she pressed her hand lightly on your diaphragm. She didn’t know if you could even hear her, but she figured if you hadn't calmed down after 10 minutes of this, she could go get help. Eventually, you started to weakly move her hand with each breath. It was small at first but getting more robust and more profound with every moment. “Ik zal je over mijn dag vertellen, ja?” she started rambling about her day in Dutch, letting her soft voice wash over you. You didn’t know what she was saying, but her gentleness calmed the storm in your mind. At first, her words were just a low rumble, but ultimately, you began to pick out words you recognised from her and Vic’s efforts to teach you Dutch, her hand adding a comforting weight to help ground you.

Viv could see the moment you re-entered the world around you. It wasn’t anything massive; you didn’t jump up, move, or do anything that indicated that anything had changed. But something in your eyes told her the clouds were parting, and the blue skies were peeking through in your mind. “Hi, schatje.” She smiled, gently pushing some hair off your face and scratching your scalp.

“Hi, Vivi,” your voice was scratchy, but you tried to make an effort.

“Don’t get up yet. We’re just going to sit here for a little bit, ok?” She phrased it like a question, but you knew it was a statement. You nodded gently and let your eyes slip shut. “What’s got you so nervous, lieverd?” she asked after a few minutes, her tone light as she tried to figure out how to help you.

“I … it’s silly,” you dismissed. She started matches all the time, and here you were, frightened by it.

“No, it’s not.” She said coolly, a finger smoothing the creases in between your eyebrows.

“I’m starting on Sunday,” you eventually whispered.

“Starting is really scary,” Viv admitted. She refused to dismiss your feelings. It had happened to her when she was a younger player, and she wouldn’t let it happen to you.

“No, it isn’t. You start all the time.” You refused to let her comfort you. “I’m just useless. Who the fuck gets nervous after being told they are starting? It’s only Wednesday,” you said, getting a little angry at yourself now. Why couldn’t you just be normal?

“Hey. No. Stop,” Viv said firmly. “I still get nervous when I get told I’m starting. I’m going to be an absolute mess the first time I get into the Starting XI after I come back … if I even make it to the Starting XI,” she added quietly.

“You get nervous?” You asked, slightly in awe of how Vivianne Meidema can get nervous over a football match – she’s one of the greatest players ever.

“Oh, yeh. I try to hide it, but Beth won’t let me anymore. She does what I did to you. She makes me push her hand away when I’m breathing. It really helps.” Who was this woman? She seems so put together on the pitch. Her flawless performances don’t reflect her nerves. “I will be an absolute mess if I ever make it to the Starting XI again.”

“What do you mean ‘if’? Vivi, you’re one of the best players ever. Of course, you’re going to be in the Starting XI again.” You might not recognise your own talents, but you’d be damned if you let anyone else think they were anything less than brilliant.

“I’m just behind on where I want to be in my rehab … it’s fucking with my head a little bit.”

“Progress isn’t linear, Vivi,” you stated as you reached to play with her fingers, which were still resting on your stomach.

“Do you think you could apply some of that pep talk to yourself? Schatje … I know it’s so, so scary to start, especially with what you’ve seen with all the injuries, but I promise you, you have us. Alsjeblieft, lean on us. We’re more than just your teammates; we’re your friends. Most of us consider you a little sister.” She gripped your hand tightly, cementing her promise to you. “Come on, let’s go get a sweet treat, yeh? I think we can also annoy Beth into buying it for us,” she laughed.

You knew you had a long way to go with your anxiety, but you knew you had friends … family … to rely on now. You weren’t alone in this, and it wasn’t unnatural for you to feel this way. It was comforting to know others felt like this. You weren’t alone.

I hope you enjoyed it <3<3<3

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chelseasdagger · 7 months

Text

Teacher

Frank Castle x Inexperienced F!Reader

Summary: Frank's a part of your friend group and invites you to hang out one day, unaware of your massive crush on him. During the visit, you let it slip that you're very inexperienced, and he offers to teach you everything you've missed out on.

Warnings: age gap (reader is in her early 20s), mentions of sex, drinking, and smoking

Author's Note: Oh my god! It's finally here, my first fic series! I've had this idea for months now and I've finally got the courage to write it out and post it. I wanna say a huge thank you to @chellestrash and @suitsofwo3 for their continuous support on this series! Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated :) Leave a comment or shoot me an ask!! I'd love to hear what you think!

Word Count: 5k

To say you had feelings for Frank Castle would be a gross understatement. It was truly nothing short of a schoolgirl crush, an all consuming infatuation that made you want him even more. Being anywhere near him made you feel like you were back in grade school with an uncontrollable flutter of butterflies in your stomach, and you knew you had to at least try and attempt to cease their movements.

But knowing and acting are two very different things, and you weren’t even sure if you wanted to stop them. Not when every smile he flashes your way makes them beat their tiny wings so fast that you feel weak in the knees. You knew logically it couldn’t end well, not with him being in your friend group, but you had a feeling you could keep up the friendly facade and not let it slip that your feelings for him are much more intense.

After all, he’s confident, handsome, and much older than you. How hard could it be?

“How hard could it be,” you repeat, whispering to yourself in the car. Your eyes are trained on the road in front of you as you listen while your GPS navigates you through the city. Frank had invited you over to his place after the last get-together the group had, where you admitted to the fact that you hadn’t seen his, apparently, favorite movie from the ‘80s. It was almost too perfect of a setup and you curse the universe for planning it all. Of all the movies you haven’t seen, you had to confess to this one?

In your defense, it was nearly impossible to decline his offer when his charm flared up like it had that night. Boisterous laughter, crinkles by his eyes when he grinned, and a, “Come on, you’ve gotta see it!” that was so warm and welcoming it had you agreeing before you thought about the implications of that damn nod you gave him.

Thinking back on that night, you nearly miss your turn onto the road that leads to his apartment. You catch it just in time though and as the automated voice informs you that he lives on the left, the anxiety sets in. You begin to focus on your breathing and you find an open parking spot right next to his black van, exactly where he said there would be. Mentally thanking him for eliminating some of the pressure of finding where to park, you pull into the spot and look towards the door with the metal numbers of his address bolted on the plaque beside it.

Once the car is parked and the ignition is off, you close your eyes and inhale enough air until your chest puffs out. “It’s just Frank,” you reassure yourself, attempting to slow down your heart rate. It does little use as his face flashes in your mind when you speak his name, so you decide not to delay the meeting any longer.

With a dry mouth and fidgeting hands you make your way to his apartment, giving yourself one last full breath before raising your hand to knock on his door. Your knuckles sound out against the wood, and there’s only a second of silence before you hear a muffled, “Coming!”

The brief moment to plaster a relaxed smile on your face passes all too quickly and you’re suddenly met with Frank’s warm grin. Failing to ignore the way he’s leaning against the doorframe, you can’t help your eyes immediately glancing at his bicep as it stretches the fabric of his sleeve. You quickly force your gaze back to his face and give yourself a mental shake.

“Hey, kid, glad you could make it,” he greets you kindly. You’d be lying if you said the nickname he reserved for you wasn’t bittersweet. It made you feel special that it only left his lips in reference to you, but logically you knew it was because you were the youngest in the group. The truly bitter part was hearing it and feeling your heart sink that little bit lower; you wondered if he ever saw you as more, if you’d ever be able to satisfy your steadfast crush.

But those spiral sessions are best had at home, so you push away the thoughts and focus on spending time with him. All you’ve ever wanted was time alone with him and you’re not sure when you’ll get the chance again after today.

“Yeah, of course,” your genuine smile takes over, ”I had to see what all the fuss was about.” He chuckles at your joke before stepping aside, gesturing for you to come in. Squeezing past his body, you step into the living room of his home. It’s bigger than you expected, housing a sectional couch and wooden coffee table in the center. There’s also a large television mounted to the wall that’s clearly the main focus of the room. One sweatshirt and a lone blanket are draped on the back of the couch, making up the only clutter in the space. You don’t realize Frank is watching you take it all in until he gently clears his throat.

“Is it as glorious as you expected?” His voice sounds out from behind you and you turn to face him. There’s a smirk on his face and you find yourself chuckling to avoid shrinking into yourself.

“Just… different than I pictured is all,” you gesture vaguely to the open space of the room. There’s a scoff before he walks past you and towards the light grey couch.

“‘Clean’, you mean?” There’s a huff surrounding the question as he plops down onto the couch.

“Well…” you trail off, tilting your head to the side. A smile slowly takes over his face as you tease him.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he says as he pats the cushion of the couch. You follow his instruction, opting to keep one seat between the two of you. There’s a pause for a moment and you let your eyes wander to his thighs. His legs are slightly spread on the couch and it’s hard to ignore the way the fabric of his denim jeans are struggling to make room for the muscles of his thighs.

“So you really haven’t seen the greatest film of all time?” He begins again, disbelief clear in his tone. His voice makes your line of sight shoot back up to his face and it’s now your turn to wear a smile.

“You sure are creating a lot of hype for this movie. I hope it doesn’t disappoint,” you laugh softly. His eyes grow wide as a look of shock takes over his face.

“‘Disappoint’? You kiddin’ me? I’m pretty sure this movie paved the way for cinema.” He gets up excitedly, walking towards one of the thin bookshelves that frame the television. His fingers scan the titles quickly, trailing down the rows until he finds one. He pulls the case out from where it was sandwiched between the others before turning around to show it off with a wave of his hand.

“Made sure to rewind it for you yesterday.” You try to ignore the way your brain jumps to conclusions at those few words. The thoughts are loud, however, and you hear them despite your wishes. He really thought this ahead? Was he actually looking forward to seeing you?

Frank pulls the tape from out of its case and kneels down in front of the television. There’s a large, grey VCR lying on the ground and he gently pushes the tape past the small hinge, a tiny whirring sound escaping as it accepts the tape.

“God, I’m really showing my age here, aren’t I?” He nods towards the old technology on the wooden floor.

“I mean, I’ve seen my parents use them before,” you answer honestly.

“Jesus Christ,” he grumbles, bringing his palm to cover his face before dragging it down his cheeks. The giggle that escapes you is involuntary, he looks so cute each time you tease him. You love these moments and how effortless it is to joke around with him, unlike when your usually constant bashfulness is present.

Once the tape is in, the static on the screen crackles to life and there’s a few seconds before the black fades into a dusty orange sky. As the opening scene begins to play, you feel like you recognize the actors’ names as they appear over the footage. Nothing immediately comes to mind though, so you ignore the nagging feeling of trying to place them and focus on the film.

That proves to be more difficult than you intended. Admittedly, all you can think about is his scent lingering in the space around you. It’s almost as if the couch is bathed in his smell and it feels as though you’re drowning in it in the best way. You halfway register the dialogue sounding out and decide to at least entertain the idea of paying attention. There’s a shot of the inside of an airport, and you watch as the word Diehard comes across the center of the screen. Chuckles erupt from you and Frank’s immediately turning to face you with a confused pout.

“You think Diehard is the greatest movie of all time?” Your words are unintentionally soaked in disbelief and you swear you can see his defensive guard come up.

“You tryna’ tell me it’s not?! Cause it’s clearly up there!”

“I don’t know, Frank,” you start. Each time the film is brought up around you, you hear that it’s either the best or it’s overrated. You just didn’t expect him to be this much of a fan.

“That’s right! You don’t know!” He seems proud of his argument and even laughs towards the end of his sentence. You shake your head as your smile begins to hurt your cheeks due to how long you’ve been wearing it for. He reaches for the old remote, its buttons faded with its age, and the screen halts to a stop as he presses pause.

“I’ll be right back,” Frank explains with a grunt as he pushes himself off of the couch. You turn and watch him walk to the kitchen, your eyes lingering on his broad shoulders and how they almost brush the open doorframe as he passes through it. Not wanting to let your thoughts continue any more down the path they’re already on, you force your attention back to the television and wait for him to return.

“Here you are,” his deep voice sounds out a moment later and you look up at him. He’s sitting down onto the couch cushion with the fingers of his right hand wrapped around the necks of two beer bottles. He stretches his arm towards you, offering one of the drinks and you’re distracted by the veins running up the inside of his forearm.

“What? S’there somethin’ wrong?” he asks confusedly, his own gaze glancing between your clasped hands and the bottles. You snap out of your trance and stare at the beers again, racking your brain for any excuse to use to decline the drink.

“No, thank you, I’m all good,” your voice comes out stiff. Real smooth, you curse yourself as you see Frank’s expression change. His eyebrows pull together as he tries to understand your sudden and strange behavior.

“So what’s your deal, huh?” he begins, setting the bottles down and leaning back into the couch. His entire body is turned towards you and it’s clear that you’re the new subject of the conversation. You swallow thickly, your nerves already acting up.

“Never seen you drink, never seen you smoke… Hell, I haven’t seen you do much of anything,” he continues, listing his examples off on each finger. “Why is that? You some goody two shoes or something?” he finishes with a raspy chuckle. He reaches for his beer, popping the lid off with the opener from the coffee table and taking a long sip as his eyes meet yours over the glass in his hand.

You wish you could come up with something, anything, to get you out of this situation before you’re forced to confess to him. You open your mouth, expecting your tongue to string the words together for you, but there’s nothing but silence in the room. Quickly, you begin grasping for an explanation, only to be left stuttering over your words. Frank’s eyebrows raise and there’s an amused smirk tugging at his lips as he puts his drink down again.

“Uh oh,” he laughs quietly, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. He squints at you, tilting his head to the side as his eyes flicker all around your face. “There’s somethin’ else there,” he whispers mostly to himself, “gotta tell me now, sweetheart.”

If none of this was enough to make your face grow warm, it certainly is now that you’ve heard the pet name leave his mouth. You feel as if you’re curling inward on yourself and you hate that the ground won’t show you mercy by opening up and swallowing you whole. Fidgeting with your fingers, you wonder if there’s any lie you can try and deliver confidently this time. But who are you kidding? You were never good at it, and it’s best to just rip off the bandaid.

With one last glance up at him, you see he’s not going to budge until he gets an answer, so you give him what he’s looking for. “Yeah, that’s… ‘my deal’,” you phrase his words in air quotes. “I haven’t really done, well, anything, and I don’t really know where to start,” you admit, still not looking him in the eyes. Frank nods as he lets your voice fill the air and you notice him making another curious face.

“When you say ‘anything’, what exactly do you mean?” he asks in a softer tone this time, no hint of teasing in his words. It’s then that you finally meet his brown eyes and see the kindness in their warm color. You bring in a deep breath and prepare yourself for the worst possible reaction to your following words.

“Um—,” you cut yourself off with a sigh, letting out all the air in your lungs and attempting to stall the embarrassment a moment longer. “Okay, like drinking, smoking, drugs…” you continue the list and watch him nod after each addition. “Never had sex, never—,”

“Bullshit,” his rumbly voice interrupts you, shaking his head in disbelief. The pout that forms on your lips is involuntary; you feared he wouldn’t have believed it, but you suppose it’s better than him teasing you. From the corner of your eyes you watch his lips part and his jaw go slack as he realizes what you said was the truth.

“Christ, you… you’re serious?” he questions as he looks at you in shock. You only nod silently, not sure how to continue from here. There’s a long pause where Frank is still as stone, remaining silent but seemingly trying to process the new information he’s discovered. The air feels so thick you worry that if you open your mouth to speak you’ll only choke.

The sound of a rumbly chuckle fills the air and you look up to see his wide smile. He’s dragging his palm down his mouth and rubbing his jaw as he shifts his hips forward and leans back into the cushions once more. You feel anger bubbling up and it quickly replaces the mortification that had been consuming you for the past few minutes.

“Screw you! I knew you wouldn’t have taken it seriously.” You cross your arms over your chest as you turn away from him. You felt stupid for sharing this with him, and now he has the audacity to laugh? Over something this personal?

“No, no, sweetheart, hey—,“ the pet name again does nothing to dull the burning under the skin of your cheeks. “I wasn’t teasing it’s just…,” he sighs heavily and shrugs his shoulders, “it’s a surprise, y’know?”

As much as you want to stay upset with him, you’re not sure your resolve can last that long. You attempt to maintain your defensive position and don’t dare soften the angry glare you’re shooting at him.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” he starts, but you don’t budge. “C’mon, I’m sorry. I just wasn’t expecting it, s’all. Kinda hard to believe, honestly.” Your head perks up at the last sentence and you shoot him a look of pure disbelief.

“Yeah, well… you’re obviously the only one who thinks that,” you mumble, the self-deprecating words falling past your lips before you even register them. Frank sighs deeply and you notice the way his eyes are flickering all around your face, presumably trying to gauge how upset you are.

“It’s not like I want this,” you huff, deflating into the couch, “but now it’s like even if I want to try stuff, I don’t know what I’m doing.” You begin picking at your fingers as the insecurity grows with his silence. “It’s like everybody did the crash course in high school and they have experience. I don't even know where to start…” As you trail off, the silence becomes deafening and you find yourself missing his laughter because at least that was something.

“Aaaaand I said too much. Sorry, it’s just something that’s frustrated me for years and… yeah,” you decide it’s better to end the conversation than wait on a reply that won’t come.

“You didn’t say too much,” he finally speaks up, and the weight on your chest begins to dissipate. “Was lettin’ you get it all out,” he explains. He holds his chin between his thumb and index finger, grazing his jaw lightly and tilting his head as he thinks over your confession. You find yourself subconsciously holding your breath as you prepare for the worst possible response he could give you.

“Said you didn’t know where to start, right? Why don’t we start with something small, hmm? How about that beer?” Frank nods his head once in the direction of the abandoned bottle he had grabbed for you. You eye it hesitantly and think over the worst that could happen. Coming up with virtually nothing, you nod back to him, deciding it would be one small victory to deal with today.

As you wrap your fingers around the bottle, you raise your hand and turn to Frank. He mimics you, lifting his own in the air before clearing his throat.

“To…” he trails off, trying to come up with something as a cheer. His eyes drift off to somewhere else in the room, his lips parted as his eyebrows pull together. You can’t help the giggle that escapes you at his very serious thinking face. Not wanting him to hurt himself from racking his brain much longer, you speak up.

“To trying new things,” you say confidently, and the second the words leave your mouth you’re already regretting them. You physically wince at your word choice and now it’s Frank’s turn to stifle a laugh. “Yeah, that was pretty lame,” you admit to him. “Sounded better in my head.”

“Think it sounded perfect,” he replies before tilting his bottle towards you. You follow his lead as he brings the drink to his lips and you don’t think twice before tilting your own head back. The second the flavor hits your tongue you can feel your face scrunching up involuntarily. You bring the bottle away immediately and your lips purse at the taste in your mouth. Frank’s laughter rumbles out deep from his chest and you watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows it down with no reaction.

“Attagirl, one thing down. That wasn't too hard now was it?” he speaks once he’s brought the glass bottle away from his mouth. Thankfully, the nasty beer is enough to distract you from reacting to his praise.

“You didn’t tell me it tasted like piss!” you exclaim, wiping your mouth off with the back of your hand.

“This is actually one of the good ones,” you watch as he takes another swig. “But you’re right, it’s not all that great,” he admits before licking his lips and looking at you.

Any residual awkwardness you felt only moments before has all but vanished and you feel comfort just being here with him. You smile softly to yourself as you brush your thumb along the curved glass of the neck of the bottle.

“Thank you for this,” you speak up, “it feels nice to get something crossed off the list.”

“Any time, kid,” his voice is raspy and you try to dissuade your stomach from doing flips at his tone.

The smile on your face grows wider in the silence, feeling a small amount of pride bubbling in your chest knowing that you tried something new. It doesn’t seem like such a big feat once you’ve climbed over the hill, but there’s always been that fear that keeps you paralyzed and unable to even attempt to move forward. You truly meant your words, you’re thankful that he gave you that little push.

“Y’know, I could help… with the list, I mean.” You’re almost certain you’ve never felt your heart beat quite this hard before. Frank waits until your eyes have locked with his before he speaks slowly, carefully chooses his words as he continues. “O-Only if you want, obviously. Just… said you wish you knew how to do it the first time, right? So it wouldn’t be such a big deal?” You hesitantly nod, still not wanting to assume what he’s proposing until he explicitly says it.

“Yeah, so I figured we could have you practice? Make sure you know what you’re doing before you get out there,” he ends his sentence with a shrug, as if it’s the most nonchalant offer.

“What?” you desperately try to ignore the way your words shake slightly. “Like you’d teach me?” You can’t even help the incredulous tone your words are soaked in. You can hardly even fathom the idea of Frank Castle being the one to show you the ropes, much less actually acting those things out with him.

“Yeah? If that’s alright?” He smiles gently and you feel your body beginning to relax some. “Just… I saw how much it meant to you and I wanna help,” he explains further, and you swear you’ve never seen sincerity like the way it’s shining in his warm, brown eyes.

You swallow thickly as you think over his proposition. It feels like this is some sort of dream; you’re waiting for your alarm to ring out as your vision slowly fades, waking up in your bedroom alone. But no amount of pinching your skin will rip you from this moment. It feels too good to be true, but it’s happening regardless. He’s waiting on an answer and it’s honestly the best offer you could think of being handed to you on a silver platter.

“And hey, you absolutely don’t have to say—”

“Yes,” you finally decide. You can’t even believe you said it.

“You sure?” he asks again, his eyes flickering between your own. You think it’s sweet how he tries to make sure you’re certain of your decision. You smile widely as you nod at him, the butterflies returning to your stomach once again.

“Also, we don’t, like, have to have sex… just so you know. I know that’s a lot, but I can help with the stuff leading up to it?” You grin and nod again and Frank laughs lightly at your response. “Just wanna make sure you’re comfortable with it.”

“I am! I’m just excited, sorry,” you fidget with the hem of your shirt in an attempt to channel all the newfound energy elsewhere. Frank’s chuckle grows louder and you wonder if you imagined the soft “cute” that was muttered under his breath.

“So…” he speaks up and you turn to face him completely. “How would you feel about crossin’ something else off the list?” You nod immediately as all the nervousness from before switches to excitement while it courses through you.

“Okay…” he laughs softly at your quick reaction. “Let’s see,” he pauses for a moment as he thinks before his eyes light up with an idea. “You ever been kissed?” You feel the familiar shyness creeping up again, but you choose to push it back down. Instead, you just softly shake your head and watch as he nods in understanding.

“You want to try it?” he asks, his lips curling into a smirk. You hum an agreement and watch as he moves a bit closer to you on the couch. Once again you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, for this to be some sort of joke. But Frank only waits for you to take the initiative to close the space between the two of you.

Now that you’re facing each other on the couch, you can feel your heart pounding against your ribcage as you wait for him to make the first move. He smiles reassuringly before raising his hand and cradling the side of your neck. His thumb brushes your cheek as his long fingers curl around the back, holding you gently in place.

“You sure you want this?” he confirms. Again, you nod eagerly.

“I gotta hear you say it, sweetheart. That’s my rule,” he explains.

“Oh…” you whisper as you glance between his eyes and his lips, “yes.” You feel your heart swelling at the fact that he wants to make sure you truly want what he’s offering. His eyes are fixed on your mouth, muttering one last, “Okay,” before leaning forward.

The second his lips touch yours, you’re surprised at how soft they are. He’s gentle with his movements and softly sucks your lower lip between his own. It only takes a moment for you to kiss him back, careful to only mimic his actions and still let him lead. The kiss is warm and sweet and you feel the blood rushing through your cheeks and tingling down your neck. His thumb catches your bottom lip and pulls it down slowly, breaking the kiss. Frank breathes gently as he licks his lips, his eyes flickering between yours.

“How was that?” he asks, his breath fanning over your mouth as he speaks.

“It was good. I-I liked it,” you smile sheepishly, subconsciously pulling your bottom lip between your teeth to savor the feeling.

“Yeah?” he tilts his head as the question leaves his mouth, his eyes squinting as he glances from your eyes to your mouth. You once again nod before you even think to do it.

“Alright, now I wanna give you a real one.”

“A real one?” you pout and stare at him confusedly.

He only smirks before leaning forward again, pressing his lips to yours harder. This time, his palm guides your jaw to tilt your head back as he deepens the kiss. The stubble lining his jaw scratches at your cheeks, and the prickling has you melting under his touch. You try your best to keep up, but his scent feels like it’s truly suffocating you now; you can hardly kiss him back with how overwhelmed you are. The next thing you register is the wet heat of his tongue brushing along your bottom lip, slowly tracing the shape before he pushes it inside your mouth. His tongue glides against your own and there's a small moan that escapes from your throat.

All too soon his lips leave yours and you open your eyes at the loss of contact. Frank’s own eyes are still shut and you watch as he clenches his jaw, almost as if he’s holding himself back from something.

“Are you okay?” you ask gently, worried you messed up somehow.

“Yeah… just, that was the sweetest god damn thing I’ve heard.” His voice is so deep it sends a shiver down your spine. Out of all the times you’ve dreamt of having your first kiss, you never thought it would’ve been that good. And to think, an impulse decision to watch a movie with him led you to this plan to gain experience. You find yourself already missing the feeling of his tongue, of the scratch that his stubble gave when he deepened the kiss.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” he knocks your knee softly with his own, attempting to grab your attention. “You’re being too quiet.”

“I just, well, I wanna do it again,” you admit, looking away nervously. In one sudden motion Frank tugs you into his lap and you yelp as you wrap your arms around his neck. He laughs softly as he stares up at you but doesn’t waste a second before kissing you even quicker than before. There’s only a few chances you can take to catch your breath because he hardly breaks the kiss. You never thought someone as attractive as him would want to kiss you this much, but confidence rushes through your body as his affection continues.

Frank’s mouth begins to wander, his lips finding new space that had otherwise been untouched. The corner of your mouth, your chin, your jaw—he never stops kissing you until he gets to your throat. From there, his lips part and he begins sucking on your neck. A shaky gasp leaves you as his teeth make purchase on your skin, softly biting before brushing his tongue over the mark.

“Done two new things,” he mutters, his lips moving around the words but never leaving your body. “How’s it feel?”

“I really like this,” you say breathlessly as you feel his teeth gently graze the sensitive skin of your neck. He hums into your throat, the vibration setting your skin alight before you finish your thought, “You can keep the beer though.”

Frank’s chuckle gets caught in his throat, resulting in the cutest snort you’ve ever heard. He presses soft kisses along your collarbone and looks up at you with sweet, brown eyes.

“Sure, kid, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

#frank castle x reader #frank castle smut #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle fic #jon bernthal fanfiction #jon bernthal fic #the punisher fanfiction #the punisher fic #chelsea writes #I'M SO EXCITED GAH!

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ay0nha · 1 year

Text

Lament of My Heart | Joel Miller

SUMMARY: “Tommy…” Joel let out a breath of frustrated laughter. He disappointingly shook his head, leaning over you, “That boy doesn’t know what he’s lost.”

Set pre-episode four & post-episode five w/ moments of pre-outbreak

PAIRING: Joel Miller x femme!reader

WORD COUNT: 5.1K

WARNINGS: SMUT (hand job), mentions of blood, mutual pining/slow burnish, skinny dipping (of sorts), canon-typical things, mentions of Tommy x reader, etc.

A/N: Need to post this before it sits in the drafts to collect dust. Joel is just on my mind all the time, so this is the product of that. Thank you as always @from-the-clouds for listening to my blabbering and entertaining all my ideas! Much love.

“No more questions, Ellie,” You reprimanded her lightly, trying to cover the warmth she was discovering you felt. “Get some rest.”

Ellie was a hard-headed person with the responsibility of society on her shoulders. She carried the weight well, but she was still human, still young. But her questions revealed her growing creativity and sharp wit.

“Not tired.” She hated Joel’s coffee, but the stolen sips still coursed through her veins. You knew it was partly due to the anxiety ahead of them. They all felt it, that tense air of the unknown. “You two don’t seem to get along, though.”

Your eyes flashed to the rear view mirror on instinct. Settled on the truck’s dirty cushions and the supplies being used as a pillow, Joel was asleep. But you weren’t sure how long it would last.

“Ellie-

“It wasn’t a question!” She defended quickly, toying with the edge of her sleeve. She’d been dying to know just exactly why you got under Joel’s skin the way you did. “Tell me about Tommy, at least.”

“Ask Joel.” Your eyes were everywhere. You checked the mirror as if there was traffic, but it was the only thing that kept you occupied. She was making you squirm.

“C’mon, you know he won’t-” Ellie’s own frustrations were building up. In her shoes, you’d be just as curious. “Please.”

Through a thoughtful sigh, you resigned, “Before-We just- We’ve known each other for a long time.” You’d been intertwined with the Miller brothers since before everything. You rarely said it aloud, and now, you struggled to put all the history into something coherent. “I met Tommy when he returned from deployment-

“In Texas?” Ellie hung onto every word, mind spinning tales faster than you could keep up with. “Were you in the military too?”

“I said no questions.”

The comment made her smile. Ellie always appreciated a good game. Loopholes were her specialty.

“Fine, then.” She settled in the passenger seat, knees to her chest as she faced you, “You were discharged with Tommy with more medals than you could count!” Her posture then changed with inventive excitement, “Or maybe a bad-ass sniper with too many confirmed kills to count.” You wished your life was as exciting as she made it sound. “You’re going to have to stop me before I start thinking you led an elite hit squad.”

“Close.” You quipped, “I worked on the military base in town.” It was the first job that hired you and offered some stability for someone your age. “I’d help get soldiers back on their feet once they returned…”

“Then you became friends with Tommy,” Ellie encouraged you to continue. She couldn’t stand the lulls.

Too many years passed for you to remember clearly how you became close to Tommy, but at the time, he considered you his soulmate. Not that either of you really knew what that meant.

“Then I became friends with Tommy.” You nodded. You kept your eyes steady ahead, adding, “Joel, too.” Glancing at Ellie, you finished, “Then we all just…stuck together.”

Separation wasn’t ever questioned, even on the eve of all the destruction. That memory was vivid; the way your bloodied body held onto Joel, dragging him away from it all, Tommy trailing behind, surveilling every move. It was how you moved together for years, protecting each other as much as possible.

“He doesn’t talk about it; before,” Ellie commented lowly. You knew she wished for more from Joel. But she couldn’t see what you saw in the way he softened for her.

“That hasn’t changed with time.” Your words felt too bitter. This time you indulged in a glance at Joel. Still settled. “I’m surprised he’s even talking to me now.”

You always described the Miller brothers as a whirlwind. They may not have necessarily meant it, but they had a knack for sweeping you up and consuming you. When Joel came to you with Ellie, there was no question of whether you would help or not, just when and where you were needed.

He’d never leave without you.

“Tell me something about them...” Ellie pleaded. She was a clever girl who picked up on the weight of his misery. But it wasn’t yours to share. “Before they…before this.”

Your shoulders relaxed while your hands moved to the bottom of the steering wheel as you allowed yourself to filter through only the fond memories.

“Alright, well…” You hesitated with your words. Only because you knew, Joel would tell the story differently. “He and Tommy were wasted…I mean…Absolutely hammered that night.”

Your words had their desired effect, and Ellie’s giggles encouraged you to continue. But it felt strange to make Joel’s drinking habits sound so lighthearted when you know how the habit haunted him now.

“Tommy called me.” The phone in Joel’s kitchen woke you up that night well past the witching hour. “The brothers always got into all kinds of mischief, usually Tommy's fault.” You were typically by his side, provoking him. “Always Tommy’s fault.”

“He sounds fun.” Ellie joined in. You knew in another world, the two would get up to all kinds of mischief if they had the chance.

“He can be, when he wants.” You glanced at the map on your lap. With the sun getting low, it meant you needed to find a safe place to stop soon. “That night, though, the two of them had the bright idea to pretend to be bouncers, only to get into a fight with the actual ones.”

“I knew Joel wasn’t a total hard-ass.”

As you continued to retell the story, you hadn’t realized how much nostalgia you carried with you. Nor were you able to see how you talked so warmly of Joel. Ellie knew exactly what to say to get the information she wanted. But you waited a long time to reminisce freely.

“...When I finally got them home,” You blew a raspberry at the unforgettable effort it took. The stench of alcohol and smoke still made your nose scrunch. “Thank god Tommy had enough sense left to make it to the couch.”

Ellie loved how you teased Joel’s hiccuping that he blamed it on being over-served tequila. It was hard even to imagine he had any of that humor left in him. You embellished the story just enough to entertain yourself. But the story's core provided fertile ground for understanding that nothing you added was too far-fetched.

“They remembered nothing the next morning,” You said. “Tommy found all these numbers written on his arm, said he’d close his eyes and pick which to call.”

“....And Joel, he must have been so hungover…”

“You’d think…” You reflected flatly. “He just got up and went to work.”

From your side, you knew Ellie could sense you holding back. She’d gotten more than she asked for, so she left it. She could see how the echo of that night still felt fresh, doubting you provided her with the detailed ending you lived.

----

“You alright?” The question was slowly processed by Joel, who was trying to steady his breathing before the contents of his stomach came up.

“Yeah, yeah…” Joel held onto you every step, arm slung over your shoulders, making you sway with him with each step to his room.

He was mumbling while you settled him on the edge of his bed. You got every few words while focusing on preparing him for the next day. The brothers had work, and doing this would save you the headache of hearing their complaints.

“B-been thinkin’...” His Texan drawl was heightened as he slurred.

“That so?” You half-heartedly replied, rummaging through his medicine cabinet. You looked for something for the morning.

“Mhmm…”

You could hear him shuffling around in his room. Assuming he’d been pulling his boots off and discarding his jacket, you were surprised to find him leaning on the bathroom’s door frame.

“Then you’ve been hanging around Tommy too much.”

“Tommy…” Joel let out a breath of frustrated laughter. He disappointingly shook his head, leaning over you, “That boy doesn’t know what he’s lost.”

You still held love for Tommy, but you had mistaken it for something that it wasn’t. The two of you functioned better as friends; you were his confidant and partner in crime. Neither of you would change that for the world.

“And you do?”

Your relationship with Joel had a natural ebb and flow that could be but never got to the point of being volatile. But that didn't stop you from stepping on each other's toes, constantly being on the brink of an argument that neither of you knew the point of.

“Darlin’...” You melted his resolve, helping him the way you were. Joel’s eyes flickered down. Nothing about your outfit was seductive, but the way his eyes loitered told you maybe it had been. Covering his tracks seamlessly, Joel continued, “...The things you deserve.”

Your laugh bounced off the bathroom walls, resonating deep within Joel’s chest.

"What?" Joel asked lightly, his smile starting to mirror yours, but not understanding why, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

“Shit, Joel,” Your laughter lingered, “You must be really drunk.”

“C’mon now.” He tried to stop you. He wasn’t sure he could handle any level of ridicule from you.

But you pushed passed him, drawing his sheets back for the night to be over, “Let’s just get you to bed.”

He stumbled to you willingly, but you could see his mind turning. There was something he wanted off his chest, but you knew you weren’t ready to hear it.

“Come on now, Miller,” You tried again. “We’ve both got work in the morning.”

“What is it you do again?” Joel’s words played with chords of tension. “Besides eat all my food and sleep on my couch.”

"Get by." You joked more for your sake than his.

Joel’s eyes shifted between your own, pupils entirely dilated. Blaming it on the alcohol helped settle your stomach.

“I know y-you don’t stick around for my benefit.”

"God forbid we enjoy each other's company, Joel." Your eyes burned into his. You enjoyed your ability to make him bashful in his stupor. Just a look, and he was crumbling.

You saw it coming. You could have stopped it, but it wasn’t even the length of a decent kiss. It was soft and fleeting because you pulled back to never speak of it again. You doubted Joel remembered, but you could never be sure what he’d admit to.

----

“Did you ever-

“Ellie…” You said her name slowly in warning.

She retracted fast, “Joel and you-

“No.”

Your answer came off harshly. You knew where she wanted to go; she’d circled the topic for hours.

“Can I ask one question?”

“That was a question.” You looked at her again pointedly, “Shoot.”

“Why’d you stay in Boston?”

Sitting with the statement, you focused on the road. Most around you was barren and destroyed but offered an unconventional peacefulness. Sometimes you imagined if you’d be better off in isolation than in a QZ. But you could never bring yourself to just disappear like that.

“As hard as you might try,” You started, pulling the car to the side, “You can’t be alone in this world. With a purpose or not, it just doesn’t work.”

The sudden sway of the car disturbed the sleeping figure in the back. Joel attempted to hide his jolt as he sat up but was already looking out the window for trouble.

“We stoppin’?” Joel’s voice filled the car while the engine cooled.

Joel looked to you for reassurance. Ellie pointed that out to you, the way he valued you despite his resentment.

“We’ve gotten far enough today.” You tossed the keys back to him. “We need food and rest.”

“Alright.”

Your exchanges were clipped.

Yet, you valued the journey with Ellie. Selfishly, the task provided a reason to see Joel again. It had become easier to spend time apart. It became a habit. But even with a quiet meal shared and conversations led by Ellie, it felt good to be with him again.

The pressure shifted. No longer were ration cards on your mind, nor were the curfews you struggled to follow. Something about the night felt freeing despite the heavy responsibility that it meant. Maybe it was the privilege of feeling safe with Joel since he created a protective bubble, sacrificing his rest for yours.

You heard Joel get up when he thought yours and Ellie’s breathing steadied. You were going to leave it, but sleep was hard to come by with your mind racing.

Joel saw your shadow first. But the hand that brushed between his shoulder blades still made him flinch. He spoke in hushed tones, looking to ensure that Ellie was still asleep, “I hope you didn’t come over here to tell me we’re safe.”

“Didn’t say that.” You frowned. He knew you well; you wore your concerns on your face. You just wished he didn’t hold such defiance for them. “But we’ll be alright for the night-

“Don’t.”

Joel wanted to be in control of everything down to the smallest detail.

You knew it was a way of coping, his way, but it never sat right with you. Especially now, as you watched Joel scrutinize the area you chose, you could feel the criticism he was holding back from the moment you parked the car.

Did you even survey the terrain?

Too much open space. No clear route out.

You know better than this.

“We’re the perfect targets.”

“Joel-

“We know how this works,” He voiced over you. Even with you there, his surveillance didn’t change as he remained on a swivel. “It was exactly what we did.”

Joel’s emotions were catching up, but he still held onto a forced restraint. He was expecting resistance, an argument from you. But you heard what he said, how Ellie needed to hear it, to believe him.

No one’s gonna find us.

It was a promise. Something Joel was determined to control.

The wind was picking up the later the night became, and any rustle was faced with a gun barrel. It caused chills to litter your arms out of apprehension. You tried to comfort yourself with your arms tucked to your chest, but it only shifted Joel’s attention.

If you tried hard enough, you could guess what he would say to you. We need to stay sharp. You could feel Joel’s hesitation, though. It happened every time he pushed you away.

There was merit to your diversion, but Joel only allowed it for so long.

“Get some rest.” He nodded toward his forgotten sleeping bag, “No good if both of us are tired.”

----

The car was gone. The brief companions too. Your heart felt permanently caught in your throat. Adrenaline replaced everything. But it was wearing you thin.

“Where are you going?” Respite clung to Joel’s question as his eyes followed your figure up from his crouched position.

Like a cat, you stretched until something deep within your spine popped. You moved towards the shore of the small body of water you all settled by.

Time was at the forefront of Joel’s mind. Time was no longer on your side, meaning the sooner, the better pressured every minute. Daylight became the most valuable thing. And by the looks of it, you were on your way to wasting it.

“We smell, Joel.” You state as you discard the knife strapped around your waist. You were meant to be cleaning them in the water, preparing them for the next fight the way he had.

But your body was sore. You could imagine the pain Joel felt was much worse, physical or not. He put his body first rather than having you or Ellie be the brunt of it all.

Mornings were sacred to you. It was when the birds sang at dawn because the crisp, moist air carried their songs and their meanings farther through the same air that filled your lungs in fluid refreshment.

You pulled your shirt over your head and looped your thumbs in the waistband of your pants as you wiggled them over your thighs and down your legs.

For the moment, Joel’s eyes lingered. He looked for bites. He knew he wouldn’t find anything, but he had to be sure. Instead, Joel found deep hues of bruises still healing from Kansas City.

Almost wholly above the horizon, the sun highlighted the mist rising off the body of water. It veiled your body the closer you were to where the water and the rocks met. Yet, Joel watched on until your arms maneuvered behind your back, searching for the clasp of your bra.

As if the sun was directly in his eyes, Joel looked up, avoiding seeing something that wasn’t meant for him. Except, it didn’t stop him from passing along a warning, “Don’t go out far.”

The dirt from the past days felt like a second layer of skin had embedded into your own, suffocating you. You finally waded into the freezing water to rid yourself of it.

But not before throwing a comment over your shoulder, “Join me, then.”

Your words were like an idle threat that was only met with silence. You knew he was contemplating the offer. Always thinking.

The water was cold, goosebumps littering your skin within minutes and creating peaks where Joel refused to look. He scolded himself for the way his cock twitched at just the idea.

You leaned back so you were nearly floating on your back. Above, a bird glided hypnotically in a wide circle. It seemed you weren’t the only one seeking to rid yourself of a sense of weariness. The cool water swallowed you whole, caressing your skin and relaxing your muscles.

“Someone’s gotta stay with Ellie.” Joel voiced his decision. It was an excuse, what he was supposed to say.

There was no point in fighting it. Instead, you submerged yourself completely; the water consumed you. The longer you stayed under, the closer Joel edged to the water, ensuring you’d come up for a breath.

When you finally reemerged, you held a wicked grin.

“Don’t do that.” Joel frowned at your teasing. His eyes remained downcast, avoiding your eye. The rocks seemed more fascinating than how you became more siren-like by the minute. “I’m gonna find Ellie.”

“She deserves some privacy.” Despite her continuous puns, you were receptive to the fact that she was still impacted.

You all were.

Hyper vigilance became the enemy that threatened to consume Joel whole. Sleep was no longer negotiable. Every movement dragged worry, invited agitation, and controlled his violence. Joel’s chest was tight, and breathing felt hard to come by. He was moments away from unraveling.

“...There won’t be another invitation, Joel.”

Joel’s loaded gaze burned right through you as he took off his clothes. While he was busy shrugging out of his shirt, you took the opportunity to tread out further. Your back was to him, but you heard the swishing of disturbed water.

You reveled in the way your skin burned for him. He’d seen you naked years ago. But not like this, never like this.

----

Joel’s eyes followed the curve of your body. Your chest swayed as you moved around freely. His pounding heart clocked how too much time had passed for him to sneak out. He was frozen.

“You’re not Tommy.” You let out a breath of relief despite your surprise.

The lace rode high on your hips, accentuating your natural curve. Your chest was perked at the sudden attention of being caught so bare. Regardless of the incessant ringing in your ears, you stayed stone still, giving him a chance to say something.

Yet, he shook his head, backing out the door he’d come through, mumbling expected apologies. Joel used the key under the fern and let himself in.

For days he’d been asking Tommy for his tools back. And now, they were forgotten with each hurried step.

You threw on the closest shirt, chasing after him. “Wait!”

“I didn’t mean to-

“Joel, let me explain-

“No, I shouldn’t have-I-I’ll just-”

You found a way to stand before him, blocking his escape route perfectly. “Let’s just slow down…” Your hands were up in defense, mirroring his own. “It’s not what you think.”

Of all people, you wanted Joel to hear you. But the silence was heavy and lacked a proper explanation. You could see the flush that took over his coloring. It was sweet in a way, but you were too mortified to know what to make of it. It wasn’t exactly taught how to handle these sorts of things in school, so you stalled.

“Can I make you some coffee?” An invitation to linger.

Joel looked at you and saw your bare feet moving toward him with hope. He hadn’t meant to, but his eyes scanned your bare legs; the picture of the intricate fabric underneath the oversized shirt made his skin prick. It took him a moment to realize the shirt was his, one Tommy most likely nicked under his nose.

Doubting you knew what that did to him, Joel shook his head, “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“One cup.” You promised.

The air was tense when you made it to the kitchen. You insisted on a fresh pot, but the drops felt like they took ages to fill it enough for its purpose. The hem of the shirt skirted the boundary of indecency, but you thought nothing of it. Your focus was on the longing stare Joel was giving you.

“Tommy and I…” You started with a shaky breath. You were sure Joel knew all about the drifting relationship. “I thought maybe this would…” It felt strange explaining yourself the way you had. But you wanted it to be known that even to you, it felt out of character. “He doesn’t look at me the same anymore…”

Your words feigned a sense of yearning. But neither you nor Tommy could keep up the act. Your words seemed heavy, but it was so alleviating to say aloud. To be listened to.

But the smell of coffee pulled you back, reminding you to be a good host. Filling the mugs just below the brim, you broke the small barrier of the kitchen island. You held the mug close to your chest, the warmth working as emotional support while Joel toyed with the ceramic handle.

You lifted the mug to your lips, blowing lightly over the piping-hot coffee, “...But neither do I.”

“I can talk to Tommy if you…” No matter how much it made Joel regret the offer, Joel said the right thing. He couldn’t meddle where he didn’t belong. “I’m sure he’d understand.”

You laughed into your mug. “I’d rather this stay our thing.”

“You say that like this is going to happen again.”

“Joel Miller.” You said his name after a pause. He looked like a child in trouble. “Are you flirting with me?”

“No, no, I-

“Joking.” You cut in just as awkwardly as he flushed.

You wanted the mood to lighten, needed it to.

But there was clumsiness in every movement, between your ongoing jitteriness and Joel’s restless fidgeting. So, you moved to the window. On the sill held your half-empty carton of cigarettes, the ones you were trying hard not to touch these days.

With a soft glance back to Joel, you asked, “Mind if I?”

Joel could spot the influences of Tommy in you. Or maybe you had passed along your habits. Either way, it was your home of sorts. Who was he to tell you no?

You had such dexterity with the process. It was like a ritual how you rolled the cigarette over your lips before lighting it. Then after a deep exhale, you utilized the perpetually open window to tap the beginnings of ash.

“I don’t mean to drag you into all of this…” You trailed off through an exhale of smoke through your nose. Joel could see the appeal now. “I just don’t-…Tommy’s my friend, and if I…I don’t know what’ll happen if we’re not…”

The end of something always hurt everyone around you. You all were just playing your roles in delaying the inescapable. But the questions of the future haunted you. You weren’t sure if you were ready to let it all go.

“I’ll let you leave…” You toyed with the lit cigarette that was on its last limb as you spoke. Joel’s silence was becoming deafening. “Promise I won’t hold you up any longer.”

You were sure he had more pressing matters than to comfort you through an inevitable breakup.

“Tommy’ll get over it.” Joel sat back with more relaxation now that he spoke his mind. “It’s you I’m worried about.”

----

Joel kept his distance deliberately. He made the venture into the water seem like another task. In and out.

“I don’t bite, you know.”

He knew you wouldn’t be able to stay quiet for too long. He knew what it meant to join you, but he made an effort to seem detached.

“Just giving you some privacy.” Joel echoed your words.

“Right.” Your frustration was clear. You carried it with you for the handful of days that passed. Your frustrations didn’t lie with him like Joel chose to believe.

Instead, guilt filled Joel’s chest. It had been gnawing at him since he left Boston. He should have left you there if he were as reliable as everyone claimed he was. You’d be without bruises. You’d be without his burden. Leaving without you meant there would be no return.

But you knew Joel. You had to remind yourself. You knew what he was thinking, what he wanted. That’s how you knew moving towards him would benefit the both of you.

You moved gradually, leading the interaction by brushing his hair behind his ears. The greys of his hair darkened with the water you carried on your fingertips. He looked younger. He looked like your Joel.

You reached for him, pulling him through the cool water to you. Joel was stiff when your chest met his warmly. He thought of pulling away, but you felt so peaceful that it swallowed him. Your arms wrapped around him with comfort. Your body settled in front of his, gently pressing your hips against him, giving him only an ounce of pressure to entice him.

He noted every twitch. Shyness wasn’t questioned; that barrier was broken years ago. It enabled you to trace his face. Every detail was already committed to memory.

You imagined what he’d say to you all those years ago—anything to make a smile crack.

Careful, now.

All you’re gonna find is a whole lot of ugly.

The scar above his eyebrow marked when your feelings for Joel first latched on. You were blinded by anger then, but the blood scared you. He promised you it was a graze and that he still had his life. But that wasn’t enough proof for you.

When your thumb traced over the faint line, Joel finally found his voice again, “Your shooting’s still sloppy.”

The look Joel held was intimidating, scrutinizing, but you knew he was trying to be witty.

“See now, when you say things like that…” You whispered softly due to the proximity, “I don’t regret shooting you.”

He hummed, appreciating your touch that ventured to his shoulders. You could feel under your hands the tension he held. You wanted nothing more than to provide relief.

“Joel.”

Just his name made your desire clear. He wanted to touch you all those years ago, but he’d never betray his brother like that. But now you invited him to you without any barriers. There was hesitancy in the hold Joel found on your hips. His mind wandered; wavered between the need and the want.

Starting at the swirl of hair on his chest, you followed the trail down until Joel’s breath hitched. Joel felt like he was about to lose it when your hand wrapped around him.

“This feel okay?” You moved your hand against him, slow and soft.

Water dripped from his nose to your shoulder as he nodded eagerly. His groan rumbled deep in his chest, vibrating against your own. You tread in dangerous territory but recognized the privilege of his trust.

This was for Joel. You needed this just as much as he did. You didn’t worry if it functioned as a thank you for keeping you alive, an apology for the trouble you’d caused him, or a confession of your own.

It didn’t matter when you indulged in your own lust.

“Do you think of me when you’re on your own?” You asked, fingers wrapped around his shaft, squeezing him until you felt his pulse in your grip.

“Oh- Fuck-” He cut himself off before he let a pet name slip. Joel’s fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hips, imprinting his touch into your skin, burned to your very bone.

“Hmm?” You edged him further. Gently, you continued to pump him and move your thumb over his tip.

Joel’s ragged breath fell on your pulse point with each moan as you continued to pump him rhythmically. His hand came up to your throat in a tender hold. His lips hover over yours but refrained from connecting.

It would be too intimate if you had.

“Do you want me to?” The hold gave him dominance even as he shuddered under your touch. Always desiring control.

The water around you rippled with your continued movements. With his free hand, his thumb rubbed gently at the sensitive skin that was near the pebbles of your breast, but he made no effort to touch it just yet. His words and touch were a deadly combination, the kind that made you ache.

“Would that be so bad?” You spoke on his lips, feeling the tickle of his mustache. The more you worked on his release the more you felt his warm pants turn into deep moans. “Come on now, Miller,” You coaxed softly, moving up and down his length with a lively pattern, teasingly and tauntingly. “Tell me.”

Joel’s words were caught in his throat as ecstasy flowed through his veins as the pleasure crashed. His hips jerked against you as his breathing became ragged and his moans became filthy.

He sighed with relief, abandoning himself. He groaned into you, nuzzling his nose in your neck as the aftershocks made him tremble. He could feel your hand threading in his hair, keeping him in your tight embrace.

“Yes.”

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yorshie · 5 months

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Hello! How are you? I hope you are doing well

Could you please do some Headcanons for tmnt (bayverse) x reader who has a huge problem with overheating? Like. Huge problem. Gets lightheaded, can’t sleep on “too warm” beds or places, Sometimes needs to lie on the cold ground or have ice packs on their face, legs, basically their whole self as an attempt of trying to cool down? And when they find out the boys skin is actually quite chilly they get more affectionate? Handsy? Of course w their consent, Legs get laced together, resting on their lap more often, both have crushes going on but reader is so bothered by how hot their skin is, all of the anxiety/bashfulness of approaching them is throw out of the window, and since winter is coming and the boys are coldblooded, a personal heater would be most welcomed (honestly a fair trade for everybody lol)

Hope that makes sense? (Honestly today is really bothering me cuz I’ve already used 3 ice packs and nothing is working 😭 i feel my face and legs are on fire and it’s so bothersome. I need some reassurance from some chilly boys fr) thank you and have a good day

Hello! I'm doing good, I hope you are doing better! I've been thinking about this ask for quite a bit, because I couldn't decide how exactly I was going to handle the turtles body heat, but I was totally enamored of imagining them being slightly cooler to reader's body heat, even though they do produce their own. Endothermic vs Ectothermic arguments went round and round, til I finally decided I was thinking about it waaaaayyyyy too deeply lol. So, thank you so much for sending this in, because it helped me Answer Some Questions for my personal writing lol. Going with the bayverse turtles run cooler than the average human body temp, but that they can withstand a range of temperatures because they still generate their own heat. So without further ado!

Bayverse turtles x GN reader, SFW - headcanons for nonspecific turtle

as always turtles are 24-25 in my writing

the first time he catches you lying on the floor in your home, surrounded by ziploc baggies of ice and an ice pack balanced on your nose, he almost snapped a picture at how goofy it looked. Then he noticed how red your skin was, how miserable you seemed, and he decided maybe it'd be better to check and see if you were ok

Upon finding out that, no, this was normal for you, that you were burning up despite how freezing cold your living room was, a small voice in the back of his head immediately reminded him that he ran COLD. He ignored it all through swapping your baggies out with fresh ice, of watching you roll to a new spot on the floor to find a new cool spot before his traitorous mouth opens up and he hears words that sound eerily like his own voice before he can reel the offer back in.

At first, you don't believe him. He's being sweet, sure, but the thought of touching or cuddling someone right now makes you want to commit murder. It takes him reaching out abruptly and placing his palm against your uncovered stomach for the fact to sink in that... oh my GOD HE"S COLD.

From that moment on, he is the designated cuddle buddy. In a pinch you'll make due with one of his brothers if you can convince them to stay still, but the first time he caught you draped over one of their shells you got the stink eye for three days straight, and when it came time for you to ask him once more to help you ended up being held more like a teddy bear.

Most of the time though, you sprawl across him on movie nights, cheek to his plastron, trying in vain to beat down blooming feelings when he rests his large, cool hands against your back and twines your legs together. Once or twice you're even embarrassed over it when it happens in front of his brothers, but at this point they just act like its normal. Just know, though, that your turtle has gotten ribbed over it privately, and there's a betting pool they've got going behind the two of yours' backs.

Come winter, you notice it's not just your turtle that's creeping in to cuddle now. With the weather turning, it seems the other three have realized that while they are a walking, talking ice pack for you, you are in fact a walking, talking furnace for them. Your turtle is definitely in the middle of the huddle, but don't be surprised to find yourself in the middle of a turtle pile anytime you come over. Don't worry, you're not the only human that gets wrangled into this. One time you got yoinked into the pile trying to coax your turtle out for some one on one cuddles and you found both Casey and April in the middle of the pile, both slightly squashed and unhappy about their turtle kidnapping.

All and all it's a revolving door of seeking each other out for heat and/or for cold, I'd give the betting pool a max of four months before it's being cashed out.

#tmnt bayverse #bayverse tmnt fanfiction #bayverse tmnt x reader #bayverse leonardo #bayverse raphael #bayverse michelangelo #bayverse donatello #bayverse leo x reader #bayverse raph x reader #bayverse mikey x reader #bayverse donnie x reader #my writing requests

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leahsgirl · 3 months

Text

celebration night | alex greenwood x reader

based off this request except i kind of went off script a little, only a short 1.3k for because its currently 4am right now - hope you enjoy!

mentions of anxiety (only briefly), suggestive language, smut sort of??

—

it was times like these, where you were sat in the back of a car, dolled up to the nines, when you wondered how you ended up with your girlfriend.

the two of you was en route to another awards ceremony that would be celebrating her (and her teammates) contribution to the footballing world.

you was her plus one of course, having dragged you to a couple beforehand over the course of your relationship. you weren't exactly the biggest fan of these events considering you was a very introverted person with an almost constant pit of anxiety in your stomach, but you knew how much they meant to Alex and what kind of girlfriend would you be if you weren't there supporting her?

when you first met her, at a club match you went watching for your childhood friend chloe, you already had a massive crush her. what you didn't expect was for the blonde to offer getting drinks sometime when kelly introduced you and the rest was history really.

so yeah, back to the present where you, a bartender, was keeping a strong grip on your football sensation girlfriend's hand, trying your best to keep your nerves under control. "i'll say it once i'll say it again; how do you do this all the time? how do the nerves not knock you sick?"

the older girl chuckled, "nerves turns into adrenaline - and adrenaline helps me play better." stating it simply and turning her head to press a light kiss on your temple. "you'll be fine baby; you always have me remember?" alex was aware of how your thoughts could spiral to the point of no return, how you would psychoanalyse certain situations and how you anxious you could get when in big groups like tonight will be. she knew exactly how to calm you down and for that you was thankful.

the car now pulling up outside the steps that lead to the building, a chauffeur opening the door for the blonde and you, alex got out and once again held her hand out for you to take. there was a few paparazzi/photographers outside behind the rope fences calling out your girlfriends name. "alex! alex!" "alex! whose the girl with you?!" "over here alex." after a few shots you was ushered inside where the place was already buzzing with people.

they'd gone for all white and gold decorations you gathered, having noticed the balloon arch mixed with the two colours, as well as white decorative roses scattered around in bunches and a champagne tower slap bang in the centre. you never understood the point of them if you was honest, the glasses are far too dainty to remove from the pyramid and just one accidentally nudge to the poor thing and it would come crashing down.

"y/n, alex, hiya." turning around to the familiar voice you see lucy, one of the blue-eyed girls national teammates. you liked lucy, she was one of the girls you clicked with the most when visiting alex at her european and world cup tournaments. "oh my god i feel like i haven't seen you in ages" you say as you went in for a side hug. "its only been two months y/n, has alex over here been boring you that much?" the brunette smirked while your girlfriend rolled her eyes playfully.

"she's been keeping me busy actually, last week she forced me to learn how to rollerstake for no reason." its true, the thirty-year-old was always convincing you to do the stupidest, most cheesy stuff but you don't mind. In fact, it's probably one of your favourite things about her seeing this goofier side compared to the more serious and reserved ones the fans got.

"don't act like you don't secretly love it." she said crossing her arms over her chest while you just giggled in response and pecked her lips. "i do sweetheart don't worry."

after some mindless chatter with the barcelona player, staff came out to escort people to their seats. the set-up was tables of six and you was happy to find out accompanying you on your table was mary, lucy, ella and her boyfriend joe.

complimentary alcoholic beverages were being given throughout the night which you indulged in as you watched the awards being presented one by one.

alex was up for some sort of team award if you remembered correctly, not exactly understanding the drabble of words she was saying when she first told you the news, you think its eleven people getting the same award or something if you took anything from the conversation. what you did know is that she had to go up against international players which makes the award even more special if she is to win.

the night dragged on as you listened to speech after speech after speech. eventually, the time had come for 'FIFPRO Women's World 11' "that's it." you thought to yourself as the man read the title of the honour, now recalling alex telling you about fifa's women starting eleven.

"now introducing your women's starting eleven team!" the massive sliding doors opened up, revealing the ladies one by one. An overwhelming sense of pride engulfed you as you watched your partner stand on stage in her very sexy suit (if you do say so yourself) with trophy in hand. with a quick few lines from each girl, they made their way back to their seats. standing up, you beamed at alex and placed your hands on her cheeks "i'm so so proud of you." she leans in and kisses your lips, smudging your red lipstick slightly.

"you in the mood for celebrating later?" parting away from your lips, she whispered in your ear. you could see her eyes filled with lust which meant only one thing. offering to get out of there, alex and you say your goodbyes to your friends/her teammates. To be honest the ceremony was dying down anyways so it was only a matter of time before you actually did leave.

as soon as your front door closed hands grabbed your waist and pressed you onto the wall. lips attached to your neck, biting and sucking at the skin as you gave in to the quiet noises of pleasure before they found your mouth once again.

the kisses were sloppy and eager as the defender swiped her tongue across your bottom lip gaining entrance into your mouth, tongues in a fight for dominance.

she stopped. dragging you by the hand into your bedroom and pushing you onto the end of the bed. this time, she snaked her hand under your top, reaching up to massage your breast. "you're beautiful you know that?" alex watched in amusement as you tried to stay quiet while she pressed her knee up against your centre. "tell me what you want princess."

literally just the words she was saying was enough to send you over the edge if you let it. "i want- i want you lower." the breathlessness in your voice made the blonde smirk, complying with your wishes. she made her way down to your pants menacingly slow, undoing the button and sliding the silk material off until they were disregarded somewhere in the room. "can i just say, I'm practically naked and you're out here still in your suit." as much as you loved the suit, you'd much rather be seeing her toned abs right now.

taking the hint, she quickly thew the outfit off, now hovering over you in just her black lingerie. "better?" she asks and you nod, shamelessly raking your eyes down her whole body.

the man city player busied herself with tracing patterns up your thighs, getting dangerously close to your centre without actually touching it. "alex please."

toying with the elastic on your thong she looked up at you. "please what? i want to hear you say it." the lust was practically oozing out of her mouth right now. slotting her hand under the mesh material of your underwear she repeated herself, "say it y/n."

your brain was going into overdrive from the teasing she had given you; your chest heaving. "alex..please fuck me already."

she caught your lips in a passionate kiss. "good girl."

#alex greenwood #alex greenwood x reader #woso #woso community #england lionesses #lionesses #request #manchester city wfc

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amomentsescape · 3 months

Note

Hey, in a school play thats coming up in a few months and just got back from practice. Feeling super exhausted and under pressure cause I might have to miss a dress rehearsal for an important field trip and I dont want the teacher to be disappointed be like "oh my God that upping bitch ditched the 2nd dress rehearsal to go on some stupid field trip" (leaving this is an almost unreadable color so if it gets made I dont have to see that part and feel anxious again) so can I request slashers with a significant other in that situation and they support them all through it, the anxiety, lines, and coming home super exhausted and feeling discouraged all leading up to the play? Cause its still somthing they're determined and wanna do? Thanks in advance if you decide to write this then ill be rereading it till the play is over and maybe after it. Its probably dumb my feelings about it all seem stupid but I'm nerodivergent and things are just extra for me then most people.

Slashers with Overwhelmed! Reader That's in a School Play

Includes: Freddy, Michael, Jason, Thomas, Bubba, Brahms, Norman, Billy, Stu, Vincent, Bo, & Lester

A/N: Hey, your feelings are very much valid no matter the situation! Thank you for sending in your request, and I hope you find some rest soon <3

Freddy Krueger

He's grown a bit concerned over the past couple of weeks

Seeing you show up in his world with that exhausted look on your face wasn't something he liked to see

Has listened to you rant about the situation while he just held you

But he's also been there to keep you going even when you thought about giving up

If you need help with lines and preparing, he's happy to be of assistance!

Can literally morph the world into a stage for you

Anything that makes you feel a little more at ease is worth it

And he'll happily keep you in his world for however long you desire

Something about being with him helps you get the rest you've so desperately needed recently

Michael Myers

He honestly doesn't understand what the big deal is at first

You're stressed from the busy schedule? Then quit the play

But once you express how important it is to you and why you want to stick with it, he takes a little pity on you

Doesn't really help with lines or anything

But whenever you need some alone time, Michael is happy to oblige

If you need to rant, Michael is willing to lend an ear

It might not look like he's listening, but he is

He has offered to "get rid" of your problem a few times

Which you quickly said no to

Overall, he may not be the most supportive person to go to, but he does his best to be there for you in his own way

Jason Voorhees

Jason has already gotten used to the routine now

In fact, whenever you come home, he already has a fluffy blanket laid out on the couch for you along with a warm beverage

Forces you to take at least 5 minutes to sit down and chill

Even if you protest, Jason refuses to let you jump straight into more work

If you're feeling particularly anxious, he's more than happy to hold you or just sit beside you and rub your back

He's happy to help you with anything you need too

He's not the best at giving lines since he's not much of a talker...

But he's very good at following along with your script and giving you a nod if you memorized something correctly

He cares a lot about your wellbeing, so whatever will help you out is what Jason wants to do

Thomas Hewitt

He's also become a bit worried about you recently

He just hates seeing you look so worn out all of the time

Happily makes you dinner and snacks when you get home since he knows you appreciate not having to do it all yourself

He'll also run you a warm bath on evenings when you are particularly stressed out

He admires your dedication for sure, he just doesn't want you to burn out

Will not let you stay up late either

The moment it's bedtime, he makes you go to bed

It doesn't matter if you protest or not

He knows rest is important, and he'll happily lie right on top of you to make sure you don't get up from the mattress

Bubba Sawyer

Every time you come home looking worried, Bubba is all over you

He's hugging you, holding your hand, and even following you around like a puppy the whole night

He hates seeing you as anything but happy

Will do crazy charades and dances to get you to smile

He's also been stalking up on a lot of your favorite snacks and candies so that you always have something for a little more energy

He also cares a lot about you getting enough rest too

If you ever try to pull an all-nighter or stay up late in order to practice your lines, Bubba is right there with you

And seeing him forcing himself to stay awake just ends up guilting you into finally going to bed

He may seem innocent, but Bubba knows how to persuade you when he deems necessary

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms also recommends just quitting the play at first

It seems to be stressing you out too much, and he hates spending so much time away from you

But when you tell him that this is all important to you, he gives in

He'll (begrudgingly) go through lines with you and help you memorize them

Reassures you that everything will be fine and work out

Is happy to give you as many cuddles and kisses as you want in order to help you feel better

He still expects you to follow the rules list

But he's willing to be fairly lenient if you really need it

Norman Bates

He's very sweet and understanding about the whole situation

Doesn't even question why you're still doing everything even with all the stress

Meets you at the door each night and grabs your things, putting them aside

Has dinner already prepared for you

And he's happy to help you with lines or anything else you need!

He's actually the one who offered

If he sees that you're feeling extra stressed, he urges you to tell him what you're thinking

He refuses to let you bottle up your worries

He always responds with reassurances or advice depending on what you want

Billy Loomis

Believe it or not but Billy has had a little experience in theatre back in his day

He's a heartthrob; he always got cast in good roles

He's actually good at acting too and makes learning your lines feel a lot more legit

Even helps you with the delivery of the lines as well

He waits for you to come to him if you need anything

Advice, cuddles, questions, you name it

If you need it, just ask, and he'll be happy to supply

If anyone gives you a particularly hard time, Billy will go have a "talk" with them

Don't worry, he won't kill anyone

Well, unless you ask

Stu Macher

Stu somehow always makes a stressful situation better

If you need help with lines, he'll go all out

Will throw on random clothes and grab just about anything to use as a prop

Delivers his lines with such charisma that you'd think he was Shakespeare

He pushes you to take frequent breaks when you can

A nice walk outside, a little TV sesh, or even going to get some ice cream real quick are all frequent suggestions made by Stu

He admires your passion for what you're doing, he just doesn't want you to push yourself too hard

Every night while in bed, he's there whispering reassurances to you and telling you how proud he is for what you're doing

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent really wants to help, he just doesn't know how

But the moment you ask anything of him, he'll jump on it immediately

Brings you water and food frequently while you're busy

And on overwhelming days, he already has your bags and meals prepped for you so you can just head right out the door

Makes sure you're asleep every night before he'll even let himself rest

He also offers a lot of physical reassurance too if you need it

His hand on top of yours, gentle back rubs, and long hugs are all done if you initiate them

He really focuses on taking care of you and making sure you're not exhausting yourself too much

Bo Sinclair

It honestly pisses him off

You coming home each night feeling anxious and looking so tired makes Bo angry at your school

Would really love to invite your teacher over to have a "talk" about everything

But he knows you'd never allow that

Will help you with lines if you insist

He's not very good at it, but the sentiment is there

His help is really focused on the practical

He makes sure you eat dinner, drink enough water, get enough sleep, etc.

He's not much of a cuddler, but that definitely changes when you're going through a tough time

He's very much looking forward to when the play is finally done

Lester Sinclair

He always gives you lots of compliments

"You're such a hard-worker" "I know you're gonna do great" "It'll be all worth it"

Will give you a ride to wherever you need to go whenever you need to get there

Will spoil you quite a bit during this time too

Multiple bags of snacks, new comfy clothes, late night drives around the town, etc.

Whatever he can do to make you feel better, he wants to do it

He worries a lot about you though

So there will be a few times when you're the one needing to reassure him that you're alright

154 notes · View notes

goldengalore · 1 year

Text

Never Alone

An anxious!reader fic.

Summary: Harry wants to meet Y/N’s family, but she is hesitant to introduce him to them and he can’t figure out why. When he discovers the reason, he’s hurt that she felt the need to hide it from him. This makes Harry question Y/N’s feelings for him, while she thinks he’s doubting her anxiety issues.

Word count: 6.8k

Warnings: anxiety, toxic family, invalidation of mental health issues, angst, mentions of sex but no actual smut

A/N: Listened to Matilda and Renegade by Big Red Machine ft. Taylor Swift a ton while writing this. Also, to anyone reading this who has ever felt invalidated about their mental health issues, I see you and I hope you know you are never ever alone ❤️

***

Harry and Y/N hadn’t been dating for very long when he introduced her to his mother, Anne, and his older sister, Gemma.

He knew that meeting them in person for the first time would be stressful for Y/N because of her social anxiety as well as her obsession with making an excellent impression on every single person in his life. So, he cleverly began easing her into it by having her pop in briefly during his usual FaceTime calls with Anne and Gemma.

It worked because when he asked her to come home with him for Christmas, she didn’t even hesitate to say yes. That didn’t mean she wasn’t nervous about it though. Between her anxiety and his excitement, they were both a ball of jitters on the ten-hour flight from LA to London.

Harry’s family fell in love with Y/N. Once she conquered her initial timidness, she fit in perfectly with them. This didn’t come as a surprise to him at all, but Y/N was completely blown away by the love and warmth that his family showered her with. She was even brought to tears from it.

After a joyous holiday with his family, Harry found himself imagining what meeting Y/N’s family would be like. To him, that was the next logical step in their relationship, and he was eagerly anticipating it. So, when they’re a whole year into their relationship and she still hasn’t introduced him to her family or expressed any intention of doing so, he can’t help but wonder what might be holding her back.

She even had the opportunity to do so when she recently visited her family for a few days. She could have taken him with her. He even offered to tag along, but she refused, claiming that her mother had come down with some nasty stomach bug, so it wouldn’t be the best time.

He can’t lie. Her refusal hurt. Although he tries not to make a big deal out of it, it eats at him over the next couple weeks, so one day, he just decides to bring it up.

For most people, it’s a lazy Sunday—the perfect opportunity to sleep in and not get out of bed until noon. Not for Harry and Y/N though. No, the two creative souls got up bright and early to use this time to write and draw. Harry sits on one couch with his guitar in his lap and his songwriting notebook next to him along with his phone, which is recording everything he plays. On the other couch is Y/N, her sketchbook perched up against her bent legs, her pencil gripped between her skillful fingers as she works on a drawing.

Harry has been staring at her for some time now while mindlessly strumming his guitar. She’s too immersed in her task to sense his gaze on her.

“Y/N?”

“Yes, baby?” she responds without looking up from her sketchbook.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Mhm?”

He pauses the recording on his phone before asking, “Why don’t you want me to meet your family?”

The question pulls her attention away from her drawing to his face. The hand holding her pencil is frozen on the paper.

“I told you,” she says softly. “It’s not that I don’t want you to meet them. I’m just... waiting for the right time.”

He cocks a brow. “The right time? Will there ever be a right time? We’ve been together for a year.” He really doesn’t want to sound pushy or demanding, but he also just wants her to know how he feels. “You and my mum are constantly sending each other cat videos. You and Gemma have inside jokes that I’m not even a part of. Meanwhile, I find myself wondering if your family even knows who I am.”

She gives him a small, slightly amused smirk. “H, they know who you are. Trust me.”

“You know what I mean,” he mumbles, looking down at his guitar. Sure, they may know him as “Harry Styles the singer” or “Harry Styles the actor,” but that’s not what matters to him. He just wants them to know him as Y/N’s boyfriend, that’s all.

“They know that we’re in a relationship,” she confirms.

He waits for her to elaborate, but she doesn’t. “Okay... And? How do they feel about that? Do they ask about me? Do they even want to meet me?”

She averts her gaze, her pencil moving across the page again. “They ask about you every time I see them.”

“Then what’s holding you back?” he inquires gently.

Her response is so delayed that he wonders if he’s even going to get one. “I’ll talk to them,” she says after a minute. “We’ll arrange a time for you and me to go see them together.”

His eyebrows lift up in surprise. “Really?”

She nods. “Yeah. If you really want to meet them, I’ll try to make it happen.”

He doesn’t know what to say at first. He didn’t expect her to concede so quickly. “Thank you, lovie,” he says once the words finally come to him.

She just gives him a brief smile and returns to her drawing, making a few more pencil strokes before asking, “Wanna see what I drew?”

“Always.”

She tries to bite back an excited grin as she turns her sketchbook around to show him. He shifts the guitar in his lap and leans forward to take a look. He instantly recognizes himself in the sketch. It’s him sitting as he is now, on the couch with his guitar. Every detail of his facial features is intricately depicted from the focused furrow of his brow to the shape of his nose to the stubble on his jaw.

He stares at it in awe. “That looks amazing.”

“Thanks!”

He tears his gaze away from the sketch and looks at her. “You were drawing me this whole time? I thought you were brainstorming ideas for your next piece.”

“I was, but you just looked so cute sitting there with your guitar. I mean, you were practically begging to be drawn.” She shoots him a flirtatious grin.

“Mhm. Right.” He shakes his head at her, smiling. “Can I keep it?”

“Of course.” She carefully rips the page out of her book and hands it over to him.

“Another one for the collection,” he states happily, referring to his growing collection of sketches that she’s drawn of him over the past year. In the beginning, she used to hide them from him. Then one day, he stumbled upon her sketchbook sitting on the dining table, opened up to a page containing a flawless illustration of his Vogue magazine cover, and he was astounded. Y/N’s whole face flushed red when she found him staring at it, but he was quick to reassure her that he liked it and asked if he could keep it.

“I don’t mind, you know. That you like drawing me,” he told her that day. “It’s a compliment, if anything, and it’s no different than me writing songs about you.”

Her face brightened at his revelation. “You write songs about me?”

“All the time.”

Ever since that conversation, she no longer hesitates to show him these drawings and he makes sure to keep each one in a safe place.

“I still can’t believe you’ve been saving them all,” she says now. “You really haven’t thrown a single one away?”

“I could never.”

***

A whole week passes by, and it’s like their conversation about arranging a time to meet Y/N’s family never even happened because she doesn’t bring it up again. Harry starts to wonder if she only said that to appease him for a while and stop him from asking. That annoys him. It would be one thing to tell him that she doesn’t want him to meet her family; it’s another to make false promises just to shut him up.

He wishes he could drop it. But he can’t. Especially now that he is almost certain that she’s hiding something from him.

She has a meeting today with the owner of an esteemed art gallery in LA, who offered her the opportunity to hold her first solo art exhibition. She has spent the last couple months preparing for the exhibition, which is less than two weeks away. Her best friend and business partner, Rosie, will be accompanying her to the meeting. Rosie shows up at Harry’s house around 10:30 that morning.

“Y/N’s upstairs, still getting ready,” he tells her after inviting her in. “Should be down soon though.”

“I’m surprised I’m ready before her for once. That’s quite the accomplishment for me.”

“Yeah, I, um—” He releases a sheepish laugh, touching his fingers to his lips. “I may have made her a bit late getting out of bed this morning.”

Rosie opens her mouth to say something, then closes it. He raises his brows at her expectantly, but she waves a dismissive hand and says, “Oh, I was just going to ask what you two were up to, but then I answered my own question.”

A coy grin tugs at the corners of his lips, as the memories of his sensual morning with Y/N play back in his mind.

He and Rosie take a seat in the living room. He offers her something to eat or drink while they wait, but she politely declines. That’s when the thought occurs to him. If there is anyone who knows Y/N better than him, it would be her best friend, who has known her for the majority of her adult life. Surely, if Y/N is hiding something from him, Rosie could be the key to helping him figure out what and why.

“Hey, this might be a random question, but have you ever met Y/N’s family?” he asks.

“Yeah, a few times.”

“What are they like?”

Her hazel eyes narrow slightly. “Why do you ask?”

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “Don’t you think it’s a bit strange that Y/N and I have been together for a year and she still hasn’t introduced me to her family?”

Rosie hesitates. She glances over her shoulder at the stairs before answering quietly, “Look, let’s just say... Her family isn’t very supportive of her.”

His heart sinks. “Shit. Really?”

She nods. “They’re like the type of people who think mental health problems aren’t real problems or that tough love can fix everything, including anxiety.”

He winces.

“Yeah…”

“Well, that explains a lot,” he says, referring not only to Y/N’s reluctance to introduce him to her family but also her emotional reaction to his family accepting her with open arms. “Why didn’t she just tell me that? I would’ve understood.”

“You know how Y/N is. She keeps a lot to herself, and she doesn’t even do it on purpose most of the time.”

“I know, but...” He shrugs. “I just thought we’d reached that stage in our relationship where we could tell each other anything. At least that’s how I feel when I’m with her.”

She had so many chances to tell him the truth about her family. Even if she didn’t want to get into the nitty-gritty details of it, all she had to do was tell him that they’re not nice people for him to drop the topic altogether. He feels guilty now for bringing up her family so much, but she never gave him any indication that they were bad people. Even when she went to visit them recently, it didn’t seem like she was dreading it. So, how was Harry supposed to know? How can he possibly know anything about her if she refuses to open up to him?

They hear her footsteps rapidly descending the stairs now.

“I’m ready!” she shouts.

Her outfit for the meeting is sleek and professional—a teal blouse loosely tucked into a pair of slim, high-waisted black trousers. Harry helped her pick it out this morning when she was struggling to decide between a few different options.

“How late are we?” she asks breathlessly at the bottom of the stairs.

Rosie checks her phone. “Not that late. We can still get there with five minutes to spare.”

As Rosie heads to the door, Y/N walks over to Harry to kiss him goodbye.

“Bye, baby. I’ll see you later,” she says.

He squeezes her hand. “Best of luck with the meeting. Remember to breathe.”

“I’ll try!”

And then she’s off.

***

Sometimes, Y/N can’t tell if someone is actually behaving differently around her or if her anxiety is causing her to see things that aren’t there. There have been instances where she thought someone was acting off around her and became convinced that they were upset with her only to find out that they were just having a bad day and it had nothing to do with her at all.

She wonders if this might be the case with Harry. He has been acting strange the past few days. The shift in behaviour is subtle. A kiss that ends a moment too soon, a smile that doesn’t quite reach the eyes, a laugh that feels just a little bit forced. Most people wouldn’t take notice. But the thing about anxiety is that it forces you to notice everything. It’s as if the brain is in a constant state of hypervigilance, scanning its environment for the slightest sign of a threat.

Harry has been at the studio all day. She saw him briefly around seven o’clock this morning when her eyes fluttered open to find him all showered and dressed for the day, grabbing his phone off the nightstand.

“Heading to the studio. Love you,” he told her, planting a hasty kiss to her forehead before leaving.

She couldn’t fall back asleep after that, so she decided to start her day too and put some finishing touches on the drawings for her upcoming exhibit. However, her overthinking mind made it impossible to focus. She ultimately decided to take her drawings over to her apartment and work there instead.

Over the past six months, she has practically lived at Harry’s house with how much time she spends there. But her apartment has always been there in case she needs some time alone or, like today, she just needs a change of scenery to sharpen her focus.

It didn’t occur to her at any point to text Harry and let him know where he can find her after he finishes up at the studio. Or perhaps, her subconscious made her withhold that information on purpose to see if he would even notice or care for her absence.

Late that evening, she receives a call from him.

“Hey, where’d you go?” he asks when she picks up.

“Oh, I’m at my apartment. Couldn’t focus today, so I thought I’d try working here instead.”

“Hm. Wish you’d told me. I would’ve headed straight there from the studio.”

“Sorry,” she mumbles in response.

“It’s all right. Be there in a few.”

“Okay. See you soon.”

A nervousness seeps through her after their call. A kind of nervousness she hasn’t felt since the very early days of their relationship when she wasn’t quite comfortable around him yet. She doesn’t like this feeling and tries to distract herself by cleaning up the kitchen where she just finished having dinner not too long ago.

Harry has a spare key to her apartment, just like she has one to his house, so when she hears it turn in the lock, she knows it’s him. Her heart is in her throat.

She’s washing her hands in the kitchen sink when the door opens.

“Hi, my love,” he greets her. He’s wearing her merch today. Well, technically, it’s his merch that she helped design. Their merch, as he would call it.

“Hey,” she replies. As she wipes her hands on the towel by the sink, he walks up behind her and slides his arms around her waist, burying his face in her hair. She turns around to face him. “How was your day?” For some reason, the question comes out sounding awkward, at least in her head, but Harry seems unfazed.

“Productive. We wrote so much today. Song after song. I couldn’t believe it. Tyler suggested we pull an all-nighter, but everyone was tired, so we decided to go home…” A dimpled smile emerges on his face as he adds, “And I wanted to see you, so…”

He plants a sweet, lingering kiss to her lips. She should feel the stress dissipating from her body. She should feel a sense of calm washing over her like cool ocean waves on a hot summer day. But none of that happens.

His hand sneaks under her shirt, squeezing her bare waist before wandering upward to her breast.

“Sorry,” she says, pulling away suddenly. “I, um, I’m not in the mood tonight.”

He blinks a few times, thrown for a moment. “Oh. Okay. No worries.” He takes a step back and scratches the back of his neck, eyes searching her face. “Everything okay?”

She doesn’t meet his gaze. “Yeah, I think I’m just starting my period soon, so you know…”

“Ah. Well, maybe we can just cuddle then. If you’re in the mood for that.”

“Mhm.”

They lay on her plush black couch together, her head on his shoulder, his fingers running through the lengths of her hair. He’s humming some unknown melody—probably a new song he’s been working on. She feels her heartbeat slowing down, finally.

Then he says, “Hey, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

Her heart picks up again. This is it. This is what she’s been dreading. She has no idea what he’s about to say, but of course, her mind jumps to the worst case scenario.

“Yeah?” she says, trying to keep her voice level.

“It’s about something Rosie told me.”

She frowns. “Something Rosie told you? What would that be?”

“She told me about your family, how they… they’re not supportive of you and your struggles.”

Her frown deepens. “She told you that?” She sits up now. “Why would she do that? She has no right to be sharing that kind of information about me.”

He sits up too, confusion taking hold of his features. “It’s not like she shared it with some stranger, lovie. I’m your boyfriend. Why is it so bad that she told me?”

“Because I didn’t want…” She trails off.

“You didn’t want me to know?”

She wordlessly looks down in her lap.

“Why?” he asks, the hurt apparent in his voice.

Forcing herself to look at him, she answers, “I didn’t want to disappoint you. You seemed so excited to meet them, and you bring them up all the time—”

“Yeah, that was when I knew nothing about them. If I’d known how they’d treated you, why the fuck would I want to meet them?” He runs a hand through his hair, clutching the ends briefly before letting go. “And I brought them up all the time because you were always so bloody vague about the topic. What was I— What was I meant to think? I’m not a mind-reader, Y/N.”

“I know. I know you’re not a mind-reader.” She tries to reach out to him, but he doesn’t seem to notice her outstretched hand as he turns away, so she lets it fall on the couch.

“Well, sometimes I feel like you expect me to be one because you never tell me how you really feel or what you’re really thinking, and I’m left to figure it out on my own.”

“Okay, that’s not true.” She shakes her head, growing a bit defensive now. “I know I used to be like that in the beginning, but you can’t tell me I haven’t gotten better since then because I have. You’re just angry right now and I—I can understa—”

“I’m not angry,” he insists, though he sounds pretty close to it, and it’s making her panic because although she has seen him get angry before, it’s never been at her.

His eyes fall shut for a moment. He seems to compose himself before continuing calmly, “I’m just frustrated because I feel like I’ve told you everything about me, I’ve bared my entire fucking soul to you, and I know it’s not as easy for you to do the same, but it’s not like it’s a walk in the park for me either. You say that it’s your anxiety that keeps you from opening up to me, but at this point, I can’t help but wonder if you just don’t feel as strongly about me as I feel about you.”

She flinches at the last part, a sense of betrayal settling like rocks in her stomach. “Y—you think I use my anxiety as an excuse?”

“That is not what I said.”

“That’s what you implied.”

“No,” he stresses, clenching his jaw. “You’re purposely misunderstanding me.”

“Why are you here, Harry?”

Puzzled green eyes stare back at her. “What?”

“This has clearly been on your mind for some time now. If you really think that I don’t feel strongly about you, that my anxiety is just some cover-up, then why are you still wasting your time with me?” Her heart thuds wildly in her chest as she spouts, “Is it just for the sex? Is that it? I mean, that’s why you came here tonight, right? Just for a quick fuck. And when you couldn’t have that, you decided to pick a fight with me.”

It was mean. Quite possibly—no, definitely—the meanest thing she has ever said to or about him. And it was undeserved. And she regrets the words as soon as they leave her mouth.

The expression on his face switches from disbelief to disgust to pure pain in a matter of seconds.

“Yeah,” he says, swallowing thickly. “You’re right. That’s what I’m here for, Y/N. Just a quick fuck. Because I’m some lowlife prick that would use you for sex and get mad when I can’t have it. You figured it out. Amazing job.” He claps his hands and stands up, taking long strides to the door.

“Wh—where are you going?” she stammers.

He ignores her and shoves his socked feet into his Vans. On shaky legs, she hurries over to him.

“H, where are you going?”

As his left hand reaches for the doorknob, she grabs his other one.

“No, wait, don’t go.”

“No, you’ve made it clear to me the kind of person you think I am. Thanks for your honesty, Y/N.” He speaks without looking at her. She can only see his side profile, but it’s enough to catch the tears forming in his eyes.

He tries to pull his hand away, but she squeezes it tighter, pleading with him, “I didn’t mean it. Please don’t go. Baby, please—”

“I’m tired, Y/N,” he sighs out, sounding utterly exhausted. “I just want to go home.”

He manages to yank his hand free from her grasp and leaves the apartment, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Y/N stands there, staring at it for the longest time, before making her way back to the couch in a daze.

She doesn’t know why she said it. He was just trying to explain his inner thoughts and feelings, not attacking her, but her brain latched onto that one comment about her anxiety and blew it way out of proportion. It struck a nerve somewhere inside her, reopening old wounds created by people in her past who invalidated her struggles.

But Harry is nothing like those people. No, he is a far cry from them. No one has shown her the level of kindness and understanding that he has, and she fears that no one else ever will, which makes the thought of losing him catastrophically more painful.

She lies down on her side on the couch, curling her legs into herself as the first sob of many escapes her body.

***

The big day has arrived.

Y/N’s very first solo art exhibition that she’s been working her ass off on for the past few months takes place tonight. The gallery that offered to display her work made an agreement with her to donate a portion of the profits to a local mental health charity—something that Y/N has always wanted to do. She’s always dreamed of using her art to give back to causes that matter to her, and she is finally at the stage where she can do that.

Her art career has taken off this past year. She was doing well before, but this year has catapulted her career to heights she couldn’t have imagined. She knows Harry has a lot to do with it, since the limited edition merch she designed for him attracted millions of new eyes to her work, not to mention the fact that she started dating him afterwards, which further piqued people’s curiosity about her as a person and an artist. But Harry, being the humble man he is, argues that it’s her talent that keeps bringing people back to her work, not him.

Whether he admits it or not, Harry has changed her life in more ways than one. Even if he never speaks to her again, she will be thanking him for the rest of her life.

Over the past week, she has typed a hundred different apologies to him, deleting each one without sending it, convincing herself that it’s not good enough, that he doesn’t want to hear from her, that he probably hates her guts.

She has missed him all week, but tonight, that feeling cements itself deep inside her chest, mixing perilously with the fear of having to talk about her art with strangers. It would’ve helped to have Rosie here at least, but her fiancé’s mother was in the hospital after a medical emergency and she needed to be there for them.

Y/N feels incredibly alone.

The people working at the gallery have been lovely. She hardly had to do anything at all because they took care of the entire setup. Now, they’re preparing the refreshments table, and just the mere sight of all that food is making her nauseous.

As hard as she tries to keep her shit together, she crumbles and bolts towards the exit. One of the gallery workers tries to inform her that the exhibit is about to start, but she barely hears him through her heart pounding in her ears. Once outside, she starts walking down the sidewalk in a random direction and finds an opening between two buildings where she can take a moment to herself, away from other people.

The fresh air entering her lungs is somewhat soothing, so she tries to focus on that, leaning a hand against one of the buildings.

“Y/N?” says a deep, familiar voice from behind her.

It can’t be, she thinks to herself, but when she turns around, there he is. Standing on the sidewalk. Dressed in dark, indiscriminate clothing and a hat, which casts a shadow over most of his handsome features. He’s wearing his Gucci square-framed glasses that make him look like a college student.

“Harry? What are you doing here?”

He steps towards her, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I was sat in the cafe across the street, waiting for your exhibit to start. Saw you run out. Are you okay?”

Instead of answering his question, she asks in a weak voice, “You came to see my exhibit?”

“Of course I did,” he says, as if the concept of him missing it is unfathomable. He places his hands on his hips and adds with a faint smirk, “You think I, your number one fan, would miss out on your first solo exhibit? C’mon.”

Tears flood Y/N’s eyes, blurring her vision.

Harry’s face falls. “Oh no. Don’t cry, lovie.”

The tears streak down her cheeks now, ruining the makeup she spent so long on applying tonight. “I thought you hated me.”

He reaches towards her and delicately places his hands on her arms. “I could never hate you.”

“But you should! You should hate me because you’ve been nothing but patient and understanding with me and I treated you like shit in return and I hate myself for it and I’m so sorry—”

“It’s okay—”

“No, it’s not!”

“Shh, come here.” He pulls her into his arms, cradling her head against his chest, holding her there until she calms down. Then he draws back and lifts her chin to make her look at him. “Listen to me. I did not come here to make you cry and ruin your big night, okay? I came here to support you. Now you’re going to put on that beautiful smile of yours and you’re going to go back in there and you’re going to put on this wonderful exhibit—”

“I don’t think I can.” She shakes her head.

“Yes, you can. You’ve worked so hard for this, my love. You deserve this. Don’t let your fear tell you otherwise.”

She sniffles, thinking for a moment. “You’re going to be there?”

“Yes. The whole time,” he reassures her. “I promise to be discreet though. I’m not about to steal the spotlight from you.”

“I wouldn’t mind even if you did, to be honest.”

“See, that’s the fear talking.” He pokes her softly in the chest. “This is your night and your night only.”

A part of her wishes he would just pull her back into his arms and let her stay there forever, safe and warm and comfortable. But he’s right. She has worked too hard and come too far to allow fear to stifle her now.

“Okay,” she says finally. “Okay, I’m going to go back in.”

He smiles widely. “That’s my girl.” He kisses her and sends her off with a few more encouraging words.

For the first fifteen minutes of the exhibit, as the first batch of visitors trickle into the gallery, the voice in Y/N’s head is screaming at her to run out the nearest exit and not look back. It takes everything in her to keep her feet planted where she is and withstand the racing heart and the churning stomach and the sweaty palms.

It isn’t until people start coming up to her to ask questions about her art that she begins to feel any semblance of calm, which is surprising, considering that this is the part she was most afraid of. Once she gets into artist mode, articulating her artistic ideas and techniques in front of these strangers comes naturally.

She spots Harry every now and then, wandering around the gallery with everyone else, blending in remarkably well in his dark clothes and hat and glasses. At one point, while she’s talking to someone, she sees Harry in the distance, holding up his phone with the camera aimed at her. He winks when he catches her eye.

By the last half hour of the exhibit, Y/N’s throat is dry and hoarse from talking so much. She can’t believe how many people were interested in discussing her work with her.

While she’s taking a break to have some water, she hears someone shout, “There she is!”

She turns to find Jeff and Glenne walking towards her, smiling and waving like proud parents.

“So sorry we’re late,” says Glenne. “Traffic was a nightmare.”

Y/N shakes her head. “No, it’s totally fine. I didn’t even know you were coming.”

“Are you kidding?” says Jeff. “We’ve been looking forward to this.”

Y/N told them about the exhibit when she and Harry invited them over for dinner last month. She didn’t expect them to remember. The fact that they did means everything.

“We were going to buy something, but it looks like everything’s sold out, huh?” says Jeff, looking around.

“Oh, we’re so coming early for the next one,” says Glenne.

Y/N smiles at the determination in her voice. “Thank you for coming. You guys have no idea how much it means to me.”

Her heart is so full. Whereas the night started with her feeling petrified and alone, she now feels more loved and supported than ever. To say that the exhibit was a success is an understatement, and having Harry, Jeff, and Glenne all there for her was the cherry on top because success tastes so much sweeter when you have people to share it with.

***

Harry is bursting with pride. Watching Y/N put on this exhibit tonight has been quite a treat. She has blossomed from someone who used to not think very highly of her artistic capabilities into a self-assured artist right before his eyes, and he has loved being able to witness her growth.

Now they’re at his house, having Thai food, and Y/N, who hasn’t eaten all day due to nerves, is devouring everything so quickly that he worries he might not have ordered enough food for them. Luckily, that doesn’t end up being the case.

Afterwards, as they’re placing their dishes in the sink, Y/N tells him, “I saw you sneaking pictures of me at the exhibit. Like a little fanboy.”

He laughs. “I hope you don’t mind. You just looked so in your element.”

She bites her lip. “Can I see them?”

“Sure.” He takes his phone out of his pocket and opens up his camera roll. He places it on the counter so they can both look together.

Each photo shows Y/N talking to people who came to see her work, her hands poised in the air as she describes her creative process or her inspiration behind a specific piece.

“You look so confident,” he comments. “And happy.” He looks up at her from his phone and nudges her softly with his arm. “I’m proud of you.”

For a second, it seems like she’s about to break down into tears again but then contains herself.

“I really don’t deserve you,” she says.

He gives her a gentle look, knowing that she’s referring to the hurtful words she fired at him that night in her apartment. The words that burrowed deep under his skin for a few days until he gained some clarity and realized that she’d only said them because she felt attacked, that she didn’t actually believe them. Of course, that didn’t make it okay, but it did soften him towards her a little. And knowing Y/N, he could safely assume that she was far angrier at herself than he was at her.

“Y/N, I know you didn’t mean what you said. I mean, it still fucking hurt, but I know they were just words said in the heat of the moment… Right?”

“Yes,” she replies without hesitation. “And I’m so sorry, not just about what I said that night, but also what I didn’t say about my family, for hiding that from you.”

“No, I never should’ve pushed you to tell me in the first place.”

“But you never pushed me, Harry.” She turns her body towards him fully, leaning against the counter. “You just asked because you were curious about that part of my life, the same way I was curious about your family before I met them. It’s just that my family is… They’re nothing like yours. It’s not like they’re terrible people. They’re just not warm or affectionate, and they see any display of emotion as a sign of weakness.”

He quirks a brow. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, lovie, but they sound like robots.”

“You’re not far off,” she replies with a shrug. “They have this toughness, this stoic resolve that I used to envy when I was younger, until I realized that I didn’t want to be like that at all. As a child though, when your whole family is like that and you’re the anxious one who can’t get your emotions under control, it’s hard to feel normal. My parents didn’t know how to handle my anxiety, so they tried to mold me into them, and when that didn’t work, they just started denying my feelings altogether. Every time I would try to talk about my feelings, they would shut me down, tell me to suck it up and toughen up and stop being so goddamn sensitive.”

Hearing that makes Harry’s chest ache. Y/N is a sensitive person, sure, but he never viewed that as a shortcoming. In fact, it’s one of the many things that drew him to her because he is the same way. His sensitivity has allowed him to be more empathetic in his relationships and more vulnerable in his music—qualities that he also noticed in Y/N.

“I got tired of trying to explain it to them,” she continues, “so I left and tried to make something out of my art career. And God, my parents hated that. They were never the creative types; they thought anything related to art was a waste of time. They kept telling me I was wasting my potential to be something bigger, something better than an artist. And at one point, I started believing them, but then I met people like Rosie, who weren’t emotionless robots and who actually appreciated art for what it is.

“And I made a life for myself out here, pouring my heart and soul into my art, and I’ve tried so hard to keep this new, amazing part of my life separate from that part because I don’t want them to ruin this for me.”

“That’s why you didn’t want me to meet them?” he asks gently.

“Well, that and the fact that they’re convinced that you’re just some hotshot superstar stringing me along while sleeping with ten other girls at the same time because they don’t see how someone like you could ever fall in love with someone like me. And they make sure to remind me of that every time I go see them, which is just so fun,” she says sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

Harry doesn’t really care that her parents see him as some pompous asshole obsessed with sex. What does bother him, however, is that they try to make Y/N feel like she somehow doesn’t meet his standards, that she isn’t good enough for him because that couldn’t be further from the truth.

“How come you still visit them?” he asks. “Not judging, just curious.” If it were up to him, he would never let them see her again.

She sighs. “I don’t know. I guess I always felt obligated to? I felt like they did care about me, even if they sucked at showing it. But the older I get and especially this past year, I feel less obligated to put up with their shit. I’ll probably keep visiting for now, just not as often anymore.”

“You don’t have to deal with them alone, you know.” He takes her hand in his. “I’m more than willing to go along for moral support.”

“That’s really sweet, but… It’s hard enough hearing them say disrespectful things about you when you’re not there. If you were there, I think I might start throwing hands.”

He chuckles. The idea of his dear sweet Y/N, who couldn’t hurt a fly, threatening to fight her family for disrespecting him makes him melt inside.

“Okay, well, I understand if you’d prefer to go on your own,” he says. “My offer still stands though, if you change your mind.”

She smiles. “Thank you. I appreciate that. And I promise to be more open and honest with you moving forward. I really am trying.”

“I know you are.” He looks down at their hands, rubbing his thumb over the back of hers. “Can’t be easy when you were told to bury your feelings down all through your childhood.”

“Yeah…”

When he looks up from their hands, he finds a peculiar look on her face, her eyes tender and almost hypnotic as they stare back at him.

He frowns slightly. “What?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing. Just feeling extra lucky tonight.”

“Oh.” He smiles, nearly blushing under her intense gaze. “Sooo, when’s the next exhibit? Because I have some suggestions.”

Her brows lift up curiously. “Suggestions?”

“Yeah, mostly for the refreshments table. I feel it was a bit lacking.”

She gasps. “Not the refreshments table! I worked so hard on that!”

“Hm, well, clearly not hard enough.”

She pouts. He chuckles and pinches her bottom lip before leaning in for a kiss, stopping just by her lips.

“I love you so much,” he whispers.

“Love you more.” She completes the kiss.

***

Thank you for reading! For more anxious!reader and other fics, check out my MASTERLIST

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fic #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #anxious!reader #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #my writing

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astyrial · 4 months

Text

ogling over onigiri osamu miya x fem!reader (fluff) synopsis: osamu is short staffed and luckily for him, atsumu knows someone who can cook word count: 1.4k warnings: mentions of food and cooking masterlist | requests are open

"this is my kitchen, and i don't know her. so unless you have some magical thing that'll convince me to let her work in my kitchen, then no," osamu throws a hand towel over his shoulder, hands moving to rest on his hips.

atsumu leans against the entrance of onigiri miya's kitchen, arms crossed. the kitchen is practically empty due to half of the people calling out sick. people are lining up outside due to a tweet that atsumu regrettably sent out advertising a new dish and his appearance. however, none of that happens to be the magic thing that'll convince osamu to let someone into his kitchen on an early saturday morning.

atsumu looks back at the curtained windows, all of the legs behind it. despite his squabbles with his brother, he doesn't want to be the one who helps tank his business. "well, i know someone who used to be a sous chef. she cooked for the team some meal plans sometimes. i think she could have the day off-"

"you're going to call some woman on her day off and ask her to cook for my business? you can't just do that!"

"she loves to cook, really, she'll be here in no time. trust me, she's the best chef out there right now. plus you need another cook, and i don't think you want me helping," atsumu stands up straight, reaching for his phone in his back jean pocket.

osamu purses his lips while rolling his eyes. of course he needs the help, he has the past few days. but to request someone to come work on such a busy day feels wrong, inappropriate. "just tell her that she absolutely doesn't need to, and we're okay if she doesn't want to. i don't want you pressuring anyone," osamu was always stubborn, but even more so when he's affecting someone he hardly knows.

before a sudden realization that this is completely wrong and he shouldn't be doing this, his brother is already in the other room on the phone with you. osamu certainly can't hear your end of the phone call. however, he can hear the 'thank you's' leaving atsumu's lips. meaning that some random chef that he has never met likely took atsumu up on his offer.

"she's getting ready now, you have twenty more minutes til you open. so, i'll let her through the back door while you work," atsumu stuffs his phone back into his pocket, looking over at his brother.

it's hard for the two to get along, usually they'd be fighting tooth and nail right now. however, there's something in the air causing a civil conversation. the two immediately start getting the kitchen prepped (which means atsumu cracking jokes while osamu has one of the cashier workers help).

osamu starts up some rice on a zojirushi machine, washing and cutting up some vegetables. time was ticking down as atsumu gave you the address, telling you that the shop would open in five minutes. he looks back at atsumu, not knowing what he would do if you couldn't make it. a part of him feels bad for taking you away from your day off, but the rest of him is just happy to have a helping hand.

luckily for him, this helping hand knocked on the back door, the sound feeling like music to osamu's ears. "i got it!" atsumu announces over the noise of people entering the front of the shop.

the sound of someone opening the back door and saying hello to atsumu brings his head up. he sets his knife down, hands on the prepping station. you come walking into the kitchen, atsumu quickly following behind. his eyes meet yours and for a second the world stops. every ounce of anxiety from the day washes away as you give him a soft smile.

"you must be osamu? well miya, if you're more comfortable with that. my name is l/n y/n, if atsumu hasn't told you already," you reach out your hand to shake his, only to move it back quickly once you realize that you need to wash your hands.

osamu's mouth hangs slightly open, just so that you could see the bottom of his top row of teeth. he's mesmerized, even if he won't admit it himself, "he hasn't- and osamu's fine. it's nice to meet you l/n, i'm sorry for pulling you out here on your day off. it's completely unacceptable and if i could repay somehow with dinner or something-"

you shake your head, looking around the room for a second before finding the sink. as you're turned around, making sure that you're ready to make food, atsumu is slapping his brother's shoulder. he raises his eyebrows a couple times, giving him a quick wink. before you could turn around, atsumu whispers something about dinner.

"did you say something?" you ponder, turning your attention to the brothers as you dry your hands.

"he was just asking if you knew how to make certain types of onigiri, because of your experience," osamu gives his brother a glare, trying to hide it as he looks back at you.

you grab an apron off of his wall and begin tying it around yourself. "yes, known since i was ten. i used to make them for the team with brown rice and miso beef, because of the digestive health benefits. however, white or jasmine are always preferable," an even warming smile spreads across your lips, making your way over to the workstation beside osamu.

before either of you could say anything else, the first order has come through. it's oyakodon, a rice meal with chicken and egg. you've made it hundreds of times as a sous chef and it's a fairly easy process once you get the hang of it. a screen displays the food choice in front of you, leaving you to look over at osamu, a little nervous.

"i assume you store your chicken in the fridge?"

"yeah- sorry, usually people are stationed in different areas to work on certain things but with everyone out-"

"it's fine, i've worked in stickier situations before," you take a look around the room and start off towards the fridge, eyes peering for the stovetop next.

osamu looks off at you, heart beating quickly. he takes in a deep breath and watches as the next order comes through. it's an onigiri, salmon in the middle, a rather simple recipe. despite his wandering eyes to where you're prepping your food, he attempts to keep his mind set on the food in front of him.

the first few orders were rather simple for osamu, mostly onigiri and sushi. your oyakodon being the most complicated thing of that morning. it's clear your good at what you do, even if your working in a completely different environment.

he peaks over at you as you let out a slight hum in your voice to the music playing over the speakers. you're swaying a little as you add part of the egg mixture to the pan. if it weren't for the circumstances, a part of osamu knows that he'd ask about dinner again. he'd lean against some counter and cross his arms in front of his chest, give you a soft smile that you can't say no to.

"osamu, you almost done with that?"

he looks up from you, over to one of the cashiers staring him down, "yeah, finishing up now!"

after that, he begins to focus more on his work. only looking over at you as he waits for another order to come in. sometimes you'll inquire about something, where something may be or what spices to add. you're a harder worker than he could've expected from someone he's never met (especially someone that atsumu is so close with). the way you get things accomplished making him even more attracted.

"l/n, you're doing great, thanks for helping today," osamu mentions as the lunch rush dies down to just a few people, atsumu's influence having ended.

you look over at him, wiping your hands against the apron, a soft smile lining your lips. even after working hours in a hot, stuffy kitchen, there's a beauty to you that osamu's never seen. "well, if i'm calling you osamu, then it's only fair you call me y/n. plus, i'd love dinner if your request was genuine," you place on hand on your hip, eyebrows raised.

osamu nods, "well- y/n, it most definitely was genuine. what do you feel like eating?"

"i think onigiri would be delicious for dinner."

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfic #osamu miya x reader #miya osamu x reader #osamu miya #miya osamu #chef au

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babyhatesreality · 10 months

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What if maybe stucky had a day off for the first time in awhile and they planned on spending it w/ reader. She was really looking forward to it. But maybe one of the caregivers asked them to watch their little for the day last minute bc they were called away on a mission. Stucky accidentally ignores reader all day and just really hurts her feelings. Maybe they spoil the other little let them pick the movie and lunch etc. How would they make it up to reader?

-M

Hi M! First off, I LOVE YOU SO MUCH for being so patient. I'm so so sorry it has taken me so long to get to your amazing thoughts and questions. So let's dive in <3

What A Day

Pairing: Daddy!Stucky x little f!reader

Warnings: DDLG (SSC), f! reader, reader is named but name scarcely used, pet names, language, anxiety, very upset Peter (but not at reader), angst, misunderstanding, frustrations, scolding, threat of punishment, tears, fluffity fluff fluff fluff, everything gets worked out in the end because I always need a happy ending.

A/N- not my best writing style, I'm sorry, words are hard right now. But I love you all and want to try to get these requests out for you all, so I hope you like it anyways.

YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. THIS STORY IS SFW- THE REST OF MY BLOG IS NOT NECESSARILY SO. MINORS DNI. I DO NOT CONSENT FOR MY WORK TO BE STOLEN, COPIED, OR TRANSLATED ONTO ANY OTHER SITE BUT MY OWN. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated.

Today was the day! You were all set to spend the day together, just you and your daddies. You were so excited, you had been looking forward to it for the longest time. You all had tried to plan stuff before this, and something always came up. Every time. But not today! No way, not today!

Until it did.

Tony and Pepper received a very-last-minute summons to the White House to 'discuss some urgent matters' as Pepper put it or bail their asses out, as Tony put it. There was no way they could bring Peter, who was feeling extra little and clingy, so Steve, seeing their panic, volunteered to take him for the day, since you'd all planned on being at home anyways and the rest of the team were out on assignment.

You were a bit disappointed, but Petey was your best friend in the world, so this was going to be fun, right? Well......

When they dropped Peter off, he was definitely in a littler headspace than you had even seen him. He was crying hard in Steve's arms as Tony and Pepper left (both trying their hardest not to well up).

You tried to help, patting him on the leg and offering him Emma Bear or Pipsqueak to hold, but he didn't want either of them and tried to bat your hand away.

This shocked you a bit, but Bucky picked you up and whispered in your ear that Peter just needed a little extra attention right now. You nodded in understanding, and as soon as Bucky set you back down, you set off to your playroom, determined to find things to make him smile.

When you got back though- your arms full of toys and stuffies that you knew he'd like- you were a bit surprised to see both Steve and Bucky on the couch, side by side, comforting and holding Peter. You dropped your toys on the floor, wanting to come be a part of the cuddle party, but the noise scared Peter who started to cry again.

"Baby, you need to be more careful," Steve scolded very gently, knowing you hadn't done it on purpose. "I know you're trying to help, but Peter doesn't like loud noises right now. Please go put your toys back."

You started to protest that you had only picked out toys to be nice, but Bucky cut you off. "Go put 'em up, love, you heard Papa." It was a gentle tone, but you knew better than to try to argue.

Trying to be quiet, you carefully put them back slowly. But every time you came back to the room, you eyed your daddies meaningfully, hoping they'd ask you to be a part of the cuddle party, but they were so focused on keeping the little boy calm that they missed it entirely.

Once you were done, you quietly came over with Pipsqueak, holding him out to Peter, who took him, but turned his face back into Steve's chest. Feeling both frustrated and a little jealous, you said, "You s'posed to say 'tank you'." Peter just whined in reply.

This time, Steve looked at you sternly. "Baby, please don't upset Peter right now. He's feeling very little and needs quiet."

"But he didn't say tank you and you always say I gotta use my manners..."

Bucky picked you up before you caused Peter to start crying again, and started carrying you down the hallway to your playroom. "Listen up, angel, Peter is too young and upset to remember manners right now, and you're being loud when we've asked you to quiet down. Why don't you stay and play in here for a while until Peter is feeling better?" He set you down in the playroom and quickly shut the door before you had a chance to say anything.

You felt like you were being punished, even though you'd never get to stay in your playroom with all your toys when you were actually being punished. But you couldn't help but feel that way. Your daddies weren't spending any time with you now, and your bestie was treating you like you were mean, and it wasn't fair at all.

Bucky came to get you about an hour later for lunch. You were disappointed when you found that lunch was already made, because you loved it when you got to stir the mac and cheese. But when you were eating and Steve started telling Peter what a good job he'd done stirring, you got mad.

You shoved yourself off your chair and got exactly one step away before Bucky picked you up and plopped you back down. "You haven't been excused, little girl," he said a bit sharply, getting tired of your antics. You glowered as once again you were being asked to have manners when Peter didn't have to. Bucky made you sit there until all your lunch was eaten, which was well after Peter and Steve finished theirs and left to go watch a movie together.

You got even angrier when they picked a different movie than the one that you all were supposed to watch today, but you were still stuck in your dumb chair and couldn't do anything about it. Bucky had to threaten you with a time out and early bedtime before you finally finished eating. And once you did, he gave you a little talking-to about your attitude before taking your hand and bringing you over to the couch to watch the movie with them.

What you saw when you got there stopped you cold.

Steve had wrapped Peter up in your special yellow weighted blanket. Now, normally this wouldn't be a big deal, as you always wanted to share with your bestie, but this was YOUR special blanket for when you were feeling upset or overstimulated or needed comfort- and right now, you were definitely feeling all three.

"Dat's my special blanket," you said, pointing and mumbling. You didn't want to be loud or 'keep having an attitude', but this was just too much.

The look of disappointment in Steve's eyes hurt your heart. "Honey, we share in this house," he said, making you feel even worse. "You know that."

You couldn't stop the tears from overflowing at this point. "I alweady gave him my whole day!" you sobbed, before turning around and running to your room. You didn't slam your door- you'd only get in more trouble- but you pushed it mostly shut before diving into your stuffies, pulling Jellybean in close, and continuing to sob.

You heard a soft knock on your door a few moments later. "Baby, it's Daddy. May I come in please?" You only buried yourself deeper into your furry friends, afraid that Daddy was going to scold you again.

Bucky slowly opened the door, and his heart shattered at seeing you crying into all your stuffed animals. "I'm gonna come in, okay?" he added softly, stepping forward gently. If you really didn't want him in there, he would leave, but as you gave no indication one way or the other, he came in quietly and sat on the foot of your bed.

Once your tears and sobs slowed down, you risked a peek at Daddy in between Jellybean's soft fluffy ears. His face broke into a sad smile once he saw your red eyes. "Hey there, Trouble," he said gently. "Can Daddy hold you please?"

You didn't want another talking-to about your attitude, so you obediently pushed yourself up and crawled over to him. But when he pulled you onto his lap and cuddled you to his chest, like he did when he was comforting you, you suddenly realized that you weren't in trouble- that he really did want to just hold you. And the tears started all over again.

Bucky just held on, rocking you gently, rubbing your back, squeezing you tight when the tears turned into sobs, pressing soft kisses onto the top of your head. Once you cried yourself out, he plucked a tissue from the bedside table and held it to your face so you could blow. He mopped you up, still cuddling you all the while. "I'm really sorry you didn't get your day with us, Trouble," he said softly. "And I'm sorry that Papa and I were so focused on Peter and didn't see how upset you were. We weren't very nice to you today, were we?"

Sniffing mightily, you rubbed your nose with the back of your hand, resting your tired and aching head on Daddy's chest. "You was twying to help Petey. I sowwy I was bad and loud and mean," you mumbled.

"Baby, you were NOT bad or mean. You were loud, but that's just you- and we like you that way," Bucky said, finally grinning, which made you giggle. "I know that you were trying to help, and I'm sorry that I didn't have the patience to see that, and that we left you on your own today when we were trying to take care of Peter. So how about this? You and I can take some R&R together right now, just you and me, and then we can figure out everything else afterwards?"

Absolutely exhausted, you just nodded, falling asleep in Daddy's arms before he could even lay you down. And true to his word, he stayed with you for your whole nap, cuddling you and running his fingers through your hair.

After you all had naps, Peter was feeling much better, and the four of you played legos and dinosaurs in the living room until Tony and Pepper came home. It was a relief to Bucky and Steve, who had quietly worried that this was going to mess up Peter's and your friendship. But as always, after a good nap, things seemed brighter and you both were back to the giggling troublemakers you usually were, playing happily and noisily until Peter went home.

After you all had eaten supper, Papa cuddled you on his lap, apologizing too, and the three of you had a really good talk (with you still in younger space) about all of you feeling jealously, frustrations, and angry feelings, and being safe to calmly tell each other. They also helped work out some hand signals for you in case you went non-verbal or couldn't find the right words to tell them how you were feeling. You felt like a much happier baby after new ways to help you express yourself, and gleefully accepted Papa's cuddles all night (since Daddy had gotten them all to himself during nap time, he argued it was his turn).

The next day, Fury had blocked every single message to your daddies as well as access to your floor (barring emergency protocols, but ya know) making sure that you all truly had the whole day to yourselves. Daddy made your favorite cinnamon and sugar french toast for breakfast, which he fed to you bite by bite while you wiggled with energy.

The three of you went to your favorite quiet park out of the city, where you joyfully screamed down the slide, scrambled up the net ladder, giggled rocking back and forth on the bouncy animals, and had a contest with your daddies to see who could swing you the highest. THAT was the best.

You had a picnic lunch and had a blast bouncing back and forth between your daddies, insisting on feeding them blueberries one at a time. For some reason, that absolutely tickled you to no end, and you ended up laughing your head off the entire time. You fell asleep in your seat on the way home, and woke up in your bed. You found your daddies and the three of you drew pictures and colored together, then made a blanket fort in the living room for later.

Papa let you help him make dinner, and while it wasn't stirring- mac-and-cheese, it was still really fun. And then they both surprised you with being able to make a batch of your favorites- chocolate chip cookies! Right after the cookies cooled just enough, you FINALLY got to watch your movie, snuggled in between the two of them in your blanket fort, munching on the delicious treats.

Papa gave you a bath, letting you pick out both bubbles and a bath bomb, and Daddy put on your lotion and helped you pick out jammies and your nighttime books. You fell asleep in the crook of Bucky's arm, safe and warm, the three of you now more bonded than ever.

#daddy!bucky #daddy!bucky x little!reader #daddy bucky #daddy bucky x little reader #daddy!stucky #daddy stucky #daddy stucky x little reader #daddy!stucky x little reader #daddy!steve #daddy steve #daddy!steve x little!reader #daddy steve rogers #daddy steve rogers x little reader #daddy steve x little reader

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writersblockedx · 1 year

Text

Favours for the Falling

Pairing - Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader Summary - Fred and Y/n couldn't be more different, yet the boy can't help but find himself falling for her. Warnings - None I don't think! Words - 1.8K

A/n - I’ve got so many things in my drafts that are just waiting to be proof read before I can post them, but here’s one I was able to get done today :)

Masterlist

No one understood it. And, certainly, no one could have predicted it. Y/n was the ever so sweet, the ever so quiet girl, the girl whom you'd struggle to notice in a crowd. Her head found itself constantly down, averting any attention she wished to dismiss. The idea of such was daunting, she liked the shadow, she liked how easily it was to blend into it: undisturbed and disregarded.

And then, all of a sudden, before the students of Hogwarts could bear witness, her walk in the shadow was accompanied by Fred Weasley. Fred Weasley the overt, tumultuous boy who had a space saved for Hogwart's most disruptive student - alongside his equally disruptive twin brother. He was loud and known, a player on the Quidditch team and a name that was infamous around the school.

Suddenly, Fred acted as the sun which casted out her comforting shadow. Suddenly, the hallways weren't so safe for her. Many eyes followed them across the corridors as they walked together, half of Y/n's heavy books secure in Fred's arms as they wandered to class, or the library, or back to the common room. It seemed that for two people whom differed to exponential degrees, they were inseparable.

It got even more confusing when they began getting spotted walking down said hallways, hands now interlocked, or someone would catch Fred pressing a kiss to her cheek before they left for class. Such whispers spread like wild fire through Hogwarts and, before they realised it, everyone was asking: how did it happen?

Truth was, it was almost accidental.

It was one late Thursday, Y/n was in the Libary, completely in a mind of her own when a red-headed boy wandered up to the table she was seated at. Her gaze drew to him, her eyes narrowed and she pulled her headphones from her ears as to greet him. "Sorry, we didn't realise anyone was in here..." It was then she scanned the room and realised it had emptied since she last looked up from her paper. "We're just setting up something." The boy, who she believed to be George, said as he gestured to behind him where Fred stood, conducting some prank she didn't understand.

Y/n was already packing her things away before George had finished speaking, "I didn't even realise-" She stopped herself and snapped her head back to the boy. "What time is it?"

George leaned on the balls of his feet as he hummed and checked his wristwatch, "Just past eleven."

"Shit." The girl muttered, subconsciously beginning to move that bit quicker to gather her items.

George chuckled at her sudden panic and wondered aloud, "You often come to the Libary at this time?"

Y/n settled in a smile as she flung her bag over her shoulder, "Only when I've got a Charms exam tomorrow." She informed, picking her lingering books from the table.

It was then that Fred's head dipped from around a bookcase, wandering towards his brother and the girl he had yet to know. "Exam?" He reiterated as his gaze scanned Y/n. "Wait you're in my charms, right?" Instant anxiety spread over his expression and once more, just to check, to be utterly certain, he asked, "Charms exam...tomorrow?"

The girl held in her laugh, but she wasn't all that surprised. She had her eyes open enough to know that Fred Weasley wasn't the most attentive during lessons. "Flitwick hasn't shut up about it all week." She reminded him, watching as ever so slowly, his excitement over the prank he and his brother were about to conjure fell and, in it's place, stress took over. Y/n flicked open one of her books and pulled out a couple of pages of notes, offering them to the red-head, "Here. It's not everything the test we'll cover, but it's the basics."

Fred hadn't expected such kindness, especially from a girl he barely knew. But he smiled and accepted it gratefully, "Thanks. Thanks a lot."

She glanced to George, nodding her head before she made her move. "I'll see you tomorrow." She said to Fred before turning her back and continuing to the exit.

Fred watched until she disappeared. His gaze glanced to the papers she had given him, filled with handwriting much neater than his own, and words he was sure he needed to learn. From the side of him, George shoved his shoulder and commented, "Idiot."

That night, not only had Fred and George set up their mischievous prank, but Fred had spent most of it revising from the materials Y/n had given him. And, surprisingly enough, a week later, the tests were handed back out and he'd passed. Well, only just, but a pass was a pass and he only had one person to thank.

As the bell rung for the ending of that charms lesson, he made sure to catch Y/n before she slipped into her next one. "Y/n!" He called from down the crowded hallways. Luckily, with his loud voice and his tall posture, Fred Weasley wasn't hard to miss. "Y/n!"

The girl stopped in her tracks, brows furrowed with her books knitted to her chest. She turned and found that the Weasley boy was rushing towards her, a great big grin spread over his lips. Before she knew it, Fred had scooped her feet right off the floor and was spinning her around in his glee, repeating, "Thank you, thank you." Several times before placing her feet back to the floor once again.

A smile emerged at her own lips - certainly not as wide as Fred's, but it was noticeable. "Good grade?" She questioned.

He nodded, "Passing grade!" the boy beamed before rummaging through his bags and pulling out the papers she had lent him that day, "Wouldn't have been able to do it without this- without you."

She shrugged as the two started to wander down the hallway together; side by side. "Don't mention it."

"Don't mention it?" He reiterated as if her words were a mockery. "Y/n, those pieces of paper may have just saved me from McGonagall's wrath. Have you ever been on the receiving end of her anger?" Y/n shook her head as she listened to him go on. "Trust me, you don't want to be."

"You know, if I were you, I might start noting down when my exams are." She then suggested with a cheeky glint in her eyes that Fred couldn't ignore.

"We'll see." He definitely wasn't going to start doing that, but, for her, he lied. "I should do something for you, to repay you." He proposed.

Instantly, Y/n was shaking her head and declined before he even offered anything. "No, no, that's alright. I barely did anything."

To which, Fred caught her gaze and suddenly, it seemed more serious. "You've got no idea what you've just saved me from." He told her and she didn't have the words to respond. "Just let me think about it and I'll come up with something." He flashed his familiar grin, increasing his pace before Y/n had a chance to decline again.

Fred took the week to think on it. In fact, the boy soon started agonizing over it. He knew he had to repay the girl in some way - he wanted to, truly. But he was completely stuck. Every idea that passed through his mind, even the ones he had voiced to George, didn't seem to ever be good enough.

There came one night when the riddle was keeping him up. He'd just suggested to his brother getting the girl something sweet but he'd ruled that out only moments later. The other Weasley twin sat up and glanced over at his brother, "Why do you care so much about this-" He stopped himself and decided to rephrase the question:

"Why do you care so much about her?"

Fred halted and suddenly, that question dawned on him. In that moment, he shrugged in response to George's question. "I don't know. I just- She was kind and- I don't know."

George chuckled from his bed, "And she's pretty?" He raised his brow in a devilish way, prompting Fred's eyes to roll.

"I owe her." He finally decided on.

Truth was, Fred had no idea why he was so tangled by such a simple thing. He was returning a favour. He'd had to do it a million times before with the things he and George needed for their various tricks and pranks. But, for some reason, because it was her, it had him stumped. And maybe George was right, maybe Fred had taken note of her pretty eyes, or her pretty hair or-

The boy was falling and he had only just come to realise it.

He was lucky in that, by the end of the week, he'd sufficiently found what he was going to give Y/n. And, as the last bell for the week was sounded, he waited by her common room until she showed.

"What are you doing here?" Came Y/n's soft tone as she wandered towards the enterance.

Fred turned, his lips smothered by a grin, "Hey, this is me repaying you." He raised his hand and the book that was grasped between them.

Y/n took a few steps closer as to take the book from him. Her fingers brushed the front cover and it's title, shaking her head in disbelief before glancing back up at Fred. "I hate to say this, but I may already have read and own a copy myself." She had a sheepish glint in her eyes as she stared at the boy, "But thank you."

"Shit, sorry, I should have asked." Fred backtracked.

The girl gently pushed his arm in a playful manner, "No, you shouldn't have gone out of your way to get me anything." She told him, but doubted that would have ever stopped him from doing such. "I'm sure anyone else would have done the same thing I did."

He shrugged, "I'm not so sure." He was genuine in that and it tugged at the girl's heartstrings. Fred paused and he found himself captured by Y/n's doe eyes. Before he knew it, words were slipping from his tongue which he couldn't stop. "Why don't we get a butter beer? On me!" He flashed a smile that Y/n couldn't dare to let down.

So her head nodded and she agreed, "If you feel so obliged."

Like that, they changed from their uniforms and wandered down to Hogsmeade. And it was the same next week, and the week after. Suddenly, Fred was sneaking into her dorm, sitting next to her during meal times and finding himself in too deep. But the same was for Y/n.

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley fan fic #fred weasley oneshot #george weasley #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #ron weasley #draco malfoy #hermione granger #x reader #fanfiction #reader insert

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lilacsareinbloomagain · 4 months

Note

Ik you said you’re on break but that’s okay! I can wait lmao

I’m obsessed with your yandere lu writings. I would love a yandere Time x fem reader where he like extra creeps on reader? I’m talking like spying on them n shit and maybe stealing an article of clothing just bc it smells like them

Lord help me that sounds so weird

Why am I like this

Help

Thank you so much for requesting for my boy Time!

Notes: No no I like your way of thinking, give me your worst. Me, personally, I can be way worse than that lol

In fact, I may have accidentally made this creepier than I meant to, idk

By the way, when I said underpants in this I meant those white pants thing Link uses, which is probably called tights or something, but I didn't want you guys to read this and imagine reader with, like, fishnets by accident lmao

Time has anxiety and I'll not elaborate

I was gonna post this tomorrow, but ya know

TWs: Yanderism, stalking, suggestiveness, clothing stealing.

Yandere! LU! Time x Reader

In a way, Time was like a cat.

There was no way you could just ignore random articles of your clothes going missing every time you went to bath.

No matter where you went to clean yourself, it was like one part of your outfit was picked out by hand and evaporated, be it your undershirt, underpants, socks, and sometimes even your underwear!

You tried everything to prevent it, hiding your clothes, setting up traps… You only drew the line when it came to anything to do with poison, since you couldn't bear to possibly end up killing an innocent animal just for the sake of clothes.

Even if said clothes somehow always ended up randomly returning unscathed to the rest of your laundry.

Time and time again, this topic was brought up in conversations with the men you traveled alongside. Yet, for some reason, the matter was also time and time again swept under the rug. It never got solved, neither did it ever get discussed, more often than not.

Starkly different from your point of view, Time found it pretty cute how you got all fussy over some little clothes, clothes which he could easily just make you throw away and buy new ones, it's not like he was lacking the rupees for it, after all.

Yet, he couldn't find it within himself to keep pressing on that matter, not when you looked just so embarrassed protesting against the idea of throwing away your under clothes, stressing about how comfortable your clothes were and about how they were your favorite because of that exact reason.

From what he's noticed, you barely ever wore anything else, no matter how many clothes they could offer you, which was proof of just how much you adored that outfit, each part that composed it having been carefully thought out before being picked out by your hand back when they first went to the market to look for an appropriate Hyrulean attire for you.

It was more than obvious by now that you weren't planning on getting rid of it any time soon.

Still, despite all your best attempts to keep your clothes safe, you couldn't really stop them from randomly disappearing, that is, unless you stopped bathing, and that was something you obviously couldn't even consider doing.

So, you simply sighed with resolution as you took off your clothes to once again go into the river next to the camp, wanting to wash off any grime that may have rubbed on you from the last battle the Links went through before you guys left for the next village.

A little ways down in the same river, you knew the other men were washing themselves, that way, a scream would be all they needed know to come over to help you, should anything happen.

Not that anything had ever happened to you while you were bathing.

You kind of felt like you were being watched, but then again, you learned to not pay attention to that, after all, your brain always seemed to like playing tricks on you, be it making you think you saw the shadows in the corner of your eye moving, or strange noises coming from bushes, all of which always proved to be absolutely nothing at all. Especially the strangely distinctive smell of Time rubbing off on your clothes...

Besides, whenever you looked around yourself to see if your senses were correct, you'd only be able to hear the calm silence of the river waters, almost as if the fish itself held back from swimming every time you tensed up.

The regular calming ambiance noises returned when you finally stopped being paranoid, going back to washing yourself with a relieved sigh, knowing the feeling of being watched was just a product of your tricky mind.

Sound doesn't travel much underwater. Should it be sounds of heavy breathing, sounds of something much larger than the river fish swimming, or even the heavy sounds of metal boots sinking into the sandy floor of the river with every step their wearer took.

Time observed with certain amusement as you walked around the shallow part of the river, your head just above the surface, your feet dangling dangerously near the deeper part. One wrong step and you could risk drowning.

However, you seemed to be having fun while cleaning yourself, enjoying the cool, clean water. The elder, though, was having his own fun watching you.

He had to give it to you though, no matter what you did, your movements were always so captivating to him. He had already seen a lot in his life, many races, creatures and even monsters. Yet you had such a… Human way of behaving. Even if humans were so alike hylians, you still seemed different in a way, a very good way in his eyes.

What was even more interesting to him was the fact that you were still different from the other humans he'd met through his life.

More often than not your actions were unpredictable and random, not at all serious, it was like you somehow weren't very phased after getting kicked out of whatever universe you originally belonged in and into another. An universe that was extremely dangerous and distinct from yours. His universe.

You were very, very far from your home, yet he could still see some of it in the way you spoke, behaved and reacted to the things and beings around you.

Sometimes, he'd catch himself becoming infatuated again with the stuff that he was already used to, simply because you seemed so surprised and excited by them.

Things he saw in his everyday life and just happened to ignore. Places, people, animals, creatures, plants, you name it. You gave him a renewed view of life, the whole "enjoy the small things in life" a concept so simple that still managed to make him feel truly alive again.

When he was with you he felt like Hylia and the Golden Goddesses themselves were paying him back for all heroic deeds he performed. In his eyes, you saved him.

In no time, watching the stars with you became a new routine, you were always so interested in them, yet still didn't seem to mind when he preferred to do something else, as to avoid looking at the moon.

Therefore, counting and catching fireflies was the next best thing.

And before he even noticed, he had bought an extra satchel at the market just so he could collect and buy those things that reminded him of you, things he noticed you pointing out whenever you saw. Pretty rocks, shiny crystals, colorful shells, and even those silly little trinkets that, in his eyes were useless, yet brought happiness to yours.

You'd even managed to make him blush the other day, when you told him he was acting like a cat, placing gifts by your bedroll at night, while you were asleep.

Yes, you made him blush. Him, The elder, The Hero Of Time that was also The leader their group, a group made up of the strongest men known in the history of Hyrule.

But, in a way, you were actually correct.

Cats are very attached to their favorite person, enough to follow them around and watch them do the most simple things, like sleeping, or bathing.

He didn't feel like admitting to those things though, especially not to stealing your clothes.

At first, he assured himself that he was doing all that watching just to make sure you were safe, after all, bathing time was the only moment of the day when you were “fully alone” or so you thought. Time would never forgive himself if you accidentally got hurt because of his lack of attention to you, even if the “hurt” in question was merely a scratch on your knee from accidentally slipping while bathing.

He knew better than anyone that too much peace meant something bad could happen at any time, and too little peace was even worse! Therefore, there was no middle ground, you needed to be protected at all times. And the fact he also got a little fun out of guarding you didn't hurt anyone. After all, what the eyes don't see, the heart doesn't feel.

He didn't even try lying to himself about stealing your clothes, he wasn't that delusional, after all, liking your smell didn't sound like too good of an excuse to tell you, should you find out about that little habit of his.

In a way, he wasn't even hidden right now, per say, he was just not in plain view.

In fact, sometimes even hoped you saw him, so that he'd be able to stop just watching and join you already.

After all, you wouldn't be able to get hurt if he was right there beside you, right?

Let him keep pretending that's the only reason he wanted to join you in the bath.

#tw: yandere #yandere x reader #yandere linked universe #link x reader #linked universe x reader #yandere link x reader #lu time #lu time x reader #yandere lu time #yandere lu time x reader

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corruptedcaps · 5 months

Text

Head Fucked

This is an unofficial sequel to Head-Fuck one of @misseviehyde‘s hottest stories

Monica's heart pounded as she stood in front of the door, clutching the address she had found after a lengthy search. She hesitated for a moment, her mind racing with doubt and uncertainty. What if Violet remembered her as the same person she had tormented all those years ago? What if she slammed the door in her face?

Summoning her courage, Monica raised her hand and knocked on the door. The seconds ticked by like hours as she waited, her anxiety growing with each passing moment. She didn’t have a lot of time before Wren got home from school and paraded around like the bitchy brat she was now. Finally, the door creaked open, revealing a girl her daughter’s age. She wore glasses and had a friendly face.

“Hi can I help you?” She asked with a pleasant smile.

Taken aback for a moment and concerned she didn’t have the right address, Monica timidly asked, “I’m looking for Violet?”

“Thats me! Well I go by Lettie. Oh but I guess you actually want my mom right? Let me go get her.” The young girl said and disappeared back into the house. Monica took a moment to come to grips with Violet having a daughter. It seemed appropriate that someone as vain and conceited as Violet would name her daughter after herself but this girl seemed so friendly and nice.

Her mind didn’t have long to dwell on it because a moment later she found herself face to face with a middle-aged, but still outrageously beautiful woman with a look of surprise on her face appeared at the door.

"Can I help you?" Violet asked, her voice cautious.

Monica met Violet's gaze, her heart pounding louder. "Violet," she began, her voice slightly shaky. "It's been a long time."

Recognition flickered in Violet's eyes, and her expression shifted from surprise to a mix of curiosity and something else—remorse, perhaps? "Monica?" she said softly, disbelief lacing her words.

Monica nodded, feeling a lump in her throat. "Yes, it's me. I know this might sound crazy, but I need your help."

Violet's gaze held Monica's for a moment before she stepped aside. "Come in," she said, her voice tinged with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

An hour later and Violet sat open mouthed at the take she had just heard. The idea that some magical clay could have made a copy of her was unbelievable and even more outlandish that it would transform an innocent girl like Wren into a mega bitch but Violet couldn’t deny the sincerity in Monica’s voice.

"I'm so sorry, Monica. This is all my fault. If I hadn't been such a bully in school, your daughter would still be the sweet and kind girl I'm sure she is."

Monica's eyes softened as she watched Violet, seeing a mixture of regret and concern on her face. "I'm not here to make you feel guilty," Monica said gently. "I'm here to ask for your help."

Violet looked up, her gaze meeting Monica's with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. "What can I do?"

Monica's eyes brightened with a spark of hope. "There's a way to reverse the transformation, but I need your insight," she said, leaning in closer. "Wren needs to touch a sculpted bust I've carefully glued back together over the course of a few months. It will break the clay's hold on her, but the challenge is that she's constantly surrounded by her loyal betas."

Violet's brows furrowed in thought. "Severing her from her clique won't be easy, they were extremely loyal to me back in high school and I loved having them around to applaud my bad behaviour. But I know a few things that might delay them for awhile," she mused.

Tears welled up in Monica's eyes as relief flooded over her. She couldn't believe that the person who had once caused her so much pain was now offering a helping hand. She hugged Violet tightly. "Thank you, Violet. You have no idea what this means to me."

Violet patted her back gently. "We're in this together now. But we must act quickly. "

Monica rushed home and prepared for her daughter’s arrival and hoped Violet’s plan would work. As the sun dipped below the horizon, Wren stormed into the house in a huff right on queue. Her expression was a mix of anger and annoyance. Monica, acting concerned, approached her. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

Wren's frustration spilled out. "Not that it’s any of your fucking business loser but it’s my friends! They just blew me off. I texted them to hang out, and they all had excuses. How dare they do this to me! I might just have to fuck all their boyfriends to remind them who is in charge."

“Wren I have something to show-” Monica began before Wren shot her a look that blazed with a thousand fires.

“What the hell did you call me?” Her daughter said through gritted teeth as she stepped closer to Monica. Monica shuddered with fear but pushed through, knowing that hopefully their nightmare would soon be over.

“I called you Wren because that’s who you are. You’re not Violet, you’re my daughter and you’re going to be my little girl again.” Monica said as she produced the cobbled together bust of Wren’s face much to Wren’s horror.

Before Wren or Monica could make a move, the sound of laughter and chatter reached their ears. Wren's friends had arrived. Monica's heart raced as she exchanged a quick glance with Wren, both knowing that the crucial moment had arrived.

Wren smirked superiorly at Monica, her eyes gleaming with defiance. "Nice try, Monica, but I'm not going anywhere near that bust," she taunted as she sauntered over to the door to open it.

However amongst her friends at the door was a woman who was incredibly familiar, she had a face that Wren looked at every day. Older Violet stood there, a determined expression on her face. "Oh yes, you will," she declared, her voice commanding.

Wren's smug expression faltered as she stared at Violet in disbelief. "Violet? What are you doing here?"

Older Violet's gaze locked onto Wren's friends, who stood awaiting her orders. "Hold her," she commanded, her voice carrying an undeniable authority.

In an instant, Wren's friends moved forward, their expressions filled with evil glee as they grabbed Wren's arms and held her in place, defying her struggles.

Monica watched, her heart pounding, as Violet took a step closer to Wren, her eyes unwavering. "Wren, it's time you learned your place," Violet said firmly as she took the bust from Monica’s hands.

Wren struggled against her friends' grip as Violet advanced, the sculpted bust in her hands. Fear and anger battled within her as she cried out, "You can't do this! I'm Violet! I'm a goddess!"

Violet's gaze remained unyielding, her determination unshaken by Wren's protests. With steady purpose, held the bust close enough for Wren’s friends to pull her hands onto the bust. Once they touched the clay started to seep off of Wren back onto the bust.

The transformation started slowly at first, a subtle change that moved like ripples through Wren's body. Violet's gaze darkened as she watched, her voice unwavering even as Wren's identity was in flux. "No dear, you’re just a copy," she stated coldly, the words carrying a weight of disgust.

Wren's struggles intensified as the clay's hold on her began to weaken. The confidence that had once empowered her as Violet now wavered, replaced by uncertainty and fear. And in that moment of vulnerability, Monica saw a glimmer of her daughter returning, a chance for her to break free from the grip of the past.

As Violet continued to press Wren's hands onto the sculpted bust, the clay worked its magic with an eerie precision. Wren's struggles intensified, her cries reaching a crescendo as the dark energy that had taken hold of her began to unravel.

In a sudden burst, the clay released its grip on Wren's body and flowed fast back onto the bust. Wren crumpled to the floor, dropped by her bitchy former friends. Violet, with a calculated calmness, took the sculpted bust, a victorious glint in her eyes as she carefully secured it away from Wren's reach.

Monica rushed to her daughter's side, embracing her tightly as Wren gasped for breath. "Thank you so much, Violet. How did you convince her friends to betray her?" Monica said, her voice filled with gratitude.

“Your pathetic daughter was just a poser, her friends recognized the true genuine article when they saw it and when I told them my evil plan to take the power from her, they were more than happy to help, isn’t that right girls.” Violet said with new malice dripping from her words. Monica’s eyes grew wide as she realized that Violet hadn’t changed after all, she was still the conniving butch she always had been and Monica now gave her a change to be young again.

"Please, Violet, it probably wont even work on you. We have to make sure this never hurts anyone again. Please I beg you!"

Violet, unfazed by Monica's pleas, simply shook her head. "Oh please I don’t need this thing. Look at me, I’m still a fucking goddess. No this bust is for someone else.”

Confusion clouded Monica's face as she struggled to understand Violet's motives. Before she could inquire further, Violet snapped her fingers, and in an instant, the bitchy army obediently exited the room.

As Wren's ex friends reentered the room, they dragged in another figure, bound and gagged. It took a moment for Monica to recognize her as Violet's daughter, Lettie. The room fell into a tense silence as the girls dropped Lettie to the ground, removing the gag that silenced her struggles.

Lettie looked up at her mother with a mixture of confusion and fear. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of the sculpted bust Violet held in her hands. "Mom? What's going on? What are you holding?"

Violet's expression remained stoic, a mask that revealed nothing of her inner thoughts. The bitchy clique exchanged smirking glances, clearly excited about the unfolding situation. Monica finally put two and two together and said with a sense of urgency in her voice, "Violet, please, let Lettie go. She doesn't need to be a part of this."

Violet, however, seemed unyielding. "Oh shut up you fucking loser. It took every ounce of my strength not to bully you back at my house. You’re just as pathetic as you were back in school. Just as weak as your daughter. Just as soft as my daughter," she replied coldly, her gaze shifting between the sculpted bust and her daughter, who awaited an explanation with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation.

"I had hoped Lettie would grow into a cruel-hearted and powerful bitch like me, but she cares for people," Violet declared coldly. "She stands up to bullies and uses our fantastic wealth to help others. It's made me sick these past 18 years, but that all changes today, thanks to you, Monica, and this wonderful bust you made."

A chill ran down Monica's spine as Violet advanced on Lettie, who was too slow to react. With a swift and determined move, Violet seized Lettie’s hands and forced them onto the sculpted bust. Lettie’s eyes widened in shock and fear as the transformative magic of the clay began to take effect.

The clay flowed deviously from the sculpted bust onto Lettie’s hands, creating an eerie and malevolent connection between the two. Lettie, initially frozen in shock, threw her head back in sudden electric pleasure, a sinister gleam in her eyes hinting at the transformation's evil nature.

As the dark magic took hold, her body underwent a wicked metamorphosis. From an unathletic and nerdy frame emerged a figure with larger, more impressive tits, pouty lips that exuded a touch of cruelty, and sleek hair that tied up into a bitchy ponytail, framing a face now marked by an evil beauty. Perfect skin replaced any imperfection, and her nails elongated with a delicious curve, reflecting a newfound vanity.

Flabby skin gave way to became toned perfection, and her waist tightened to create a silhouette that echoed a cruel kind of confidence.

Amidst the gasps and shock, Lettie’s expression evolved into a devious smirk, embodying the dark persona of her new body. Her eyes, once timid, now sparkled with an evil glint. The room, shrouded in an atmosphere of foreboding, witnessed a metamorphosis that transcended the physical, leaving an unsettling aura in its wake.

Lettie moaned in delight as she gazed upon her new form. Her bitchy long nails running over her tight new body. She resisted the urge to shove her hand in her panties and touch her tingling pussy.

“Oh mommy, what a wonderful gift. Now I’m your perfect bitchy daughter. I can finally live up to my name. I’m a true Violet now.” The new younger Violet giggled.

Monica and Wren looked on, both transfixed by the transformation that had taken place. Monica was horrified by the evil that she had unwittingly unleashed but Wren was now jealous of the power she had lost. Crawling over to the older Violet, she began to beg.

“Please give it back! I want to be Violet again. I’ll be your perfect daughter, aren’t you impressed with how I made my mom into my little bitch?” Wren said clawing at Violet’s leg. Both Violets looked at her with disdain.

“If you really had her under your thumb like I had all those years ago then she wouldn’t have sought out my help in the first place. My daughter is the true heir and once I put in the papers for her transfer to your school she’ll show you what a true bully looks like.” Older Violet said with a knowingly smirk.

“Really mommy? That’s so wicked and evil I love it! I can’t wait to make you my grovelling little simp,” Younger Violet said looking down at Wren in disgust. “You can start by gathering up all the sexy clothes you’ve bought as me so I can get a head start on putting together my slutty wardrobe. If you’re fast maybe I’ll even let you lick my pussy so you can get a taste of what it was like to be perfect.”

Wren quickly got to her feet and headed for her bedroom but Monica caught her arm and pleaded with her to stop.

“Fuck off mom, you ruined everything! I’ll do anything Violet asks me now, she’s a goddess. I should know!” Wren said with pure venom in her voice as she shook off her mother’s grip and headed upstairs.

“Darling why don’t you and your new friends go up to Wren’s bedroom and ‘help’ her out? Me and Monica here are going to reminisce about old times.” Old Violet said with an evil smirk that was exchanged by her daughter as she and her loyal betas ran upstairs giggling.

“W-what are you going to do to me?” Monica said trembling as Violet closed in on her.

“Oh just something my daughter said really put me in the mood. So loser, get licking, I don’t have all day.” Violet grinned as she hiked up her skirt and showed off her bare glistening pussy.

WEEKS LATER

“And if I do this, you’ll finally let me in the clique?” Wren asked a waiting Violet. Wren was dressed as slutty and as hot as her dorky body could manage, trying to mimic her idol. However no one was close to Violet and her beauty.

“Yes idiot, you’ve been so loyal these past few weeks that this is your final test. Go into the principals office and convince him to give us all straight A’s for the rest of the year, by any means necessary.” Violet said with a devious grin. Wren nodded enthusiastically and marched into the principal’s office.

“Are you really going to let that loser into our gang babes?” Laura, Violet’s unwaveringly loyal number two, asked. Violet shot her a cheeky smile.

“Well if she doesn’t get herself expelled I’ll consider promoting her to our official cum cleaner. After all her mother is a natural so she should be no different.” Violet said as they waited for Wren.

Meanwhile miles away back at Violet’s house, her mother was receiving a rejuvenating mud facical courtesy of the melted down remains of Lettie’s bust. The mud melted pleasurably into her skin erasing the minor wrinkles she had and tightening the skin all across her body.

Violet moaned in pleasure as she felt twenty years younger. She would take Lettie’s place in the private school she had transferred her out of, losing as her sister and she would cause havoc for a new generation all over again. Her plan made her positively gush and she knew just who to service her.

Snapping her fingers, Monica appeared quickly at the door wearing the slutty maid outfit Violet forced her to wear.

“Mistress you are looking divine.” Monica said like a sycophant. Weeks of constant service had beaten her down into a submissive slave for Violet and her daughter.

“Silence worm. I want that tongue to be focused on doing one thing only now. Now come to mommy.” Violet said with a cold purr as Monica crawled over to her waiting pussy.

#f2f #corruption #bitchification #magic #evil bitch #power transfer #evie hyde #unofficial sequel

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