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mapiforpresident · 2 months

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Claudia Pina Angst pls! (Or literally anything Claudia Pina! ❤️🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽

How Could You Do This Part 1

Claudia Pina x reader

warnings: angst

Summary: You find out your girlfriend is cheating on you

Not proof read so let me know if you see any mistakes.

~~~

You were scrolling through TikTok on your girlfriend's phone, patiently waiting for her to finish her Cupra interview. Since your phone had died, Claudia had kindly lent you hers to stave off boredom during the wait.

Halfway through watching a hilarious dog video, a text from Patri popped up, catching your attention before you could swipe it away. It read, "just tell her before she finds out." Confusion washed over you as you tried to decipher whom or what Patri was referring to. Another text appeared, stating, "Y/n will be so mad once she finds out. Hopefully she doesn't break up with you. At the very least, you might be sleeping on your new couch for a week."

What could Patri possibly be talking about? It seemed clear that Claudia was keeping something from you, something she knew she shouldn't. Your mind immediately jumped to the conclusion that Claudia was cheating on you. You and your girlfriend had always prided yourselves on honesty, promising never to keep secrets from each other. Thus, you couldn't fathom what else she could be hiding.

Though hesitant, you couldn't resist the urge to snoop. Clicking on Patri's message, you hoped to uncover the mystery. Initially, the conversation consisted of random memes and funny videos they'd exchanged, but you stumbled upon a series of texts from two days ago that piqued your interest.

Patri: Did you meet up with the girl today?

Pina: Yeah, she was awesome. I can't wait to see her again.

Patri: That's great! I'm glad you found someone better.

Pina: Yeah, me too. Y/n is going to murder me when she finds out though. I need to tell her soon.

Patri: Take her to a nice dinner and then try to break the news.

Pina: I might. I keep trying, but every time I go to mention it, I chicken out. I don't want her to be upset.

Recalling the fancy dinner Claudia had taken you out to the previous night, her nervous demeanor suddenly made sense. You had assumed it was related to her upcoming interview, as she never enjoyed media engagements. It was unfathomable to think that she had started seeing someone else, especially with Patri's encouragement. A whirlwind of thoughts flooded your mind. Your girlfriend of over three years was cheating on you. Feeling overwhelmed, you dropped the phone onto the chair and rushed out of the room. Claudia remained engrossed in her interview, oblivious to your sudden departure.

You raced down the training ground hallway until you found a bathroom, locking yourself in the first stall, overcome by sobs. How could Claudia betray your trust like this? You believed you had the perfect relationship, and just that morning, she had seemed so deeply in love with you. She had made you breakfast and cuddled with you on the couch until the last possible moment before you had to leave. She had always been affectionate, constantly holding and kissing you. You were at a loss, unable to comprehend what you had done wrong.

"Y/n, is that you in there? What's wrong? What happened? Do you want me to get Claudia?" It was Alexia's voice. You hadn't heard her enter the bathroom.

"No, no, don't get Claudia," you called out desperately.

"Why? What happened? Did she do something? Let me in." Alexia was very confused at this point because whenever you were sad or hurt or upset, you immediately asked for Claudia, and Claudia always immediately came to your side no matter what she was doing.

You silently unlocked the door as Alexia squatted down in front of you. When she saw your tear-stained face but no visible injury, she decided to try and help you up, knowing you were physically fine. "Oh, bebita, what happened?"

Alexia now had you standing and hugged you tightly as she tried to get you to calm down enough to explain what had made you so upset.

"Clau... Clau..."

"It's okay, it will be okay. Take some deep breaths for me." You did as Alexia told you, trying to take a few deep breaths as your sobs turned into sniffles.

"Clau... she cheated... she told Patri... that she... found a better girl... she said she met up with her," you choked out as Alexia started to look furious. She loved Claudia, but if this was true, then she wouldn't hesitate to confront her.

"Did she tell you this? Did Patri?"

"No... I saw their text messages... I was just TikToking while she had her interview."

"God, I am going to kill them both. You are coming to stay at my place tonight. I will text Olga to make up the spare room. I am going to have a talk with Claudia tomorrow and then Patri. I will bring Mapi too." Alexia was basically talking to herself at this point as she led you to the locker room to quickly grab her things.

Just as she was about to lead you towards the door to leave, Claudia burst through.

"There you are, amor, what happened? I couldn't find you anywhere. Are you ready..."

"Get out," Alexia said in her loud, stern voice.

"What... what happened? Is y/n okay..."

"Get out now," Alexia said again. "Don't ever come near y/n again, I swear, Claudia."

Neither you nor Claudia had ever seen your captain look so angry and so disappointed. Claudia was stunned; she had no idea how to react. She turned and ran out the door, not knowing where she was going. What did she do wrong? She didn't think she had done anything wrong, but you had clearly been crying, and Alexia looked furious, so she must have done something.

~~~

Claudia ran out onto the pitch and grabbed a bag of balls laying off to the side. Everyone had already left, but she didn't want to leave until she figured out what she did wrong.

She took penalty after penalty until her leg could barely kick the ball into the net. She finally decided to go to her best friend for help, maybe Patri could help her figure out what she had done wrong.

It was well past the sun going down as she pulled into the parking lot of Patri's apartment complex. Patri was shocked at hearing the knock and opening the door to reveal the most sad she thinks she had ever seen Claudia.

"Hey Claudia, what happened, aren't you supposed to be at the movies with y/n tonight. She's been waiting for it to come out for months." Patri said as she moved to let Claudia into her apartment, but before Claudia could fully enter she broke down.

"I messed up, I don't know what I did. We were fine this morning, but after I got done with my interview she was gone and... and... and... then I went to go find her and she was crying in Alexia's arms. Alexia told me to get out. I have never seen her that angry before and y/n wouldn't even look at me. I don't know what I did wrong. I don't know what to do. Y/n and Alexia won't answer my calls or texts and..." Claudia ranted so fast that Patri could barely keep up.

"Hey, hey, hey slow down, everything will be ok. You and y/n love each other ok. recount your steps, there is nothing that you could have done to upset her?" Patri asked as they sat down on the couch, Claudia with her head in her hands.

~~~

Thirty minutes later Claudia stood nervously outside of Alexia's door with flowers and your favorite chocolate. She wanted to come talk to you knowing that you were most likely here. She wanted to figure out what she did wrong and how she could make it up to you.

Alexia opened the door thinking it was the food she ordered for takeout. "Hello thank ... oh Claudia." Alexia's voice immediately changed from nice and friendly to annoyance and verging on rude.

"Please leave you are not welcome her. Y/n does not want to hear from you or see you again outside of practice."

"But... but what did I do. I didn't do anything wrong. I love her please Alexia just let me talk to her," Claudia begging while trying to remain calm and not let her tears fall in front of her captain.

"Go. Now. Before I call the cops." Alexia slammed the door in the face of the girl she once thought of as a little sister. Claudia didn't know what to do so she just called Patri as she got back in her car.

"I lost her. I lost her," Pina says as she sobs on the phone.

#woso #woso x reader #fcb femení #fcb femení x reader #fc barcelona femeni #claudia pina x reader #claudia pina imagine #claudia pina #woso imagine #woso fanfics #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader

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foone · 2 months

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on "that sounds like me, do I have ADHD?"

So a thing about ADHD (and probably all mental illnesses, but especially ADHD) is that it doesn't really have any hyper-specific symptoms. Like, it's not like you get ADHD and your elbow turns green, which only happens with ADHD.

ADHD describes a bunch of symptoms, some with shared origins, some which might have different origins, but the important thing to remember is that you can have all those symptoms for reasons other than ADHD.

Time blindness? it can happen to anyone because you got caught up in something. being unable to sit still? it can be caused by any number of physical (and mental!) things, not just ADHD. unable to concentrate? that can happen because of chronic pain, depression, brain fogginess, etc.

So the important thing to remember is that if you see someone (like me) ranting about their ADHD experience, if you identify with that situation, it doesn't necessarily mean you have ADHD.

You might have depression (monopolar or bipolar). or be autistic. or some forms of OCD. or have chronic pain.

Now, by all means, go to a doctor, talk about these symptoms, get tested, get medicated, get therapy, whatever! I'm just saying that you shouldn't jump to ADHD as a definite diagnosis.

ADHD is definitely one of those diagnosis where we drew a circle around some symptoms and said "this is ADHD", if there's no other reason to have those symptoms. Like, if you take a person and keep them awake for 36 hours and feed them a ton of coffee they'll probably act very "ADHD", but it doesn't really mean you need to put them on adderal, even if they're showing a lot of the symptoms of ADHD. You should look for other solutions to their problem, like letting them get some sleep and cutting the caffeine.

And the same is true with ADHD. All the symptoms of ADHD are things that you can have for a bunch of other reasons, many of which can be treated (and treated better!) in other ways.

Depression is a good example: Depressed people can have executive dysfunction issues, trouble concentrating, poor planning, difficulty in finishing things. Would giving them stimulants (like Adderal and Ritalin) help? Maybe somewhat... but it wouldn't help the underlying depression problem! Getting therapy and antidepressants is likely going to be much more effective, since you're treating the condition that is causing the ADHD symptoms. (and if those symptoms don't go away when the depression is cured/managed, maybe they also need stimulants!).

ANYWAY to sum up: Don't worry too much if you see someone with ADHD complaining about something that they do because of ADHD and you go "that's just like me". ADHD isn't that kind of condition, just because you have one or several of the symptoms doesn't mean you have it, you could easily have something else that causes the same or similar symptoms.

And finally: This isn't meant as a thinly-veiled "don't self-diagnose" rant. You go ahead and self-diagnose all you want. I'm just saying that you should consider other possibilities before ADHD, because it may be more effective and easier to treat those conditions than to treat ADHD. (And I say that whether you're self-diagnosing or talking to a doctor: Hopefully your doctor is well-informed enough to know there is a lot of overlap between symptoms, and will ask about other possibilities )

#ADHD

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wolfish-trickster · 22 days

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Choso headcanons

(I'm sorry i just love this gif so much 😩)

General

He likes to listen to indie bands

There's just something about having a band "all to himself" and being the sole fan where ever he goes

But after a while starts to feel a little lonely not having any fellow fans for friends

Doesn't really see the point in people taking care of plants in their home, especially those that only bloom once and then they die

Isn't a dog or a cat person, he likes both

Would want to learn at least the basics of every skill he can find

His favourite day of the week is friday

Stays up super late even thoigh he promises himself to fix his sleep schedual

Spoiler: he never does

Keeps fit and builts muscle to protect his family

If he meets people who are pretty agressive about their opinions and unable to listen to a different point of view he just up and leaves, doesn't want to waste the energy

Doesn't look like it but he's quite artistic, he especially enjoys making his nose mark into different shapes and ornaments to make himself look cool

His favourite part of working out is laying down and letting his body cool

Learned how to cook so he could take care of his brothers

Friendship

At the begining he would be just observing you

Not even trying to befriend you or your friends, nah

Just quietly watching from afar

His brothers would call him creepy for that

But he just wants to be sure you'll be worth the try

Eventually he's betrayed by Yuji who straight up tells you he has been looking at you when you do your thing

He tries to explain that he isn't shy or anything, but yeah, he was pretty closed off from you after you guys started talking

But since he spoke less he heard more and learned all your little quirks

Where others would buy you generic things for your birthday like a book or a mug he would buy you three new headphones becuase he remembered how you complained to him how often they break for you

Or he would give you something you genuenly need in your life and what would be useful

Also he would want to show you his creative side

Sketch you, write poems and haikus for you

He even tried to crochet you a flower but that failed quickly

He made you an origami instead 🥹

As he started to have feelings for you he needed advice from his brothers on what to do

They all just told him to ask you out

He didn't like that idea

What he did instead was collect his favourite hard rock and metal songs about love and give you that playlist on a CD on your birthday

He hoped you would get the hint

Your oblivious ass didn't 😭

He literally had to spell it out for you the next time you guys met

You gladly accepted his feelings (who wouldn't)

He asked you out on a date the very next day

Homeboy had no idea what to do on the first date tho...

So he improvised and went to ask the almighty google

Relationship

He made a list on his phone consisting of advices he took from google and rom coms: first he had to take you see a movie, then go to a theme park, then restaurant and then either take you home or to a hotel

Not his ideal plans for the first date but it's how humans do it apparently

Long story short, it was a catastrophy

As he went to your house to pick you up it started to rain real bad

You guys decided to wait it out in your home

Rain turned to storm

Choso then admited he had a plan written on the phone Yuji gave him

You told him ypu guys cane have home date instead

You and him watched a movie

You guys spent a long time deciding what to cook together but eventually agreed on pasta with some exotic sauce

You had lots of fun

You guys ended the date curled up under your sheet cuddling the night away as the storm raged on outside

Choso found out he loves home dates

He only ever does that from then on

One night him and you decided to take quizes to learn more about eachother

His love language is physical touch

Which makes sense since from his first night of cuddling he has had his hand on any part of your body anytime you guys met

It's like his hand and your body were two magnets

He loves hugging you from behind, shows how much smaller you are than him

Sometimes he likes to lay on your chest and listen to your heartbeat (is what he would tell you but really he just likes to listen to your blood moving in extreme speeds through your body, but he wants to be romantic for you)

Not the one for PDA, will jold your hand at max when outside but inside the house he goes all out

All cuddling positions, all surfaces, all times of the day

Your first kiss happened a week after you had the furst date

He honestly had no idea what kissing was

You introduced him and gave him few lectures 😉

It's safe to say the student surpassed the master

His lips are surprisingly soft and warm

The first time you kissed him he was a little stunned and his nose mark swerved a little

But then he got addicted

Giving you kisses all over your face

He likes the neck the most

Especially the parts where he can feel the blood in your veins

And when he found out tongues can get involved?

He almost didn't let you breathe

The feeling of your soft and wet muscle against his was heavenly to him

At first a little weird but he quickly got used to it

Would chuckle everytime your teeth clinked together

You also thought of introducing him to the concept of hickies but he already figured it out on his own

Doesn't like giving them too often tho, to let your veins regenarate properly, otherwise he would be painting your neck purple every day

He had his time when he read a post on social media about a guy literally dying after his girlfriend gave him a hickie and oit of fear and anxiety refused to give you any hickies for a month

After about half a year of dating he decided to introduce you to his brothers

They already knew all about you

Choso doesn't talk often but when he's in the mood he won't shut up

And lately he has been talking mostly about you

All of them were nice to you and all of you got along super well

Choso fell for you even more

One date night you picked a movie that was a little less innocent than all the ones you watched before

Thankfully you didn't have to explain the birds and bees to choso when a particularly heated scene came on

But you needed to explain to him how to get rid of his very first boner in his life 💀

NSFW

Your first time happened a year after your first date

He wanted it to be special since it's both of your first time

He studied

Aka he watched porn

Didn't get hard from watching it tho, only after he started playing out the scenes in his head with you and him in the actors' places

His first ever jirkoff happened because of this

He made a playlist to get both you and him in the mood

Wasn't needed in the end

After the very awkward first round you went into it like rabbits

Remember what i said about Choso and cuddling? Same goes for positions

All positions, all surfaces, all times of the day

Tho he had his favourites

Among his favourite positions were those he could have you in his lap

He loved it when you could drap yourself all over him

He also like the access to the skin he got

His least favourite ones are where he can't see your face

The different facial expressions he gives with different thrust angles are what keeps him going

His favourite places are the bed or the couch

And he doesn't really care about the time of the day as long as both of you are willing and not busy

The first one to propose oral was him

He was curious about how it tasted down there

He didn't find the taste anything spectacular but could see the appeal

He liked the texture on his tongue more

He also found out your juices taste different during different parts of your month cycle

That way he could keep track of your period better than you

Sometimes after he was done eating you out he mentioned how your time of the month is coming so you should be prepared

Made you chuckle every time with how bluntly he says that

You also offered to give him head

Likes it when you gently drag your teeth along his shaft

Like the feeling when you have an itchy spot and you give it a good scratch, that's the same for him and your teeth

Isn't really sure if he prefers to give or recieve yet

But doesn't mind either way

Period sex is a whole different stuff to him

As soon as he found out coming can help period cramps he was all in

At one point he was curious about what would happen if he pulled out the entire inner lining with his cursed technique

Ended your period bleeding that very day

You loved him even more

Does that for you every single month

But he's not gonna lie, he has a little sadist hidden inside of him

Likes to see blood on his dick

But only period one, as soon as it's real blood from harming you he's out

Doesn't really have any other kinks than that but he's open to explore with you

Would quickly find out he has his horny days too

On those days he would ask you all shy if you two could fuck

You never told him no how could you with those eyes

Long story short he got to try a lot of exciting things with you, for which he's grateful

#kamo choso #choso kamo #choso kamo x reader #choso x reader #choso headcanons #jjk choso #choso fluff #choso smut

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always-andromeda · 2 months

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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ 𝐩𝐥𝐮𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 ୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⟡ Frankie Morales x F!Reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ⟡ 3,038

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ⟡ After recruiting you to be his plus one for yet another wedding, Frankie can't help but ruminate on and regret the last one he brought you to.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ⟡ Hey, Lolabee!! I'm super excited to finally share that I'm your secret Valentine!! I apologize in advance for posting this so late in the game; exam week has been super hectic. That being said, I decided to give myself a little bit of a challenge and write something for Frankie for the first time ever. I should preface this by saying that when I read your prompt for rom-com vibes, I immediately began filing through all of my favorite rom-coms. And since my current favorite is Plus One, this fic is very much inspired by it!! Happy late Valentine's Day!! (dt: @thelightsandtheroses) (divider credits: @cafekitsune)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ⟡ fluff with little bits of angst (regardless, minors, please do not interact), no physical description given to the reader except for the fact that she wears makeup, mentions of alcohol and references to the reader drinking, the slightest references to Frankie's past, this fic is almost entirely removed from the movie's canon (these characters are basically my paper dolls that I'm making do cute things<3), idiots in love, they tease each other, they go to a wedding, misunderstandings occur, but it all works out <3

“You’re bringing your own tissues this time, right?” Frankie called from where he sat at the edge of the bed. He’d slept in far worse places. But he could already feel new knots forming on top of the old ones in his back. Needless to say, he wasn’t looking forward to spending yet another night attempting to sleep on the dense hotel room mattress.

You replied from the bathroom, “Oh, yeah, don’t worry. I’m prepared.”

“You better be. Because you’re not using my tie to blow your nose again.”

If you were in the room, Frankie could’ve practically felt your glare burning a hole through him. But instead he only heard the clear exasperation in your tone when you answered, “I did not use your tie to blow my nose.”

“Might as well have…” he mumbled. Santi’s wedding had claimed that casualty. By the end of the ceremony you’d soaked his tie in tears and covered it with a fine layer of translucent powder from dabbing your face off. And as much as he teased, he hadn’t minded it. He hadn’t minded it any more than he’d minded the distant friends and relatives who’d assumed that you were his girlfriend. Which…wasn’t an insulting assumption by any means.

The next time – at Benny’s wedding – Frankie brought you tissues. He didn’t like to think about Benny’s wedding. But if there was one thing he was happy about, it was that he’d thought far enough ahead to bring them for you. He was glad to see your smile. To feel your arms wrap around him as you thanked him and told him he was such a sweetheart. He was also grateful for the Hawaiian sun; for the developing sunburn that had prevented you from seeing how much that one nickname made his cheeks flush in that moment.

Your head popped out of the bathroom doorway, your makeup only half done, to aim a smartass smile at him with your lined lips. “Hey, I like to think of it as a gift. You should too.”

“Your ability to cry at the drop of a hat?”

“You're damn right,” you said indignantly.

Frankie sighed, pushing his hair back for about the dozenth time. He then laid back on the bed and stared up at the popcorn ceiling. “If we’re lucky, this is the first and last time you’ll need to worry about packing some to begin with. Will’s the last stop on the wedding train.”

The thought almost made him misty eyed. Within a few hours, he’d be the last single man in his crew. The last one awake at the sleepover. Eyes so wide they were practically ablaze staring through the uncertainty of night. Unable to find sleep. Unable to believe he’d ever find it to begin with.

Your voice cut through his trance. “I wouldn’t be so sure. Maybe next year we’ll get an invite for Tom’s second wedding,” you teased.

Frankie rolled his eyes. At least he could take some sort of comfort in that. Redfly had tried out the whole settling down thing. And it just didn’t work. Frankie wished his buddies well, but he couldn’t help but feel deep down that they’d never be made for domesticity. They weren’t made for teary-eyed speeches and destination weddings.

“Don’t count on it,” he drawled.

“Don’t count on it,” you mimicked Frankie’s slow, gruff voice which earned a small laugh from him. “I’ll tell you what, I bet you that Ben’s best man speech isn’t going to be nearly as good as Will’s was.”

He attempted to recall what Will had even said only a few months prior. It had to have been good, the man was a public speaker, for Christ’s sake. He guessed, “That one was long, right?”

“Yeah…don’t you remember it? Frankie, were you even there?”

“I was there alright.” He laughed to mask the wince he wanted to let out. Then he cleared his throat, throwing out another vague guess, “But I seem to remember that by the end of it, he needed some damn tissues too.”

“If you had a shithead little brother who managed to get married before he could experience massive head trauma, you’d probably get a little choked up too.” You added more to yourself than to him, “God, Frankie, how do you forget a speech like that? It was fucking beautiful.”

There was a very high likelihood that he had forgotten. Frankie spent almost every day following that entire night trying to forget it. And he wondered how in the world you remembered it either considering how much you’d drank.

If you could remember what Will had said…you should’ve remembered what you’d said too, right? You, standing in the bathroom and observing yourself in the mirror as you combed through your lashes to separate them, had to have known what you said to him that night. Because he knew it. Whether he liked it or not, he had that particular speech memorized with the way it ran through his head.

Frankie had known you were in a tough spot. Hell, it was part of the reason why he’d brought you along; part of the reason why Benny had insisted Frankie take you.

She just got broken up with, Frankie had tried to reason.

Benny had merely smirked, Which is the exact reason why you should invite her out. Give her a chance to get fucked up. Spend the night with one of the bachelors. It’s the quintessential wedding experience.

Frankie couldn’t have even pretended to mask his disgust at the idea. But he couldn’t lie…bringing you along again sounded leagues above going alone.

And now, sometimes he wished he had toughed it out instead.

No matter how much he tried to forget, the details always flashed through his mind. The way your fingers ran through his hair. How your touch managed to stay so soft despite how completely out of it you were. But that’s how you’d always been with him. Even at his absolute worst points when he was a less than ideal man, you found some shred of decency inside him that you never hesitated to cradle and nurture.

Maybe that’s what had made those tangles form in his stomach; the idea that he was taking advantage of that kindness.

Because that wasn’t…you. You wouldn’t have done that in your right mind. If your boyfriend hadn’t just broken up with you. If you hadn’t just found out that the entire time Nick had been cheating on you with that woman from accounting in his office. If you hadn’t drank way too much. None of this would be happening if you weren’t at your absolute lowest.

So he wiped the slate clean. It’d almost always been easy to do that. To simply forget. But he should’ve known better by now. Those things he somehow managed to lock up always found a way to ooze out of the cracks in his facade.

There were a few times Frankie thought you might crack during the ceremony. Especially when Will read out his vows, because of course the guy went the extra mile, delivering them with that stern reverence that made him the kind of guy you wanted on your team.

But you didn’t cry. This time…you grabbed his hand. It almost didn’t occur to him that you had until Will kissed his now wife and you squeezed Frankie’s hand in excitement. For a moment, he wondered if you’d managed to get a drink in before the ceremony. You couldn’t have; the bar wasn’t supposed to open until afterwards. He knew it couldn’t have been an alcohol induced action but he was still afraid to acknowledge it.

So he kept as still as possible. Even when the ceremony ended and you began to pull him around the venue. Though he knew his hand was getting clammier with every minute that passed, he let you drag him around the little circles of friends and family of the bride and groom. He had checked out enough that he didn’t quite realize what he’d gotten himself into until you were bringing him to the dance floor and positioning his hands on your hips.

Only when you let go of his hand and placed your own on his shoulders did it strike him how similar this felt to that night at Benny’s wedding.

You spoke like you were treading thin ice. “That speech was…surprisingly alright.”

“And you didn’t cry,” he remarked equally as carefully.

“I didn’t cry!” you exclaimed.

“It would’ve been fine if you had.”

You shook your head, “That wasn’t the kind of speech you cry at. It was simple. Sweet. I liked it. Who would’ve thought Benny’d have it in him, right?”

“So what do you do for that kind of speech?” Frankie asked, raising an eyebrow.

“A polite clap. Maybe a cheer.”

“A cheer? Maybe you should’ve brought your pom poms instead of tissues.”

The way you scrunched up your nose into a playful grimace tugged at his heartstrings. Then you laughed, “Shut up.” God, he loved when you and him fell into this groove.

So he continued with the bit, “You should get some for Tom’s wedding. The guy deserves a whole damn squad if he gets all tied up again.”

“Thought you said I shouldn’t count on it?”

“If you’re gonna count on anyone getting married soon, it’s better if it was him.” Frankie clicked his tongue, “Not like I’m going off the market anytime soon.”

“Oh, Frankie, stop it.” Your smile dropped ever so slightly, eyebrows turned inward as you gazed at him with something akin to pity or sympathy; he wasn’t sure which was worse. “You have no idea what the future could bring.”

“Not a wedding, that’s for damn sure.”

Your expression only intensified. He recognized it well after the amount of times you’d talked him off a ledge. “You can’t just discount the possibility entirely,” you argued.

“I can and I will,” he said stubbornly.

You were quiet for a few seconds, “So you’re telling me you’ve never thought about it? I mean…who would your best man be?”

“I’m not answering that.”

Your lip quirks to the side of your face as you feign a contemplative look before concluding, “Probably Santi.”

“Look at you, you did it for me,” Frankie deadpanned.

“I could plan the whole damn thing for you, don’t test me.”

“Why’s that?”

This time you pressed your lips together. And Frankie swears he felt you stumble over your own feet ever so slightly; like he’d caught you off guard with the query. “Oh, you know…weddings usually aren’t those things that people are eager to plan.”

“But why would you specifically be planning it? Unless you’re–”

A beat passes before you break out into an incredulous grin. “You’d want me to marry you and plan our wedding? That’s a tall order. I’m afraid you’ll have to pick one or the other, sorry.”

Frankie chuckles. He let the remark pass. He always enjoyed this back and forth. How you and him had always been able to bounce off of each other. It was hard enough keeping up with some of the guys. But keeping up with women was a whole different story. He always seemed to be a few steps behind most of them. For some reason, your pace was just perfect. Your humor, your timing, it all clicked with his personality.

Just like you were prone to doing, you broke the silence with an awkward laugh and big eyes staring right into his. “So…which one do you pick?”

He almost didn’t catch the question; almost didn’t want to. “Hm?”

“Would you rather marry me or have me plan your wedding?” you clarify.

“Come on, you know I’m not answering that.”

And the tide shifted once more. Just as quick as you were to smile, your expression melted into one of muted mortification. Like you’d just tilted your hand a little too far

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you mumbled to yourself. Your hands slid off his shoulders and you wiped them off on your dress before wrapping them around yourself. That was when you retreated, leaving him standing there looking like more of a fool than he ever thought he had.

He stared after you for a few seconds, struggling to process what had just happened when it finally registered.

Soon he was following after you. How you knew to navigate the venue so quickly, he couldn’t be bothered to wonder. All he knew by the time he got to the lobby of the wedding hall was that something was wrong.

He spotted you rushing down the sidewalk as he stepped outside. In all his exasperation, all he could get out was, “Hey, what the fuck?”

The cool night air of the fall settled in and billowed around him like a curse. He wasn’t quite sure if the deep chill that ran down his spine was from the weather or the sight of you turning around, eyes already wet with tears that you were desperately trying to blink away.

Your voice came out hoarse as you shouted back, “You’re asking me what the fuck? No, Frankie, what the fuck is up with you? I kissed you…God…how many months ago? And you don’t say a fucking word. I keep talking about Benny’s wedding and you keep acting like none of it fucking happened.”

Frankie threw his hands up. “You were drunk. I don’t even remember how many fucking drinks you had.”

“I had a couple virgin cocktails,” you scoffed. The admittance wasn’t stubborn. But it did come with a tone of disdain, “I wasn’t drunk.”

“You wouldn’t–” he stopped himself. You wouldn’t have done any of that unless you were drunk.

“You acted like you were drunk.”

You shook your head. “I was having fun. I was with you and I was having fun, you dumbass.” Then you sighed, gaze darting towards the street nervously. “And I woke up the morning after and I thought that…I thought you would’ve at least said something. I thought you would’ve asked me how I felt. I thought you would’ve had the decency to at least check in. But you were just…you were completely fine.”

“I wasn’t fine…”

“And now you want to crack jokes about marrying me?”

Frankie wagged a finger in your direction, an almost childish defense. “You brought that shit up first.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Frankie, that doesn’t matter,” you muttered before raising your voice once more. “What matters is that I kissed you. I looked into your eyes and told you I fucking loved you and you said nothing.”

Hearing your voice say it again, even filled with such frustration, such anguish, he could help the way something fluttered in his chest. And even still, he shoved it down deeper than he ever had before.

“Because I wasn’t going to hurt you the way that Nick did.” He watched your gaze soften. “It would’ve killed me to hurt you like that.”

With the sounds of the city passing you both by, Frankie caught one of the worst sights possible. The tear that rolled down your cheek. And then the few more that followed, all shamelessly continuing their desolate stride down your neck. How you unclenched your jaw and unfolded all of the pain you’d kept since that summer into a few words. “You hurt me worse than Nick ever did.”

Your whole being compacted in on itself once more, recoiling from the vulnerable admission with a breathless conclusion. “Fuck you, Frankie. Fuck you.”

There it all was. And all he could think about was that night at Benny’s wedding. The night you told him you were glad Nick was gone. The night you smiled softly at him, thumb running over his bottom lip as you whispered.

I love you.

They were such fragile words. Words he hadn’t wanted to put any weight on, lest they shatter from beneath him and leave him falling face down in his own hopes. Because a small part of him had almost always hoped it was you. He never let himself truly believe the idea for long. But, God, he wanted to…could he still? He squeezed his eyes shut, holding back his own tears.

“I’m sorry.” His voice trembled in time with his hands. And he’d fully come to terms that it wasn’t just the cool air. He wasn’t a stranger to fearing for his life, with the work he’d once done, it was a given. But this wasn’t that. This was different. It was a fear of something a little more abstract. Because following this risk, there wouldn’t be oblivion. On the other side of his eyelids was a world where you either forgave him or you brushed him away. He certainly believed he deserved the latter with the way he’d been. But he’d never know unless he took the plunge.

When he opened his eyes again again he was grateful to find you still standing in front of him. He wouldn’t let this night steal his courage again. He repeated, voice firmer than before and charged with certainty, “I’m sorry.” Then finally replied, “I love you too. I love you.”

You gave him those hope filled eyes once more. He saw how it slowly morphed into joy; the kind that carried peace. You stepped closer, fingertips brushing against the material of his jacket as you reached for him.

Frankie closed the gap without any hesitation, his own hand moving to cradle your face as he moved in to kiss you. None of his recollections of the first time he’d done it could’ve ever lived up to the second one. There was no dread, no looming guilt, no fear. Only excitement and hope.

“If I could only pick one. I’d marry you. Any day…I’d marry you,” he mumbled against your lips.

You pulled back. And with his eyes still closed, he felt you smile as you answered, “Maybe I’ll ask you again next year. For now, let’s have this.”

“I can handle that,” he smiled then melted into you once more. And already it was something he knew he could easily get used to. Next time you asked, he’d be ready.

#˚ʚ meda writes ɞ˚#spacesisterssecretvalentine #frankie morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x y/n #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fic

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katiexpunk · 6 months

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Dream of Me | Pairing Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: In the dark of the night, temptation beckons. You make a silent vow to share your secret with Joel when he wakes tomorrow, but for now, you find yourself unable to resist this opportunity, much like the pulse between your thighs. Rating: 18+ Minors DNI | W/C: ~2.4K Warnings: Joel isn't aware he is fucking reader, so I'm labeling this as non-con, although I could also make a case that this is dub-con. Somnophilia. Unprotected P in V. Creampie. Sleeping bag sex. It’s basically PWP. There is an age gap, but it's not specified (make it your own). No use of Y/N, no use of daddy. For immersability, the reader has no major physical descriptions/graphic is for vibe purposes only. A/N: April 2024 Update: ya'll ever go back and read some of your first stories and cringe? Yeah, well I did. I decided this one needed some love, so I've added in about an extra 1k. As a bonus surprise, I've continued this story. How will Joel react when he finds out what he's done? Part 2 is linked below. Masterlist | Notifications | Read on AO3

In the shadowed quiet of the night, a soft moan threads through the stillness, stirring you from the depths of sleep. It's a moment suspended in time, where the fog of unconsciousness slowly lifts, allowing you to piece together the unexpected reality you've found yourself in.

Pressed closely against you is Joel, his presence unmistakable. The breadth of his frame envelopes your back, his thick arms encircling your waist. You're both lying on your side, entwined in a way that suggests intimacy, yet underlined with a hint of awkwardness that comes from unintended closeness.

You and Joel have been sharing a sleeping bag for the past couple of weeks since yours decided to grow legs and walk off to who the fuck knows where.

It’s mid-April, and while your skin is sun warm during the day, the nights are a different story. Once the sun dips below the horizon and the embers of the fire fade, you crave a warmth only he can seem to provide. Skin on skin, bodies pinned together under the nylon.

If you had it your way, you’d go to sleep in nothing but your bra and underwear, but Joel was quick to squash that idea.

“You’re asking for trouble, sweetheart.”

“Oh come on, Joel. It’s no different than a swimsuit.”

“The fuck it is, it’s bad enough that we have to share a bag, can’t have you half-naked on top of it.”

“Fine,” you sigh.

“Fine.” He thought that was the end of it, until —

“Can you at least take off your jeans? They’re dirty.”

It took some negotiation on that one, but he finally came around. Joel knows that you have a crush on him, but he’s never acted on it and swears to himself that he never will. You deserve more, better, anything but the man he’s become. But god, you make it fucking hard. Hard for him to behave, hard for him to keep his hands to himself, but above all, you just make him hard.

He’s usually good about finding time, even if it’s just minutes, to take care of himself. But it’s been over a week, and the war he rages with his cock every night is one he’s starting to lose. Each sunset ushers in another round of relentless conflict, drawing him closer and closer to the edge of temptation.

In the day it’s easy to lock away the thoughts of all the things he’d like to do to you under lock and key in his mind, to focus on the tasks at hand, to focus on keeping you safe, keeping you alive.

And it works, because you think all he sees you as is something delicate and fragile, innocent, but his cock hard at your back has you feeling anything but.

His fingers dig into the meat of your hips and clench around your pelvis. He’s not putting much weight into it, but his hold is still strong enough to leave imprints on your skin.

A deep groan vibrates through his chest, followed by a needy whine that goes straight to your core. Joel moves closer like he’s trying to absorb you into his body. His weight and the jerky movements of his hips are enough to force your body to roll over onto your belly. His hips start grinding hard against your ass like he’s trying to get deeper, closer.

Another breathy moan weaves itself between a snore and a sentence murmured in half-sleep, your name lingering on the edge of coherence.

Is this really happening right now? You pinch yourself just to be sure.

Joel nuzzles closer to your neck, burying his face in your hair. You feel his breath hot on your back, the warmth of his lips gently parted on your skin. He nibbles at your shoulder, causing a sharp twinge of pain to run through you, straight to your pussy. Your walls clench harder around nothing, and your inner thighs start to feel sticky from your arousal.

He feels so strong lying on top of you like this, just taking whatever pleasure he can from you. You know this is wrong, but it excites you way more than it should, to be used like this without him even knowing. You’re sure that he would be horrified if he knew how he was treating you right now. The thought makes you even wetter.

“Fuck,” you moan, not loud enough to wake him.

It would be so easy to just spread your legs a tiny bit, to reach down and move your panties to the side, to drag the fabric of his underwear down and let him have his way with you.

But that would be wrong, stupid, even.

This is wrong.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing and you know he’ll hate himself for it in the morning, but fuck, you want him so much. Even if he’s not consciously aware of what he’s doing, you can’t help but feel like he wants it to.

The opportunity to feel him like this might never arise again.

The protective, in-control you know isn’t home right now, instead the touch-starved, needy dark passenger you know lives within him has come out to play, and you want so badly to be wrecked by him.

The risks outweigh the benefits, but fuck it —

You slowly shimmy and drag the thin fabric of your panties down to your thighs. If he wakes up you could always play the innocent, pretend that he did all this while you were still sleeping, but you already know you wouldn’t be able to lie to him like that; even if you did, he’d see right through it.

It’s one thing doing this, taking advantage of Joel’s wet dream to satisfy yourself, but you will not lie to him about it. You’ll tell him the truth when he wakes up. You will.

You think you’re going to have to drag Joel’s underwear down, but much to your surprise, you realize he’s wearing the kind with the entrance at the front. Thank fuck for that.

As he continues to grind against you, you reach your hand back and in through the slip in the fabric and feel the soft silk of his skin, the coarse hair that rests at the base of him. You can’t see it, but from the feel of it, you can tell he’s big. So much so that you wonder if he’ll even fit through the opening of the fabric. It takes some doing, but you manage to make it work. You position his cock at a good angle, and feel his precum, all warm and sticky, beading at the tip of him.

It’s a dizzying feeling, to feel his bare cock pressed up against you, so desperate to find a home inside your warm cunt.

You pause, listening for any sign that he’s going to wake at the new sensation. Once you’re confident he’s still in dreamland, you spread your legs and adjust your hips under him, lining his cock up just right with your dripping folds.

The head of his cock only barely manages to slip past your outer lips, searching for that place where the resistance will give in and be replaced with pleasure.

Suddenly it all feels too real, and you have a brief moment of reconsideration. Just as you’re about to find a way to shy away from under him and slip your underwear back on, a deep groan reverberates through his chest. It’s throaty and needy, like his body can sense your hesitation, and is doing everything in its power to convince you to give in.

You can’t help it. You just can’t stop yourself. The sounds he’s making, the way he’s holding onto you like his life depends on it, makes it impossible to deny him, and yourself, much longer.

“Please don’t wake up Joel, please don’t wake up…” you silently whisper before your legs slide to the edges of the sleeping bag, permitting just enough space for you to fully bare your dripping cunt to him.

The new position allows Joel’s hips to move closer to yours and the mushroom tip of his cock slides right up against your wet and waiting hole. It presses in about an inch before he pulls back with a whine. He thrusts a few more times, but every time he never sinks deeper than the first inch.

You gently bow your back, tilting your hips up ever so slightly, and reach your hand back, guiding him in. You know it won’t be hard for him to glide in with how wet you are, all he needs is to find the right position. Using your fingers, you press on the side of his cock, and a second later he’s bottoming out with a quick snap of his hips.

“Joel, Fuck —” you moan, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. The stretch of him is intense. A moan escapes your lips, and you know you’re not going to get a moment to adjust to his size. If he was awake, he might be a bit more considerate, give you a second to accommodate the thickness of him, but he’s not. You muffle your sounds by biting into the flesh on your forearm, willing the subtle taste of salt and dirt to distract you from the dull burn you feel below.

The jerky grinding snaps of his hips return at full force. There’s no finesse to the way he fucks you, no gentleness or soft caresses – he’s using you for his pleasure, blissfully unaware of the bruises he littering all over your shoulders and hips.

Your only function to him right now is to be a tool for his pleasure, to be a hole for him, and you couldn’t be more turned on by the thought, even if you tried.

“Yes Joel, fuck, fuck me like you mean it,” you encourage him softly.

You know he can’t hear you, but the words come naturally, making you feel powerful; like you’ve played some role in getting him to this point. He’s always in control, always on, never letting anything slip. And thank god he is, it’s a necessity of survival, a skill you don’t have. But right now you’re relishing in the fact that you feel like you’ve gotten him to be like this, that you’re the one calling the shots for once.

You’re not just being used, you’re allowing him to use you.

It’s not going to last long. You know that.

Sometimes you hear him jacking off next to you in the middle of the night, but god knows how long it’s been since he’s had the warmth of a pussy.

You start to feel his body tremble and tense. If he were awake right now, you’d hope he’d be cursing your name and trying to hold on until you had come, but he doesn’t. He never slows down and never loosens his grip on you, he just continues to take and take and take.

He slams himself into you for a final time, flooding milky white ropes of his cum inside your walls. He’s deep, every inch of him is inside of you, and the thought of him so deep, holding all of his cum inside of you, causes the coil in your belly to tighten even more. When he’s done he doesn’t roll off you, instead, he goes limp, almost like he’s fallen further into his sleep state.

His cock doesn’t disappear instantly either and that’s what makes you silently curse again. You didn’t get to finish and your pussy is clenching around him desperately. God, you want so badly to come.

His hips still grind against your ass with the aftershocks of his pleasure, providing small pangs of arousal that keep you on the edge, but not enough to get you to where you so desperately want to go. His body is dead weight against you.

Frustrated doesn’t even begin to describe how you are feeling. And to top of off, you’re lightheaded from the lack of oxygen your lungs can take in, and your heart is thrumming in your chest.

You’re so close. So fucking close.

You manage to shift just enough for your hand to find a way to your dripping pussy. You press a couple of fingers to your clit and tilt your hips up, making Joel’s softening, but still semi-hard cock slide deeper into you.

You begin the slow climb towards the cliff of your orgasm, slowly fucking yourself on Joel’s cock and rubbing your clit. It doesn’t feel as great as when he was thrusting into you, but his cum trapped inside you makes the slide of his cock so much more pleasurable against your g-spot. A little bit of him dribbles out with each thoughtless thrust, adding to the wetness that makes your fingers circle easily over your aching bud.

Your mouth once again finds your forearm as you get closer, the perfect gag to muffle your sweet whimpers. Your walls clench tighter around Joel, making him whimper from overstimulation, but you don’t care. He got his, and now it’s your turn.

You work tight circles on your clit and you finally feel the pressure build to a point that it has to release. Your orgasm blossoms inside of you, and you let the undertow of pleasure lull you deeper into the ground, melting under the weight of him.

Seconds turn to minutes, and you feel sleep make a slow creep up into your fucked out muscles. The warmth of Joel still on top of you, the pressure of his body on yours, and his cum slowly dripping out of you, lulls you nearly to sleep.

You’ll tell him tomorrow, you think to yourself, moments before giving in and letting your heavy eyelids fall closed.

But you have a feeling he’ll figure it out for himself.

PART 2

Tagging some authors/moots who have inspired me through your writing or sweet disposition this week, thanks for giving me the horny boost I needed to get some stuff out. @toxicanonymity @josephquinnswhore @sydneyinacoma @strang3lov3 @endlessthxxghts @cavillscurls @fettuccin-e

To be notified when I post fics, follow @katiexpunkupdates

#joel miller x female reader #joel miller tlou #somno k!nk #sleeping bag #joel miller fanfic #pedro stories #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #we all love a good one sleeping bag trope #pedrohub

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pandorasprongs · 11 months

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JAMIE TARTT | call it what you want.

PAIRING: jamie tartt x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 5.7k

SUMMARY: reader's family comes to visit london and she ends up having to hide her relationship with jamie till the final game of the season.

WARNINGS: language, innuendos

A/N: this is technically a sequel to my comfort crowd story that was my first one about jamie, but it can be read as a standalone too! would recommend reading it first since it gives a little backstory to the garden and reader's past relationship. also, you'll probably be able to tell that i rewatched match scene in the finale for a certain scene AHAHAHA i really wanted to show jamie's more affectionate side, so there's def a few cheesy scenes in here! the title is taken from 'call it what you want' by taylor swift

It's midnight when you hear a knock on your door. Any reasonable person would've ignored it and/or hid in case it was some axe murderer. Of course, you knew it wasn't a murderer, just your boyfriend.

"I thought I said you couldn't stay over tonight?" You say when you open the door to reveal Jamie, whose expression quickly turns into a pouty face.

"I know, but I missed you," You playfully roll your eyes, yet are unable to stop your smile. Christ, he could be annoying, but he could also be pretty sweet. Those two balanced each other out.

"Fine, come in, but you can’t sleep here," You take his hand and bring him inside your flat. He plants a kiss on your temple and the two of you settle down on the couch, which for you was a deserved reward.

The reason why you were up so late despite having to work in the morning was that you had been trying to make your place spotless before your brother and his family came to visit the next day. They had already been in England for a few days but were only coming to London now to visit you and to attend the final Richmond match of the season.

"How's the cleaning going?" Jamie asks, as he wraps one arm around you and reaches for the remote in the other one.

"Took five hours, but at least it’s done." You sigh as you settle closer to Jamie. Even if you had warned him not to come over tonight, you still appreciated his presence.

When you started dating, you never expected the football player to be so clingy, but not even a day after your first date, he was already hanging around you every chance he got.

You couldn’t even hide it from the team because the moment Sam caught the two of you arriving at the clubhouse together, that was it for you guys. They were happy for the two of you, though sometimes too happy, especially whenever you had to call Jamie for a physical and they automatically assumed it was code for something.

"How was practice?"

"Good. The team's having a hard time mastering the start though. The timing's always off," He explains about the surprise goodbye performance they were doing for Ted and Beard.

They had been planning it from the moment they heard the news the two of them were leaving for Kansas at the end of the season. Well, right after they all finished processing — through crying, screaming, protesting, and the like — the news.

"You guys will do fine," you take the remote from his hand and start looking for a certain movie. "Plus, even if you fuck it up, I’m sure they’ll love it regardless." That gets Jamie to chuckle and you feel the vibrations from his chest.

"How about this? Let's watch the Sound of Music, so you can try and copy one of the von Trapp siblings!" You suggest as you press play on the movie. Jamie doesn't protest and simply wraps his other arm around you too.

You look up at your boyfriend and suddenly feel a pang of guilt. "I'm really sorry,"

You don't need to explain further because Jamie instantly understands. He kisses you on your forehead, "Stop saying that. I know you don't want your family to know you're dating such a talented football player because you're afraid one of them will try and steal me from you."

You remove yourself from Jamie before playfully pushing his head. "Yeah, that's exactly right." The both of you laugh as Jamie pulls you in again.

You had already explained why you were hiding it from them back when you found out they were visiting. You had already been dating Jamie for a couple of months, but not a single person back home knew.

Most of your family knew about the disastrous way your last relationship ended and you were sure they'd be extra protective about the next guy. As much as you loved being with Jamie and knew he wasn’t that guy anymore, you knew that your football-obsessed family was aware of who he used to be. Stories of the multiple scandals, hook-ups, and rumors of unsportsmanlike conduct throughout the years were the exact reason you were so afraid to tell them. Those were in the past and you knew that, but you weren’t so sure how to convince your family of that, too.

Jamie, true to form as the prick he is, completely understood and never tried to pressure you to tell them. He was even the one to tell the whole team that your brother was coming to visit and they had to, in his words, shut the fuck up about your relationship.

This was probably the last night for a few days you two could comfortably spend together, so you didn't really want to force him away. The two of you just sat there watching a Julie Andrews classic where you'd occasionally hear Jamie sing along to the musical numbers.

It was around 2 am when the movie finished and now, he definitely had to go home. Even then, you had a hard time separating yourself from Jamie, but your rational brain was telling you it would be bad for a secret relationship if your family caught him in the apartment.

"See you tomorrow, yeah?" Jamie says as he opens the front door.

Instead of responding, you plant a kiss on his lips, catching him by surprise. He's quick to wrap his arms around your waist as he reciprocates it. You separate and finally, answer him. "Yup, see you tomorrow." Jamie gives you one last hug and a kiss on the cheek before he leaves your apartment.

You look around your place for a second, seeing if there's anything you need to fix up before tomorrow. Once you assess that it's as clean as it can be, you go to your room and catch some much-needed sleep.

——

When you hear a knock at your door, you drag yourself out of your bed and to the living room. Before you can even twist the doorknob, you hear a voice on the other side, "You should be awake by now!"

"I am!" you respond, as you open the door. You're greeted by the sight of your older brother Frank, your sister-in-law Denise, and their son Gregory.

"Hello, family," you say drowsily, as the three of them envelope you with a hug. Once they let go, you lead them inside your apartment. "How's your vacation so far?"

"Oh, amazing. I get why you moved to Europe," Denise answers, as she looks around your flat. "They have you set up pretty nice here, huh?" She plops down on your couch and pulls Gregory down next to her.

"Yup," you head to the kitchen to make the three of them some drinks. "So, what do you two plan to do while Gregory comes to work with me?" They had already told you ages ago that Gregory wanted to visit the clubhouse badly, but you knew it was also free babysitting.

"Sightseeing mostly," your brother replies, grabbing his cup of tea from you. When you take a seat next to Denise and your nephew, the former leans into you and whispers, "And get into places where 18 and unders can't."

You chuckle and she plants a kiss on her son's head. As they enjoy their drinks, the three of you start catching up. You steer clear of any questions about relationships and instead focus on you being a physical therapist for a football team.

"Do their feet smell?" Gregory asks and you nod your head.

"Extremely, so always remember to wash your feet, okay?" You reply and the 8-year-old gives you a thumbs up and drinks his hot chocolate.

The topic then shifts to the upcoming final game between Richmond and West Ham. You managed to get the 3 of them tickets, — thank you, Higgins, — which they said was the perfect way to end their trip.

"I'll get you some shirts today, too. Gregory's gonna help me pick them out, yeah?" You turn to your nephew who is more than excited to do so.

"Nice," your brother reacts. "I'd appreciate an Obisanya one."

"Yup, and I want a Colin Hughes one if they're available. And of course, this one here," Denise pulls Gregory into a hug, "wants the captain's jersey."

"Will do," you make a mental note, before excusing yourself to get ready for work.

You’re freshening up in your bathroom when you hear your nephew call out to you. "Mom's asking if you have an extra blanket!"

"Check my room!" You hear him go to the room across and as he passes you again, he shouts a quick 'Thank you!'

Once you’re done getting changed, you head back to the living room. All three of them were ready to head out, so you lock up and hail a taxi to the AFC Richmond clubhouse. On the drive there, the seatbelt was practically the only thing stopping Gregory from bouncing up and down in the car.

When you get there, you find some members of the team along with the Director of Football Operations standing front and center near the entrance of the building. You thank the driver and grab Gregory by the hand. You say goodbye to his parents, and since they’re so excited to have some alone time, they don't even bother looking up at the scene in front of them.

"What's all this?" You say as you approach the entrance. Gregory, despite his excitement, was now walking more cautiously, lagging behind you. When they hear your voice, the team finally settles down.

"Well, a little birdie told me that you'd be bringing someone special to work today and so we decided to assemble the Richmond Welcome Committee for him." You stare at all of them in disbelief and your smile grows wider. You find Jamie in the group, whose smug expression tells you exactly who it was.

"Hello there, Gregory," Higgins turns to your nephew and sticks his hand out, who is still hiding behind you. You move to the side and crouch down next to him, so he feels more at ease.

"Hi," your nephew finally speaks up and shakes his hand.

Higgins then bends down to the eye level of your nephew. "Welcome to AFC Richmond! We prepared a little gift for you if that's okay."

Gregory nods his head. Higgins and the rest of the team start doing a drumroll and move out of the way to reveal Isaac, with a personalized jersey. You exhale in disbelief and turn to your nephew.

"What do you say, Greg?" Said nephew was too awestruck by his favorite player to even move.

After a few seconds, he finally ran up to Isaac and hugged his favorite player. The team captain was now the one in shock, but slowly reciprocated it. Gregory then lets go and accepts the jersey from him. The rest of the team moves to crowd the boy and start talking with him. Almost immediately, your nephew transforms from his former terrified state to the life of the party.

You moved to the side to give them space and thank Higgins, who just shook his head. "It's no problem," he started. "Henry doesn't come here that often anymore, so it was nice to do this for another kid." You smile, before noticing Jamie going toward you.

"And here's the little birdie now," Higgins jokes before excusing himself. You see the team busy entertaining Gregory, so you take the chance to plant a kiss on Jamie's cheek.

"If only the tabloids knew how sweet the striker of AFC Richmond could be." You whisper afterward.

"I know, I'm a great not-boyfriend." He continues to show his smug smirk and before you can reply, you notice that your nephew is starting to look for you.

You put enough distance between you and Jamie to seem platonic, "Greg?" You catch his attention and see him already wearing his jersey over his shirt.

"Can we go inside now?" He asks and you nod your head.

You turn back to the "welcome committee," and thank them. "This was so great." They wave goodbye to the both of you — with Isaac giving Gregory a high-five — as they head to the field for training.

Once you're alone again, Gregory turns to you. "That was so much fun!" You laugh at the boy's reaction as you settle down in your office.

For about 2 hours, you had to deal with the boy asking you about every detail of the papers in front of you. Vitals, size charts, diagrams, he was curious about all of it. A part of you hoped that he'd want to talk about something, anything else, but you soon regret wishing that.

"Auntie (Y/N), is Jamie Tartt your favorite player?" You try and hide your shock at the question. He's 8 years old and it's probably an innocent question.

"Yes, he is." You answer honestly and turn your chair to the treatment table where Gregory was lying down. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, I saw you talking to him earlier." He observes, sitting up and looking like he's about to launch into a whole monologue. "And I saw a lot of his jerseys in your room too, so I thought you must be a fan. But you work here, so are you guys close?"

Maybe you should have closed the closet door before sending him in there. You try and keep your calm. "Kind of. I mean I'm close to all of the players, in a way."

If Gregory thinks anything is off, he doesn't show it. Instead, he nods his head and goes back to his comic book as you continue to work on some reports for the players.

Once you finish, you bring Gregory to watch the morning training. His parents were going to pick him up during lunch, so you only had to keep up the charade for just a little longer. The team was doing a few drills when you got there and Ted spots the two of you approaching. He immediately runs over and greets, "Is this the little guy? Hi, I'm Ted."

What was it with dads and shaking little kid's hands? Gregory, already getting used to meeting such famous football personnel, took his hand and shook it as firmly as an 8-year-old could. Jamie was too busy with his drills to notice you there and you’ve never been more relieved about that.

After spending the next hour watching the game from the stands, it was time for lunch and you headed to the car park to find Frank and Denise. You smile at them and hand off Gregory who started telling his parents about his brand-new personalized kit.

You feel your phone vibrate and take it out to find a message from Jamie. secret boyfriend bought secret lunch for a secret date in your office ;)

You chuckle at the message and send him a quick reply before hearing Gregory mention your name. "Auntie's friends with all the players, especially Jamie Tartt. He's her favorite and they're close."

Oh, this child is going to ruin you. You try and stop yourself from overreacting, though you instead end up letting out an exaggerated laugh. "Yeah, I mentioned him being my favorite player, but he seemed to forget that I said I'm also close with all the players, not just Jamie."

Frank seemed to buy it, but you can tell that Denise was starting to pick up on things. She could always tell when you were lying, even before you left for London. After you had broken up with Matt, it took one call before she realized what happened. So it was only a matter of time till she figured it out, but you had hoped you could delay it till after their trip. You wave to the three of them as their taxi left the car park.

You headed back to your office to find Jamie already devouring his pasta. "Hey, I thought this was supposed to be a date?" His head snaps towards you with noodles still hanging out of his mouth.

"I didn't know how long you'd take and I need my carbs." You roll your eyes as you go to the seat across from him. Jamie puts his plate down and brings out yours.

The two of you start talking about the upcoming game this Sunday, to which you bring up your usual 'night before' ritual.

"I thought your family was gonna stay at your flat that night?" Jamie asks, but you just shrug.

"I'll find a way to escape. No way you're going to the garden without me. I'm your good luck charm, Mr. Tartt." You lean towards the football player and playfully narrow your eyes at him. He breaks into a smile and takes your hand into his.

"Yeah, you are." He says softly, and your smile starts to fade. Jamie would never say it out loud, certainly not in the clubhouse where his teammates could hear him, but his nerves always reached an all-time high before a big game. Even after the Man City match and the talk with his mum, you noticed he still felt uneasy in the days leading up to this one.

He was good at hiding it from most people, but over the months, you figured out the small tells that showed he wasn't feeling his best. That's one of the reasons Dr. Sharon suggested he find a safe space, one where he could collect himself before a game, especially like the game on Sunday.

"Hey," You get him to look back at you and squeeze his hand tighter. "You and the whole team are going to dominate. You've already guaranteed a spot in the Champions League, so you’re set for next season. Plus, your beautiful and frankly, awesome girlfriend is gonna be there in the dugout cheering you on."

Jamie pulls you in for a quick kiss as a thank you before you start to fix up the table. He then suggests a rather inappropriate after-lunch activity — "Ay! Call it a motivational activity," — and you have to physically push him out the door for his afternoon practice.

——

It's the night before the match and you were currently arguing with your brother about the sleeping situation.

"Frank, I'll be fine. There's three of you, it's a king-sized bed, and you know I love couches." This time, he gives in. You watch him disappear into your room and after five minutes, you start heading out.

You go down to find a parked car outside, with its owner leaning on the side of it scrolling through his phone. Since you had dinner with family and he got a drink with Roy, the two of you had planned to meet up later than usual.

"Told you I still knew how to sneak out." You say to him, and the moment his eyes land on you, his expression seems to relax. You approach him and ask, "How was hanging out with Roy?"

"Weird, but good," he answered as the two of you got into the car. "Told me he was proud of me."

"That's nice of him. After all those training sessions and him barging on both our doors early morning, you deserve it." You’re reminded of when Roy came to your flat at 4 am after he realized that Jamie wasn't at his own house, which ended with you scolding the coach about it.

You didn't want to make a big deal of it, but you knew how much Jamie appreciated hearing that from someone he looked up to since childhood. Especially with their history back when Jamie first joined the team.

He continued to tell you about what went down, even mentioning how he convinced Roy to go to Keeley that night and finally ask her out again. Though, he admitted he partly did that was so they could finish earlier and he could see you.

You get to the garden and despite visiting it almost every week, you’re still amazed at its beauty. You remember the first time he brought you there before you were even dating. You had been so touched that Jamie was willing to share this place with you that you ended up kissing him right then and there.

Ever since then, you ended up going with him before games, even if the two of you would just sit there in silence and simply take in the surroundings. That's exactly what was happening tonight, with you and Jamie sitting on a bench and just observing the garden.

After a while, you took the chance to look at Jamie without him noticing. He was always the most calm here and you could tell it from his side profile alone. His jaw was relaxed, his eyes were closed and he was breathing steadily.

You suddenly get the urge to admit something. "I'll tell Frank and Denise tomorrow." Jamie looks at you as you repeat, "I'm telling them about us tomorrow, after the game."

The football player breaks into a smile, and you can't help but mirror it. If the two of them could only get a glimpse of the Jamie you knew, who was thoughtful, enthusiastic, and truly kind-hearted, they wouldn't even care about all the dumb stories of the past.

After a little while longer, Jamie drives you home and you give him a quick goodbye kiss before heading back to your flat. You try to be as quiet as possible, turning the knob ever so slowly. You soon realized you didn't have to, as you hear someone clear their throat. You open the door to find Denise sitting on the couch in her pajamas and you freeze. "You went out?"

"Yes," you finally managed to croak out, as you closed the door behind you and leaned on it. "Wanted some fresh air."

"Fresh air? From the car I just saw you get out of?" Denise crosses her arms and you accept defeat. You say nothing as your sister-in-law asks, "Who's the guy?"

"Jamie Tartt," you admit, and her eyes almost pop out of her head.

"Oh shit, you are dating him. I really thought Gregory was just exaggerating things." You roll your eyes and join her on the couch.

You quickly plead, "Please don't tell Frank yet. I promise I’ll tell him after the match. You know, just in case he gets an urge to do bodily harm to my boyfriend."

"Come on, you know he wouldn't actually do that." You tilt your head. She adds, "He probably wouldn't. But fine, I'll keep it from him." You sigh in relief until she starts giving you a look. "So, Jamie Tartt, huh?"

You groan. "Oh God, can we not do this right now? What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing! I just didn't think you'd go for a guy like him. You know, more laidback with a slight douchy vibe."

"He is not a douche!" You're quick to defend Jamie, but now Denise narrows her eyes at you. "Not anymore. He was the one who planned that jersey thing for Greg. Would a douche do something like that?"

"Okay, okay, I believe you. He doesn’t seem like the prick from before." Denise holds her hands up in surrender. "But, I only know that because of how you're acting now." She nudges you on the shoulder and you tilt your head.

"Look, you just seem happier, lighter. Much better than when you were with Matt. I was never going to admit it, but you should’ve ended things after college. Nothing was too toxic about your relationship, but you always looked like you were holding something back."

It was true. It took a few months of not being with him anymore to realize just how many red flags he had. Yes, he was smart, polite, and always knew exactly what to say, but he was also the first to criticize you when you didn't live up to his “standard.” You had convinced yourself that he was only trying to make you better, but in reality, he was just an ass.

Being with Jamie is what convinced you of that. He got you out of your comfort zone to enjoy things, without ever making it feel like he was pressuring you. You did the same for him too, and instead of pushing back like Matt always did, Jamie would actually listen to what you had to say and cared what you thought.

You explain all of that to Denise and at the end of it, you're sure she's starting to see why you fell for Jamie in the first place. "I'm glad you're happy."

You hug your sister-in-law tightly before you both start getting tired. Everyone had to get up early tomorrow, so it was best to get some rest before then.

You're already lying down and tucked into the couch, but you grab your phone and send a quick message to Jamie.

i hope you're sleeping because this is for when you wake up tomorrow. good luck and i know you'll be the best fucking player on the field!

You hit the send button before returning your phone to the table and drifting off to sleep.

——

You had planned on getting to the clubhouse earlier than usual. You had to prepare for the match and your family didn’t want to push through a bunch of people to get to their seats.

But even then, there was already a crowd around the building. Maybe it was because this was your first time working here with the team making it to the finals, but you've never seen that many AFC Richmond fans present.

You had separated from the three of them once they got their tickets and insisted they could find their seats on their own. Because of all the chaos of getting ready and setting up with the whole crowd, you hadn't gotten a chance to check if Jamie had replied or even look for him.

It was only when Will showed up at the dugout saying that Jamie was looking for you did you see him for the first time today.

"I've been waiting for my good luck kiss," is how he greets you and you can only laugh as you embrace him. He met you outside of the locker room, so you avoided all the whistles and 'oohs' from his teammates.

You give him a quick kiss before telling him about last night. You could see his relief when he realized that your sister-in-law did approve of him, which you almost felt guilty about.

Jamie Tartt, world-renowned football player, was nervous about what a relative of yours thought about him.

"I'll tell Frank later. And, if you guys win the game, maybe he won't come after you and injure your other ankle." You remind him and he chuckles, but your straight face is enough for him to take it seriously.

"Shit. I guess we do have to win."

After hearing Ted asking everyone to huddle up, you separate from Jamie and the two of you join the crowd inside the locker room. You with the rest of the physical therapists and Jamie with the players.

You had to admit, you were a bit nervous for the game. You knew the team was doing great, but after their crying session right before the match, you were worried they'd be too teary-eyed to make it through. And in the first half, you were right to be. Despite their efforts, West Ham was ahead much to every Richmond supporter’s dismay.

But after whatever happened in the locker room, they seemed to be picking it up. After those 3 misses, you and the rest of the people in the dugout were ecstatic when Jamie finally scored.

But then it led to a whole different issue. Now, West Ham was focused on marking Jamie. From both a personal and professional standpoint, you were worried. Jamie's ankle could still easily be injured after what happened at Man City and Richmond would lose what was called "their central cog."

You were grasping your medical bag as the game continued, ready at any moment to rush over there. You flinched when Jamie fell to the ground, but when the referee called for a penalty, you knew this was one of his tricks and you sighed in relief.

He looks at you with one of his signature smirks as he's pulled up by Sam. You playfully shake your head and roll your eyes, as the teams get ready for the kick.

And thank God Isaac was able to get it in the net. Well, through it? You could feel Gregory's excitement over it, even if you weren't sure where they were in the crowd.

After eavesdropping on Rupert Mannion ordering his manager to "take out" Jamie, you felt a lump forming in your throat. But at least George still had some integrity, even if you ended up seeing his balls after he gets pushed. As Rupert got heckled off the pitch, Jamie catches your eyes.

He notices your worried expression and gives you a reassuring look. It was his way of saying "Don't worry, you think they can take me out?" You not as the players head back onto the field.

Even then, the players were completely boxing Jamie in, but you watched as Ted signaled a strategy for the free kick which they seem to understand quickly. Jamie's trying everything to get Bumbercatch's attention, but the moment he sends it Sam's way, you know exactly what's going on.

"Go, go, go," You whisper, on the edge of your seat. You're squeezing Will's arm a little too tight, but even he is too immersed in the game to care.

Sam gets the ball in and the whole stadium erupts in cheers. You wait, but when the final whistle was blown, you and Will start celebrating too. The whole team starts running onto the pitch and at that point, you weren't thinking.

The moment your eyes landed on Jamie, you were running across the pitch towards him. He catches you in his arms and pulls you into a kiss. You deepen it as if you weren't surrounded by thousands of people right then and there.

You break apart for a split second to say, "You guys absolutely smashed it. I knew you would win."

He pulls you back for another kiss, before smiling against your lips. "You aren't worried about your brother seeing us?"

The thought hadn't occurred to you at that moment, but you try and find them in the crowd, still not removing yourself from Jamie's grasp. With all the chaos, you give up and just shrug it off, turning back to the football player.

"I don't really care anymore." You admit as you laugh.

Jamie pulls you into a hug and spins you around in the air. You laugh and hold onto him tightly. When he puts you down, you find your family coming toward the two of you. Frank is the only one who seemed shocked by this whole ordeal, with Denise simply smirking and Gregory being distracted by all the people celebrating on the field.

"Right, hi Frank," you start and you slide your hand down from his arm to intertwine it with Jamie's hand to steady yourself. "Did I forget to tell you I have a boyfriend now?"

"Yeah, I don't think it's come up, no," He replies.

Jamie takes a step forward and stretches his other arm for a handshake. "Hello, it's nice to meet you. I'm Jamie—"

"Jamie Tartt, yes." Your brother firmly grasps his hand. "I know who you are." Jamie's legs buckle slightly at Frank's strength, but Denise puts a warning hand on her husband's shoulder.

"Not too hard, honey." which prompts Frank to finally let go of Jamie.

It's a few minutes of silence, — well, as quiet as a celebrating football stadium could be — before you finally try and escape the situation. "Maybe we should let Jamie celebrate with his team!"

"Yes, of course! Congratulations, Jamie! You guys did amazing." Denise says, causing Jamie to flash a genuine smile.

"Yes, you and your team did great," Frank adds on, notably less enthusiastic. "Especially with that last shot from Obisanya." Of course, he had to add his favorite player to this.

You try and pull Jamie away to bring him to his celebrating team, but your brother pulls him into a hug, forcing you to let go of Jamie's hand. You watch Frank whisper something in his ear, before letting go. He then says out loud, "Congratulations on making the Champions League. Can't wait to see you guys play next season."

All Jamie can do is nod in gratitude, as he seems to still be processing what happened before that. You decide to thank him on your boyfriend's behalf.

"See you guys later!" You say to your family as you bring Jamie away from them, his expression slightly worrying you. Once you put a safe amount of distance between them, you whisper, "What did he say?"

"Nothing," Jamie pursed his lips. "Just that he'd make my life a living hell and find a way to ruin my career if I broke your heart." He laughs it off, but you can hear a slight shakiness in his voice.

"Alright then," you interlock your arms with Jamie's, but neither confirm nor deny the truth in his statement.

"That was a joke, right?" Jamie tries to ask but you just shrug. His face almost turns white, but you laugh and instead, he playfully narrows his eyes at you. "That's not funny."

"Well, I’m pretty sure you aren't going to break my heart, so you'll never have to find out. You plant a kiss on his cheek and remove yourself from him. “Now go, celebrate your win!"

You push him to the rest of his teammates, who are in the middle of celebrating, but he's quick to grab your arm and pull you close. "I know how I want to celebrate this win." He moves in for yet another kiss.

You briefly wonder if this is being televised and if it might be how all your friends and family back home find out, but you'd deal with that later. Right now, it's just you and Jamie.

And you've always wanted that celebratory field kiss.

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #ted lasso #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt fic #jamie tartt fluff #ted lasso fanfic #jamie tartt fanfic

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matchingbatbites · 1 year

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all for the love of you | 4.7k

My super late contribution for @thefreakandthehair Lex's spring challenge, using the prompt daisies! I caught writer's block pretty bad and wasn't able to finish this on time - honestly, I got to a point where I just couldn't stand looking at it, so I set it aside for its own good. So glad I finally caught the bug to finish it, because I'm really happy with it! <3

Read on Ao3

Eddie isn't one to get jealous. He didn't really grow up with a lot, he learned to care for the things he had, and his mom taught him that being jealous only made you feel like shit in the long run. Sure he's wanted things before, has coveted things that other people had, but jealousy.

Jealousy is a whole other monster, something he wasn't familiar with until he caught feelings for one Steve Harrington.

It wasn’t something that happened immediately. Eddie spent a solid four months getting to know Steve after the younger had carried him out of actual, literal hell. The boy had opened up his home to Eddie once they’d been released from the hospital, and they’ve spent countless hours together since.

Watching movies and talking and just helping take care of each other - something they’d almost been forced into when they realized that neither could reach their arms above their heads without pulling at their sides, their matching bat bites tugging and aching, and Steve completely unable to reach the road rash marring his back.

They fell into a routine that settled warm in Eddie’s soul, and every day became something to look forward to. No matter how bad his day was - and there were plenty of bad days - he knew that he had Steve, that at the end of it he could count on crawling into bed with someone who helped chase the nightmares off, who helped ease the pain just a little.

When he eventually moved back in with Wayne - once his name was cleared and his scars finally manageable on his own - it felt like he’d left part of himself behind. Moving out wasn’t something he had to do, but he felt like he’d needed to. He didn’t want to be a bother to Steve any more, didn’t want to take up space any more than he already had.

He didn’t realize something had changed until they had a bit of distance between them, until he was crawling into a cold bed all by himself, until he was forced awake by vivid nightmares. It didn’t take long for Eddie to be struck by the knowledge that the reason he misses Steve so much, the reason why being away from the younger boy is physically painful, is that he-

Eddie grew up hearing people talk about crushes and butterflies, has heard his friends go on about the people they like, but he's never actually felt that himself. He's never had that nervous, fluttering sensation, or the swooping feeling that Jeff described when he met his current girlfriend.

Over the years he's managed to brush off inquiries about his own love life, spinning it around to the people that he’s fooled around with, because apparently sexual attraction is something he has no problem feeling or understanding. No, that was something he figured out pretty quickly.

He's had no problem finding people to sleep with, whether it be in Hawkins or in the bigger city an hour or so away. He learned that he doesn't have a preference when it comes to sex, that he just leans towards pretty people who seem like they might be a little bratty in bed, regardless of whether they're a guy or a girl. He likes feeling good and making others feel good and for years that's been enough.

Until Steve.

He's been attracted to Steve for a while - a couple of years now, if he’s being honest with himself - though it's hard not to be when the guy won the fucking good gene lottery. His eyes, his mouth, those irresistible little moles and freckles scattered across his skin like stars. Eddie’s always thought he was pretty, even back when he had a shit personality, but now-

Now that he knows what Steve is like when he’s protecting the people he cares about, when he wakes up shaking from a nightmare, when he just gets to be his genuine, goofball self without worry, well.

It took Eddie by surprise the first time he felt that swooping sensation in his gut, exactly the way Jeff had explained it to him. The fact that it was preceded by one of Steve’s blinding, sunshine smiles being directed straight at him helped the final pieces snap into place, and the completed puzzle laid before him could only spell out the realization of holy shit, I like Steve.

The feeling hasn’t dulled a bit in the two months since his epiphany, and he almost regrets that he hadn’t felt it sooner, back when he was living with Steve, back when he might have had a chance.

Because now Eddie is jealous. He knows he doesn’t stand a chance with Steve now, because unfortunately, the younger boy seems to have his sights set on someone else.

He doesn’t know exactly when Steve met her, but it’s been about a month since Eddie first heard this new crush mentioned in quiet conversation between Steve and Robin. It became pretty commonplace for Eddie to catch her name coming from one mouth or the other, and now.

Just hearing the name Daisy makes Eddie's skin crawl with envy, especially because the two always stop talking about her when Eddie gets close. It’s like they don't want him to hear anything about this mystery girl, like they know he holds some sort of grudge against someone he’s never even met before.

It’s a stupid thought, but one he can’t shake, especially because it keeps happening, hushed conversations quickly cutting off the moment he’s within earshot. Eddie is beyond frustrated, but he keeps his mouth shut, knows it isn’t really his place to be upset about something that isn’t any of his business.

The night that shit finally hits the fan, they’re having a movie night with just the three of them, just Robin, Steve, and Eddie himself.

Everyone else is busy - something not out of the ordinary with their ragtag bunch - and Eddie shows up a little earlier than they had agreed on. He doesn't think they know he's arrived, he can hear voices still flowing from the kitchen as he closes the front door behind him and heads deeper into the house.

" -don’t know why you keep putting it off! Just ask Daisy out already!"

Eddie freezes just outside the doorway to the kitchen. He shouldn’t be listening, he knows that it will only make the ache in his chest worse, but he can’t bring himself to take those final steps to join them as Steve responds back.

“Come on, Robin, how many times are we gonna talk about this? I'm not- There's no way Daisy likes me like that."

“Well, I think you’re a self-sabotaging idiot, because you’re clearly wrong. Daisy is totally into you!”

A soft sigh. “Just… What if I’m not wrong? It could ruin everything between us, and I don’t want to lose Daisy because of my dumb feelings.”

“Steve…”

Eddie feels his heart sinking at the hopelessness in Steve’s voice, and decides he’s officially done listening to them talk about this. He steps into the room as casually as possible and they both go quiet - fucking again - as he says “Hey guys! What’s up?”

Robin looks at Steve and makes a face that Eddie can’t decipher, and Steve shakes his head. The look on her face shifts into something determined and Steve goes a little pale as she turns to Eddie and says "Hey, Eddie! Perfect timing! Maybe you can help us figure something out?”

“Rob-”

Eddie shrugs as he goes into the fridge and grabs one of the sodas Steve keeps around for the kids. “Uh, sure, I can try.”

“Okay! So there's this girl Steve likes and he refuses to ask her out because he thinks she isn't interested in him!"

Eddie does his best to be nonchalant as he pops the tab on the can. "Is she?"

Robin and Steve reply at the same time, their "Yes!" and "No!" overlapping and leaving Eddie blinking as he processes their reactions. He makes a decision and turns to Robin, says "How do you know she likes him?"

Robin instantly looks smug and she leans in closer, almost conspiratorially. "She's not super obvious about it, but I've been watching! Any time she comes into the shop, she always leans against the counter and plays with her hair, and she gets this dopey look on her face whenever he isn’t looking at her.”

The swig of soda Eddie takes turns to ash in his mouth, and he swallows roughly as he turns to Steve, forcing himself to say “I dunno, man. Sounds to me like she’s pretty interested in you.”

Robin looks at Steve, a clear I told you so on her features that even Eddie can read. Steve pushes a hand through his hair, a nervous habit that makes Eddie want to take the hand in his own and hold it, to help sooth whatever worry Steve has.

“I just don’t know. We don’t really like a lot of the same things, and I- I worry that she would get bored with me after a while.”

“Do you and Robin share everything in common? Do you like exactly the same things?”

The younger two blink at each other before Steve gives a hesitant “No, we don't,” and Eddie shrugs.

“But you're still important to each other. Sometimes what makes you different only makes your relationship stronger. If this girl is worth anything, then you’ll both find a way to make your differences work.”

He points between himself and Steve. "Like us. You don't mind listening to me talk about D&D stuff, and you're the only person besides Wayne who can get me to sit and watch a sports game, because we care about each other's interests."

That little bit of advice feels like a big thing, especially when Steve looks at Eddie like he's shown him how to hang stars in the fucking sky. The wonder shining directly at him is a lot, it makes his heart thud behind his ribs, and he's thankful when it quickly fades into a soft smile.

Steve's response is a gentle “Okay. Okay, yeah, you're right. I’ll ask her out. Thanks, Eddie,” and even though he'd seen it coming, Eddie’s heart breaks. He shrugs it off, says "Yeah, of course, man. Let's uh, let's watch this movie, yeah?"

The rest of the night is - not tense, but there’s definitely something in the air that wasn’t there before. Eddie leaves almost as soon as the movie is over, brushing off Steve’s offer to stay the night in favor of heading back home to wrap himself in his blanket and think about exactly what he’s gotten himself into.

He knows that he can’t be around to see how this unfolds, to see Steve being sweet with some girl. He knows that the jealousy, this unfamiliar creature, will eat him alive from the inside out. Especially because he hasn’t seen Steve like this before.

Usually Steve’s interest in a girl sparks and fades pretty quickly, a bright flash in the pan of his affections. The fact that he’s been hung up on this girl for a whole month - at least a month, he doesn’t actually know if it’s been longer - is actually a big deal.

No, Eddie can’t be around to see Steve’s courtship or whatever the fuck he’s going to try with Daisy. Instead he does something he’s not proud of and makes himself scarce, just running away from his problems again.

Whenever Steve calls him to make plans, Eddie makes himself unavailable. He’s helping Wayne with something, or he’s hanging out with Gareth or Jeff, and he stops going by Family Video entirely. The only time he sees Steve is when they cross paths at the D&D sessions the kids roped him into running, and even then, Eddie manages to keep the interaction as brief as possible.

It works for a solid two weeks, until one Thursday afternoon, he finds Robin on the other side of his front door.

“I’m having a crisis. Can I come in?”

Eddie blinks and barely gets out a “Yeah, sure,” before she’s pushing past him and moving to sit on the nearby couch. He follows and takes the opposite end, one leg folded underneath him as he sits sideways, and she turns to face him.

“So, what’s your crisis, Birdie?”

“My crisis is that you’re avoiding Steve, and it’s making him upset.”

Oh. He hadn’t- no, okay, he had kind of been expecting this to be about Steve, but he hadn’t expected her to come right out and say it.

“I’m not avoiding him.”

“Oh, so he’s just going around being mopey and saying that you won’t hang out with him for absolutely no reason at all?”

Eddie gives a half-hearted shrug and leans into the back of the couch. “I don't always have to hang out with you guys, you know. I have other friends, other things to worry about. Besides, I thought he would be too busy with Daisy to even realize I was- not around as much.”

Robin’s eyes narrow, and for a brief moment Eddie knows just what it feels like to be a bug pinned to a display, laid out for someone to see to the very core of him. “Well, that’s also why I’m here. He’s tried asking her out but she keeps dodging the question, and things keep popping up that keep her from saying yes. I wanted to ask if you had any advice?”

Eddie punches down the glee that begins to bubble up and tries to be cool as he responds “You’re going to ask the guy who’s never been on a date for dating advice? For Steve Harrington?”

“You’ve been on dates! You’ve mentioned people you’ve been out with!”

“Yeah, to fuck, Robin. There was no actual dating involved.”

Robin flaps her hands a little in dismissal. “Okay, well just- Humor me for a second here. How do you think he should ask her out? Because obviously whatever he’s trying isn’t working.”

Eddie doesn’t want to do this. He doesn’t want to give Steve’s best friend advice on how he should ask out some girl, when all he wants is to have the younger boy all to himself. He wants to be selfish, to deny her request and send her on her way.

Unfortunately, Steve's happiness seems to be his priority, even if it means he finds that happiness with someone else.

“Well, has he asked her out or has he asked her to hang out?”

“What’s the difference?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, motherfucking hell. “Okay, so like, I personally wouldn’t know if someone was asking me out unless they said it outright. ‘Hey, I like you and want to take you on a date, will you go out with me?’ If he’s just asking her to hang out then she may not realize he means it as a date, so he needs to be blunt.”

Robin blinks before she hums in understanding. “That makes a lot of sense, actually. If you- If she's never been on a date, then she wouldn't be familiar with the signs of romantic interest as opposed to purely sexual interest. So he should say it outright."

"Exactly."

"That actually does help, surprisingly. Thanks, Eddie."

"Glad my lack of experience could be of service to you, Birdie. Anything else I can help you with on this fine Thursday evening?"

She bites her lip, suddenly nervous, and Eddie almost regrets asking. “Just- do me a favor; when Steve asks you to hang out again, say yes, okay?”

Eddie can’t hold in his grimace as he says “And be forced to listen to him go on about his new girl? Yeah, no thanks.”

Robin goes completely silent and when he looks up at her, she's giving him that pointed stare again.

"Eddie-" Oh no. "-are you jealous?"

He scoffs and cuts his eyes away from Robin, unable to look at her as he says "There's nothing to be jealous of, Robin."

“Oh, yeah, so you’re totally cool about Steve going out with Daaaisyyyy?”

His face must do something involuntarily, because Robin lets out a squeal and reaches across the short distance to slap him on the leg, a reaction that isn't uncommon for her but something that still takes Eddie by surprise every time.

“Fucking ow!”

“Holy shit, you like Steve! I knew it! I mean, I had my suspicions, but you totally fucking do, don’t you?”

Eddie shakes his head, pushes his hands into his hair and tugs slightly to release some of his quickly building anxiety.

“Nope, no, we’re not going to talk about this.”

“But Eddie-”

“Robin! Steve is literally in the process of trying to ask out some girl! My feelings don’t even factor into this situation, so fucking drop it!” He knows he being mean, but he can’t stop himself from snapping as he stares Robin down, as he watches the expression on her face shift-

It’s like she’s just realized something terrible, something absolutely horrific, and she immediately backs off with a soft “Sorry…”

Eddie sighs and slumps into the couch, drags his hands down and presses his palms into his eyes until he sees spots. The silence between them is heavy for a moment before he feels Robin moving closer, and he finds himself suddenly wrapped in a hug. He leans into her, lets her hold him for a moment as she asks “What are you doing Saturday?”

“Nothing, as far as I’m aware.”

“Steve is on a closing shift, and I’m off. Maybe I could come over and we could watch something? Something weird that only we would like. As an apology for being pushy.”

The metalhead hums in consideration. “You have to bring the movie and the snacks.”

Robin just laughs and nods. “Yeah, deal.”

Eddie feels a little better over the next two days. Having someone else know, even if he didn’t really confirm it, leaves him feeling a bit lighter. He’s not worried about Robin telling Steve, he trusts her not to expose his feelings like that, and he finds himself really looking forward to spending some one-on-one time with the girl.

The knock sounds on the door half an hour earlier than Eddie expected, and he yells out a “Just a second!” as he quickly pulls his hair up into a loose ponytail. He’s freshly showered after doing a little work on his old van, and he’s dressed in a pair of pajama pants and a sweatshirt that he had swiped from Steve’s place - Robin’s sweatshirt, actually, if the ‘HHS Marching Band’ scrawled across the front is any indication.

“You’re early, Birdie! I thought we said-”

His sentence dies off as he opens the door to find Steve fucking Harrington on the other side.

This is- It’s very much unexpected, and not the social encounter Eddie had been preparing himself for tonight, especially when Steve looks like actual perfection in a polo that hugs his arms and chest just right and brings out the greens in his hazel eyes.

“Steve? What are you doing here?”

Steve takes a breath, and Eddie gets the sense that he’s nervous, but why-

“I know that you’re expecting Robin, and I’m sorry for just springing this on you, but- Will you go out with me? On a date- a romantic date. Robin said you had planned for a movie night so I brought-”

He lifts a hand and Eddie’s eyes cut down to see a bag clenched in one, and in the other a bouquet of red daisies that make Eddie’s heart stop.

“I brought The Evil Dead and The Thing, and I uh, I made that pasta you like, literally pulled it off the stove before I came over.”

He’s looking at Eddie expectantly, but there’s so much to process and nothing makes sense, and Eddie can’t- He doesn’t -

“I don’t- I don’t understand what’s happening right now. You- You’re-”

Steve’s expression goes soft and he nods towards the trailer. “Can I come in?”

Eddie doesn’t say anything, just steps back so Steve can come inside, and watches as he sets the bag on the counter but keeps his hold on the flowers. Eddie closes the door behind them and asks “I thought you were working tonight?”

“Yeah, uhm. Robin took my shift so I could come over. She told me- And I had to-”

Steve pushes his free hand through his hair and Eddie waits, watches as he builds up the courage to-

“I like you, Eddie, I have for months. I think about you all the time, and I hate that you don’t live with me anymore, and I can’t- I thought I was being obvious about it, but I was wrong, so now I’m being blunt because apparently that’s what it’s going to take.”

Steve offers the bouquet to him, pushes it into the space between them, and Eddie’s eyes snap to the flowers as he gives a weak “But what- what about Daisy? You been talking to Robin about her for weeks, so-”

“Eddie, you’re Daisy."

He- What?

"What do you mean?"

"I couldn’t just talk about my feelings for you in the open. I never knew who would be around, if it would be safe, so I uh, I came up with a code name for you. It was actually Robin’s idea, but that’s probably not surprising. But, yeah. You're Daisy, I like you and I want- I want to be your boyfriend, Eddie. If that's what you want too?"

Eddie’s heart is racing. He almost can’t believe what Steve is saying, he actually-?

“I’ve never liked someone before.”

Steve blinks at Eddie’s admission, and the older continues before he loses the last of his nerve.

“You’re literally the first person I’ve ever liked, and I thought- For a long time I thought I was broken, that there might be something wrong with me, because having sex was never an issue but crushes and romance felt like an alien fucking concept. And then I spent four months getting to know you, the four best months of my entire life, and I realized that holy shit, I think I love Steve, and it’s-”

Eddie takes a breath, trying to steady himself as he takes in Steve’s wide-eyed expression.

“No one told me how fucking terrifying it is, how big it feels, how mean it can make you. Every time I even heard the name Daisy I wanted to dig my nails into something and tear, because I didn’t want you to think about her, I wanted-”

He doesn’t realize he’s shaking until Steve steps into his space and reaches out, one big hand moving to grab his wrist, something that instantly helps ground him, and the other gently cupping his jaw.

“There is no girl, Eddie. Baby, sunshine. There’s just you, only you.”

And Eddie feels like he’s going to collapse. He jerks forward, arms wrapping around Steve and face pushing into the crook of his neck, and he’s grateful when Steve lets it happen, when he pulls Eddie close and just holds him, letting everything sink in.

His eventual “Yes,” is muffled by the fabric of Steve’s shirt, and the younger hums in question. Eddie pulls back so he can look at Steve properly as he clarifies. “You asked me out on a date, and you said you want to be my boyfriend, if that’s what I want. And yes, fuck yes, that’s what I want, Stevie.”

Steve beams at him, another one of those sunshine smiles that warms Eddie from the inside out. He watches as Steve pulls away and stoops to grab the flowers - he must have dropped them in his haste to comfort Eddie - and offers them a second time. Eddie takes them with a soft smile, can’t help but jibe “You know I don’t have a vase for these, right?” and Steve shrugs.

“We can trim them down, put them in one of the mugs. Vases are overrated anyway.”

Eddie laughs in agreement and sets out to do just that. He feels light as air as he and Steve move around the little kitchen, Eddie tending to the bouquet as Steve dishes out the pasta he brought into a couple of bowls.

It’s so nice. It’s just like when they were living together, the easy harmony that they had coming back to them so naturally, but now with a different undertone. Now, Steve touches his waist as he passes by, he lets Eddie lean into him, lets their fingers brush meaningfully as he hands over Eddie’s food.

They eat right there at the counter, shoulders brushing as Steve talks about what happened yesterday at work, as Eddie recounts last night's D&D session with the kids. Eddie can’t stop smiling, he feels like fucking giggling, and Steve isn’t much better off, his eyes full of stars as he listens to Eddie talk.

Their first kiss tastes like red sauce and pasta, and Eddie is so unprepared for how it is to kiss someone when there are actual feelings involved. It only reinforces the buzz in the back of his mind, that distinct impression of home that he gets whenever he's around Steve.

They eventually end up on the couch, Eddie mostly in Steve's lap and arms wrapped around each other, and Eddie’s never felt so utterly content.

They’re most of the way through The Thing when he tips his head up so he can look at Steve with a soft “So, I gotta ask… Of all the ‘secret code names’ you could have chosen for me, why Daisy?”

And Steve flushes. He looks away, and Eddie can feel him lacing their fingers together as he speaks.

“Don’t laugh, but uh, when I was little, my babysitter used to take me to the nearby park all the time. I was a pretty rambunctious kid, so it was a normal thing for us. One day we were walking to the park, and I saw that there was a daisy growing out of a crack in the sidewalk. I’d never seen something like that before, and I thought it was so cool, so I showed it to my babysitter.

"She said ‘You know, sometimes people are like this daisy. Life puts them in a hard spot, and they think they won't ever be able to grow. But some daisies are stubborn, and make the choice to grow anyway.' And that’s what you are, Eddie. A stubborn little daisy, still growing despite the hard circumstances around you. That's why I picked it.”

He finally looks up to meet Eddie’s gaze and frowns, says a soft “Oh, baby,” as he reaches out and wipes at the tears building in Eddie’s eyes. Eddie grabs the hand and holds it to his cheek as he blinks back the waterworks, and he just feels so much-

“I fucking love you, Steve Harrington. I know it’s probably way too early to say that, but god, I need you to know that someone loves you.”

And Steve melts. That’s the only way Eddie can put it, his boyfriend - and god, what a crazy thing to even think - goes completely gooey as he leans in and presses his forehead to Eddie’s.

“After all the shit we’ve been through, I think we’re allowed to do things a little early, yeah? And, just so there’s no more confusion, I love you too.”

A year later finds Eddie slowly pulled to consciousness, gently guided by the morning sunshine streaming in from a nearby window. It takes a moment for his sleepy brain to wake up, to register the feeling of Steve pressing feather-light kisses to the cluster of daisies that decorate the back of Eddie’s shoulder. He hums softly in approval and can almost feel Steve smile as he mutters “Morning, Daisy Bell,” against sleep-warmed skin.

Eddie huffs a laugh and turns just enough to capture Steve’s mouth with his own, morning breath be damned.

“Mornin’, buttercup.”

#this took too long for how short it is tbh #i did do some research on demiromanticism #but this is based more around story flow than accuracy #so it may not be a super realistic depiction #lexsspringfanworkschallenge #steddie #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #joey writes #free cookie for anyone who can pinpoint the line that had me giggling like a fucking maniac lol

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pablitogavii · 10 months

Note

i adore your blog and your writing!! if you’re feeling inspired could u please write a fic where the reader’s parents fight a lot and one night it gets really bad so the reader goes to gavi or he picks her up? and he comforts her and everything is sweet. i need him to do this irl rn but anyway… have a good day / night!! love u🤍

I'm so sorry you're going through this baby. If you need to talk my chat is always open <33 This one is special for you <33

There for you

I was crying in my room hearing the sounds of their argument echoing down the hallway. I should be used to it by now after all the years of dealing with it, but every time it gets harder to listen to it knowing there is nothing i can do to stop it.

Growing up with parents that had anything but love for each other made it hard to believe in possibility to have a real family one day, but thankfully I found someone who showed me it was possible.

Since we started dating, I've told Pablo about the hardship of my family and he was so understanding promising to never make my parents mistakes in our relationship.

I was laying in bed scrolling through my camera roll smiling at our photos together trying to tune out the screams and insults coming from outside.

I could ignore anything unless when my dad gets physical like he did tonight. I heard him push my mom as she fell in front of my door with a loud bang.

I clumped on my bed holding onto my knees with one hand and dialing Pablo's number in another. I couldn't stay here anymore, I was starting to feel my panic attach creeping in.

"Hello? Amor?" he said while my tears were flooding my face smiling when I heard his voice that was enough to make me feel safer.

"Um..I need you to pick me up cariño..please?" I said my voice shaky and he knew something was definitely wrong if I was calling in the middle of the night sounding like this.

"I will be there in five minutes. Can you wait for me outside amorcito?" he said and I said that was fine as I packed some clothes into my backpack quietly sneaking out of my bedroom window. Luckily I was on the lower level so I could utilize the window when I needed it.

He was there even quicker rushing outside not even closing his door and hugging me to his chest tightly while holding my head against his chest as I cried.

"Shh..estas bien amor..estas bien..I am right here now..your Pablito is right here..and we are going to go somewhere quiet and safe okay?" he spoke and I nodded still unable to stop my tears from falling down my cheeks but at least I wasn't hyperventilating anymore when I got into the car and we drove off.

I took my shoes off pulling my knees to my chest while looking through the window wondering why do I need to have a family like this? How did I deserve to deal with this?

"Wanna hold my hand amorcito? We are almost home" he said giving you his arm and you held it against your chest playing with his fingers to distract yourself and he smiled continuing to drive slowly towards his house.

When we arrived, he helped me out walking slowly while holding my trembling body against himself kissing the top of my head when he got into his apartment.

"Let's wear some pajamas huh?" he said and I realized that I didn't pack any only bringing clothes to wear tomorrow. I told him that but he only smiled pulling me close and kissing my forehead.

"As long as I have my shirts, you will have your pajamas princesita" he said and I smiled as we walked to his bedroom looking through his closet for me to choose the shirt I wanted to wear.

"Those are all expensive Pablo.." I said not wanting to sleep in something that costed like my monthly subscription to Netflix and he chuckled shaking his head while pulling out one his Boss shirts I always complimented when he wore.

"Arms up princesita" he said and I blushed doing as he asked as he put the shirt over my body making it fall all the way below my knees like a perfect length dress.

"Looks better on you anyways..so how about we make some hot coco? I have mini marshmallows from last time too?" he said and I suddenly smiled wide that being my favorite drink which he knew really well. His eyes teared up and I was confused what happened.

"You have such a beautiful smile..you deserve to always smile preciosa...always" he said kissing the top of my head and I told him that it was alright and that I was used to dealing with this.

"Da igual.." you sigh shaking your head.

"No da igual..I promise to give you the life in which you will always smile.." he said and that made you smile more moving closer and kissing his lips lovingly. We might be young, but I trusted Pablo comeptlely and I knew he knows more about love than my adult parents ever will.

"No more tears! We are going to go make ourselves some coco and then we can cuddle if you want?" he said and I nodded quickly saying there is nothing better I could think of.

"Okay careful, preciosa. It's hot when I pour it and you can put in the marshmallows" he said and you smiled that he was always so careful not to hurt you and you waited for him to pour before putting in the squishy marshmallows in with a smile.

We sat down with our mugs and he pulled me into his arms. While I sipped on my coco, he was searching the channels smiling when he looked down at saw the little moustache I had on my face.

"Que?" I said when I saw him giggling and he used his fingers to clean me up putting it into my mouth afterwards making me blush.

"Tu eres tan preciosa" he said kissing my lips sweetly while I giggled telling him that I like Friends and that we can watch it which he quickly agreed.

We watched almost five episodes when i felt sleepy moving closer and resting my head on his shoulder while he held me tightly against himself which is exactly what I needed in this moment.

"Muchas gracias Pablo..for picking me up..and for taking care of me..Te amo mucho" I said and he smiled nodding his head and kissing the top of my head.

"Yo tambien te amo muchisimo princesita mia. No need to thank me..it's my job to take care of mi novia whenever she needs me..and I love whenever you can sleep over" he said and I smiled nodding my head and slowly dozing off to sleep.

I was already fast sleep on his chest when my phone rang and Pablo took it seeing it was my dad on the other line. His jaw clenched as he answered the call making sure to be quiet not to disturb your sleep.

"She's fine, sir. She's with me and I will take care of her..you have no idea how special your daughter is..and she doesn't deserve any of this" he said to the man before hanging up and kissing the top of your head promising himself to always be there to protect you and to give you the life you deserve in the future.

I hope you like it and I hope it helps in any way amor <3 Again, if you need to talk I'm always here! Stay strong!

#pablo gavi #pablo gavi icons #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi x y/n #fc barca #pablo gavi x you #fc barcelona #fc barça #gavi #gavigif #gavira #pablo gavira #pablo martín páez gavira #pablogavixreadersmut #gavi x reader #gavi x you #gavi x yn #gavi x vini

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kaleberryshake · 4 months

Text

It's been too long since I've Dakota brainrotted so here.

Prime defenders finale spoilers!!

I have this headcanon that Dakota becomes unable to walk anywhere for a while without holding Williams hand or maintaining some form of physical contact.

At first, looking at Will with his face intact was enough. At first, just being able to see his friend in one piece quelled the worry inside of him. He was able to collapse and fall asleep and feel safe. But once everything had settled, after a day out on the town hanging out with Ash, racing Le Frog, and eating pizza, he was unable to fall asleep that night without remembering how grotesquely William had been shredded to pieces. He woke up that night, bolting out of his bed.

Immediately, he appeared at William's side, crying and desperately grasping onto his hand, startling William awake. Will bolted upright, turning intangible. Dakota cried out at the loss of contact. When William realized he was safe and it was just Dakota, he carefully became tangible again and slipped his hand into Dakota's. Dakota settled after that, easing from loud sobs to small whimpers. Will cards a hand through Dakotas hair, helping him settle further and finally sleep.

The day after, Dakota refused to separate himself from William. He insists on holding his hand, feeling the warmth of William's sort-of living body. He squeezed his hand, tracing patterns he found. William didn't mind, of course, letting him hold his hand and gently ask him to swap which hand he was holding if he ever needed to do something. It became an easy rhythm to follow.

William never asked directly why Dakota stuck so close to him, but all was explained when they lounged around on the couch, Dakota using William's thighs as a pillow. "I'm glad I don't have to piece you together," he says. William grimaces a little, responding with a soft agreement.

#jrwi #jrwi show #jrwi prime defenders #prime defenders #dakota cole #jrwi pd #dakota damascus #william wisp #jrwi dakota #jrwi spoilers #jrwi headcanon #blue raspberry

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appocalipse · 1 year

Note

Idk if you're still doing that prompt list but "sick" or scenario 13 with Steve would be 🥹🥹

i wasn't going to do it anymore, but...reading those prompts gave me an idea so i decided to try ♥ i kinda mixed them together

[SICK; Trying not to look but helping them out of their clothes when they’re physically unable to, both of them so close together. ]

"Steve," you had called, worry eating at you. Halfway to the front door, he'd turned and looked at you over his shoulder. And so, even though you knew the answer, even though you hated the answer he would inevitably give you, you'd asked, "Do you have someone to take care of you?"

And that's how, you remind yourself, you ended up where you are now — moments away from helping him out of his clothes.

The thought seems alarming, but there's nothing romantic or sexual about it.

Or at least there shouldn't be.

"Here," you say, touching the hem of his sweater with shaky hands, hoping he doesn't notice your inexplicable uneasiness. "Let me help you."

Steve lets you. He's a much better patient than you are a nurse, you think. But the reason you're here, helping him out of his uncomfortable clothes so he can hopefully catch some sleep is pretty valid: he's broken his right arm, and as if it wasn't bad enough there is also a cut on the left side of his abdomen, just below the ribs, big enough he'd needed 8 stitches to close it.

In his defense, the car crash hadn't been his fault.

The sweater is gone after what seems like an eternity of careful movements and apologies at every slightest hint that Steve was in pain (although he'd assured you the whole time that it's okay, it's okay, I'm fine), but in the end, you're successful. How the people at the hospital had managed to get those clothes on him so quickly is an absolute mystery to you.

You breathe a sigh of relief, a small burden lifted from your shoulders. You don't even have to look to know that Steve is beaming. The fact that he is so calm through it all is even more maddening to you.

Next up is his t-shirt.

The cycle of nervousness starts all over again when your fingers find the hem of his shirt and you start to lift it up, exposing a small sliver of skin, then a bit more...

Steve says your name and it's the first thing he says after many minutes of being silent, so you lift your head to look at him without a second thought.

"Breathe," he says, certainly not without kindness but with an unmistakable amount of amusement in his tone as well.

He's too close. Almost nose to nose, a hairsbreadth of distance between your face and his.

And yes, as much as it bothers you to admit it, Steve is right — you were holding your breath without realizing it.

He bites his lip to hide a smile. "That's not funny," you chide, though you're trying to contain your own smile.

"You're nervous."

"You had eight stitches and broke an arm."

"Sorry."

"It wasn't your fault," you say, because it wasn't, although he probably isn't apologizing for that specifically.

Steve always drives carefully and responsibly, most likely because there's almost always one of the kids in the backseat of his car. The problem that caused the accident was some malfunction in the car, something you hadn't quite understood because all you could really think about since you found out that Steve had crashed the car was him; if he would be okay, if you'd be able to see him, if he'd be in pain. Most of the explanations got lost on the way from your ears to your brain.

"I meant I'm sorry for calling you," says Steve, and for the first time he sounds serious, almost embarrassed. "From the hospital. They tried my parents first, but they-"

"-are idiots," you say, with more contempt than you probably should let on. Then you realize how rude that probably sounded like. "Sorry, I-I shouldn't have said that. They're still your parents and-"

To your surprise, Steve laughs — a low, small chuckle that barely lasts a second, and even so it's enough to make him wince, probably feeling pain. Fortunately, it passes quickly. "No, no, you're right. I was going to say they're out of town as always, but you're right. They are idiots."

You smile.

The feeling that took over you the moment you'd arrived at the hospital to see Steve and realized that he was there, alone, was indescribable. He was alone in there as if he had no family. As if nobody cared about him.

Maybe it was for the better that his parents didn't show up until now, you think. You're not quite sure what you would have said or done if they had appeared in front of you.

Great. Now there's a lump in your throat.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Steve would have shrugged if he wasn't injured, you're sure. "I'm used to taking care of myself, it's no big deal."

"Well, you can forget about that," you say firmly. Because I'm going to take care of you from now on, you hope he understands.

He doesn't say anything. It doesn't seem like he's able to, you realize. But, in his silence, Steve understands; he understands so well that he cannot express his gratitude in words, his affection. He hopes that you will be able to read it in his eyes.

Back to your task, you take a deep breath, looking away from his face to where your hands are gripping the fabric tightly. You help him pull his shirt over his head very slowly, very carefully.

If Steve feels any pain, he doesn't let it show. It wouldn't be the first time, but you hope it's not the case, hope he's not in pain anymore, that he feels he can be vulnerable in front of you. Everyone needs to be at some point.

There's not much else to look at than Steve's now exposed chest, although you do your best not to stare. The flush creeping up your cheeks betrays you, though, and now there's only one piece of clothing remaining.

Steve is wearing jeans. You can't sleep in jeans, can you?

"You don't sleep with a shirt on, do you?" you ask, wondering if he'd like something else to wear.

"No," he says. "No pants either."

Your mind freezes for a brief second. Probably not your brightest moment. "Do you want me to- I mean-"

You're far from a doctor, but it doesn't seem like a good idea for him to bend over to take off his own pants when he's had that many stitches.

"Are you asking me if I want you to take my pants off?" Steve is making a huge effort not to smirk, you can tell.

How can he be so relaxed?

Somehow what comes out of your mouth is, "I promise I won't look."

"I don't mind if you do."

A shiver runs down your spine and you feel what can only be described as butterflies in your stomach, something wonderful and unnerving at the same time. Your gaze meets his and you try to sound convincing as you say, with your chin held up, "Stop messing with me, Harrington."

"But I like messing with you."

"Oh my God-" you let out something between a sigh and a small laugh. "I hate you."

"You love me."

And then, it's like your mouth works on its own.

"I do," you find yourself saying.

And, as expected, silence follows. Steve looks shocked. This silence seems to last a lifetime, to stretch out impossibly longer — it's an everlasting torture. You didn't mean to drop the l-bomb on him like this, didn't mean to say the words even though you knew them to be true. He probably did too, but hearing it out loud is a different thing entirely.

Steve's mind is a mess.

Did you mean it as a friend? he wonders.

Did you mean it as something else?

Did you mean it at all?

Then…

Does it change how I feel?

No.

"I love you too."

Unlike you, Steve sounds firm, certain. Like it's a decision. Like he is ready for it to change everything between you two or nothing at all if that's what you want.

"I would do all of this for you too, if you were in my place," he continues…and then he frowns, as if something unpleasant just occurred to him. "Actually, please never be in my place- I don't even want to think about you in pain. Okay?"

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington #stranger things fanfic #fanfiction #stranger things drabble #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington blurb #stranger things oneshot #stranger things imagine #stranger things #can i ever stay away from this blog? no I can't

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saruman-the-silly · 6 months

Note

Alrighty, so I'd like to request some comfort hcs w the papas (or just Copia if you're not feeling like doing all of them !!) also it gets quite personal, so slight content warning for burn out and imposter syndrome

I've been really stressed out lately, as I'm pursuing very demanding studies (preparatory class yay) and they're starting to take a toll on my physical and mental health. And to top it off, I find myself unable to get anything done bc of failure anxiety, which leaves me very tired with intense imposter syndrome :') How would the papas comfort a gn or fem s/o in a similar situation?

Take the time you need, and have a good day/night !! <3

aw hey I'm sorry to hear that!! but I know you're gonna get through this, and hopefully these headcanons might help a little :) this took a little longer than I liked, but I hope you like it and hope this will bring some comfort for you <333 sending much love and encouragement!!

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How Papas would comfort their s/o during their studies

Primo:

A sweetheart, as I have mentioned in previous headcanons, he would be knocking on your door with a cup of warm tea.

Primo sees the dark circles under your eyes, sighs, and wraps you in a warm hug which you just melt in.

"Amore, how I wish you could just relax for a moment, this stress is not good for you."

You mumbled something about being a failure and Primo lifted your head gently with his hand, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"Never talk about yourself that way amore. You are already working so hard towards your goals and dreams, you could never be a failure. Not to me."

Primo would then absolutely spend the rest of the evening making sure you were relaxing, even for a little while. He would read to you if it helped you calm down, he would light up some scented candles and give you a massage for your sore shoulders.

You, being so tired and stressed out, would soon fall into a deep sleep in Primo's arms, for once feeling safe and secure.

Secondo:

Secondo sees your distress but does not know how to address it. With you stubbornly insisting that you're fine, he doesn't want to cross any boundaries.

Instead, he starts leaving little notes and tiny gifts for you, like a cup of coffee beside your bed when you wake up. The coffee was made precisely to your taste, and it was sinfully good.

Even with these tiny gestures, Secondo can still see the way you carry yourself is less and less confident every day. So, he decides to address the elephant in the room.

He sits you down one day, asking about your studies and how are you doing. You insist once again that, you're fine, there's nothing to worry abo- Secondo takes your hand in his and gives it a gentle squeeze, looking at you with understanding in his eyes and you break down.

You spill everything out, and he just listens. He doesn't comment, he doesn't offer advice, he just sits there, holds you hands soothingly and listens. After you're done venting, Secondo presses a soft kiss to your forehead, and tells you: "Amore. You are the most intelligent person I have ever gotten the pleasure to know, but even I know that you need rest now."

You try to protest, he doesn't care lmao. Secondo makes you your favourite meal (You hadn't even realised how hungry you were) and you watch some trashy soap operas together for the rest of the evening.

Terzo:

Terzo notices right away and tries to gently ask you what's wrong.

Remember, he loves you. So much. But he does not know how too approach this subject so he will keep pestering you about it and you argue, insisting you're fine.

It turns into a full on argument, since both of you are too stubborn to accept defeat, until he accidentally hits a sore spot and you just snap. Everything spills out and you just start sobbing on the floor.

Terzo hates himself right now. He's beating himself up mentally so bad for hurting you when you're clearly in distress, and he gets down on the floor beside you, hugging you and comforting you.

After you have calmed down, Terzo apologizes profusely, you shush him and tell him it's fine but he insists.

"Amore. Amore mio. I am not good with this but let me lend you my ears and my full attention. If I can help in any way, I am here for you." So, you just sit there talking for the next 2 hours. Terzo rubs your back comfortingly and whispers words of encouragement when finding words seems to be hard.

Remember, he loves you so much. Terzo's not a serious guy, he isn't good at this, but for you? He's willing to do anything.

Copia:

Copia doesn't notice until someone points it out. Lol. Poor man is just so overwhelmed with his own work, as usual´.

When he does notice, Copia abandons all of his work. Immediately. You and your well-being are his top priority.

He will gently approach you one day, seeing you drowning in your studies.

"Amore, please, take a break and come drink some tea with me." You smile at him, eyes tired but shake your head. "Thank you darling but I have to finis-" Copia wraps you in a warm hug from behind, putting his head on your shoulder.

"Please?" He whispers into your ear, making you shiver. You smile and sigh, while poking his side. "Fine, just for a few minutes." Little do you know, it was more than a few minutes.

Copia is excellent at distracting you from your studies. He lets you play with his rats, showing you all the tricks they know and letting you teach them some. You laugh and smile until your cheeks start to hurt, and Copia feels his heart getting lighter with your smile.

When it's later in the evening and you're laying in his arms, he gently asks about your studies. Feeling more open and relaxed, you open up about your stress, and like his brothers, Copia is an excellent listener. He listens, and is there for you.

After you have opened up, he kisses your forehead gently before wrapping you in a tight embrace. "Thank you for telling me this, I promise to help you in any way I can."

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Here it iiiiiiiiiiiiiis finally :DD I really hope these will bring some comfort during tough times, and hope you enjoy <3

64 notes · View notes

cellophaine · 1 year

Note

Can i request a Professor Matt x Student Reader (she's like 21) where he tutors her and they spend so much time together he ends up falling in love with her but doesn't say anything bc he doesn't wanna scare her away one night he's walking her to her place it starts to rain they share a moment and he ends up kissing her she feels the same way its sweet and innocent (no smut plz i just want some fluff)🥺

Lost & Found

Pairing: Professor!Matt Murdock x GN!Student!Reader

Warning: professor x student relationship (nothing shady), troubled family matters, fluff, bad writing.

Author's Note: Happy exactly one year and two months since I received this request! I'm sorry for taking too long to answer, and I hope you will still enjoy it. If not, that's okay too!

Share and feedback are greatly appreciated!

GIF Credit

"Are you … listening?"

As if the fog was lifted, the curtains were drawn, and the stupor evaporated, you found yourself in Professor Murdock's office once more. Only then did you realize that you never left it in the first place. You ran your hands over your face as if to physically remove the protective film wrapping around your skin so tight you couldn't breathe. All you wanted to do was to sink into the softness of your bed and stare at the ceiling for hours, unable to sleep.

"Sorry, professor. I'm here. I was just– I've just remembered something I need to do, uhm … after this."

You forced your tired eyes to focus on the man sitting on the other side of the dark wooden desk. Your vision roamed over the pair of red-lensed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, the slightly tousled but well-kept hair, the harbour grey dress shirt on his proper posture opposing your slouching. Everything about him was a contrasting reflection of you, and the realization made you sit straighter in your chair.

"Are you okay? You were quiet for a little bit there. You didn't answer my question."

"Yes, I'm great! I'm sorry, what was the question?"

You attempted a smile, not that it mattered, but you hoped it would somehow weave into your voice, casting a guise of genuine interest on top of the fact that you didn't pay attention.

"Is everything okay at home?"

You cast a tentative glance at him, taking in the slight frown on his lips. The question sounded foreign, slightly out of place, as if it had no right to be so ambiguous and unintentionally intrusive at the same time. You did not doubt that he was annoyed with your inattentiveness, which was what landed you in his office to begin with. You hoped that was all to it.

"No– I mean, yes! Everything is fine. Why do you ask?"

The words rushed out in one breath as if they were strung together and tugged hard by the defensive pull of your voice. If your abrupt outburst offended Professor Murdock, he didn't show it. His face didn't give anything away, and certainly not his body language, which stayed hard to decipher. But you tried anyway and drew to the conclusion of nothing.

"I received your midterm report, and it wasn't something I expected from you, especially after the excellent research you handed in a month ago. You've missed deadlines on recent assignments, and, on top of that, Connor has told me you haven't been paying much attention in class."

An icy shroud of dread settled over you. You knew you didn't do too well on midterm since you were sidetracked by a family matter on top of a busy schedule that left you no room to breathe, but to get snitched on by your professor's teaching assistant? That was the new low you didn't expect to hit. You tried to go for just enough to pass, but even then, it was proven that the bare minimum was out of your reach.

"What did you expect from me, then?"

The question was harsh, like a bitter retaliation that didn't come out right. In all truthfulness, the indignant remark was weak, just like how you felt at the moment. The unwelcoming feeling of inadequacy brought you back to the years of living under your mother's roof. You felt like you could lose it at the mere mention of expectations, of something you could only chase after, never able to fulfill. You released a shuddering sigh. The recent incident with your mother really messed with your head.

Professor Murdock cleared his throat; his body angled toward you in a careful manner as if he was approaching a wounded animal.

"You're a bright student, and … forgive me if I overstep, but I feel like there is something else going on outside of class that affected your performance."

His carefully chosen words manifested in an acute assessment pierced through your guarded exterior. The last sliver of resolve held onto its fleeting moments by the frown on your lips before fading away.

"Nothing I can't handle, professor."

The futile attempt sounded hollow even in your own ears, and you had a creeping suspicion that it didn't escape your perceptive teacher.

"I'm here to listen if you want to talk. My doors are always open."

Your frown deepened. How many times have you heard that sentence? One too many times, from one too many people. School counsellors, friends that didn't really mean what they said, and even your own mother. At this point, they sounded like a remix of each other, preaching the same words for the moral satisfaction of those who said it to you rather than your own good. What was the difference between them and what your Criminal Law professor had to say?

"Thank you. But like I said, everything is great."

You kept your tone light, letting the brusqueness mark the finality of this discussion.

"Is that all you wanted to discuss with me? Can I go now?"

You couldn't wait to leave this room and its confined undertone, but your professor motioned for you to stay. He opened the drawer on his right; his hand rifled over the Braille-labeled files until he eventually stopped and pulled out a slim folder. He pushed it towards you, gesturing you to open the file. You were met with your report, littered in red ink and Connor's neat handwriting, and on top of the page was a pitiful capital F.

"You failed midterm. For this reason and the fact that you have not handed in your last few assignments, I have to assign mandatory tutor sessions for you with two hours a week at the minimum. You are required to check-in with me every other Thursday during my office hours. I will reserve a time slot just for you, and I don't take absence of any reason lightly, unless it's absolutely necessary."

His stern tone sobered you, and you realized how serious your situation was. This meeting wasn't a gentle reminder but a warning of what was at risk.

"I'm sorry, but I can't afford to do that. Between school and work, I really can't."

Being one of the core staff at Sugar & Spice, your schedule was filled with classes and long hours at the bakery. The manager was too stubborn to accept that the shop needed more people, which made the job that was once easy and nice turn into a test of your patience and limit on a weekly basis. You lived close to campus, but the shop was so out of the way, making the convenient location wasn't worth it. You stayed for the above minimum wage, free food and drinks, and the hours that helped you stay afloat in this expensive city.

"Retaking classes will only cost you more financially as the faculty stated at the beginning of the semester. You will have to take summer classes if you want to catch up with your program in September, and that will only slow down your progress at Columbia."

You had to admit it; your professor was right. You dug yourself into a hole, even though it was involuntary. As much as you wanted to blame it on your circumstances, there was no point. After a few moments to calm your frantic mind and racing heart, you sighed, knowing you had no choice.

"Alright. I'll take your advice. I'll do it."

You closed the file before you, finding the red ink overwhelming your anxious state.

"Do you have any recommendation for tutors? I don't really … know anyone here."

It was hard to admit and even harder to say it out loud, but it was already out there.

"There's no need for that. I'll personally see to your progress. I willl be your tutor."

The library was crowded, a rarity for a late Friday afternoon. You eyed uneasily at the textbooks, laptops, and water bottles strewn on the tables, taking up more space than they needed to. It wasn't worth fighting for a spot with study groups that seemed to spawn nonstop. You turned to your professor, asking if he wanted to move to another area, and he was almost too eager to agree.

You took professor Murdock to the second floor, finding your familiar way to a small spot overlooking the courtyard, away from the buzzing of rustling paper and whispering people. You looked at your professor, taking in the way his body language seemed more relaxed than it was downstairs. He reached to feel the table before setting his messenger bag on it.

"It's quieter here."

The easy smile on his face made the casual assessment feel like a compliment. You nodded, getting yourself situated beside him.

"I know. I usually come here to slee– study. Study. Between classes."

Your face heated up at the terrible save. To your relief, professor Murdock didn't seem to find fault in your slip-up if the small smile and the quick raise of his brows were any indications. He simply suggested you start with your textbook alongside your failed report. Your study session began.

You worked in comfortable silence between questions and explanations. You appreciated how professor Murdock allowed you to re-explore the concepts and lectures mostly on your own with his help. The sky outside darkened as the time moved with the number of notes you had taken, which was a lot. The only reminder of time was a rumble in your stomach, which felt like thunder in the small, quiet space. You checked your phone to see that you still had about a half hour left. You would have ignored it if it wasn't for the gurgling sound, louder this time, once again reminding you that you missed lunch. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, and you attempted to cover the aftermath by clearing your throat. You hastily wrapped an arm around your midriff, hoping the thick layer of your sweater would muffle any impending noise. You were about to go back to your notes when your professor spoke.

"Shall we take a break?"

You shook your head, then immediately chastised yourself for being a forgetful, inconsiderate fool.

"No, sir. I'm alright. I'm on a roll right now, and I want to keep that going."

His head slightly tilted to the side, and from the new position, the dull light above and the fleeting sunset outside the window cast its dying rays over his face like a moody painting. It sharpened the angles on his face, sculpting a grimness in his features — a beautiful contrast to his softness, his kindness.

"Are you sure?"

The concern and warmth in his voice only fueled your determination to keep going. You wouldn't dare inconvenience him in the smallest way.

"Yes, I'm sure."

Turning to your notebook, you quickly picked up your train of thought and proceeded from where you had left off. Professor Murdock took that as a sign for him to go back to his papers. And you continued to work in silence.

Some time passed until a small beep sounded beside you and pulled you out of your head. Professor Murdock touched his watch and turned to you.

"Your two hours of this week are done."

You blew out a sigh. The session went by quicker than you thought and was not half as bad as expected.

"When will you be free next week?"

You flipped through your journal, disturbing some grocery and drugstore receipts until you reached the page for next week.

"Oh, shoot."

You muttered to yourself, your eyes flitting over all the reds, greens and blues filling up the week like an intense game of territory, except for one little spot after an eight-hour shift at Sugar & Spice and your check-in with him. You wanted to have the rest of the precious half of the afternoon and all night to yourself, doing nothing and maybe watching mindless content while tuning them out simultaneously. But then, the thought of the expensive and unignorable fee of retaking his class appealed to your logical side, and you grimaced, knowing that it won.

"Uhm … I have some time to spare after my office hours with you on Thursday."

You glanced at him, watching a strand of hair artfully fall on his forehead as he quickly tapped through his device.

"Is that okay?"

After a moment, he gave you a nod.

"That will do. I can give do a quick check-in, then tutor you afterwards."

"That sounds good."

You added the date to your schedule, already mentally mapping out the quickest bus route from the university to your apartment. Professor Murdock gathered his stuff, and you made no move to do the same. His hand searched for the last of his document, which sat next to your notes. You gently slid the file into his path, and he acknowledged your assistance with a small smile. When he had gathered everything, his blazer in the crook of his arm, the chair tucked neatly back to where it was, only then he realized you weren't coming. You looked at him at his lack of movement and cleared your throat.

"I'm just going to stay here a little while longer. I think I can get this part done."

His mouth opened, then closed again at the absence of an answer. He gave you an understanding nod.

"See you in class tomorrow, professor."

"I will see you. Have a good night."

You returned to your notes, tracing back to where you left off. The gentle taps of professor Murdock's cane melted into the wooden floor in soft echoes as he made his way out. Soon, it was just the rapid scratches of your pen on paper.

You were so lost in your head that you didn't pay attention to the presence of another person entering the room. When they stopped before your table and lingered within the peripheral of your vision, only then you looked up and was greeted by the unexpected sight of your Criminal Law professor.

You straightened up, surprised by his sudden appearance.

"Professor! Did you forget something?"

He shook his head, and you noticed his flustered face and the tousled hair, which looked like it was gently run through by the wispy hands of the wind.

"No! No, I didn't. I'm just here to give you this."

He held out a brown paper bag and only let go once you had a hold of it. With a peek inside the bag, you recognized the logo-patterned wax paper from the sandwich and soup shop just a little distance beyond the campus' ground. You hesitated, taken aback by the oddness of the situation.

"Is it … for me?"

He bobbed his head, confirming the obvious.

"Take a break. You've done enough for today."

Speechless and still confused, your mind scrambled for something to fill in the silence.

"Isn't food … not allowed in here?"

From the lower angle, his face tilted towards you, and the red glasses slid lower on his nose, exposing a part of his eyes. He flashed you a cheeky smile and what resembled a wink from the way his eyes crinkled at the corners.

"I won't tell anyone if you won't."

You couldn't help a cheesy smile from breaking out, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

"Uhm … thank you, professor Murdock."

He flicked his hand as if to say it wasn't anything.

"There's no need to thank me. And, please, call me Matt."

You swallowed, stammering to oblige his request.

"Thank you … Matt."

The soft chuckle was endearing and unexpected, like almost everything else that happened tonight.

"Have a good night. Don't stay out too late."

"I promise I won't."

With a final nod, he turned and walked away, leaving you to the brown bag and quietude once more. You rested your face in your hands before giving your flushed cheeks a few taps as if doing so could take away the embarrassment. You took out the wrapped sandwich and a small bottle of water. He must have heard the noise your stomach made. You exhaled deeply before placing the water on the table, taking out the sandwich and unwrapping it. You took a bite of the sandwich, feeling it warming you up from the inside even though the food itself was gradually getting cold.

You thought of professor Murdock while you ate, of his kindness and thoughtfulness for someone like you who was a stranger to him at the very core once you had stripped down all the social niceties. You couldn't remember the last time someone bought you food, much less take care of you like this. Maybe he felt pity for you, a failing student who couldn't look after herself, the logical part of you screamed. But a smaller yet just as persistent part of your heart whispered otherwise. He helped you because he cared about you. Maybe … you deserved that. Your eyes swelled, and a tear slipped down your cheek. You aggressively wiped it off, feeling foolish for crying over a little sandwich. You took a deep breath through your damp nose, trying to control your emotions by playing with the brown bag to distract yourself. When you piqued inside, a decent amount of napkins was at the bottom, and that, somehow, was the final stroke. He included napkins for you. You put the sandwich down and put the heels of your palms against your eyes, feeling a fresh wave of tears coming. You allowed yourself to cry a little more before finishing the sandwich and leaving for the night, your belly full and your heart warm.

Less than a week later, you found yourself, surprisingly, not spacing out during professor's Murdock lecture. Instead, you just felt sleepy. You shouldn't have stayed up so late the night before. You went from being unable to sleep to working on the homework to falling asleep at your desk just to wake up three hours later, groggy and late for class. You would have a closing shift at the bakery later today, only to return at 7 AM the next day, leaving you only an hour to travel to Columbia afterwards. You were exhausted already, and you didn't know how you would survive tomorrow through a full shift on top of your check-in and tutor session. You thought of injecting yourself with the crappy coffee they sell at the cafeteria that always made your stomach rumble in the most unpleasant way. But it worked. Perhaps all the stir from the coffee kept you bright-eyed and wide awake.

You rubbed at your eyes, hoping to clear the drowsiness that had started closing in at your waterlines. Bracing a hand on your chin, you stared your watery eyes at the big screen projector, willing your mind to read the words. But the room was warm, Matt's voice was soothing, and the boring slides with uniformed font served as visual comfort. If you were a little more awake, you would have been startled at the ease of thinking of your teacher by his first name. But for now, a little shut-eye wouldn't hurt, would it?

…

You jolted awake in your chair to a friendly face. So friendly that it alarmed you, making you jump in your seat. Your professor held his hands up, showing that he sensed, or felt, or rather, heard the screech of your chair.

"Are you alright?"

You cleared your eyes, blinking a few times to confirm that your teacher was crouching at your table, a look of concern in his expression. As a reflex, your hand shot up to touch your mouth, touching the moisture gathered at the corner. Even though you knew your professor couldn't see that, you still felt conscious enough to wipe the drool off with your sleeve.

"Class ended about ten minutes ago. Are you okay?"

Class ended. Class ended. It meant you had wasted your precious time you could have used to run to the subway to catch the train going to Greenwich Village, where your cursed job was. You looked at the time on your phone just to panic even more before hastily gathering all the contents on your desk.

"Thank you for … uhm … letting me know! I'm so sorry but I have to leave right now I'm so so late for work."

You were on the wind, and you couldn't stop, not even for a breather. Your notes and pen were shoved untidily in your bag as you hoisted the tote bag over your shoulder. You shot an apologetic tone towards your confused and concerned teacher.

"See you tomorrow, professor Murdock!"

Just like that, you took off from the awkward situation, leaving the consequences to be dealt with later.

You felt like you were already dead, arriving at your check-in with five minutes to spare. You sat on the bench outside professor Murdock's office with your head on your folded knees. You could still smell the sugar cookies woven into your hair, cinnamon hugged your clothes, and the sweet scent of everything else clung to your body. Your nail beds were decorated with flour, and you tried to pick them off. You had to stay late at the bakery for the time you missed. You barely slept before coming back to open the shop. And now, you anxiously waited in suspense about what was coming and another two hours of studying with your professor, who had been nothing but kind to you, and you had been nothing but a nuisance to him.

Speaking of which, the door opened slightly, and you could hear the tail end of a conversation that seemed to hang onto the more awkward end. A woman's voice, closer to where you were sitting, profusely thanked professor Murdock for his help, to which his smaller reply said he was only doing his job. The woman's voice increasingly affirmed that her breakthrough in last week's assignment was solely his doing. The conversation went back and forth and nowhere else until it finally settled on an overenthusiastic goodbye and "see you in class." The door finally opened fully, and a girl your age walked out. You recognized her being in the same classes as you, always sitting in the front row. Her cheeks were flushed as she walked away without paying attention to you. You were glad. Things didn't have to get even more awkward had she known you were eavesdropping, even though you weren't trying to.

You distanced yourself from the uncomfortable seat and announced your presence. Professor Murdock, standing at his desk, beckoned you to come in.

"How are you?"

He asked with genuine curiosity, making a part of you swell with delight. Your heart pounded in your chest, eager to swallow the attention he gave you whole, like a dying plant at the first drop of water after days of being abandoned.

"I'm… I'm fine. Just a little tired."

You lingered at the back of the chair, suddenly feeling a little nervous.

"I'm very sorry about falling asleep in your class yesterday. It was not my intention to do that."

He chuckled softly, dismissively waving a hand, almost as if he had already forgotten about it.

"Hey, it's okay. I know that my class can be boring. I should switch it up if I want my students to actually learn something."

Your face burned bright red with embarrassment. It burned so deep and hot that you missed the mild and casual sarcastic note in his tone. You lowered your head, feeling the sting of tears at the corners of your eyes.

"No, it's my fault. I'm very sorry. I will try not to do that again."

You willed your voice to stay steady and hoped it would fool your professor. The thought of every humiliating moment you had accumulated throughout the entirety of your relationship with him nagged at the back of your head, too stubborn to let go. Oblivious to the conflict being played repeatedly in your head, professor Murdock assured you it was okay and gestured for you to take a seat.

The check-in went better than you thought. He noted your improvements and gave you pointers on how you could improve. As you were left working on your assignment, the sound of the Braille keyboard, rustling papers, and gentle hums of air conditioning drew a small yawn from you. It seemed like you had been trapped in a misty, never-ending fatigue and functioned solely based on will and just enough sleep to make it by.

You were beyond exhausted, but you couldn't fall asleep again after the spectacle you made of yourself yesterday. Your eyes watered and blurred the sentences before you. None of the words followed the ruled lines. They were a scrawling mess of half-nonsense and whatever you could draw from your cluttered mind. You pressed a silent yawn into the palm of your hand before tapping your cheeks, making muted pats on your skin. When that didn't work, you reached for your travel mug of lukewarm coffee and welcomed the burned liquid on your tongue. You grimaced, wishing you had smelled it before taking a sip.

Professor Murdock cleared his throat from across the table, and you shot up straight like an arrow, nervously looking at him like a student who was caught playing hooky in the washroom. He pushed the glasses up on the bridge of his nose, shielding his eyes behind the red lenses.

"We can call it a day here."

You looked at your phone, seeing you still had another fifty minutes left. He fixed you with a gaze in your direction, his hands linked on the table, almost as if expecting you to comply. You translated it into displease, even though he hadn't explicitly expressed so.

"But we are not done yet. There's almost an hour left."

"I know. I thought you could use a break. You've done enough already."

How could he tell that you were tired? Was it because you were quieter? Was it because you didn't ask as many questions as last week? Did he think you were a nuisance, and that your presence was grating and unbearable? Didn't he want you around? Of course, who would? Not even your own family wanted to be around you. At that thought, you felt the familiar sting of rejection, reminding you of your past. You didn't want to relive it at this moment, so you focused on getting out of there as soon as possible. You closed your notebook harder than necessary and hastily gathered your stuff on his desk. You hated how you felt so helpless, so emotional so quickly at the most mundane thing. His gentle calls for your attention were ignored and brushed aside as if his words were only dust. You had gotten all of your stuff in, but before you could leave the way you did last week, his hand shot out to hold you in place, startling you. His touch was warm on your wrist, firm yet gentle.

"I hope you are not offended by what I suggested."

You dismissed him with a light scoff.

"Offended? No! You're right, I am a little tired, and I don't want to be a burden. I'm sure you have better things to do."

His hold on you tightened, not to the point of hurting. It was to accentuate what he had to say next, and he hoped the true meaning of his concern would get to your senses before the irrational part of you would.

"No, that's not what I meant. I thought we could stop here since you seem tired."

He took a brief pause, considering his next words.

"Did you come here after your job? At a bake shop or a cafe, perhaps?"

How did he know? You repeated your thought to him, and seeing your professor gradually turn pink was an odd sight. He scratched the back of his neck, drawing your attention to the flushed skin there.

"This, uhm, might sound creepy, but … I smelled baked goods on you. Cinnamon, sugar cookies, and coffee, too. I took a wild guess."

You blinked, surprised at his astute observation.

"You're … right. I work at a bakery. How can you tell?"

He tapped his nose with the other hand.

"I just … I have a sensitive nose. Works better than my eyes. My friend compares me to a dog, all the time."

You weren't sure if you could laugh. The broad smile and soft chuckle that brightened his feature told you it was okay. So you did, feeling the tension slowly retreat until it disappeared completely. You shook your head.

"That is … impressive. Wow! I work at Sugar & Spice in Greenwich."

"Oh! Frank raves about how fresh your bread is all the time."

"We use an actual flour mill to make our flour! It's huge, and it takes up so much space in the shop, but that's how we get fresh flour, so …"

You felt yourself inching deeper into a tangent, so you stopped yourself. Why did you have to ruin a perfectly fine moment with unnecessary comments? At the very least, your professor didn't seem to mind your rambling.

"I thought you could use some time to yourself. You seem tired, and I don't want to force you to work more than you already have."

His reason seemed rational now that you had stopped overthinking. His hold on your wrist made you want to open up, something you hadn't done in a long time.

"Can I tell you something?"

He nodded.

"I'm … it's … really embarrassing that I need one-on-one tutoring. I've always been a slow learner, and it seems like nothing has changed after … all these years."

You quickly added.

"And I do appreciate that you're doing this for me. This, all of this overthinking, is just … something I have to work on."

His hand gave another firm press.

"I mean this with all of my heart. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Everyone needs help every once in a while. I want you to know there is strength in accepting that you need the help."

Your eyes widened, feeling the weight of his words seep into that part of your mind that had always craved the empathy you rarely allowed yourself. You sniffed dryly, suppressing the wave of emotion that threatened to break. A whisper of gratitude was all you could manage. Your professor nodded and let your wrist go, and the absence of his hand took you by surprise. You found yourself yearning for more of his warmth.

"Go home, and get some rest. Don't worry too much about the lesson."

You thanked him again, said your goodbye, and left without the weight on your shoulders when you first came in. That night, when you settled in bed with an audiobook on your headphones, your mind tuned it out. But it wasn't wandering anywhere like it usually would. You followed the path your mind was on, finding yourself lost in the memories of Matt and what happened that afternoon.

You wanted to do something nice for him, and what would be better than surprise cupcakes on no special occasion at all? Your heart pounded against its cage, and when you passed the decorated paper box to him, your hands touched. His fingers lingered on yours, and before you could truly revel in the sensation, it went away in a blink of an eye.

"Thank you for this. I can't bake to save my life, so a treat like this is rare."

"Maybe I can change that. I can bake for you."

You didn't think much of what you had just said, but your overthinking mind would agonize about that later. What exactly did you offer? It's not only baked goods, and he certainly doesn't need your companionship, you thought. You wanted to extend a part of yourself to him and the entirety of your affection that seemed to slowly but gradually get harder to ignore the more time you spent with him. It had grown so large that your mortal body could barely contain it.

"This is great! You didn't have to do this."

"I just wanted to say thank you for helping me."

His hands searched for the rim along the handle, tugging the box open, revealing the sweets inside.

"They smell heavenly."

His face brightened, and you felt your own warmed at his praise. He took one in his hand and offered it to you.

"No! They're all for you!"

"Come on. Don't let me enjoy these delicious cupcakes by myself."

He was playful, but his intention was nothing short of sincerity. How could you say no to a face like that?

You gave in, accepting it timidly, and waited until he had one in his hand. You peeled back the paper and took a bite. The softness enveloped your tongue in a warm embrace; the sweetness crashed on your taste bud like a gentle caress. You looked at your professor, whose brows shot up at the first bite. His soft moan of bliss was endearing, and you found yourself wanting to drink the sound in, hoping the resonance would stay and echo in your mind so it could keep your heart beating just a little faster like how it was now. It was the tiniest fragment of joy that warmed you, making you want to keep it close to your chest and cherish it to the best of your limited capability.

A smear of frosting lingered at the corner of his lips. With a casual passing thought of how adorable he looked, you reached across the desk, and the pad of your thumb swiped at the cream before you were fully aware of what you were doing. You slowly retreated your hand, feeling the mortification of your forwardness. You weren't the only one affected by the gesture. Matt was, too, judging by the way he swallowed hard, his lips parted to take a deep breath as if he had forgotten how to breathe. None of you dared to speak, not wanting the moment to end, but eventually, it must. Matt cleared his throat softly, and you braced yourself for the inevitable "that wasn't appropriate," but to your relief, he only smiled.

"Thank you. It would be embarrassing and unprofessional of me to walk around with frosting on my face."

"You're very welcome, Matthew."

You continued to eat your cupcake, bashful with the praises he lavished you with. The creamy frosting still lingered on your finger, and after a brief hesitation, you brought it to your lips before licking it off your thumb. You revelled in the exhilaration of your boldness. You felt like you crossed a line you weren't supposed to, but at this point, it was too late for you to turn around.

And when you tossed and turned later that night, when you couldn't deny yourself the truth any longer, you would come to the hopeless realization that you were in love with your professor. All that was left was to tell him as you so selfishly wanted him to know of your fondness for him, but you wouldn't dare shatter the fragile attachment to adhere to your selfish want.

The study sessions started not to feel like a torture device designed specifically for you as you found rhythm within each other. They had become the place where you enjoyed your time the most. Matt brought coffee to fuel you for later days that turned to nights. You bonded over the occasional pastries you brought in. It was an inconsequential thing, which quickly became an unspoken tradition. You found he particularly enjoyed the red velvet cupcakes smeared with buttercream frosting. Nevertheless, he loved whatever you brought in and never failed to show you how much he appreciated it.

It felt like the invisible veil between you was removed. Neither of you dared to take that first step forward into the other side out of respect and the delicacy your positions held. Still, it felt nice. You didn't have to put your guard up all the time, and you were weirdly okay with it — everything was within your comfort zone. There was little pressure to be someone else, no expectations you couldn't meet. Within the four walls that his presence occupied, the expectation to do well was there, but at your own pace. You didn't have to struggle. While things with Matt had been good, the other part of your life had started turning its head, gearing full speed toward a fatal end.

Your mother had stopped all types of communication. It'd been three weeks since her last request asking you to stop contacting her and many messages and emails from your end begging her for a talk. Your whole life had been a preparation for this, yet, when it came, you were left in shock, in the pain that never eased or went away. For as long as you could remember, familial love was something you never had, and you envied those who had it. Sometimes, the absence of love and care from someone you were close to dulled you, but the smallest acts of kindness hurt much worse in return. It cut you deeper than indifference did, grappling with your heart. The way Matt treated you with patience, tenderness and support filled the empty space in your chest with an ache that grew over time. To think that he was once a stranger, yet, he cared more about your well-being than your mother ever did. Matt showed you that despite your fatal flaws, you were still worthy of love.

The year came to an end, and you were relieved to see that you passed all of your classes. Your final office hour with Matt was on a rainy afternoon, the type of weather that made everything moody and drenched in sorrow, fitting for your state of mind. The meeting was a fruitless use of time since the semester was already over, but you wanted to spend as much time as possible with him. You didn't want to say goodbye yet.

The sky poured in fine droplets by the time you were done. You waited as professor Murdock locked the door and walked out together. Neither of you said anything as you stood at the edge of the building, listening to the rainfall. You didn't bring an umbrella. You turned to him, and farewell words left a bitter taste on your lips.

"I guess this is it. I'll … see you around campus."

The forced smile on your face dropped as you placed your bag over your head. You hastily took half a step before his hand shot out, stopping you before you could walk out of his reach.

"Do you have anything for the rain?"

"No, I don't. But my apartment is not too far from here."

"I'll walk you home."

He didn't even hesitate.

"No no no no, you don't have to."

"I insist. I can't let you walk home by yourself in this weather."

He pulled out a well-loved umbrella from his messenger bag. It seemed like he wouldn't take no for an answer. You sighed, nothing of annoyance, only a little breathless.

"Can I at least carry it, please?"

The soothing sound of the rain was secondary to the thunderous beat of your own heart. The walk home was quiet since you couldn't find it in yourself to properly engage in a conversation when all you could think of was the feeling of his left hand resting in the crook of your right arm, which was holding up the umbrella. His hold was delicate, and you relished in the way it made you feel. Matt didn't seem to mind the quiet as you walked through the busy streets, occasionally talking about nothing in particular.

Eventually, the familiar build of your apartment complex loomed close, but you didn't want this to end. So you walked past the building and continued onward aimlessly for what felt like a little while. Matt leaned his head close to yours; his voice was barely louder than a whisper.

"Your apartment is quite far away. Good thing I'm going with you, or else you would be soaking wet by now."

His casual comment made you slow to a stop, pulling him with you. A look of concern touched his slightly furrowed brows.

"Are you okay?"

You shook your head, unable to look at him. You looked down at your boot-clad feet and his worn Oxford shoes as if you could find courage on the ground you stepped on.

"No … I'm not. I'm so sorry for lying, but we walked by my place … five minutes ago."

You needed to explain yourself as the look of concern on his face deepened.

"I didn't say anything because …."

He was quiet and so still, hanging onto every single word you said.

"Because … I … I like you."

Three simple words, yet the relief of their weight was immeasurable. Now that Matt knew, you felt the rush of regret start to pour in.

"I like you. And I'm sorry I'm so selfish that I made you walk with me even though my apartment is back there. I want to make my last few minutes with you last as long as possible. I'm sorry for even saying all of this–"

Your words were cut off by the touch of his lips on yours. Matt pulled you in by the small of your back, and your heart soared on its timid wings. Your hands hovered on either side of him, unsure of their limit on the newfound territory. As if Matt could sense your hesitation, he pulled back, and all you could think of was how much you would regret it if you let him go. You tugged him back to you by the lapel of his coat with more force than you anticipated, his body crashed clumsily into yours, and you found him again with more certainty this time. His lips were soft, brushing against yours in firm strokes, affirming the reality you hadn't grasped yet. His reciprocation was real and tangible, like the touch of his fingers caressing the bare skin on your neck, holding you against him.

All of his and your emotions were poured into the kiss, albeit slightly clumsy at first, until you found your rhythm, for actions were the only thing that allowed you to express yourselves fully at this moment. Words would be saved for later, as there was only him and you and the all-consuming kiss. Your hand lowered as you dropped the umbrella to the ground so you could hold onto him. Your hand found its way to rest at the back of his head; your fingers carded through the damp, slightly curled hair. Neither of you cared about the rain or the people walking around you as you were lost in the ardent embrace, letting the intensity pull loose at the thread of your longing for each other.

You broke away first, letting out a soft gasp for air. Your eyes were wide open, taking in Matt's swollen lips as you caught your breath. He looked as dishevelled as how you felt, and the small smile on his lips only made your already frantic heart beat faster.

"I like you too—more than you could possibly know. I didn't want to say anything because I thought you wouldn't reciprocate."

Hearing those words from him gave you an immense sense of relief.

"Besides, it's hardly appropriate."

You chuckled at the irony that was your situation. You absentmindedly brushed away the droplets on Matt's face despite the rain still descending upon you.

"Was. I'm not your student anymore, remember?"

His smile broadened at your reminder. His head dipped slightly, and you could see his eyes crinkled in the corners in the most endearing way through the rims of his glasses. He leaned into your touch, nuzzling his cheek into your palm before gently pulling you in by your jaw for another kiss. This time, it was softer, with all the sense of indulgence the two of you had. After all, you had all the time in the world for each other.

*Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated!*

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angelsanarchy · 9 months

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Glass Houses: Jack Thurlow x Y/N Series CH 05 -> CH 06

"Didn't you say you had already befriended your neighbors daughter?" "I'd hardly call us friends. She doesn't know I'm crazy yet."

Tagging: @roryculkinluvr @thatsthewrongwallcraig @icarus-star @cc-luvr @madamemaximoff06 @shady-the-simp @quicksilversg1rl

"How is your sleep? Is it leveling out or are you still experiencing fatigue?" Jack stretched out in front of the computer screen and yawned.

"It's still weird. Some days I'm too exhausted to function. Other days I work my ass off to clear out the house but when I finally lay down, I just can't shut my mind off." Jack explained.

"What goes through your mind when you find yourself unable to sleep?" Jack rolled his eyes.

"Everything...nothing at all...I think about what I might do the next day or working on the book but then I'm too exhausted to even sit in the chair." Jack was growing annoyed with how his meds made him like a zombie. His brain was far too developed to not be able to use it during the day time.

"How about your appetite? Are you eating regularly?" Jack hated having to explain that he was miserable because his body required these meds to stay sane.

"Not as often as I should. Most of that is because I haven't done the grocery shopping yet. I have to put in an order." Jack listened to the hum come from the doctor.

"Have you thought about maybe going to the grocery store? Getting out among the people just to explore." Jack laughed.

"Yeah I'm not sure I have the energy for that. Maybe if I go late at night but I don't want to mingle just yet." Jack couldn't imagine having to walk through the grocery store having people stare at him or offer condolences that are empty and way too late. He wouldn't mind running into Y/n but that's a different story.

"Didn't you say you had already befriended your neighbors daughter?" Dr. Carty questioned making notes.

"I'd hardly call us friends. She doesn't know I'm crazy yet." Jack explained with a self deprecating laugh.

"You aren't crazy Jack. People live completely normal lives with mental illness. It's like any other illness and you are taking the steps towards a bit more normalcy." Dr. Carty had been with Jack since he checked into the facility. He felt like Jack absolutely needed to be hospitalized for the time he was in order to not only get to the root of his trauma but to allow his brain time to come to terms with it. He recognized all the progress he's made and wanted him to feel proud of that.

"Well how does it feel to interact with someone your own age who isn't a doctor?" Jack shrugged.

"She's fine. I mean we have a really cohesive sense of humor. I think if we did hang out, it wouldn't be awful but I'm pretty sure she's a nurse or something. She wears scrubs whenever she's not in regular clothes and when she's in regular clothes she's usually care-giving for her mom." Dr. Carty laughed making Jack tilt his head.

"You like her." He said confidently.

"What? No! We've had two conversations. That's hardly enough time to develop a liking to anyone." Jack defended.

"Haven't you ever heard of love at first sight?" Now Jack knew the doc was fucking with him.

"Yeah, thankfully I live in the real world. Plus everyone knows it's more like lust at first sight. No one can fall in love just seeing someone. That's based entirely on physical attraction." Jack was more of a pessimist when it came to love and attraction. Plenty of people could be attractive but love is few and far between. Jack can count on one hand how many people he's genuinely loved in his entire life.

"Well is she attractive?" Dr. Carty pressed.

"She's conventionally attractive, yes. I mean she hasn't cured my lack of sex drive but again, we've only spoken twice. I don't think I could fuck even if I wanted to." Jack had known the Doc for long enough that his random bouts of vulgarity didn't make him flinch.

"So you have decent conversation with a pretty woman who can match your intellect and has a dog you enjoy spending time with...She doesn't sound like an awful friend to make. Maybe you should work on that." Jack pushed away from the computer and ran his hands down his face.

"Why? I don't want to ruin anyone else's life. She's clearly a much better person than I am and she's already agreed to let me take the dog for walks on occasion so why risk ruining that with her getting to know me?" Jack genuinely feared letting anyone close at this point. Shanda had been with him since day one and the only person who has gotten a pass is the Doc and that wasn't something Jack asked for but has gotten used to.

"She's not Cleo, Jack." The mention of Cleo knocked the wind out of his chest.

"I know that." Jack whispered timidly before standing from his chair to move to the window.

"Just because you never received closure from her doesn't mean you can't move forward. You have done your part in taking accountability. We knew going into that you might not received the absolution of forgiveness." Dr. Carty himself had reached out to Cleo and was told she didn't care if Jack had dropped dead, she refused to talk to him after having their child cremated alone. Jack had sent a twenty page letter without any sort of response and when he sent a follow up, it was returned to sender.

The few times he dared to check social media, she had erased him from her entire existence. She had a memorial post for the baby but she didn't use his last name. When he accidentally liked one of her posts, he was met with a block on all outlets. Shanda had assured him that she had moved on and was doing better but he held onto that guilt for abandoning her after such a sudden miscarriage.

"What are you thinking Jack?" Doc's voice broke through his thoughts as he stood at the window. He could see Y/n down in her mother's garden watering the flowers and talking to her mom who was sitting in a wheelchair on the porch with Ace in her lap. He didn't need to know Y/n well to see she was a good person.

"The best thing she could do is to stay away from me. I'm just...I don't deserve that again. I wasted it the first time and ruined someone's life. What would I even do if I allowed myself to find that with someone else after Cleo? How do I explain to someone what I did to someone I loved enough to want to marry and start a family with?" Jack's ranting started to make his chest hurt.

"Jack, I want you to close your eyes and take a deep breath." Jack became annoyed but did as he was told counting in his head as he took a few deep breaths.

"You need to remember that we are not our mistakes. We all have flaws and blemishes but it's how we right our wrongs that define us. You are not a bad person." Jack opened his eyes feeling a slight burn from squeezing them so tightly. Jack let out a breath before digging in his pocket for a lighter, picking up a cigarette and opening the window abruptly. The daylight made it hard for his eyes to adjust at first but he didn't realize the sound of the window would draw any attention towards him. He was met with Y/n's gaze as he took a deep drag of his cigarette.

"You have to forgive yourself Jack. If you don't let go of that weight, it will drown you." Jack kept his eyes on Y/n as she smiled at him and waved. Jack returned a weak smile, biting his lip.

"I want to...I really do but I just don't think I can." Jack admitted out loud glancing over at the screen to see Dr. Carty was frowning. He hated ending his sessions on a such a negative feeling but he knew he was out of time today. He knew that Doc didn't want to leave him alone with these thoughts so he gave him self work to do over the weekend so it would keep him occupied. Self work always made him roll his eyes because he could knock assignments out easily but whenever he sat down to work on his writing, his mind would be blank. All he wanted to do was figure out how to feel normal again.

#Jack Thurlow #Jack Goes Home #Rory Culkin #Culkin Cult #Glass Houses #One Shot Series #5/38

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pinkkittysaw · 8 months

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I AM AFRAID NOT OF LEAVING, BUT BEING FORGOTTEN

*the title is part of a quote from the book Little Devil in America: Notes in Praise of Black Performance by Hanif Abdurraqib

pairing: clive rosfield x f!reader

summary: unable to deal with your bouts of insecurity, you try to call it quits on your relationship with clive

word count: 3.5k

content: hurt/comfort, established relationship, self flagellation (talks of insecurity and self doubt/deprecation), unhealthy coping mechanisms, allusions to anxiety, extremely self indulgent

(18+) this piece is sfw but am uncomfortable with minors interacting with my work

a/n: dealing with a lot of anxiety and thoughts of worthlessness/hopelessness so i created this in hopes of alleviating some of those feelings 👍

also if you’re interested, i listened to Need 2 by Pinegrove while writing this. figured it’d help set the mood while reading

divider by @/saradika

"You're still sleeping in the bunks? Clive returned yesterday, you know." Jill teases as she sits on the edge of the bed you've chosen to occupy for the past few nights. It wasn't unusual for you to reside in the bunks whenever Clive was away on an assignment; the big bed that occupies his chambers being too spacious to bear during nights spent alone.

What was unusual, however, was that you continued to spend your evenings there after he had already returned. Having once been so eager to jump into his sturdy arms after catching wind of his arrival back at the hideaway. You were often caught running down to the pier once the ferryboat came into view, excitedly waiting for him at the dock while waving your arms like a madwoman. When Jill heard from Clive that the two of you hadn't spoken since before he left, she immediately knew something was amiss.

"I'm aware," you grumble into the pillow that you're currently holding over your face.

"Did something happen between you two?" She probes, a frown forming on her features as she scoots closer to you. "Did he hurt you? Because I swear to Founder if he-"

"No, no, no, it's nothing like that," you interrupt, removing the pillow. "He's lovely. I just..." Hesitation creeps into your voice as your words trail off. To be honest, you're not quite sure how to describe what you're experiencing at the moment. "I'm feeling...unwell." Though it's not a physical illness that ails you, you hope that your response is satisfactory enough for her to leave the conversation be.

"Have you come down with something? I can help you to the infirmary if you need."

"It's nothing that serious. I'll be alright." You give her a half-hearted smile in an attempt to reassure her. She eventually yields, though still not convinced of your words.

With a shake of her head and a heavy sigh, she rises to stand. "He'll come looking for you sooner or later." Padding across the room from your bunk to the entrance, she looks back at you before making her exit. "You can't avoid him forever."

You scoff when she's just out of earshot. Like hell you can't, you think to yourself. Wearing your self-isolation on your sleeve like a badge of honor. Whenever you wanted to disappear from people's lives, you did, regardless of how much it hurt. This time was no different.

The truth of the matter is that you were avoiding Clive; the reasons for doing so were nobody's fault but your own.

In your eyes, you were so much weaker than he, often thinking you were undeserving of a man of his caliber. He harnesses the strength to take on entire eikons, whereas you peril in comparison, so after ruminating on your feelings of worthlessness one night, you decided to call it quits, figuring that it was for the best and choosing to avoid him so you didn't have to confront your own inadequacy. Perhaps it wasn't the healthiest choice, but it was the one you decided to go with.

The next few days are spent taking on as many assignments as you can, with the hope of eluding Clive. The majority of his time was spent away from the hideout, but you could never be too careful.

Rushing over to check the alliant reports at first light and carrying on well throughout the day. From dawn til dusk, you worked yourself to the bone only to collapse in your bunk at the end of the day, dead to the world, rising early from your slumber to repeat it all again the next day.

Apparently, Clive caught on to your little scheme because, after one late afternoon, someone stood waiting for you at the pier upon your return to the hideaway.

After thanking Obolus, you make your way over to the fellow bearer to inquire about what's going on. "Clive's looking to speak with you in his chambers; he said it was urgent," she states.

"It can't wait?"

"He seemed rather insistent; best not keep him waiting."

"Of course, thank you for letting me know." You smile at her before making your way over to his chambers, grumbling to yourself. You climb the steps to his room with a pout on your face, not looking forward to the conversation awaiting you on the other side of the door.

After taking a moment to collect yourself, you extend your arm to gently knock on the door. "Come in." His voice calls out from inside the room.

You push apart the two slabs of wood separating his chambers from the main deck and step inside. He's sitting at his desk to your left, quill in hand, stripped down to just his tunic and trousers, his leathers and armor removed, while his sword rests against the wall. Fuck, you think to yourself. He must be set on staying a while. There's no escaping him this time.

You make quick work to occupy yourself with the objects scattered around the room as you move to stand in front of his desk. You're surprised to see a pile of your forgotten clothing neatly folded on the couch that sits against the opposing wall, as well as the various knickknacks you've added to his desk during your time together. Albeit an overreaction, you half expected your things to be tossed into the lake's abyss with how you were acting.

"Ah," he says as he looks up from his writing, setting down the quill. "There you are. I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of having your clothes washed, should you want them back."

"But if not, I could always make space for them here."

Your eyes meet his as the statement leaves his mouth. It's an invitation, an olive branch extended to you in hopes of making peace. The implication of his words, the domesticity of it all, leaving bits and pieces of each other in one another's lives, even after all that you've done to push him out of yours, leaves a bitter aftertaste in your mouth, making you realize just how truly undeserving of his love you really are.

A mumbled "Thank you" is all you can offer him in response.

"It's no problem." He stands up from his seat; both his hands lay flat on the desk below as he peers down at you. "I've heard you've been making yourself quite scarce lately."

"Your undertaking of assignments has increased significantly. It's almost as if...you've been avoiding me." He states it like a question, trying to gauge your reaction and see if you'll give him something he can latch on to.

"That's not true," you scoff. It is true, and you both damn well know it, but you keep up the facade anyway.

He exhales the breath he was holding, easing up on the interrogation. "I admit, I've been spending more time away from the hideout, but you can't seriously expect me to believe that your behavior lately is normal."

"I haven't seen as much as a glimpse of you since before I left."

Frustration grows in your belly; you're tired of running, tired of hiding, and tired of pretending. "I can't do this anymore, Clive."

"Can't do what?"

"This. Us."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm just not good enough for you... or anyone."

"I shouldn't even be here. I'm not strong enough to fight alongside the cursebreakers," you gesture into the open air. "I lack the wit to come up with strategies to help take down the Mothercrystals, and I've got as much charm as a bloody morbol."

"I've read the missives from the past few days, all of which praise you for your tact, your kindness, dedication, and care. Just because you're not on the frontlines doesn't mean you're not making an impact."

"What good is any of it?" You raise your voice. "What good is helping with crops, fetching supplies, and slaying meager monsters if it's the next day that our people are led to slaughter?"

"The imperials tighten their grip across the realm with each passing moon, and what I do in the grand scheme of things is the equivalent of sitting on my arse twiddling my thumbs. I'm about as useful as a corpse."

"ENOUGH." His voice boomed and bellowed, loud enough that people down on the main deck probably turned their heads at the sound. "Sit," he commands, pointing to the couch across the room, and you dare not disobey.

Embarrassed that you've stirred up such a fuss, you sit yourself down on the piece of furniture and hang your head low, preparing for a scolding. Not that it wouldn't be deserved; Clive has enough to worry about with the Mothercrystals and bearers, now having to also quell the insecurities that linger in your heart.

Just suck it up and do better is what you've always been told, but try and try and try as you might, you can never seem to get there. You're never enough. Can your strengths even be called strengths if there's so many out there who can do everything you do but better?

You don't bother raising your head to him as he paces back and forth, not wanting him to see another weakness of yours in the form of your tears. He gives a heavy sigh as he collects his thoughts, pinching his nosebridge while searching for the right words. "I apologize for raising my voice, but I simply cannot bear how critical you are of yourself, especially when I know for a fact that your fears are unfounded."

He marches up to where you sit on the couch, caressing your cheek and nudging your face in his direction. You can't bring yourself to meet his icy blues, knowing your heart would burst at the seams under his gaze or the kind smile that he reserves just for you. You don't deserve it, not with the way you've acted, so instead you turn your head in the opposite direction, refusing to indulge in his affections. His grip is a tad more firm as he attempts to move your face once more. You don't have the strength to resist his pull, so you let him maneuver your jaw to face him.

Tears begin to flow down your cheeks, and your lower lip wobbles as you attempt to hold in your sobs. His eyes widen as he sees the state that you're in, and with a gentle finger, he lifts your chin up.

"Will you look at me, please?" His voice isn't as strong as it once was moments before. There's a small break in his tone, almost as if he's pleading with you. Feeling exhausted now, you lift your eyes to meet his. They're not filled with anger or disappointment, but with concern, and more tears pool in your waterline as you scan his face.

"Oh, sweetheart," he whispers, bringing his thumbs to wipe away the tears spilling from your eyes before sitting down beside you. He surveys your sullen expression before pulling you into a hug. His warmth surrounds you in his embrace, and a part of you hates how secure it makes you feel.

Always relying on others to get by, you'd be dead without him, and you know it. You're a hopeless, bumbling mess trying to find your way through a dark maze.

You cry more into his shoulder, soaking through his tunic with your tears, despite your best efforts to remain unfeeling and stoic. It's all too much all at once, and his comfort only agitates the ache deep within your heart.

"Let it all out; I'm right here."

"You're safe," he murmurs in your ear, stroking a comforting hand up and down your back.

"I don't deserve you, Clive."

"You don't deserve to see me like this," you manage to choke out between sobs. The force of your crying is so violent against him that you start hiccupping and gasping for air.

He doesn't respond to your claims, not yet anyway, knowing that doing so would only rile you up more—choosing to hold you instead, rocking you slightly from side to side. He waits for you to calm down before addressing you, and you don't attempt to speak again, your shortness of breath not allowing for any more words to be uttered. You allow yourself to rest in his arms like you've done many times before, and after a short while, your wails are reduced to nothing but sniffles.

Once you've become a bit more settled, he pulls away from the embrace only to fetch a hankerchief, giving you a few minutes to collect yourself. He sits back down with you, his free hand grasping yours firmly, grounding you. The weight of his fingers interlocked with yours serves as a reminder that he's here; he's with you.

"I apologize for the outburst," you say, wiping your face down with the cloth before shifting your attention to him once more.

"No need for apologies, my love. I'd much rather you cry in my arms than continue to bottle this feeling inside you and let it fester."

You look away from him, turning toward the gaps in the wall of his chambers where the sunlight peaks through. You stare out at the lake below, watching as the black water laps at the walls of the hideaway.

Your voice takes on a somber tone when you speak next. "You deserve someone better than me, Clive, someone stronger." The air surrounding you two is still but its weight is all too heavy.

"Don't be ridiculous," he chides, his body turning to face you as he throws an arm over the backrest of the couch.

"If only I was." You let your words drift off into the ether before speaking again. "You deserve someone who can bear the weight of her own burdens, who's strong enough to not fall apart at every small inconvenience, someone who doesn't need to run into the comfort of your arms like a petulant child. I'm not worth everything you do for me—the kindness, the generosity, the love—none of it."

He scoots closer to you, bringing a hand to grasp at your hip, his thumb stroking it back and forth. "Is that not my right as your lover? To see you at your weakest and most vulnerable and still love you anyway?"

"I'm nothing, Clive. It's been that way since the day I was born. I'm not worth trying to save, just deadweight that needs to be tossed overboard."

"You think I'm a sinking ship, then? that I can't ‘handle’ you?" He gestures in the air.

"I can barely handle myself. Let's just end this before it's too late."

"Don't I have a say in the matter? You're making all these decisions about us without so much as a forethought for how I feel."

"It's better this way."

"Better for who? The self-destructive thoughts in your head? Because it's certainly not better for me and I'd go as far to say that it's not what you really want either. So pray tell, what's the real issue here?Where is all this stemming from?"

You shoot a glare his way—a defensive one, but still a glare nonetheless.

He reaches out to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. It feels like no matter what you do, it's always wrong. Here you were acting like a brat to the man you loved, and here he was, being patient with you like a saint.

You relent, letting him have a peek into the inner world that you've kept a secret all this time. "There's a horrible weight in my chest carried with me wherever I go, wrapped up tight in my gut like a ball of twine, and no matter what I do, it comes back. I can't shake it. I can't shake anything. I'm still here, a mess of fear and nerves."

"I'm angry, vengeful, and mean, but at the same time, I'm scared of everything, timid and fragile as a mouse. If weakness were a person, it'd be me. Sometimes it's a miracle that i'm even able to do the things I do. I rely on you too much, and it scares me."

"You're anything but weak, my love. In fact, I think being vulnerable and open like this takes immense strength." He continues to caress your face.

"I'm not strong enough to fight alongside you. I'm useless when it comes to taking down the Mothercrystals."

He chuckles. "If physical strength was all I cared about, I would have taken a brute as my lover."

"Clive…" You roll your eyes in a playful manner, appreciating his attempt at lifting your mood.

The sun is setting now, and his chambers are tinted with a pale orange-yellow hue. The light reflects off the water, and you gaze upon the lake below while his gaze lingers on you.

"Come," he states, extending a hand as he stands up from the couch. You take his hand in yours as he leads you over to the gap in the wall, both admiring the sunset together. It's a beautiful evening; the clouds are painted pink and orange as the sun dips below the horizon.

"I'm serious, you know," he nudges your shoulder. The beginnings of a smile paint your features—a smile that he takes as a small win.

"Clive, I-" He presses a finger to your lips, silencing you. "Just listen, please," you nod, and he turns, facing the scenic view again, the sunlight bouncing off the yellow tones of his skin. "Do you remember traveling to the Apodetry all those years back? When I couldn't grapple with the fact that I was Ifrit and very well may have killed my own brother?"

You don't say anything, but you nod, and then he continues. "I'm not sure if I ever would have come to terms with it if you weren't by my side." He lets out a small sigh. "You say that you can't handle your own burdens, that I deserve someone stronger, but the truth is, without you, I might never have been able to bear my own. I'm not sure if I'd be the man I am today if I didn't have you, so don't you dare imply that I'd somehow be better off without you."

"You're right when you said I don't need you. It is not a matter of need or deserving, my love, but a matter of want. I want you. I desire you so wholeheartedly."

"I know that I alone am not enough to quell these thoughtsof yours, especially after the life you've lived-" he turns to face you again, his thumb grazing the leftover scar on your cheek from the removal of your brand, "-but please believe me when I say that you do matter, and not just to me, but to everyone here, to every person you've helped, to every soul you've graced with your kindness. Would you say those who work in the backgarden are unworthy of being here, simply because they don't wield a blade and march in the frontlines?"

"No," you pout.

He smiles. "Then I implore you to extend that same kindness to yourself." He steps closer, moving to nuzzle your nose with his. "Though you're not taking down Mothercrystals, you're showing people that there's still hope—that kindness can still exist in a world where harsh cruelties befall those who never deserve it."

"A twinkling light is left with everyone you help, no matter how minuscule it seems."

"We chose this undertaking so that dominants and bearers alike could live the lives they choose. If a life of peace is what you want, then it's one that you shall have. You shouldn't be fighting each and every day just so you can make it to the next."

Both of your foreheads press together as he continues to speak. "You don't need to throw yourself to the wolves. You're done with having to earn through suffering. You're done having to prove your worth. You don't have to earn your right to exist and be happy, not with me or anyone else here."

He presses his lips against yours. "I love you," he whispers in between the kiss. "Your vulnerabilities, your fears... They are not shortcomings, my love. They are what make you who you are, and though I wish I could make your pain a bit more tolerable, I wouldn't change a single thing about you, ever."

He presses more kisses on your lips, sweet, loving, and gentle. "You are my strength, my everything. I love you so much."

Bathed in the dying light of the sun, you hold each other tender with a slow brushing of lips against each other, and though such demons of the mind aren't so easily bested, you're given a moment's solace in the warm embrace of your lover, knowing that no matter what ails you, you'll face it together.

"I love you too, Clive."

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