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helen-with-an-a · 2 months

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Embarrassing Moments

Hi. So this is my first real fic I've written but yeh. This is inspired by mine and @lyak12 's ramblings and daydreamings hehe.

Anyways, I don't think there are any warnings - it gets a little suggestive but no outright smut (if you get me) anyways here it is

Lucy Bronze x reader

TW: Suggestive (no outright smut - lead up to it)

Word count: 3.3k

Description: Lucy wants to break your record after the Champions League final

You had done it. Champions of Europe. You felt bodies land on you, causing you to stagger forwards. It hadn’t sunk in yet, and you weren’t quite sure you wanted to. This daze, this elation. You finally understood was Lucy was talking about, you wanted it again. She had always said as soon as she won something it was onto the next thing. And she was right. You had missed out on the Euros through injury, but you knew you wanted this feeling to never stop and to replicated it in a few months with the 3 Lions on your chest. Missing out on the Euros was saddening but getting to watch the entire tournament as a fan was an experience you hadn’t been able to do for a long time. But this joy was something else. Knowing that it was you that helped drag your team over the finish line. Knowing that you contributed to this win.

‘Oh, my fucking god!’ Keira screamed, arms wrapping round your shoulders.

‘Oh, my fucking god!’ You laughed, finally coming down to earth a little bit – at least enough to soak up the moment.

You were passed around from person to person. Sweaty hugs, sloppy kisses planted on cheeks, laughter and shouts coming from all directions. It wasn’t until familiar strong arms gripped you tightly that your head finally came out of the clouds.

‘Campeones de Europa,’ you said softly as you grinned up at her. ‘What’s this title? Number 4?’ She laughed

‘Eh. This one’s the most special.’ She replied. You furrowed your eyebrows at her, cocking your head to the side. ‘I’ve got you to celebrate with me’.

‘Oh, dear lord, Luce. So bloody cheesy’.

‘What can I say? I’ve got a trophy. And another champions league medal’. You rolled your eyes. She was always joking that out of all the medals and titles she’d won, you were her best prize.

You stood side by side as you clapped for Wolfsburg. Despite not knowing many of them personally, you knew how hard this would be for them. You didn’t doubt they would be back with a vengeance next year. Suddenly, it was your turn. Aitana was in front of you, beaming away and prattling something in Catalan. You couldn’t understand it, but you didn’t care. She was happy and that’s all that mattered.

Lucy was behind you – a hand dangerously low on your waist as she gently pushed you towards the officials. ‘Gracias,’ you murmured as a medal was slipped round your neck. You felt so much pride as you stepped up to kiss the trophy. Barcelona’s trophy. Your trophy. You took your place on the podium and pressed yourself into Lucy’s side. More shouts and cheers rang out as confetti rained down.

‘Hey.’ Lucy called to get your attention. You were trying to find your family – you had seen them briefly yesterday but, like all match days didn’t look for them in the crowd before the game. You turned, smiling when you realised just how close you were to her body. Hard muscles, soft skin, and that unique Lucy scent – a little sweaty, floral undertones from her shampoo and body wash and something undeniably Lucy. It was intoxicating. ‘I’m going to kiss you now. Okay?’ You think it was a question but the way she said it was a statement. Her hands threaded through you hair. The slightest nod was all she allowed before her lips were on yours. You heard cheers from the crowd and teammates alike and fervent camera clicks.

‘That’s…’ you breathed out when you parted. ‘That’s ... we're gonna break the internet.’ You weren’t really concerned. You had never hidden your 3-year relationship, but you had never been a fan of PDA, especially during a game.

‘Good.’ She smiled that breath-taking grin, pressing another kiss to your lips, before whisking you off to find your families.

‘You know …’ Lucy trailed off a little while later. You were back in the hotel lobby. Her arms wrapped around you as her fingers dipped below the waistband of your shorts. ‘I’ve been thinking’. You could tell exactly what she was thinking about. Her eyes had been slowly darkening since the dressing room. You had taken off your shirt (the sweaty material was sticking to you in a way that was slowly becoming too much) and danced around with Patri and Pina, screaming Spanish lyrics you only half understood – alcohol working wonders to slowly take away your inhibitions and reservations.

‘Oh no, that’s never good.’ You joked. You had eased up on the alcohol after the changing rooms. You didn’t want to be too drunk that you couldn’t experience the celebrations. Lucy was still nursing a beer, but you knew she was nowhere near drunk.

‘Ha ha,’ She said sarcastically. She readjusted the pair of you, your hands moving to fiddle with the loose hairs at the nape of her neck. ‘I was thinking we should set a new record…’ She waited for you to get what she meant. You looked confused for a moment, her eyebrow raising in response. It clicked. She wanted to beat your previous orgasm record. After the Euros you had gone, round after round, until you finally tapped out at 5 am. ‘It was seven for you after the Euros, right? Combined total of 11? I don’t think we’ve beaten that since then. But I have a feeling… tonight is the night. We’re going for 8… maybe even 9.’ The way she was talking so casually about your previous sex-capades had you blushing scarlet. You weren’t a prude per say but you weren’t as open as Lucy - never really spilling your secrets to your friends, often sporting a bright blush on your cheeks as stories were swapped across the changing rooms. You looked around, but no one was paying attention. Alexia had already dragged Olga off, and it looked like Mapi and Ingrid weren’t too far away either. You could see a hint of lime green disappearing around a corner, so you assumed Jill and Jana were making themselves scarce.

You couldn’t wait any longer. You pushed yourself up onto your toes and smashed your lips into Lucy’s. It wasn’t a pretty kiss. It was intense. Tongues and teeth clashing. Incredibly indecent and not at all appropriate for a public space. But you couldn’t find it in you to care.

‘Take me to bed’. You whispered. You were surprised she heard you – the music was loud and the conversations even louder.

‘Your wish is my command, princess’. The honorific had you clenching you thighs in anticipation of what was to come. The lift was torturous, the walk back to your room agonising, the wait as she fiddled with the key card was unbearable. But finally … finally, you were in your room.

You saw the intensity in Lucy’s eyes as you made your way passed her. It was a little overwhelming you, so to avoid her gaze, you played with the medal that was still swinging around your neck. ‘Your first Champions League title.’ You smiled, quietly proud of the achievement. You had come to Barcelona from your childhood club, Man City, as part of the exodus of players that left the club in the summer. You had never been the receiver of individual awards – not like Lucy who had probably hundreds of accolades to her name. But this felt special. Yes, it was a team award, but you were coming off of an injury that had prevented you from having the euro call up. The Spanish media had started calling you ‘la creadora de juego. ‘The playmaker’. You had been instrumental in most goals this season, either direct assists or making initial runs and occasionally tapping them in yourself. This felt like your medal.

‘I am so proud of you’. Lucy snapped you out of your daze with a gentle hand on your cheek. Whilst you were zoning out, she had stripped out of her top and shorts. It was a sight to see. It had you dizzy at the thought out what that body would do to you and what you could do to it. Thick thighs you could get yourself off on. Defined abs that would clench as you sent her flying over the edge. Strong arms that would hold you to her as she caught her breath again. Rough but soft hands that could have you teetering on the precipice in mere moments.

‘Te voy a follar hasta que veas estrellas.’ That had your head spinning even more. She was well aware of what her use of Spanish did to you and frequently used it to her advantage. I’m going to fuck you until you see stars. God, you hoped so. You let out a shaky breath. ‘Traffic lights?’ She asked, an eyebrow raised in expectation. You cleared your throat. You knew you had to be confident when you told her what the system meant.

‘Green means I’m good. Yellow means slow down. Red means stop’. Your voice was a little shaky.

‘Good girl’. Your heart fluttered as she leant down.

‘I’m not going to hold back.’ She reminded you. Her lips working on your neck leaving dark marks in their wake.

‘I don’t want you too’ You replied as you settle against the pillows. You could feel a smile against your naval as she descended down your body.

The sun is what awoke you the next morning. You were on your front, arms thrown over Lucy as your head rested on her outstretched arm. Her face was turned away from you, but you could already see the damage you had done to her neck. The crisp white sheet contrasted greatly against her tanned skin, but even though it covered her from her waist, you could still see the darkening splotches that you had bitten and sucked into her skin. You doubt you looked much better. You tried to shift so you could shower away the stickiness on your skin, but you couldn’t move. Lucy was facing away from you, her other hand resting on her stomach, so she couldn’t be blamed for whatever was keeping you hostage.

It was then, when you had become more aware of your body, just had much you ached. You had beaten you previous record last night. In fact, you had absolutely demolished your score. She had pulled 10 from you last night. And you had given her 6. You couldn’t imagine what it would take for you to beat this record – maybe the winning World Cup? ‘Luce,’ you called out. Your voice was raspy and deep. This was new – you knew you were loud in bed – you could no longer look at some of your City ex-teammates without being reminded of the amount of teasing you had received after an away win and Lucy’s return to games following an injury – but you’ve never lost your voice from sex before. You cleared your throat at tried again. ‘Luce?’ It was a little better – still undeniably overused but hopefully you could pass it off as from the match and pitch-side celebrations. It was clear that Lucy was still dead to the world, she always had been a deep sleeper, so with a monumental effort, you peeled yourself away from the warmth of her body and shuffled to the edge of the bed. It took more effort and a lot longer than you anticipated but you managed it. You could feel how weak you were, and you knew you couldn’t stand up without help.

‘Hmm, no. Come back.’ A deep, sleep-laced voiced complained from behind you.

‘I need help’. That got Lucy sitting up.

‘What’s wrong?’ She asked quickly, the panic evident in her voice.

‘I can’t stand up’

‘What do you mean you can’t stand …’ she trailed off. ‘Ohhhhh. Fucked you that good, did I?’ You could hear the smugness in her voice. ‘Did such a good job you can’t stand up’.

‘Please, Luce. We need to shower and get breakfast. It’s already past 10’.

‘Alright, alright. I’m here.’ You felt the bed moving before Lucy appeared in front of you. She offered you a hand which you took gratefully. You went to stand again but it was clear that Lucy would need to give more than just a hand. She chuckled a little at your gentle blush but hooked an arm under your elbow and helped you to the shower. You eyed her sceptically as she moved to get in with you.

‘You can barely stand,’ She protested, ‘I’m not about to let you try and shower alone’.

‘Ok but no funny business,’ you warned. She chucked and pressed a sweet kiss to your hairline.

The walk down to breakfast was a slight struggle. After showering you did feel a lot better. Lucy had rubbed the soap into your skin, giving a light a light massage as she went. But you still couldn’t stand up without assistance – once you were standing you were fine, when you were sitting you were fine, the moving in between was the issue. You also had a slight limp in your step and your voice was still raspy. Even after drinking 2 full bottles of water.

‘Hola Y/N. Hola Lucy’. Vicky called from where she was sat. Fuck! You had forgotten the B team had come to watch the match yesterday.

‘H – Hey Vicky’ You cleared your throat and smiled at the 16-year-old as Lucy deposited you next to her. You watched as her face furrowed in confusion and concern – the site of you limping and sounding so rough was not nice for her.

‘What’s wrong? Did you hurt yourself in the match?’ Oh, she was so innocent.

‘Yeah, Y/N, did you get hurt last night?’ Mapi looked with faux concern as she sat down at your table. Your jaw tightened as you glared at her.

‘No, no. I’m alright Vicky. I probably just celebrated a little too hard’. You tried to reassure her. Martina looked a little suspicious of you, but the rest of the B team nodded, seeming to accept your answer.

‘Is that right? Partied too hard, did you?’ Alexia sniggered. ‘Or was it another type of celebration that’s got you like this?’ She whispered as she took a seat on your left. You shot her a look.

A plate with a selection of breakfast foods was put in front of you as Lucy slotted in on your right. ‘Thanks, darling’ you said as a kiss was dropped on your head. ‘I don’t think that’s the only name you go by, is it Lucy?’ Patri laughed. You could feel your cheeks beginning to flare pink. Lucy just laughed along, not really minding the light-hearted teasing.

‘Also, Y/N you owe me several coffees. Because of you, I’d didn’t get any sleep,’ Pina added on. Your eyes widened at her comment.

‘Hey. We were celebrating what, can I say?’ Lucy shrugs as she sips on her coffee

‘There’s celebrating and then there’s whatever you guys were doing’ Ana giggled

‘Hey it’s perfectly natural. We’re all human and every human has needs,’ Lucy commented, nonchalantly.

‘Not everyone needs to know what happens behind closed doors, Luce’ You tried to sound joking and confident, but you knew you failed

‘You made it our business by being so loud,’ Salma chuckles.

‘Ok but surely your needs were met by round 3 or 4?’ Laia added in. Lucy just smiled in response and kissed your cheek, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

With every comment thrown your way about your evening with Lucy your cheeks got more and more scarlet. If you could stand up on your own, you would have left to go back to your room by now. It’s not that you necessarily minded the comments thrown your way, it was more that you didn’t like to have all the jokes be at your expense. Due to Lucy’s lack of reaction are your significant and obvious one, you were an easy target. It wasn’t until a comment by Mapi that Lucy intervenes.

‘Hey, Lucy. Do you mind giving me tips? Ingrid’s record is 4 but our anniversary is coming up and based what we all heard last night, I think you might have some.’ That set everyone off on another round of loud laughter. Even Paños and Marta joined in this time– usually they don’t entertain childish comments from some members of the squad.

‘Guys…’ you said weakly. Sure, Lucy liked having a joke around, a little giggle at her, or your, expense was ok every now and then. But she could see this was really beginning to affect you. Your head was bowed down, attempting to hide the worst of the blush. You looked seconds away from crying.

‘Alright, alright. Sorry, I kept you guys up. But let’s move it along, shall we?’ Lucy tried to steer the conversation away from your sex lives without disrupting the joking atmosphere.

‘It’s not you that kept us up.’ Bruna responded.

‘Suficiente’. Lucy said, firmer this time, in that voice that does things to you but everyone else knows she means business. And in Spanish. She knew that would get everyone’s attention – including yours. How could you still be horny after last night? You didn’t have an answer, but you knew it was all down to the woman sitting next you, her hand splayed wide, rubbing comforting circles on your lower back.

‘So, what’s everyone’s plans before the international break or pre-season?’ Ingrid asked. It was an obvious subject change, but you were grateful, nonetheless.

‘Hey, I’m sorry we took it too far,’ Alexia murmured as the attention shifted onto holiday plans. ‘We’re not judging you or anything. Personally, I’m very impressed. My record with Olga is 6 and even then, we have to spend the day in bed afterwards. How many was it?’

’10, I think. Lucy had 6’ You whispered back; voice barely audible as the volume in the breakfast room picked up.

’10. Ay dios mío. No wonder you’re barely walking.’ Alexia seemed incredulous. ‘I’m definitely going to need tips’. She laughed, as did you. Your laughter caught Lucy’s attention. You were still sporting a slight blush, but she could tell you were much more relaxed.

Eventually, breakfast came to an end. People slowly began drifting back to their rooms to get ready for the official celebrations this afternoon. As Lucy helped you stand, you could see Mapi shaking her head, laughing. She was clearly about to say something when Ingrid, the ever-perceptive woman that she was, wrapped an arm around her and pulled her away before anything was said. You winced slightly as you started moving, but you were definitely more mobile than this morning.

‘I really don’t like you right now,’ you grumbled, pouting to emphasise your point – the sounds muffled but still perceptible to Lucy, having been long acquainted with your dramatics.

Lucy laughed loudly at your comment as she sat on the bed. Despite your words, you stepped into her embrace, her fingers gently tracing lines up the back of your thighs.

‘No, you don’t’

‘Yes, I do’ Your actions betraying your words as you pushed her to lie back against the pillows.

Lucy’s laugh must have been loud enough for it to be heard from outside as Mapi shouts drifted through the wood ‘Don’t be too loud. There are children prese-’. A harsh smack cut her off. ‘Ay! Tan violenta, Jesus’ She complained.

‘Sorry, Y/N’, Ingrid’s much softer voice floated passed the door. You groaned in response. But Lucy only laughed more.

‘Come here,’ she commanded gently. You allowed yourself to fall into her warmth.

‘Mmmm, you owe me, Bronze. That was humiliating,’ you mumbled; the events of the last 24 hours catching up with you quickly.

‘Ok…’ Lucy snickered, knowing you didn’t really mind what had happened at breakfast and you definitely wanted a repeat of the night before. As she went to speak again, she noticed your breaths evening out – light puffs of air reaching her neck as you buried your head in her shoulder. ‘Never change, Y/N. Never change’.

#woso #woso community #woso x reader #lucy bronze x reader #lucy bronze #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs #woso soccer #barca femeni x reader #barca femeni #fc barcelona

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sunflower-lilac42 · 5 months

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✧ 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 || quinn hughes ♔

album & song: evermore ; willow

summary: y/n loves quinn and quinn loves her. they would do everything and anything for each other or some moments in y/n and quinn's relationship that really make them, them

pairings: quinn hughes x best friend!reader (minor luke and jack x platonic!reader)

warnings: parents fighting, crying, fighting, i don't think anything else

notes: hey y'all, a promise is a promise so here is willow! i've really wanted to write this one for a while so i'm happy it's finally done. this is kind of best friends to lovers but really the only time they're best friends is like two parts of the fic but there are references to it. i haven't done a nhl x ts one in a while and i also haven't written a quinn fic in a while so, here's both. i love quinn and i love how this turned out. i'm sorry the last three are kinda of short and i cut out some lyrics but i was getting kinda tired and everything i wrote i hated so this is the best out of all of them. weird side note, i was at one point in the story where it said 'the one' while editing and i was listening to my taylor swift playlist on shuffle (because it gets me in the mood to write) and 'the 1' came on. i swear, stuff like this has been happening so much recently and i don't know why. add yourself to the taglist ➺ taglist!

evermore masterlist | nhl x ts masterlist | nhl masterlist | main masterlist

‘I'm like the water when your ship rolled in that night Rough on the surface but you cut through like a knife’

Senior Year of High School

She was having a tough time, school, finals, graduation, work, everything and anything that she did seemed like it was ganging up on her. She couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason for her stress, but there were many things she could blame it on. On top of it, her parents had been fighting nonstop for the past month. It wasn’t like they hadn’t before but this time it was worse, she felt like she was the cause for it.

Quinn had invited her over for some dinner, hoping to at least relieve some of the stress from his best friend’s shoulders. When she arrived he could see the stress in her face, she looked as if she didn’t really want to come in the first place.

He stepped aside and let the girl in, “Hey, y/n/n.”

“Hi, Quinn.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just tired.” She ran a hand through her hair before following Quinn to his room, saying hi to Ellen on the way. Ellen looked at the girl strangely, “Hi, y/n.”

“Hi, Mrs. Hughes.”

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Ellen, hon.” She pressed a kiss to her head, “Are you okay? You look-”

Bad? Drained? Streseed? Annoyed? Tired? All of the above? Is what she wanted to say, but didn’t, “I’m just a little tired right now.” Ellen nodded but looked unconvinced, shooting her oldest a look who also nodded his head.

He lightly took the girl’s arm and took her to his room, offering her to sit on his bed which she took gratefully. She looked around his room and at the posters on his wall before looking over at where he now sat at his desk. He was already looking at her with a small smile on his face, concern still lingering in his eyes.

The two stared at each other for a moment before a knock was heard on the door, “Hi.”

The two looked over to see his brothers standing there, “Hi Jack, Luke.”

Quinn didn’t reciprocate his best friend’s kindness, “What do you two want?”

“We just wanted to give y/n this.” Luke pulled out one of his bear stuffed animals from behind his back, “You looked sad.” Jack stood there, slightly out of place, mostly because this was Luke’s idea instead of his, but he liked y/n enough to go with him.

“Awe, thanks, you guys.” Tears made their way to the corners of her eyes but she refused to let them fall in front of the two.

Noticing her expression, Jack waved goodbye and dragged the eighth grader behind him. Y/n held the bear in her lap, arms wrapping around it tightly as she tried not to think of the events that happened before she got here.

“Y/n/n? Are you sure you're okay, because if not-” Quinn’s overwhelming concern for her made the tears bubble over in her eyes and a sob ripped from her throat, “I can’t do it anymore, Quinny.”

Quinn was quick to get up from his desk chair and stumble over to his bed to wrap the girl in a hug. He knew he didn’t have to do anything but hold her tight as she dug her head into his chest, the stuffed animal still clutched tightly to her chest.

It took her about ten minutes to calm down, tear after tear, and for her it felt like it would never stop. Quinn did what he always did and waited for her to stop so he, or she, could talk about it. He knew if he tried to talk to her while she was crying, she wouldn’t listen, nothing got through to her when she was crying this hard.

When she pulled away to wipe away her tear-stained face, Quinn opened his mouth to talk, “You know you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but you can, I’ll always listen.” He reached his hand out to wipe away one tear that she missed, one blackened by her mascara, leaving a trail of the makeup it held behind it.

She held a weak smile on her face at the warmth his hand brought to her cheek and looked at him, “Just finals and other shit like that, the usual. Plus, my parents were fighting again, I think that was my final straw.”

Quinn nodded his head, recognizing the tone in her voice that said she didn’t want to talk. Her face looked more tired after crying and he sighed, scooting back to rest his back against the headboard. Y/n looked at him confusedly but smiled when he opened his arms. She was quick to lay against his front, laying her head on his chest once more, still holding the bear in her grasp.

Ellen walked by twenty minutes later to tell them that dinner was ready, but when she peaked into her son’s room and saw both of them with their eyes closed she smiled, closed the door, and walked away telling the rest of the family to be quiet as they slept.

✧༺✎༻∞

‘And if it was an open-shut case I never would've known from that look on your face Lost in your current like a priceless wine’

End of Senior Year/Summer of ‘17

The both of them knew the feelings that they harbored for each other, but were both unsure of how the other felt. Neither one of them wanted to mess up their current friendship, they had been best friends since freshman year.

It had never been that simple between them, their friends saying how they looked like a couple everywhere they went. She would always wear his jerseys to his games or one of his shirts and he would always show up to her events with unwavering support.

Whenever someone saw Quinn, y/n wasn’t too far behind and vice versa, whenever y/n was asked what she was doing that night, she would say hanging out with Quinn and vice versa. They would always be caught holding hands or leaning up against one another or literally any other way that looked like they were dating.

They never said anything though, and they wouldn’t until graduation. Quinn and y/n stood side by side taking a picture with each other as they waited for their parents to find them. Y/n knew Quinn was good at hockey, good enough to get drafted, good enough to make the NHL, it was no secret. But because of Quinn’s birthday that wouldn’t happen for at least another year.

She was worried, she didn’t want to lose him. She didn’t want him to become this big-shot hockey player and forget about her, she didn’t want him to become a self-absorbed player with an ego bigger than himself. Though deep down she knew he would never let his ego get that big, but the forgetting part? As much as she told herself he wouldn’t and knew that he wouldn’t she couldn’t get past the ‘what if?’

Quinn waved a hand in front of her face, snapping a couple of times to gain her attention, “Y/n. Y/n. Y/n.” He dragged out the last syllable of her name.

She looked at him, her eyes getting rid of the glassed-over look by blinking, “What?”

“I’ve been talking for the past couple of minutes and you, my dear sweet y/n, have not responded. You have just been-” Quinn looked over to where her focus had landed when she spaced out, “staring at that tree.”

“Oh sorry.”

“What’s on your mind?”

“What’s going to happen?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, we’re going to go to school for one year and then you’re going to get drafted. You’re going to go away somewhere and play professional hockey for a living and you’re going to forget about me.”

“Who said I was going to forget about you?”

“No one, just me and my thoughts.”

“Well, you and your thoughts are wrong, because I could never forget about you.” He tilted her head down to kiss the top of her head.

“That’s what you say now.”

“I’ll you fly out to wherever I’m playing, Nashville, Toronto, Vancouver, anywhere, and I’ll let you punch me if I forget about you because you are the best fucking thing that has ever happened to me. Since freshman orientation, I knew you were the one.”

“Are you just saying that because I was the only one who would talk about hockey with you?”

Quinn being bold, slid his hands underneath y/n’s graduation gown, grabbing onto her waist through the fabric of her dress and pulling her close to him. She stumbled because it was unexpected and she was in heels, causing the boy to apologize before placing his index finger underneath her chin and lifting it so her eyes would meet his, “Look at me.”

She sighed when the two made contact. Quinn noticed the fear in her eyes, she truly didn’t want to lose him and he didn’t either, “I know you’re worried and so am I, but I promise you this-”

She didn’t want to hear what he had to say, the whole bullshit of the promises not to forget about her, she’s read it plenty of times in books, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Quinn.” She diverted her eyes away again, directing them to the other families around them.

“Hey.” Quinn once again moved her head so her eyes had no choice but to look into his own, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Quinn but that doesn’t really change-”

“Just shut up for one minute, will you? I love you, y/n. And I don’t mean the typical I love you that you give to Taylor. I love you and I was too afraid to tell you because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship and I didn’t know how you felt but I thought if there was a time to tell you this, it would be now.”

Y/n looked at him in shock, the words she had been waiting for since she walked into the auditorium for orientation. This wasn’t real life, was it?

Quinn stared at her blank face as she opened and closed her mount a couple of times, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

The boy went to walk away but she placed a hand on his arm, “No! No, I’m sorry I just didn’t know what to say. I love you too, Quinn.”

“You do?”

She nodded and Quinn wasted no time placing his lips onto hers.

✧༺✎༻∞

‘Life was a willow and it bent right to your wind Head on the pillow, I could feel you sneaking in’

Fall of ‘21

She loved Quinn, she truly did, but not that much that she was willing to stay up into the early hours of the morning/late hours of the night for him after a game. She texted him saying that she was going to bed and that she was proud of him for his game.

It was the first time since they moved in together that Quinn had a night home game. Getting used to the rhythm that was going to be for the rest of Quinn’s hockey career was starting slow. She wasn’t used to him coming home at late hours of the night or leaving in the early hours of the morning before the sun was up to go to practice.

She didn’t mind it that much though, just knowing that he was coming home to her was good enough for the both of them. She laid in bed, hoping that she would be able to stay awake until he got home but she fell asleep within moments of her laying on the bed.

When Quinn got the text, he had just finished putting on his suit jacket and he wanted nothing more than to go home to his girl and lay next to her in their newly shared bed. But, his teammates were not going to let that happen.

They dragged him to a bar to have one or two drinks before heading home. He thinks he’s never detested his teammates this much before this moment. When he finished his first drink, he said goodbye, practically running out of the doors of the bar.

He unlocked the car and practically sped home and crept into the apartment, just in case y/n was already sleeping. He set his things down and walked into the bedroom and smiled when he saw her curled up in the sheets, a shirt of his adorning her body much like in college when he’d go to away games.

He took a quick shower, not wanting to prolong the duration of not having her in his arms. He put a pair of sweatpants on before carefully lifting the covers and sliding into bed. Y/n, who had been awake since he walked in the apartment doors, turned over, “Hi Quinner.”

Quinn’s eyes snapped to his girlfriend’s, “Hi sweetheart. I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“No, I was just a little cold and then I heard the front door click open.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were awake?”

“Because then I would’ve had to wait even longer for you to come to bed.”

Quinn smiled, giving her a kiss, “I love you.”

“I love you.”

✧༺✎༻∞

‘Life was a willow and it bent right to your wind They count me out time and time again’

2022

_quinnhughes

liked by yourusername, jackhughes, lhughes_06, and 50,161, others

_quinnhughes one of my annual appreciation posts for this girl right here

thank you for nine years of knowing you, they have been the best i've ever known. happy anniversary, my love

tagged yourusername

view 556 comments

yourusername awe quinn, i love you so much! happy anniversary, love ❤️

jackhughes i guess i love you too, happy anniversary to my second favorite couple

⤷ lhughes_06 who's your first favorite?

⤷ jackhughes mom and dad, who else

lhughes_06 happy anniversary yourusername and quinn! y/n you have been like a sister to me

⤷ yourusername see jack, this is what nice siblings do for their siblings partner, thank you lukey!

⤷ jackhughes hey, i said i love you, does that not count for something

⤷ yourusername oh it does, i love you too jack, you too luke

⤷ user01 so fucking ungrateful, she just comes and gets to be an ass to his family 🙄

user02 who the fuck is this?

⤷ user03 i know, she's literally not that special

user04 she's not even that pretty

user05 she has to hide her face because she's so ugly 😂, that's the reason why quinn picked these photos

user06 congratulations you two!

liked by yourusername and _quinnhughes

bboeser happy anniversary y/n and huggy

⤷ yourusername thanks brock!

user07 she's literally so annoying

⤷ user08 ikr, quinn deserves so much better

✧༺✎༻∞

‘Life was a willow and it bent right to your wind But I come back stronger than a 90's trend’

2022

nhlwags

liked by yourusername, _quinnhughes, and 3,043 others

nhlwags a little birdie told us one of our younger wags made gifts for the whole entire canucks team and staff, what a sweetheart.

happy belated anniversary to quinn hughes and y/n y/l/n!

following, please stop spreading hate about y/n she hasn't done anything to deserve this

tagged yourusername, _quinnhughes

view 218 comments

yourusername it was the least i could do! everyone has been so nice to me and they love quinn so i just reciprocated the love through my own way 💙💚

j.tmiller9 coming from all the canucks and the staff, please be kind to y/n, she has done nothing wrong to any of you and all of us, especially quinn and y/n, would greatly appreciate it. the two of them don't deserve slander for anything. (btw thanks for the bag, y/n!)

liked by _quinnhughes, yourusername, and 200 others

bboeser loved the gift, y/n is truly one of a kind

liked by yourusername

_eliaspettersson y/n is like the wag if i ever saw one

⤷ yourusername i'm not sure if that's supposed to be a compliment or not, but thanks anyways petey

⤷ _eliaspettersson definetely a compliment

tdemko30 she really got us all surprised... can we get more cookies by the way?

⤷ yourusername of course!!

user05 she really clapped back at the haters. we stan y/n!

⤷ user09 i know! she is the best ever, did it in the most respectful way ever tbh

user10 the canucks team coming to y/n's defense is the cutest thing ever

✧༺✎༻∞

‘Wait for the signal and I'll meet you after dark Show me the places where the others gave you scars’

Summer of ‘19

“Meet me at the dock after everyone goes to bed” was the text y/n got at ten o’clock. She smiled to herself when she read it and patiently waited for everyone to go to bed before sneaking out of the house and running down to the dock. Quinn sat with his feet dangling over the wood into the water waiting for his girlfriend. When he heard footsteps behind him, he turned around and grinned when he saw her running towards him.

They hadn’t had a moment alone together in almost three months. When Quinn had to fly to Vancouver to make his debut, she couldn’t come with him, having to finish her classes. Then she was staying with her parents for the majority of May and into June and she wasn’t allowed to go anywhere. Quinn had been finishing up some things with the team and he ended up spending some much-needed time with his family.

Ever since y/n had gotten to the lake house, she had been helping Ellen with things and spending time with Luke and Jack because they wanted her to. They played Mario Kart and other video games, and the two made her go out on the boat with them and made her watch as they did tricks and flipped into the water.

Quinn patted the space next to him but instead, y/n took her spot right on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. His eyes widened at the sudden contact but happily wrapped his arms around her waist, snuggling into one another.

Y/n looked at him, “So, I guess I’m dating a big-shot NHL player now, huh?”

Quinn merely shrugged, “I guess you are, aren’t you?”

“Yes, unfortunately, because he’s living in a totally different country than me and in the opposite direction.”

“Aw, that sucks. I’m sorry to hear that. He must feel terrible.”

“Oh I don’t know, he gets to be a free man.”

“I wouldn’t say free, more sad.”

That comment made her perk up, “What’s wrong?”

“I just, miss you.” His voice ever so slightly cracked and she could see the tears starting to form in his eyes, “Honey. Hey, hey, it’s okay.”

At the nickname, Quinn immediately started crying, he had missed her so much, much more than he ever imagined he would. He never really thought about the fact that his best friend, his girlfriend, his everything would be in Michigan while he was in Vancouver.

“No, it’s not okay. I get to live out my dream but my dream isn’t complete without you there. We’re going to be 2,368.82 miles (3,812.25 km) apart for at least the next two years. I don’t think I can do it.”

Y/n hated it when he cried, it broke her heart into a million pieces when she saw the tears trickling down his face. Much like he always did with her, she reached up and cupped his face, wiping his tears off his face, “Listen to me. We are Quinn and y/n, y/n and Quinn, when has anything ever stopped us from being apart? Where’s the Quinn from when we graduated, huh? The Quinn who promised me that he would never forget me and that everything was going to be okay? Just because we’re however many miles/kilometers you said apart doesn’t mean anything. Now it’s my turn to promise you something. I promise you that we are going to find a way to make this work.”

Quinn nodded his head, still a little unconvinced about her words. In a way to distract him from the thoughts that he never thought he would be able to escape, she looked at the scars on his body and started asking him questions about them.

Some were from his childhood when he, Jack, and Luke would be playing a game or messing around and one of them would throw something at him or he was pushed over. Some were from when he played hockey when he was younger, getting shoved into the boards or shoving someone else into the boards. Some were from the games he played in the spring, his first games in the NHL. Those were y/n’s favorites and least favorites. Favorites because it was from his dream, and the stories behind them would last forever, least favorites because they reminded her of how much he could get hurt doing this. But that wasn’t something she wanted to worry about right now.

All she wanted to do was think about this moment, the moment they were living in as the stars illuminated where they sat on the dock, in each other’s arms, talking about random stories from each other’s childhood.

✧༺✎༻∞

‘Now this is an open-shut case Guess I should've known from the look on your face Every bait and switch was a work of art’

Fall/Winter of ‘23

“You guys would never guess what I found when I was cleaning the other day.” Y/n came walking in from the room she had been in.

Jack and Luke sat at the table with Quinn and Ellen and Jim sat near their sons, one of the days leading up to the Hughes v Hughes game. They all smiled as the girl came bounding in, Quinn had just placed down his tiles when she spoke and he raised his eyebrows, “What’d you find, hon?”

Y/n placed a fluffy object down on the wood surface, “Luke’s bear that he and Jack gave me when we were in high school.”

“Paulie?”

“You still remember its name?” Jack laughed loudly and Ellen got up to hit the middle child on the back of his head, “Don’t make fun of you brother.”

“Oh, come on. You have to admit, it's a little funny.”

Luke blushed heavily and Quinn quirked an eyebrow, “Why do you still have that is my question.” He took the bear into his grasp and started fiddling with its arms, “Because.”

She shrugged and all five of the Hughes’ looked intrigued, “Y/n, you have to tell us.” Jack insisted as he leaned forward, messing up the game that had previously been going on. Quinn and Luke groaned at their brother’s actions.

“Because,” She ripped the bear from her boyfriend’s grasp and held it to her chest, “Because it reminds me of that day when I was sad and you guys cheered me up. It was the first day I felt a part of the family.”

“I remember that day.” Luke spoke up, looking between everyone in the room, “Jack and I were sitting on the couch when Quinn opened the door for you and you came in and you looked all…”

“Dead?”

“I was gonna say sad but I guess that works too. Anyway, when you two went up I told Jack my plan and he hesitated about it but I knew he had a soft spot for you so he caved in easily. I ran to my room to get the bear and give it to you.”

“It was a stupid, plan.” Jack laughed again but he knew how much it meant to y/n.

The girl shrugged and hugged Luke from behind, resting her arms on his shoulders as they wrapped around him, classping her hands together, “It’s okay, Luke. I loved it.”

Ellen smiled, “And following, you’ve always been a part of the family. Ever since Quinn came back from freshman orientation just bragging about the girl he met.”

“Mom.” Quinn threw his head back in annoyance and y/n giggled, “You talked to your mom about me? From freshman orientation? Ew, I was just a dork back then.”

“If I remember correctly, Quinn couldn’t stop talking about the girl that wore a Patrick Sharp Blackhawks jersey one or two sizes too big, with her hair in braids who talked about hockey with him for the duration of orientation.” Jim patted his son on his shoulder as Quinn continued to clench his eyes in embarrassment.

“Do we really have to relive this moment?”

“Maybe not now but Ellen and I are definitely going to talk about this when you aren’t around.”

“Hey look at that, she called me Ellen! It only took her ten years.” The woman teased as she wrapped her “daughter” in a hug.

“Hey! I thought I was being respectful, and it’s a force of habit.” Y/n blushed as she smiled and gasped when all of a sudden an armed wrap around her and Quinn pulled her into his lap.

“Quinn!” Quinn hid his face in the crook of her neck and breathed deeply, “I’m never going to live this down.

“Probably not.” Looking at her watch, y/n realized the time, placing a kiss on Quinn’s forehead.

“I should be going to bed, I got work in the morning. Night everyone!”

The four let out their goodnights and Quinn whispered an ‘I love you’ and y/n repeated the words to him before heading into their shared bedroom. The five Hughes’ sat in the kitchen for a couple of minutes in silence until Jack spoke, “So, when are you asking her?”

✧༺✎༻∞

‘The more that you say The less I know’

Freshman Year of College (17-18)

Sitting at one of the tables in the student center, y/n sat across from Quinn as he talked about whatever was going on in the hockey world. She understood hockey, enough to be able to watch the game when it was happening and she knew some of the stats, but anything past that, not a clue in the world.

She loved it when Quinn talked about hockey though. His eyes lit up and held this glint in them, he talked really fast, just spewing out nonsense. It was the highlight of her day when it happened, it was at least once a day if not more. He would always show up outside her dorm room or offer to take her to dinner.

Every time he did, it always took Quinn a while to notice that his girlfriend wasn’t responding and this was the same. Quinn was rambling about Ohio State’s hockey team and the upcoming game against them and she just sat there, amused by his voice and his facial expressions.

Quinn was halfway through his ramble when he finally made eye contact with her, “You’re not paying any attention to this are you?”

“I’m sorry, babe, but it’s really hard to when you look like that when you talk.”

“Look like what? An idiot for not knowing my girlfriend is not listening to any word I say?”

“No, hot.” Quinn’s cheeks reddened as he looked at her, “You never fail to make me blush do you/”

“Absolutely not, and anyway, you know I never understand hockey. I try but it’s all in one ear and out the other.”

“I think one time we need to set up something so you can learn everything you need to know. Get you a book or make you a slide show or something.”

“Sure, Quinny. Whatever you say.”

✧༺✎༻∞

‘Wherever you stray I follow’

September of ‘21

“You can just put that box over there.”

Jack placed down the box where y/n said, “How much stuff do you have?”

“Wow, Jack. Can’t believe you’d be so mean to me. This is why Luke is my favorite.” Y/n placed her arm around Luke as he walked into the apartment, “What?”

“Nothing, you poor innocent little man.” Y/n walked away to start unpacking the box Jack had placed down not too long ago.

“Do you guys need any help?” Luke asked politely following after his brother’s girlfriend.

“Nah, I’m okay. Thanks you guys, just chill out for a little bit before we go out for dinner.” The two nodded sitting on Quinn’s, and now y/n’s, couch.

Just at that moment, Ellen walked in from the hallway and Quinn followed her, “It would be nice of you two to actually help y/n instead of just sitting there.”

Jack threw his arms up, “We offered to help her and she said no!”

“Actually, I offered but yes, she said it was okay.”

Y/n nodded her head, “I did.”

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛

Later that night, y/n and Quinn were standing in the living room, looking out the window. Quinn was standing behind the girl with his arms wrapped around the waist, “I can’t believe this is real.”

“I know, the lights are beautiful.”

“Not that.”

“Then what?” She looked up at him to see a lovesick expression on his face.

“You here, in Vancouver.”

“Hey, you didn’t want me to be here in the first place.”

“Yeah well, I wanted you to do what was best for you. I didn’t want you to move all the way out here just because I was here.”

“How dumb are you?”

“Very, apparently.”

She smiled again and rocked the two of them side to side, “Whatcha wanna do?”

Quinn just winked at her eliciting a giggle from her.

✧༺✎༻∞

‘I'm begging for you to take my hand Wreck my plans That's my man’

July/August of ‘21 + November 7, 2021

“Quinn please!”

“Y/n, I’m not letting you do this. You had it all planned out since the moment we both got our acceptance letters.”

“I know that Quinn, but things change, plans change. I want to be with you, forever. I want to be wherever you are, please just let me come to Vancouver with you.”

The two stared at each other, eyes locked. They had been arguing for the past hour, ever since y/n brought it up. She had just graduated college and with Quinn having been in the NHL for the past two years she got a taste of what it would be like to do long distance, and it was horrible for both of them.

“You know what is like. These past two years have been horrible, Quinn, and not just for me and you know it.” Her voice cracked, “I would rather wreck everything I have planned for my future just to move to Vancouver for you. I can find a job there.”

“Are you sure, like 100% sure about this?” Y/n placed her hands on his cheeks, “Of course, I’m sure.”

Quinn nodded his head, “When do you want to move in?”

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛

It was November when y/n was able to go to Quinn’s first home game. It was a Sunday and they were playing the Stars. She was extremely excited as she threw on her jersey and drove to Rogers Arena. She met up with some of the wags that were going to the game as well and they sat in the suite waiting for their husbands to start playing.

When they all came out, they cheered in unison watching them skate. They conversed slightly, giving y/n teasing comments and glances every time the announces would mention Quinn or he had done something even remotely good for the team. It was worse when he got sent to the penalty box for cross-checking in the first period.

Most of them gave her cheeky grins when they showed him in the box, some giving her nudges. She blushed deeply as they made their comments. She didn’t know what was up with him tonight, he got three primary assists and a penalty.

After the game, the wags excitedly took the girl down to the tunnel to wait for Quinn, “Hey, there’s your man.”

Y/n looked up and smiled, “That is my man.”

Quinn smiled brightly, picking the girl up and spinning her around, “I can’t believe you’re here! You’re actually here!”

“Alrighty, Quinny, calm down. You’re causing a scene.”

“Sorry, babe. I’m just really excited that you’re here.” He smiled down at her, his hands on her lower biceps, just above her elbow, “I can tell.”

“What do you say, you guys want to go out for dinner?”

“Quinn I got work in the morning. I need some sleep. Maybe another time though?” The girls nodded their heads at y/n and let the young couple wander off out of the arena and to their car.

“I’m really glad you’re here. I don’t know if I would’ve survived another minute without knowing you weren’t waiting at home for me.”

“Well, you never have to survive another minute without me again. Unless you’re on a road trip then, yes, but you know what I mean.”

Quinn and y/n were so in love it was actually kind of annoying to some people, but they had to admit that they were absolutely adorable.

𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

if your name is crossed out it means i couldn't tag you

#sunny lune writes #sunnylunenhlxts #hockey #nhl #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #taylor swift #evermore #willow #Spotify

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randombush3 · 1 month

Text

a sense of coming home

ona batlle x reader

summary: part two of this! ona and you are (frustratingly) still just friends

words: 6.5k (i have NO idea why i waffle so much but lets pls allow it)

warnings: there's like five secs of smut at the end

notes: this has been the most self-indulgent fic i've written because this is how i met my gf and so i am glad to show you a nice happy ending

again, the quote is from 'this side of paradise' (said gf's fav book - i don't recommend however because the protagonist is a twat)

also i didn't proofread bc i am exhausted and i am hungover and i am very ready to go to sleep (#globetrotting is not for the weak) x

There is something difficult about forcing oneself back to their toxic roots. Ona discovers as such as she presses her body into a temple of meaningless sex, but she does so because she is a driven person. Ona is determined to get over you, once and for all, except she’d quite like to stay friends (hence why she agreed when asked). She also thinks it would expose her to fall out because her feelings shouldn’t have existed anyway, so she technically shouldn’t be heartbroken?

Anyway, Ona rampages through Manchester! They appreciate her accent – some even ask her to speak to them in Spanish when she is three fingers deep inside of them, to which she obliges with little fanfare – and it isn’t like the city lacks queer women. It is a super solid way to keep her busy, to tear her attention from hungrily checking your Instagram whenever possible.

It’s also what lands her with coronavirus. She’s embarrassed to admit just how many people she has come into contact with when the club doctors ask her questions over the phone.

You send her a lovely message after hearing she is yet another fallen soldier.

Ona is at home, isolating, and you are apparently trapped in Spain, unable to get into Italy. You haven’t quite made it to your parents’ house since your flight was supposed to depart from Madrid. “How come you’re not on the phone to one of your ‘connections’?” Ona asks suspiciously, wondering why this call has lasted longer than ten minutes. “Surely someone knows someone else and they can get you back home.”

“I’m hardly out of my depth in my own country,” you remind her with a twinging sigh, pained that she has suppressed all memories of your childhood. “It’s not like I don’t speak Spanish.”

“Didn’t you get rid of it in your head to make space for Italian and English? Oh, and French too, right? That’s where the fashion weeks are.”

You laugh at her pride for knowing something about your job, but it is not to ridicule her. “I am speaking to you, aren’t I?”

“In Catalan,” she points out. “Forget Spanish, but don’t forget Catalan.”

“I can’t. It’s the language everyone uses to tell me about how fucked you’ve been lately.” You take in a deep breath, uncomfortable with Ona’s silence but knowing your piece needs to be said. “Are you aware of what happened a few months ago? Why I missed the wedding?” One of your friends met her dream man and he whisked her off to Menorca for a small ceremony. Only the people she loved the most were invited, which included your childhood friend group. “We were in New York, a whole bunch of us. It was late but the show had been a big deal so we went out to celebrate, and… these ‘friends’, these people, they aren’t the same as you and me. Most of them are English, you know, and they come from very fancy schools where addiction is normal. Two of them ended up in the hospital that night – the bag hadn’t even made it round to me by the time they’d dropped. I know it seems far-fetched, but all I’m trying to say is that addiction has consequences. Bad consequences.”

“So you’re not on my side?” Ona isn’t taking this too seriously. A few people have joked about her questionable new hobby, but no one has made it seem so dire that they have needed to get you involved. You who, of course, Ona will listen to.

“I am always on your side.”

That is her main take-away from the conversation, Ona chooses, when it ends an hour later. She swoons, meaning the last twenty women have been a waste of time, but she also tortures herself into ignoring the potential problem. Being a sex addict would be embarrassing, so she won’t be.

Though your subtle shaming for her abundance of quick-fix flings is hypocritical, Ona would also hate for you to see her that way. You can avoid commitment all you like, but she is determined to be different to prove to you that she is a viable candidate, should you wish to stop stringing her along. It’s probably toxic; it probably means that you are both clinging onto a friendship that should either end or be labelled something else. It probably is the push and pull that has kept you interested, Ona thinks, because she knows that you like the chase.

However, as much as she’d like to be freed of whatever game she is caught up in, she can’t seem to let you go like that.

…

The next time Ona and you have a proper conversation about something other than how your love lives have been stunted or how people back home are not as successful as the two of you is when most of the restrictions have been lifted.

You waited out the pandemic in Vilassar de Mar, much to your annoyance, but now that you can travel again, the first person on your mind to visit is your childhood best friend. You’re not as close as you used to be, having drifted further during even more years apart, but it does not dull your love for her, nor hers for you.

Ona has changed her mind about Manchester and is forcing herself to like it. It works enough for a visit from you to be the last thing on her mind, and so she slows her response time down until the next arranged date to see each other in person is all set for the summer before the Euros in England.

You’re not quite home but you are in the country, and, with the pre-Euros camp in two days, Ona is spending the final few hours of calm left before the storm in the comforting presence of her mum and dad.

And… you, apparently.

“You weren’t supposed to be here yet,” is Ona’s greeting when she opens the front door.

Your smile is wide and genuine, and you are holding a gift bag in one hand. There is a nice bottle of wine in the other. “Not even an ‘hola’?” When no reply comes, you swallow the emotions that have arisen; the ones that are maybe, just a little bit to do with how soft Ona looks with her hair down. And the slope of her jaw. And the ghosts of defined biceps that bulge even when she isn’t flexing her arms. “I’m dropping by to see your parents. I thought you were in Barcelona with your footballer friends.”

“You visit my parents?” asks Ona curiously.

“Of course.”

With that, you side-step her and call out to her mother, announcing both your arrival and your desire to hand them their gifts. Dinner is just about to be served, and Ona is soon tasked with setting another place at the table for you as though the last ten years had never happened and your friendship hadn’t lost its innocence.

Maybe it would be better for Ona to not know what it feels like to kiss you, to touch you, to – dare she think it – love you. It would certainly make things less painful, and would have saved her from catching at least one illness and spending a good amount of money on Ubers to escape from random apartments. It would make it easier to listen to you talk about your life in Milan, where you seem to exist in a bubble of incredibly attractive people who are desperate to hold hands and form a raft.

“Modelling can be brutal,” you agree, nodding at Ona’s father as you follow on from his concerns about your career. He voices them regularly; whenever you see him. Ona realises you have spent a lot of time with her parents without her. “It gets quite competitive between the girls so I’ve been somewhat avoiding them. They’ve brought in someone new, scouted from Germany, I think, and I’m a little worried that I’ll have to switch agencies if they start prioritising her.” You glance at Ona, wanting to know if she is listening, hoping she is. You wish that she were as good at suppressing her feelings as you are. You wish she didn’t look at you like you hung the moon, because you know that you have to tell her you have hung it for someone else. “I’d move tomorrow, to be honest, but I’ve started seeing this guy and he’s convincing me to stay in Milan.”

“The minute he is your boyfriend, you bring him here,” commands Ona’s mother in a tone she hasn’t yet used on her actual daughter (said daughter has never mentioned anyone before). “Show us a picture of him! Is he a model like you?”

He is, and if Ona holds her fork tighter after she sees the photo you pull up, that is her business. You secretly take in her clenched jaw and furrowed eyebrows, and this might be the worst thing you have ever had to do. To see her so defeated, so hopeless, is upsetting, especially since you are harbouring the same feelings. However, you are able to admit when it is time to throw the towel in, and you can no longer live like this.

Ona is too perfect for you. She is driven, hard-working, and funny. She likes to nutmeg little children on the street, and she likes to buy them an ice-cream if they slip a goal past her, slotting the flat footballs into imaginary nets and celebrating as though they have just won the Champions League. She knows a lot, more than she thinks she does. She cares about people, but sometimes it manifests in anger, in frustration.

Any aspect of her is an aspect that you could love, and that is reason enough not to. Because how can you allow yourself to taint such perfection?

But, in this unspoken rejection, the compliment is obscured from the recipient’s view. All Ona sees when you gush about how he buys you flowers and takes you out to dinner, is a burning, bright question. It flashes red and yellow, both as a warning and cry for attention. How can she compete if you don’t even recognise her as a competitor?

…

“--And then they proceeded to finish a film they were halfway through as if it were the most normal thing ever,” Ona rants the minute she hits the concrete of Las Rozas, walking into the facility with Aitana and the other girls who travelled with her from Barcelona. Only the midfielder has been gracious enough to listen to the entire monologue, but the others joke that that is because Ona’s emotional state has led her to spiral in her native language. It is forbidden for them to openly speak Catalan in the Spanish camp, according to Jorge Vilda, who loves to hurl a ‘we can send you back to where you came from in an instant’ their way if he so much as hears a ‘bon dia’. Naturally, Aitana doesn’t give a fuck about the rule, although Ona chooses to believe that she is listening because she cares.

“Are you done?” Aitana asks thoughtfully, sucking on her bottom lip as she tries to absorb her friend’s crisis and formulate a valid, sensible response. The two have known each other for a while now, and Aitana remembers a time when Ona was relentlessly teased by their older teammates for being in love with her best friend. It is clear to her that those feelings never ceased, though she has heard through the grapevine (Leila Ouahabi) that you are now a model and you live somewhere in Italy. You’re part Italian, is what Leila also claims, having professed your ethnicity to a small huddle of fellow gossipers one day in the gym at the Barça training facility.

“No! Nothing is ever done with her. It’s viscous and it continues in a horrid cycle that has me flapping around in circles like some idiot. I am one of her boys.” Ona groans dramatically, the sound perhaps a little too loud. A few of the girls in front of them turn around to see why a cat seems to have been strangled, but they quickly lose interest when they see it is just Ona and her disastrous situation. “Do you know how fucking humiliating it is to be one of her guys? I am a professional footballer! I play for Manchester United, one of the most historic clubs in the world, and I am about to represent my country in a major tournament. I am successful, Aita, and yet I am still not enough for her.”

“Maybe she only likes men.”

“A man has never made her scream like I have,” she bites back. Aitana blushes, but Ona is too far gone in her rage to hear her crudeness nor preserve her friend’s sanity. “She’s been like this since she decided she was gay! Isn’t that hilarious? ‘Ona, I think I’m gay’, she said. I know lesbian breakups can be hard, but there is no way my cousin fucked her up to this extent.”

“I can’t help you with this, Oni,” Aitana laments, sorry to have to confess this to her friend. “I think you need to talk to her about it. A proper conversation to fix long-term issues, not like the ones you obviously had when agreeing to stop having sex and things like that. Only she knows what she’s thinking.” It is definitely not the advice Ona wants to hear, but she cannot deny the midfielder’s wisdom. “But for now, we focus on winning.”

…

You are more than a little confused.

To start from the beginning, Ona’s cousin fucked you up. She broke your heart, and that first impression of dating girls was incredibly traumatising. With girls, you don’t just kiss and sleep with them, you get close – really close – and then when you break up, it is like you have lost both a girlfriend and a best friend.

Men are a lot simpler. Men like you and they aren’t shy about it. They can sometimes be just as cruel, but you have never felt invested enough to care too much.

Some nights, you don’t fall asleep, tossing and turning between your sexual identity, aware that you don’t need to label it but desperate to… discover yourself. If you don’t understand that part of you, how will someone else? How can you be loved? How do you even know who you want to love you?

For as much as Milan is great, it definitely doesn’t help you with your crisis. Girls in Milan like to do what they want. It is not uncommon for the models to kiss each other in clubs, in front of appreciative male gazes or not, and then reveal their engagement to their future husband the very next day. It’s easy to be drawn into such a bubble, but the minute you step out of it, you are hit with the real world.

It’s what makes the pandemic so distressing for you personally, because you are forced to live like normal people for some time. Your eyes are held open and the question is shoved down your throat, and it really doesn’t help that Ona’s cousin never moved out of Vilassar de Mar.

She sees you one day, saying hello from a suitable distance as you pick up milk as per your mother’s request. “I heard you’re modelling?” she asks with no agenda, no seductive glint in her eye. You notice the ring on her finger, and she feels the heaviness of your staring. “Oh, I got married a year ago. Did Ona not tell you?”

You realise that you and Ona try to avoid talking about anything other than the love interests you have. “No, she didn’t. Congratulations, though. She’s a lucky woman.”

“You don’t have to pretend you’re happy for me,” laughs the woman opposite you, amused and somewhat apologetic. “Look, I’m really sorry for how I acted when we were younger. I was definitely not the most mature person out there, and I know I hurt you.”

“I cried for months.”

“I’m sorry,” she repeats. You suck in a deep breath, trying to hold the memories of your pain at bay. “The first breakup is usually the worst but at least it gets better, as you probably know.”

She looks at you expectantly, awaiting your confirmation. It never comes.

“I haven’t dated another girl since,” you tell her, sounding rather detached from yourself.

Her eyebrows furrow and she is clearly frowning behind her facemask. “What about Ona? I thought you were together when you lived in Madrid. It takes more than a friendship to do what you did.”

You were originally going to go to university in England. It was your dream, and Ona wasn’t entirely aware of the situation because you hadn’t wanted to tell her you were leaving. Then she was sent out on a professional contract to Madrid, and it wasn’t like you were the only one leaving.

Ona’s cousin, years ago, had suggested that you go to Madrid if you wanted to get away from Vilassar de Mar. “You’ll be close enough to come home when you’d like, but not so close that you’ll feel as though nothing has changed,” she had said.

No one had known about your offers in England aside from your parents. And Ona’s cousin, who’d only found out because you had called her, drunk on celebratory champagne, because you had to tell someone.

“You gave up a dream for her because you didn’t want her to be alone.”

“I moved to Milan. In the end, she was alone.”

“You sound like you regret it,” she replies, nodding once at you to bid you farewell and then heading over to a woman who is standing with a puppy in her arms. You watch as she pulls down her mask and kisses her wife, her eyes shining with love and happiness, and your blood runs green with jealousy.

You hate Ona’s cousin for devastating you once more.

Do you regret it?

It’s unclear.

You try to make sense of it when you don’t hesitate to fly back to Italy the minute you can, going home to lick your wounds at Ona’s non-committal response to meeting you when you are in London the next month. It hurts that she is no longer at your beck-and-call, but you are somewhat happy for her. You know that lines have been crossed and that she has suffered for it. You know that you are probably the one at fault here.

This time in Milan, you don’t fight it as much. You kiss other girls and let them go home to their boyfriends; you submit to the thing you had convinced yourself you would never become.

As you drive yourself deeper and deeper into your stereotype, the thought of Ona gets pushed away and newer, more culturally-acceptable fantasies come to mind.

It takes a photoshoot for him to ask you out on a date.

It takes returning home and gaining the approval of Ona’s parents (who are far more open than your own) for you to agree to be official.

You don’t ask Ona what she thinks. She’s busy, you reason, because she is representing Spain at the Euros. She won’t care who you are dating and she certainly doesn’t need it rubbed in her face.

There are many reasons why you go out with him.

One is that you do like him; he’s nice, he’s funny, he treats you well. (He’s not Ona.) Another is that rent is going up and him sharing the load is helpful. (He’s not Ona.) There is also that he is very popular within the agency, and your chemistry on camera is enough to keep your jobs rolling in and casting directors satisfied.

He’s not Ona. You know that.

That's the whole point.

If he were Ona, you’d be deeply in love with him. If he were Ona, you would never leave the house, never leave his embrace, never leave the little bubble created when it is just the two of you and no one else. If he were Ona, you would be excited about the conversations he gently guides you into; marriage, children, where you are going to live one day. You’d miss him more when he isn’t here. You’d care.

But you just… don’t.

Another year passes, more Ona-less than the last, and then she is suddenly coming back home to Barcelona, a medal around her neck and word of a relationship floating above her head.

You could ask her about it if you wanted to because she is still one of your closest friends, but the truth is, you really, desperately don’t want to hear it. While Ona has been falling in love with someone else, you have been proving your stupid feelings to yourself.

The act (your current relationship) lowers enough for you to go home for Christmas. You leave Milan as though fleeing from a hurricane, and you refuse to control the damage until you have entered the new year. Your parents aren’t entirely sure they want you moping about the house, confused how someone so successful can revert to a moody teenager the minute they are back in safe territory, and they heavily encourage you to accept an invite that was extended out to you a few months ago.

Your friends are going skiing in Andorra, and they’d like for you to come with them.

“Ona won’t be there,” one of them regretfully informs you. “She said she doesn’t want to make things weird. She has a girlfriend – or, I don’t know, a talking stage. She wants you to have fun.”

“But Ona and I are friends,” you try to explain, feeling exposed by the look of pity she gives you; the same look someone receives when they find out their ex has gotten married or something similar. As a defensive mechanism, you hastily pull out your phone and dial her number. Everyone watches you, now uninterested in their food as you dine and plan your holiday.

Ona picks up on the third ring, escaping her dinner with Lucy and rushing into the cool, nighttime air of Barcelona.

“Hi?” she says – asks – with raised eyebrows, wondering if you’re in danger.

“You’re coming skiing with us, aren’t you?”

Your friends hide their laughs behind their hands, surprised by how firm your tone is. You do not need it for Ona, because she does anything you say regardless, but they enjoy seeing this side of you. This is someone who has had to fend for herself in a foreign country.

Removing the phone from her ear for a moment, Ona sighs, disappointed in herself.

“Yeah, of course. I’ve missed you, you know.”

…

Skiing is not something Ona is really allowed to do. As a footballer, her legs are what pay her wage. Career-destroying planks of metal are not the best way to spend the dying embers of the year. She knows that. She does, she swears, but she is so eager to go that Jonatan cannot crush her dreams. He tells her, “if you get injured your contract will be reviewed, Ona Batlle,” and she promises him that it won’t happen. Nothing bad is going to happen.

It will be the first time she has spent more than a day with her childhood friends, and she is unbelievably excited.

Lucy finds it adorable and makes it known, helping her pack for her trip, versed in what to bring because her sister skis or something like that (Ona can’t really focus on her almost-girlfriend's monologue). Lucy likes Ona a lot, and it makes her stomach flutter when she thinks about Ona and her friends talking about them. She’s sure her feelings are reciprocated, and she cannot wait for Ona to return to her in the new year, all smiles and lingering hangovers, and ask her to be her girlfriend. Officially.

Your friends convene in the centre of Vilassar de Mar with two cars between you. There are ten people coming.

Someone, most-likely trying to keep the peace, instructs Ona into one vehicle and you into the other. The drive isn’t too long, but you suppose that the tension is uncomfortable for those who aren’t accustomed to maintaining a friendship despite the weight of it.

It’s five days, and you are determined to have fun.

Ona is naturally good at this, although she claims it is her first time. You, living in Milan, are just as advanced.

By the third day, the both of you agree that going off together to do some of the harder runs will be harmless. Spending the day together won’t feel like a date or a romantic holiday. Watching Ona glide over the compacted snow won’t be attractive, watching her cocky smirk as she scales the bumps along the side of the piste won’t do anything.

It won’t. (It does.)

And it just has to be the third day that someone pulls out two bottles of tequila and a drinking game that is going to ensure every single one of you is off your face by midnight.

In rooms opposite one another, you and Ona call your respective partners and tell them about how great a time you are having, actively avoiding telling them about who you spent the day with as though it counts as cheating. It doesn’t, technically. Nothing has happened. But, still, it feels intimate and secret; forbidden.

Then, there is a shout that rings through the house. Everyone comes to the table; the party has begun.

Ona finds out that she is absolutely terrible at drinking games, and loses in every way possible.

You find out that she is still just as touchy when she is drunk.

Your friends try not to comment on it, all having agreed upon yet another passive role in such an irritating situation. Their non-interference almost ceases by the time Ona climbs onto your lap, head turning as she whispers something into your drunk ears, making you laugh privately. In fact, someone has to hold someone else back before they shout at the two of you to make out or break up.

But it’s not really necessary, their prompting, because it hits a certain hour and… nothing else matters anymore.

Ona has been touching you the whole night and you have finally reached your limit.

Boyfriend be damned, you lead her to your bedroom.

She asks you many times if you still want this, and you cannot think of anything to say other than ‘yes’.

You’re not as drunk as she is, and you both know that, but everything feels so perfect and right.

When you wake up the next morning, your anger is more at yourself than the sleeping woman beside you, but she is an outward target for such a boiling emotion and it just makes things easier.

“Ona.” You shake her awake, not caring for her hangover. “Ona, I can’t believe we’ve done this.” She rubs her eyes, dazed and confused for a moment but coming to her senses soon enough. “I have a boyfriend, Ona, and… I don’t like you like that.”

It’s not true.

It’s really, really, really not true, but the fact that you have said it is enough for Ona to leave your room with the intention of never seeing you again.

She gets the train back to Barcelona, turning up at Lucy’s flat in floods of tears, and barrels straight into those strong arms with the intention of never mentioning what she has done.

…

You break up with your boyfriend a month later. Or rather, he breaks up with you, tired of being messed around, tired of your hesitation to fully commit.

The break-up is not the most upsetting thing you’ve been through, but your ego is a little bruised.

You try to make it look like you are having a great time in Milan, even though the agency has once again discarded your file and overlooked you for shoots you used to book in an instant. You try to seem like things aren’t falling apart, but it’s of no use when your father calls you and tells you that your mother is ill.

It isn’t cancer but it’s similar, and you know that you need to come home.

You pack your bags and leave without a second thought, because maybe Madrid was far enough. Maybe there is a reason Ona signed for her home club again and most of your friends still live relatively close to their parents.

Maybe you are not meant to be separated from those you love, because running away is futile if you are always going to end up together again.

In Barcelona, a modelling agency eagerly draws up a contract with you. Although you are from there, your career being based in Milan previously creates an international allure about you (or so they say), and you are assured that work is going to rush towards you as though someone has just knocked down a dam.

Your job is secured, your mother begins treatment, but there is something you cannot shake off.

It hurts to think of Ona, to think of how you left things, but it helps, too. Seeing her face in your mind is comforting. You hear her voice as you drift off to sleep, and you let it soothe you in your dreams.

“Ona has a girlfriend,” her mother tells you when you next visit them. Her frown is unexpected because all she has ever wanted is for her children to be happy and loved. “It’s not right, it doesn’t feel right.” You begin to shrug your shoulders and crawl into your shell, but she interrupts your thought process; “I think you should go see her.”

“Why?”

The woman rolls her eyes. “Just do what I say.”

You nod because she is so scarily sure about it, and you… It’s hard to believe, but you call Ona.

She picks up.

“I was sorry to hear about your mum.”

“Don’t worry. She’s fine.”

“Are you back at home?”

“Yeah, I am.” You pause. “Well, not quite. I’m living in Barcelona.”

Something fizzes in the air; pops, crackles.

“Need me to show you around the city?”

And it’s Ona, so how could you say no?

…

Your visit goes very well.

She takes you out to dinner and shows you around her neighbourhood. She introduces you when she runs into people she knows, and she is insistent about dragging you to her football match on the weekend.

Everything is seemingly forgiven and Ona is intent on integrating you back into her life.

She wants you to feel at home, though she knows you should already, and she wants to lessen the stress of hospital appointments and death and, if not death, then a difficult recovery.

You are sitting in her apartment – now devoid of all signs of Lucy – on her comfortable sofa, watching something together after a day of walking around and sealing up the cracks that formed in Andorra.

Sitting leads into cuddling and then into wandering hands that eagerly roam underneath layers of fabric.

Ona’s breath hitches as you brush the hard lines of her abs, your hands particularly drawn to them and just how strong she has become. “You must have only felt them on men,” she offers as an explanation. “How many have you slept with in comparison to–?”

And your hands stop.

“Sorry,” Ona mumbles, seemingly upset at her outburst. “I’m just curious. I can’t work you out.” She can’t quite look you in the eye, mainly due to the logistics of your position, but she isn’t sure she wants to see the truth attached to her statement.

You question if that’s a good thing, the fact she needs to ask; the fact that she has no choice but to communicate. It was going to happen sooner or later. “A few,” is what you settle on. Ona leaves it at that, carefully pulling the hair tie from your plait, unravelling it with one hand as the other rests against your stomach in an embrace. You smile. “You’re not going to ask who?”

Her fingers stop for a moment. “No.” She speaks so quietly, her voice almost a whisper in your ear. “I don’t care about them.” You relax into her more, feeling her against your back, feeling the softness of the blanket against your feet as it hangs at the edge of the sofa.

“Who do you care about, then?”

“You.”

Carefully, both her hands hold your hips and she sits you up, smiling as she does. You tell her she’s showing off, she replies that you are always showing off. To that, you brush those hands from your sides and lean down to kiss her, more decidedly for once; more in control. It’s a surprising feeling for both of you, the forcefulness. Urgency. Not unfamiliar, but unexpected for this time on this day.

The last time you kissed Ona, you had a boyfriend.

Your mouth goes to her neck as soon as she decides that she wants her hands back on your hips, pushing you down into her lap. It’s now a competition, you think. She’s quickly coming completely undone by your kissing and biting, but you are not ignoring the feeling as she makes you grind down, makes you need that friction. “Fuck,” you moan in her ear. She grips you tighter.

You start to pull off her shirt having had enough of the grey between you, asking if it’s okay, if she’s sure she isn’t too tired. Her reply is, “take it off, god,” and then the removal of your clothes that get thrown just shy of the wine glasses set out on her coffee table. Leggings aren’t the most practical for impromptu sex, but she’s quick and smooth and someone who has definitely done that before.

With your bare chest on display and almost nothing between Ona and you, she lifts you up for a moment with the intention of flipping the two of you, getting you on your back. You pause for a moment, trying to decide if she’s doing it because she wants to or because she thinks that’s the only way to do it, but her hands are moving now, up your sides, round the front of your chest and you relax. She laughs quietly, amused, because the tension dissipates, dissolving like sweet, sweet sugar in hot coffee as soon as your legs wrap around her back.

Ona asks before she does it, picking you up and laying you back down without needing to part her lips from your own. You watch her as she sits up, body in between your thighs. “You’re going to just stay there?” She shakes her head. “I can top,” you tease, a stark contrast from how it was the last time you did this. Ona doesn’t like being told she can’t do something. However indirectly.

“Yeah?” You nod, biting the smirk out of your lips. “I don’t care.”

You are in the process of rolling your eyes when her cocky mouth is put to good use. Your underwear was taken off at some point earlier — you hadn’t realised. Ona’s head moves between your legs, up and down, your hand that isn’t holding onto the sofa in her hair, the soft waves lacing between your fingers.

She’s good at it; thorough, practised. Her tongue circles your clit for a moment before dipping into your entrance. Something about the cockiness of her movements, her tongue, her hand rubbing between her own legs, makes everything more surreal, more blissful. She moans softly, lips kissing their way up your body, hands no longer focused on herself. Instead, they take the place of her mouth, two fingers inside you as quickly as it takes for her to ask if you are okay to carry on. Your reply (“yes”) is cut off quickly by her mouth on yours, tongue swiping at your bottom lip in another question of permission. You can taste yourself on her.

At her command, you sit up, letting her pull you back onto her lap as she sucks at your neck. “Don’t leave any marks,” you warn as her teeth pull a whimper from your supposed stoicness. “I don’t want the makeup artists asking questions.” It comes out too late, because you feel her teeth graze your collarbone quickly, not painful, no, but something that feels so, so good. “Ona.” She sighs in disappointment and adjusts where you are in her lap, so your legs are either side of her thigh.

You find yourself rocking slowly, letting her savour your breasts between her hands and her mouth. She whispers that she wants to see you come, that you don’t need to hold back – not with her, not ever – so you start grinding down, harder, faster. Her hands drop back to your hips, guiding your movements, forcing you to slow down when she feels everything building up. Each time, you let out a “fuck” and attempt to go against her grip to get that friction. “Not just yet,” she mutters, no longer touching you anywhere other than where her hands meet your hips and her thigh presses between your legs.

“Fuck off, Ona,” you breathe, frustrated. “When, then?”

She slows the pace even more. “Can you last a little longer?” You look at her face, brushing away the strands of hair that have fallen over her eyes, ghosting your fingers along her cheek, running your thumb along her lips. She smiles again, eyes creasing slightly.

As her hands drop to cup your face, you say, “you’re beautiful.”

Ona blushes.

You look down at her exposed cleavage, nipples pebbled against the sports bra that is unusually low-cut. It might border on intense staring as you begin to grind against her with the intention of actually getting off now. She laughs, saying her eyes are higher up than that, but going back to her trail of kisses along your jaw nevertheless.

For what seems like longer than a few seconds, the build up finally stops, the tower toppling over in a rush of pleasure. Ona’s hands move your hips as your head drops to rest on her shoulder. She talks you through it, telling you that you look so pretty, telling you that she’s so turned on.

And that’s when she whispers it.

It has taken years to get to this moment, many of them filled with unnecessary suffering.

It has taken years but it does not matter.

Ona tells you that she loves you and that is when you have finally come home.

#woso x reader #woso #randombush3 #barca femeni #woso imagines #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle #ona batlle smut

282 notes · View notes

from-the-clouds · 1 year

Text

bad liars (savior complex ii) - joel miller x f!reader

part one | masterlist | song inspo |

Baby, you're a vampire You want blood and I promised...

summary: It's been a month since Joel has last seen you, fully healed since your last interaction. But you haven't spoken...at all. Your radio silence becomes cause for concern when he hears about an outbreak of Infected at the hospital where you work. There's enough explanation in this part that you could read it on it's own, probably, but I'd highly recommend reading part one first to get the full experience. pairing: joel miller x f!reader words: 7.9k warnings: SMUT - 18+ ONLY, minors DNI. (porn w/ plot, unprotected sex, oral, rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, age gap. dom/sub dynamics.) Heavy angst, multiple POVs, implied drug abuse, alcohol use, canon-typical suffering! Blood mention. Both reader/Joel are insanely emotionally unavailable, and love to lie to themselves and each other! (please dm for specifics if you have any questions). a/n: Ya'll loved savior complex and I'm so happy! Literally don't think I've had a fic get that many notes before, i had so many requests for a part two and because it felt like i left things open-ended enough, this came to me pretty easily! It might be the horniest thing I've ever written and also very angsty (what's new?)....but I think you'll like the ending <3 Special to @ay0nha for letting me yell at you about my writing and to @zbeez-outlet for the wonderful idea.

Joel exhales and runs his fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair – the tips of which were frozen together from standing outside for so long. It had gotten cold out. Very cold. Boston always did this time of year, and because of it, people stayed in, and crime in the QZ dropped, making it a safer place - though that wasn’t saying much.

Of course, the cold didn’t stop him from dealing. It did make his job a hell of a lot more difficult, since FEDRA was bored, out looking for trouble, and didn’t have more pressing matters to attend to. Although today, he must’ve been in luck, because the only sign of FEDRA had been helicopters and tanks that were clearly on a mission, driving to the opposite side of the QZ. Good, he had thought. A distraction.

Joel leans back against the brick wall of the alleyway, pulling the hood of his jacket up over his ears, stares at the ice in the cracks of the pavement. When he hears the crunch of gravel underfoot, he straightens.

The man approaching looks nervously over his shoulder, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his flimsy sweatshirt. Dave, a customer of his for some time.

“You’re late,” Joel doesn’t bother with a proper greeting.

“I know, I know, I got held up on my way here,” Dave answers, immediately beginning his excuse. “They cleared out the hospital because of an outbreak, that whole area was locked down so I had to take the long way.”

“Outbreak?” Joel tilts his head.

“Infected. I guess a bunch of hospital staff got bit. FEDRA had to go in and put them all down.”

Joel feels a distant pang of concern somewhere in the back of his head. “How many?”

Dave shrugs, scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t know, man, that’s all I know. It’s not like they’ll ever tell anyone what actually happened.”

Joel can’t help but think of you. He knows a couple people who work at the hospital, most of them through smuggling, but you’re the only one who he’s really able to bring to mind at the moment.

“So, can we, uh…”

Joel pulls the plastic baggie out from his pockets, fishing out the pills. On his end, Dave produces a wad of credits, his shoulders sagging in relief once they’ve made the trade and the drugs are in his hand. He takes one immediately, shoves the rest in his pocket. “Thanks man, I’ll see you next week?”

Leaning back against the wall, he nods, and watches his customer disappear down the alleyway.

The second Dave is out of sight, Joel’s chest tightens, and he takes a deep breath. There’s no reason why news of Infected at the hospital should concern him. If FEDRA had been called in – they would’ve gunned down anything that moved until it was under control. He knew, better than anyone, that they would do unspeakable things in the name of keeping order. Innocent people probably died, but the dead can’t get infected.

It had been about a month since Joel had last seen you, after he’d gotten beaten within an inch of his life and ended up on your doorstep, and you were the only person that could help. It hadn’t gone at all how he expected it would – at the end of the day, he had been surprised by your tenderness.

Still, despite that you’d let him take you on the edge of your bed, legs wrapped around him, bouncing on his cock, he wouldn’t really say that it changed anything about your relationship. He had actually been kind of afraid that it would, that your attitude towards him would shift to something more amicable.

But you hadn’t spoken to him in a month. Joel had told you he owed you one after you stitched him up, and had anticipated that you’d take him up on his offer pretty quickly. There were so many things he could do for you to make your situation better. Maybe you’d need credits…. Medicine…. Food…. Booze… Pills, something, but you haven’t reached out. You could just be biding your time until you really need the favor.

Still, the radio silence takes him aback. He should be relieved that you aren’t talking to him. But nothing? Even if it’s not about a favor…he wants some kind of confirmation that you’d both made a mistake. After all that, did you really expect nothing from him?

It dawns on him there’s now a chance you’ll never speak to him again, because you’re one of the ones that FEDRA killed. Or worse….you had gotten bit.

Joel passes by the hospital, taking the long way home. Everything is locked down, taped off. There’s a crowd around the place – family members, he assumes, pleading with FEDRA agents for information and getting nothing in return.

“Go home. I’m sure they’ll turn up,” he hears one of them say to a weeping woman. It’s useless to ask for an honest answer, for one of them to actually care.

Joel could go home. He could crush a couple pills, snort them, and quell the burn with a couple drinks. He could fall into restless sleep and wake up the next day as he always did, go about his business as usual. Survive. One day at a time.

Would he ever get confirmation that you’re alive? Because at this rate, he’s not sure he’ll ever know either way.

The feeling is going to linger. He hates it. Were you gone? If you are, he can handle knowing. Its somehow worse not to.

He tries to justify it to himself. You’re one of his solid connections to the hospital, you’d traded with him for medical supplies before. This is business, really, if he thinks about it that way. If you’re dead, he and Tess need to find someone else to work with.

Joel decides to take a detour on the way back to his place.

It’s past curfew when he arrives at your apartment, the sun has long since dipped below the horizon and with that comes an even harsher cold. Boston winters, he thinks to himself. If he is capable of missing anything, he’d say he missed Texas. Before all this, the last place he’d be caught dead was on the East Coast.

Joel raps on your front door. He forgets how shitty your building is, that you sleep here alone every night, listening to your neighbors arguing through the thin walls, shady characters slinking out of shadows in the dimly-lit hallway,

A few seconds pass. When he hears nothing behind your door, he knocks again, a little louder.

More time passes. He knocks again, louder. Maybe you didn’t hear him.

Nothing. He does it again. Could you be asleep? His jaw clenches.

Still nothing, and Joel knocks even louder. Maybe you’re not even here, and you work nights, and he’s just missed you as you head out for another shift. But he knows that’s unlikely. Since he’s known you, you’ve never worked nights. So where the fuck were you?

Joel’s pounds on your door, yells your name into its chipping paint. He listens for something, anything, on the other side, and there’s nothing, absolutely nothing, but he keeps going The side of his fist starts to hurt, but he can’t stop himself. He doesn’t even realize what he’s doing until he hears one of your neighbors yelling from the end of the hallway.

‘Shut the fuck up!’

Joel doesn’t hear exactly where the voice comes from, but it’s enough to snap him out of it. He halts his movements, his forehead falling against hollow wood, and in the silence, hears his heart pounding in his ears.

“Fuck!” he kicks the wall just outside the frame of your door so hard the drywall gives, leaving a hole behind. “Fuck.”

He stares at the result of his outburst for an undetermined amount of time. You were all alone. To his knowledge, you had no immediate family to inform. Who would be around to remember you? He’d never really know for sure what had happened.

“Joel?”

He looks up, his hands still clenched tightly into fists. When he sees that it’s you, standing at the end of the hallway, they loosen.

You look horrible - haggard, tired, your hair tangled and matted. As you move closer to him, he doesn’t miss the way your shoulders are hunched underneath the weight of your backpack. But once you’re standing in front of him, you straighten, lift your chin.

“What is this?” you ask. “What are you doing here?”

There’s no animosity in your tone, he thinks. You might be trying to put some in there, but you don’t have the energy to do so, so it just comes out sounding very flat.

Joel realizes, suddenly, that he doesn’t have a reason. A real reason that wouldn’t….give him away. He puts his hands on his hips, thinks desperately. You do nothing to help.

When he settles in silence, offers you nothing, you just sigh and shake your head. Your teeth are chattering, lips cracked from the cold, and you seem desperate to get into shelter, twisting your key into your lock and opening the front door. Once you step inside, you flick on the lights. He follows you, closes the door behind you both, and locks it.

“Oh, yeah, come on in, I guess,” you say over your shoulder.

Joel crosses his arms, standing in your kitchen.

“What, am I in trouble or something?” you ask. “Because if I am, you’re gonna have to wait until I’ve showered.”

“It can wait,” Joel says, and sits at one of your kitchen chairs.

You shrug off of your backpack and leave it on a chair, then unbutton your coat, tossing it on top. Joel swallows hard when he sees the damage it’s been hiding. Your scrubs are dirty, tattered in some places, one of the sleeves hanging, partially ripped off. And they’re covered in dried blood. It’s smeared on your arms, on the back of your neck. Not yours, he hopes.

What the fuck happened to you? You don’t turn to see his reaction, don’t look over your shoulder to see if he’s going to ask about it. It’s almost like he’s not even there, and you clearly wish he isn’t.

He realizes then, that he has the confirmation he’s looking for. You made it out alive. He doesn’t actually need anything else from you. And you’ve given him a perfect out. He can leave while you’re in the shower.

But he doesn’t. Not when he hears the shower start, or the screech of the curtain across the metal rod, the sound of water hitting the basin. He stays there, motionless, until you duck out of the bathroom with your arms wrapped around yourself, wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants, hair damp and teeth chattering.

You pad with bare feet onto the tiled area of the kitchen, brushing past him.

“What the fuck happened to you?” he asks.

You finally look at him, like you’re surprised he spoke up, or even asked the question. A choked, bitter laugh leaves you, and you shift your attention away from him, reaching into your cabinet for a bottle of bourbon. “Pass.”

You pour yourself a whiskey, and Joel watches you throw it back in one go, your nose scrunching up, your hand clasping into a fist as you take the shot. The taste doesn’t stop you from pouring another drink and gulping that one down, too, without as much of a reaction as the first. It’s only when you start pouring the third that he intervenes, standing and crossing the room to cover the glass with his hand before you can grab it.

“Slow down,” he says.

“I know you’re not telling me what to do in my own home.” Your mouth opens as you look up at him, incredulous.

Joel looks past you, shakes his head. He supposes your right, but it doesn’t make it any easier to watch the self-destructive behavior, which is funny considering how often he engages in it himself. He gives in, removes his hand from your glass. “At least…pour me one. You shouldn’t drink alone.”

Your expression softens slightly, and he’s able to see all the pain you’re hiding, just for a flash, before you turn to retrieve a second glass from your cabinet.

Once you hand him the whiskey, he sits in the middle of the tiny loveseat you’ve got in your front room, expecting you to sit in the armchair across from it. Instead, you approach with your own drink, nudge his knee with your own, and Joel slides over to make room so you can fall onto the couch beside him. Much closer than he’d expected.

It’s surprisingly good bourbon, and he wonders how many times you’d wasted it by downing it like you just had, instead of taking your time, savoring. He waits for you to get settled before he speaks again.

“What happened to you?” he tries once more, a little softer this time.

There’s some contemplation on your end, you look at him for a moment, then at your glass, then back up at him again. He can almost see you trying to figure out how much you’re going to share, but he wants to know everything.

“There was an accident at the hospital,” you answer, finally.

Joel slings his arm over the back of the couch, angles his body towards where you’re curled up, legs tucked underneath you. I’m listening.

Your voice stays even, blase. “A guard at the border broke protocol…and someone who was infected was brought in. By the time we realized, it was too late….”

“Were you hurt?”

“Almost.” you say. “I mean, yes, actually, I’m a little scratched up, but…it’s not as bad as it could’ve been.”

Your teeth start chattering again. Joel wonders if it’s because of the cold, or your nerves. Figures it’s probably both.

“My coworker turned and I uhm….I had to…” you say into your glass, your free hand flexing like it’s trying to shake off some unpleasant muscle memory. “I had no choice.”

“I understand,” For whatever reason, he spares you from telling the story. To him, taking down Infected was nothing. But to you…“What else?” he presses.

You shrug, avoiding his eyes, one of your arms coming to grip at your opposite shoulder. “I can’t really remember. A bunch of people died. FEDRA came in and just started gunning everything down….” you shook your head, and straightened up.

“I heard about that,” Joel offers.

“Wait…you knew about this?”

“Yeah.”

“So then why are you here, asking m-” the rest of your sentence drops off, your lips parted slightly. The look on your face shifts, slowly. Your eyes narrow. Remorse turns into something more neutral, then into curiosity. “Oh my god….you were worried about me.”

“No.”

“Yes, you fucking were,” your lips curl slightly, it’s not quite a smile, but it’s something close to amusement.

“No,” Joel defends himself. “I wanted to hear what happened from someone–”

“No you didn’t,” you interject, but he raises his voice to finish his thought.

“–who actually works there, not FEDRA’s propaganda.”

“No you did not. You’re checking up on me. You came over here after curfew to see if I was–”

“Enough,” Joel growls with enough conviction that it shuts you up, and he’s grateful, but its not enough to wipe the self-satisfied look on your face, because it doesn’t.

“What are we, like, friends now?”

He doesn’t answer, and slugs back the rest of his whiskey.

“Or would that be too much for you?” You don’t wait long for him to give you an answer, probably because you know he won’t respond. “I mean, if we’re both being honest–” He definitely wasn’t being honest. “–Today was really fucked up.”

You’re leaning forward now, some of the space between you is gone. And though you’re trying to give the impression that you’re unphased by everything, your hand is clenched tightly around your glass, and you avoid his eyes. It’s painful to watch you resist the urge to trust him. Not that he’s ever given you a good enough reason to – he knows he doesn’t deserve it, but he wants it anyways.

“It’s funny…” you say after a while. “I remember thinking that I didn’t want to die. At least… not like that. I’ve never felt that before…That’s something, isn’t it?” you ask him.

Joel looks at you, and is surprised at the vulnerability in your expression, sees you looking for some kind of validation from him. “....It is.”

You finish off your drink, and put the empty glass on the coffee table, shift closer to him.

“It looks like you healed up okay,” you say, after a spell. “How’s your shoulder?”

“A little sore, nothing I can’t handle.”

“Did you take those antibiotics?”

“Yes.”

“Good. And I can’t even tell you had a black eye.”

“I’m fine,” Joel asserts.

Another shiver wracks your body, and he can tell this one is actually from the chill – your apartment is cold as fuck, it even is starting to bother him.

“Don’t you have a heater?”

“Kinda,” you glance over at the radiator in the corner. “Sometimes it works.”

“What do you do when it’s colder than this?” It was only November, things would only get worse.

You shrug. “I don’t know….just be colder, I guess.”

Joel imagines you curled up in your bed alone, wrapped in a thin comforter, shaking in front of him like you are now. He winces.

“How long are you going to stay?” you ask, changing the subject.

“I should probably go now.”

You nod, scoot closer. “But maybe…” you trail off, contemplating.

Joel sits up straighter, prompting you when you don’t speak again. “Maybe what?”

“Maybe you could stick around for a little while longer.” There’s a warm hand, yours, that lands on his thigh, and he recoils like you’ve touched him with a fire iron. He rises to his feet.

“Hey,” you stand along with him, step in front of him to block the pathway to the door. He could easily get past you, obviously, but it’s not as simple as that.

Of course he’s fucking thought about what happened the last time he was here – his arms around your waist, his mouth on your neck, your chest, your hands on his shoulders, whining his name. A freak accident, a glitch in the matrix, a statistically improbable thing.

“What?” he asks as you step forward, the fingers on your free hand sliding into the belt loops of his pants. He feels blood rush to his cheeks, to other places. And you’re still fucking shivering. You look so fucking miserable, he wants to yell at you to put on a coat, to wrap yourself in a blanket, in his arms.

“Joel,” you say his name softly, tilting your head up, leaning close. And then your hand is on the side of his face, and he realizes you’re fucking pleading with him. He knows what you want, but he has a feeling this isn’t just about sex. You’re looking for comfort, as if he’s capable of giving it.

“We made a mistake…once,” he tells you. “We’re not going to make it again.”

He says it to hurt you, but it doesn’t work. It’s like you knew it was coming all along. “I knew what I was doing,” you answer, earnest. “Didn’t you?”

Yes. You glance down at his hands, which are squeezed into fists so tightly, his knuckles are white. If he’s not rigid, he’s not sure how he’ll be able to resist. He wants you. God, he wants you. He never thought he’d be able to have you again.

“I could help you loosen up.”

Joel’s walking on the edge of a one-thousand foot cliff and hoping his foot slips. He wants to surrender. The only thing he thinks might save him is to say the meanest thing he can. Maybe you’d get turned off.

“Listen to yourself,” he says, finding the strength to meet your eyes. “You want me so bad, you sound pathetic.”

“Asshole,” you step closer, your mouth twitches, your lips are inches apart. “Do you think I care what you think about me?”

Joel realizes his plan has backfired. But he really only has himself to blame, he should’ve known better. With you, he’s never in as much control as he wants to be, and deep down, he likes it.

“Go lie down on the bed.”

It’s the only thing that seems to shock you. “What?”

“I won’t ask you again,” Joel steps backwards, crosses his arms. “Go lie down.”

──────

If you told yourself a couple months ago that one day you’d find yourself pinned down by Joel Miller, you’d think it’d be because he was about to kill you. Maybe because you cheated him out of something, maybe because you did something else to piss him off – it didn’t really matter. Regardless of how fucked up it was, that idea would seem more dignified than what was happening now.

Your back is being pressed deeper into the lumpy old mattress, and he’s on you. His mouth is warm, hot, wet, and dragging down your neck, nipping, sucking, licking. Your hands are itching to reach out, to skate down his torso, trace along his jawline, tug at his hair, but you can’t because he’s got them pinned above you with only one of his own. Anytime you try to fight him, his grip only grows stronger.

It was shameful, really, but you had asked for this – begged for it, basically. There were a number of reasons why – one of which was to blow off some steam after a near death experience, the other because you’d fucked him before and it had been good, much to your dismay. There was also a third reason that you weren’t interested in acknowledging now.

After the night Joel had gotten jumped, and you’d taken care of him, everything has changed. It’s a cliche, but true. You’d known what you were doing when it happened, and had no regrets. But it was probably not supposed to happen again, and you tried to keep it that way, more for his sake than anyone else’s. But….he was the one who showed up tonight after he’d heard what had happened. It wasn’t nothing.

Joel pulls away from you so abruptly that you gasp, shivering in the wake of his impossible warmth.

“Sit up,” he instructs, and you turn to find him at the end of the bed, arms crossed.

You obey, mostly just for the view. You hope to admire him, fresh from kissing you – flush skin, wet lips, tousled hair. Only he’s frustratingly stoic, unsullied – like he hadn’t been touching you at all.

“Look at me,” he says, and you do.

“This doesn’t mean anything.”

“It’s nothing,” you agree.

“I won’t be gentle.”

“I don’t want you to be gentle.”

“Good,” you watch his shoulders loosen, just a little, and he takes one step backwards, his eyes tracing down your body and then back up. “Strip for me….”

You aren’t dressed sexy at all, you remember, a sweatshirt and sweatpants. If you had thought this through a little more, you might’ve tried to make it nicer for him. “....Okay.”

“Start with your shirt,” he says, and you grab at the hem, but he snaps at you. “Ah-ah….slower.”

You swallow, nod, and carefully lift the fabric, dragging it up over your stomach, over the swell of your breasts, revealing your tight, thin white tank top.

“That’s it, nice and slow.”

Joel’s voice is soft but stern, a low rasp that makes your cunt clench around nothing, and he’s not even touching you. The sweatshirt is pulled over your head, falling somewhere on the crumpled bedspread.

Languidly, you lean back, shifting your weight to get off the mattress, and Joel palms himself through his jeans. You can see where he’s straining against the denim, and you find it hard to tear your gaze away as you go to pull off your sweatpants. Joel stops you again.

“Turn around.”

You do, and you’re sure he has a nice view of your ass as you slide them over your hips, bending over to let the fleece pool around your ankles. Slowly, you rise back up, looking at him over your shoulder for approval.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. Your stomach flips. A month ago, you would’ve done anything to get him to stay away from you, and now, you’re terrified to disappoint him.

That’s the problem. You’d spent most of the day fighting for your life — literally. But even after standing behind a barricade of heavily-armed FEDRA soldiers outside the hospital, you didn’t feel as safe as you did when you saw Joel at your door. You need him. For now, at least.

“Now the shirt,” he tilts his head towards the mattress, nodding encouragingly.

You get back on the bed, sitting back on your heels, and begin to pull the tank top up. It’s your last layer up top, you’re not wearing a bra, and you’re feeling a little vulnerable with him just watching you, fully clothed and composed, your gaze falling down to look at the threadbare linens.

“Eyes up,” he instructs. “Look at me.”

Taking in a shaky inhale, you do. It’s not easy. Everything about him looks dark, animalistic. A coiled ball of energy, waiting to pounce.

But, even when you’re bare before him, he doesn’t.

“Lie back, close your eyes.”

Of course, you don’t refuse, settling your head against the pillows.

There’s a sound of a belt – his belt, unbuckling, the snap of a button, the dip of the bed where he kneels when he comes to hover over you. Two hands land on top of your thighs, pressing the backs against his denim-clad knees, thumbs pushing your legs further apart.

And then…nothing. He’s still. He’s still for so long, that you actually think that something’s wrong. When you open your eyes, you’re met with a view of the underside of his jaw. You can just make out the pinched expression he’s wearing as he looks down upon you. Disdain, maybe…but it’s not meant for you, it’s for someone else….him.

“Joel,” you murmur. Instinctually, you reach for his hand.

The second it makes contact, he smacks your hand away so hard your whole body jolts. “I told you to close your eyes.”

“Sorry,” you mumble quickly, closing them again.

You are well aware that he’s actively working through shit, probably doing some kind of mental gymnastics to rationalize why it’s okay to fuck you again, which, when you really think about it is kind of….pathetic. It’s the only thing that makes you feel any sort of power in a situation where you’ll surrender everything else. It’s a fair exchange.

Maybe, on a different day, you would want it softer. You’d like to think he’s capable of that, even though he seems determined he isn’t. Luckily, you don’t want it softer. After today, you want to be so far gone you can’t think.

Joel answers by leaning down and catching you in a bruising kiss. Finally. You press yourself against him cause you’re freezing and he’s so warm, and you frantically begin to unbutton the flannel he’s wearing, making it about halfway down before he pins your hands above you again.

“Slow down.”

You whine, a little frustrated because all you want to do is touch him. The fingers on his free hand hook around the elastic of your underwear, and he starts to drag them over the curve of your ass.

He’s got to be joking with how deliberately he’s moving, anticipation only building underneath his featherlight touches.

When he’s got your panties around your ankles, you slide your legs together so he can pull them off entirely, keeping them closed as his weight shifts, and your thighs are pulled back apart.

“You’re already so wet for me,” he doesn’t need to feel you to see it clear as day, with you spread open in front of him. “So fucking desperate.”

He’s all-but glaring at you, like you’ve done something wrong, and for a minute, your eyes flick away, just for a second of relief from the tension.

“What, are you embarrassed?” he asks.

“N-no,” you stammer, though it was supposed to sound confident.

Thankfully, he doesn’t press you, his head dipping down to press his lips to your knee, then an inch higher, then an inch higher, then higher – keeping his eyes locked on yours the whole time, an arm winding around your thigh.

“I wanted to do this last time.” A confession.

“Yeah?” you sigh, trembling. It’s maybe the nicest thing he’s said to you, but you can’t even acknowledge it, because you’re buzzing.

He turns his face, his beard scraping along sensitive skin. “Mhm,” his deep rasp vibrates directly to your cunt, and when his head dips down, you close your eyes – it might just be better to focus on only one sensation at a time, you’re not sure you can handle seeing what he’s about to do.

Joel’s mouth is on you the second you do, and you gasp. He licks up the seam of your lips, mouth latching around your clit, swirling with his tongue, and back down – firm, determined, practiced. You try to buck up, but he has an arm locked around your hips.

He removes himself from you just enough to utter two words. “Stay still.”

You want to protest, but you realize that he’s let go of your hands, and it gives you the opportunity to thread your fingers into his hair, while you dig your heels into the broad expanse of his back, and he groans, tongue curling into you.

“I’ve thought about this,” you gasp, answering his earlier admission.

“When?”

“At night. More than once.”

“Fuck,” Joel growls, and you wheeze when he works one finger into you, forcing you to take it along with his next words. “You know how fuckin’ bad that is? Dreamin’ about a man nearly twice your age?”

“I d-don’t care, I want you anyway. Y-you can do whatever you want to me,” It’s too early to be past the point of speaking coherently, it really is, but you’re already there.

“F-fuck,” Joel repeats himself, and pushes another finger inside you next to the first, the stretch almost uncomfortable, but quickly fading to pleasure. “I’m going to.”

You’re not the going to tell him, though, that he’s the first man whose ever gone down on you, because you’re a little fucking scared for some reason. It’s intimate, very intimate, more than you expected.

The truth is, you weren’t actually very experienced at all. You could count on one hand the number of partners you’d had, and still not use all of your fingers. While some of them were good enough, they all paled in comparison to Joel. There had never been anyone like Joel.

His fingers curl as his tongue swirls around your clit and you cry out, inhale sharply. Minute by minute, you’re getting wetter and wetter – can hear yourself with each twist of his fingers inside you, bearing down on him.

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” he grunts, and your eyes flutter open just for a second, just to see his forehead, dark eyes staring back at you, and his hips dipping, rutting against the mattress. God he’s getting himself off to this. As hot as it is, the thought of not getting to feel him inside you causes a rush of anger.

“F-feels so good,” you’re right there, already, and it’s pitiful.

“I know, baby, I know,” he says. “You’re already so close, aren’t you?”

Instead of answering, you just nod, gasping. Joel works you right up to the precipice, hands tightening in his hair, hips lifting off the bed – and then he slows a little – just enough – to pull you back off the edge, and you let out a humiliating sob.

“Shhh!” he hisses with his mouth still on you, resuming the steady pace he had going. A little sigh of relief when you feel your release approaching again. He just lost his rhythm for a moment, it was nothing.

Again, he’s got you right there, you’re so close, hips jerking, breathing in short, sharp pants, something molten working its way up your spine. “Joel, that’s it, please I-”

He falters again – just enough. And it’s gone again.

You realize, with dismay, that he knows exactly what he’s doing. He hadn’t lost his rhythm. He’s doing this on purpose.

If someone asked – not that anyone would – you wouldn’t be able to recall how long he keeps you in that state, being dragged and dangled, but denied the privilege of falling. It’s torture.

And at first, you try to be patient. You figure he’ll grow tired, desperate, and eventually want to move on. But apparently, he doesn’t want to move on. He’s content to keep you this way for as long as he sees fit, and you can’t handle it any longer. It’s starting to hurt.

“Please, Joel, let me-” you gasp.

“Let you what?” he pulls back from you, frustratingly too soon, once again.

“Let me come, please, I’ll do anything, I’ll be good, please, please-”

“Just a little longer,” he dismisses you.

All you can do is pant and writhe, completely at his mercy. He keeps going like that, and you’ve stopped trying to filter yourself, the sounds he makes as he laves at you are obscene, you can see yourself glistening on his chin, and can feel the sheets damp beneath you. At this point, he’s enjoying this more than you are.

“Joel,” you plead with him again. “It’s too much, I c-can’t. Just, please I really need-”

“You wanna come for me, baby?” he asks. You nod ferociously.

“Yes, please, please,”

“You’re so fucking sweet when you beg, you know that? ” he murmurs. “Wish you were like this all the time.”

“Fuck off,” you manage, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. You should do this to me more often.

Joel chuckles, and it vibrates just right, his fingers curling again and you moan, hands tightening in his hair. He’s focused now, you can tell because the constant stream of filth he’s been whispering has finally stopped. He’s persistent.

You’re unable to stay quiet, continuing to whimper just like that and please don’t stop over and over. And then all at once, every muscle in your body grows tense and you cry out, cunt pulsing around him so tightly that his fingers slow. “There you go, pretty girl, that’s it.”

You whisper his name as he continues to fuck his fingers into you, riding you through your orgasm and licking up the mess you’ve made.

At some point in the aftermath, Joel withdraws from you, and you hear the sting of his zipper. It takes a moment, but you’re able to see him through heavily lidded eyes, kneeling in front of you with his shirt unbuttoned all the way, pants around his ankles, jerking himself slowly in his hand. God he’s fucking huge, how had you forgotten about that? He’s a vision, beard still wet with you, looking down, watching your chest rise and fall. In that moment you realize two things. One, even though you’ve already come, you somehow want him even more than you had before, and two, you’ve never wanted to suck a dick so bad in your life.

So you sit up, crawl towards him, and reach out with one hand to take him in your palm. He lets you, sighing, closing down his eyes. First, you have to kiss him, so you rise to your knees, and he pulls you into his arms, one of them winding around your waist, the other coming to rest at the small of your back. “You take such good care of me,” you whisper.

He grimaces at the words like they’re an insult. You expect him to retaliate, to tell you that you shouldn’t say that sort of thing, but he never does. So you kiss him, gently, bringing your free hand to the side of his face. Once again, he lets you, and you taste yourself when his tongue presses into you mouth. You run your thumb over the head of his cock, and he hums against your touch, almost contentedly.

You’re doing whatever you want to him, and you’re shocked he hasn’t put a stop to it. It could be satisfying enough, you think, just to keep kissing him like this. Still, you sink back towards the bed to test things further. You’re about to wrap your mouth around him, but he pulls you off by your hair, so quickly, so hard that you yelp.

“No.” he says firmly. “Lie back.”

“But I just wanted to-”

“No.”

You consider trying to reason with him, but decide it won’t be worth whatever he’d do if you continue to argue.

Joel braces himself with one hand above your shoulder, the other wrapped around his cock, slowly teasing you by rubbing himself up and down a few times, before he gives in, finally pushing into you.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp at the stretch, reaching out grasp at his bicep, arching your back. He’d prepped you, and it was still too much.

“You can take it,” he says, pressing deeper into you. His hips are all the way flush with yours, he’s to the hilt, and he still snaps them even further, once, holding you there, so deep, you feel like you’re choking on him. “See? There you go.”

It seems like you can’t quite catch your breath, and you squirm underneath him for some kind of friction, some kind of relief from how intense it all is. You can feel him throbbing inside you, feel how badly his own body is begging him to move, but he doesn’t.

“Joel,” you cradle the back of his head, look him in the eyes. “Move, please.”

He doesn’t answer, he just brings his hand to grip your jaw, his thumb and forefinger pressing into the soft flesh of your cheeks.

“Please?” you murmur again, and his thumb slips into your mouth, silencing you. You suck on it obediently, and after you do, he finally gives you what you want.

──────

Joel told you he wouldn’t be gentle, and he isn’t.

He hadn’t been able to do this last time. Taste you, spread you open, fuck you properly. His hips snap against yours – ferociously, unrelenting, over and over. You’ve been going at it for awhile now, and he actually wants you to break. He wants you to tell him to slow down, to be a little more tender, not press into you so deep, so hard, so that if he listens, it wouldn’t mean he’s breaking his own promise. He’s got to be rough with you, because he’s afraid of what could happen if he’s not.

But you don’t break. You fucking take it, take him, each time, again and again, your nails digging into arms, your legs locked around his hips. Each time he delves into you, you’re getting wetter and wetter, and yet, you’re still so fucking tight. He doesn’t understand it. It’s been a long fucking time since he’s been with a woman like you – and you might be the best he’s ever had.

You’re not even making any noise – you’re just panting, gasping in Joel’s ear as you cling to him, and that’s all. He can’t even look you in the eyes. If he does, he knows you’ll see everything that’s wrong with him, and still beg for him to give you more.

Two hands land on either side of his face, turning his head so you can kiss him. Despite how he’s treating you, you keep trying to connect, to ground yourself. For as much as he wants to refuse, it feels too cruel to deny you. He lets you lock your lips with his own, feels your cunt clutch him even tighter. It’s impossible for you to kiss for more than a few seconds at a time without it getting broken up by a whimper here and there. You’re getting close again, he’s started to get better at recognizing it.

“You’re fucking so perfect on me, baby, you feel that?” he asks, and you nod, breathless. “Taking me so well, such a good fucking girl-”

A gasp from you cuts him off, your eyes squeezing shut as you are taken over by your climax. Joel groans and does everything he can not to come when you start pulsing around him, holding him closer, since there’s nothing else to do. It’s way too intimate…because it’s missionary, and he should’ve known better than to start off like this.

Pulling out of you is the hardest thing he’s had to do in a while, and he ignores your noises of protest now that he’s left you empty. Then, he flips you onto your stomach. He takes a moment to admire the curve of your ass, how it dips into your waist….to him, your body is perfect, and you’re young, your skin still supple and smooth. There are still places he hasn’t gotten his mouth on, and it’s a shame, he thinks, but tonight his patience is wearing thin. Joel pulls you back until you’re on your knees, and slides back inside. There’s a little resistance, you whimper, but it’s easier than the first time. He wraps an arm around your waist, the other across your chest, and starts to jerk his hips upwards, into you.

“Oh fuck, Joel,” you sigh in relief.

“I know, I know.”

You drop your head back until it falls against his shoulder, winding your arm back so you can pull at his hair, which kind of fucking hurts, but he likes it.

Ultimately, you’re pretty easy to please, and it’s not long before he feels the telltale flutter of your walls as you drip down over him, soaking his lap.

“You’re making a fucking mess, baby. You gonna come for me again?”

All you can do is plead with him. “I can’t, Joel. I can’t do it again, please just-”

“Yes, you can,” he interjects. “I know you can, baby, don’t worry…I’ll help you.”

“O-okay.’

He slows the roll of his hips just a little, focuses on deeper, longer strokes, and lets the hand that’s currently squeezing one of your tits fall to where your bodies are joined, finding your clit immediately.

You whine, arching back against him, the swell of your ass packed against his lower stomach. He sees a single tear leaking from the corner of your eye and feels a little guilty for what he’s doing to you. Only a little, though.

Without any warning, for the third time, you’re coming around him – easier than the last time, like always – and he uses the feeling of you throbbing around him to chase his own release, his hand clapping over your mouth to muffle your moans as he becomes increasingly frantic.

He turns his head, rakes his teeth along your exposed neck, and sinks them into your pulse point with a groan. Your breath is hot against him when you whimper in response.

“Just a little more, honey.” He’s so close. You bob your head, though you’ve nearly gone limp in his arms.

Like last time, Joel knows it’s a bad idea, but he’s not going to pull out. The thought of deliberately coming inside you is actually what sends him over the edge, and he’s cursing and moaning your name. You whine at the feeling of him pulsing inside of you, arching back for more, even though he can tell you’re exhausted.

It’s fucking freezing in your apartment, and yet, his skin is damp with sweat when he finally regains some awareness of his surroundings. He’s panting, you’re sniffling, a weak smile on your face as you catch your breath. Before he can stop himself, he presses his lips to your cheek.

Joel tilts you both forward – very tentatively, keeping an arm wrapped around your waist. At some point, your hand settled over top of his, and you threaded your fingers between his own, holding his hand across your stomach. You keep it there, even after you’ve settled onto the bed.

It takes a few minutes before either of you move, but it’s you who gives in first, wriggling out from where he’s got you trapped partially underneath him.

You retreat to the bathroom, like you did last time. Somewhere during your coupling the linens have slid down the bed, and Joel settles back against the pillows, throwing an arm behind his head. Now that he’s stopped sweating, he’s just cold, and he reaches to pull the bedspread over him. He should leave, he thinks, before you come out and ask him to. Beat you to the punch. Maybe while you’re still in the bathroom.

A few minutes later, and you return from the bathroom, dressed again in sweats. He hears you pour yourself a glass of water, gulping it down. You flick off the lamp on your bedside table, and fall into bed next to him, lying rigidly on your back. He should reach out, pull you against him, let you settle in his arms. Instead, Joel rolls over on his side.

It’s terrible how beautiful you are, he thinks, watching you stare up at the ceiling, hugging yourself. So beautiful, and fucking smart. You’re strong, too, but not as strong as he wishes you were. Of course, no one could ever be that strong.

He whispers your name. You turn your head, pupils still blown wide with lingering lust.

“You need to learn to defend yourself, to shoot a gun, to fight,” he says. “After today.”

“What?” you roll to face him.

“You said you didn’t want to die,” Joel continues. “So you need to learn. ‘Case something like that happens again.”

“Oh yeah? Lemme guess, you’re gonna teach me?” your voice is a little hoarse after what he’d done to you, and you smirk at him.

“Yes.” It sobers you up, that he’s not fucking with you, or giving you a hard time. “I owe you, remember?”

“You do.”

“So…. I’ll teach you.”

“....Okay.”

“Alright.”

Joel rolls over to his opposite side, and you’re left staring at his back. Arms wrapped around

himself in a tight hug, he waits for you to tell him to go.

You never do.

Instead, he feels the heat of your body as you curl up against him, slotting one of your legs between his own. Your hand grazes up his ribs, over his bicep – a gentle, quick massage – before you tuck your arm underneath his own, your palm flat against his heart.

“What are you doing?” he asks, frozen at how tender the embrace is. It’s a foreign feeling, he can’t remember the last time someone touched him like this.

The tip of your nose hits the nape of his neck, and he can feel your shuddery exhale.

“I’m cold,” you say, like it’s obvious, lips brushing featherlight against his skin. “And if you’re staying, you might as well make yourself useful.”

He can’t roll over and wrap his arms around you. He can’t kiss your forehead or play with your hair or murmur into your ear. He can’t offer you anything in return. Joel decides, though, if he’s going to accept comfort from anyone, it’s going to be from you.

──────

taglist (basically if you asked for a pt 2 on the last part i tagged you): @bbyanarchist @dlwrish @imaginewrites24 @captain-yellow-96 @daisyintheskyewithdiamonds @sludgec0r33 @c0wb0ym3nace

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #the last of us #the last of us writing #the last of us fanfiction #tlou #tlou hbo #tlou fic #joel miller angst #writing

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writer-in-theory · 3 months

Text

you're gonna go far, love — spencer reid.

“I’ve been ready for you to come home for so long that I didn’t think to ask you where you’d gone.” —Noah Kahan (Orange Juice)

Summary: After Spencer relapses, he takes the first flight out of Virginia with no plan other than to get a fresh start. Or, my take on where he was for Evolution. Pairing: Spencer Reid x Gn!Reader (not the focus, but it's there) Category: Hurt/Comfort WC: 2k Content Warnings: Discussions of relapse, Mentions of alcohol, Slight spoiler for the ending of Evolution S1 (despite the fact I still haven't finished it myself) Notes: This is for the New Beginnings challenge hosted by @imagining-in-the-margins and based on a prompt from @foxy-eva , so thank you so much to you lovely people. This fic comes 2 years after my last CM fic, and a few months since I've written anything at all, so thank you for the inspiration 💜

Spencer booked the first flight out of Virginia five days after it happened.

The person at the counter may have said the destination, but it floated straight past his ears and was carried far away. Within hours, everything he’d spent the past two decades building was left thirty thousand feet below him.

Emily would be hurt. Everyone would be, as each of them heard the news as they one-by-one came into the office tomorrow. But it would be Emily, who was the first to notice the cracks in his once carefully crafted facade all those years ago, who would feel the most betrayed by his sudden escape.

You should’ve at least said goodbye.

It was what Spencer had been most upset by when Emily had faked her death. After everything they’d been through together, after all of the joy they brought into each others’ incredibly stressful lives, all Spencer had needed was the chance to say goodbye and know that she was out there, somewhere, happy.

Hopefully, she’d understand why he had to leave now, though.

Everyone in the BAU had figured out by now that the Spencer Reid who walked out of prison was not the same as the one who’d first stepped into it. Some piece of him—and even now, he wasn’t sure how large that piece was—had been laid bare and morphed beyond even his own recognition. The loss of that part of him ached in the way that losing a loved one did, that sharp stabbing sort of ache that would appear so suddenly that he didn’t know how to handle it.

There was no way to explain it to the rest of the team, though, no matter how supportive they tried to be. The fact was that none of them had ever nor would ever go through what he exactly had, and for not the first time in his life, Spencer began to feel like a rip current was sweeping him away from the steadiness of shore.

It wasn’t until he was far enough away from shore that he couldn’t see the relief of the sands that his mind recalled that he’d been prescribed painkillers several months prior.

It wasn’t the same as what Tobias Hankel had given him so many years ago, nor was it the alternatives he’d managed to find in the months after, but it was devastatingly similar enough that he’d tried to convince the emergency room doctor not to order it in the first place. ‘Pick it up anyway, just in case. No one can recover from a gunshot wound without pain relief.’

He’d almost flushed the amber bottle’s contents the day he’d gotten them, but the bone-deep feeling that had eased with time but never truly gone away kept him from fully eliminating that option from his life. Why should one thing that had happened to him years ago deny him proper pain relief now, should he need it? So they’d sat untouched, locked away in his gun safe for months.

Until five days ago.

After well over a decade in recovery, Spencer knew this was always a possibility. He’d seen friends go through the same thing and had been there to support them in whatever ways he could because no matter how many times it happened the initial feelings of shock, shame, and overbearing grief could be just as overwhelming as the first.

A day after, when he’d woken up and realized just what had occurred, Spencer had walked himself to the nearest NA meeting. Like he was on auto-pilot, he moved through every piece of advice he had gathered through the years—the stories of success and the stories of forced learning serving as guides to him. It wasn’t the first time Spencer had relapsed (a word that still struck fear in him to even think about), nor would it likely be the last time he was forced to confront this part of his past.

Still, this was the first time Spencer walked out of the building, packed a bag, and made a silent escape from the city he called home. There was something different about this time, though he had no idea where to even begin considering the specifics of why.

He ended up in Cincinnati, Ohio.

In all the years he’d been with the BAU, they’d never once been called there. It was like every other city Spencer had been in in many ways—the buildings towering above him as he walked, the river that bordered the city mirroring the home he’d just left, even down to the FBI headquarters that was quiet now in the middle of the night. Still, he couldn’t help but feel as though it were completely separate from everything he’d known before, because the melancholy Spencer had been sitting in for the last five days had suddenly turned comforting amongst the atmosphere of the city.

He ended up in a bar, of all places. It was the kind that only served nonalcoholic drinks, the kind of place where people like him could sit without feeling outside of the norm. Music was playing softly in the background, and though it was busy there was only a gentle rumble of conversation in the room.

“You’re staring at that glass like it’ll kill you. It’s safe, Scout’s honor.” The teasing voice surprised Spencer out of the careful contemplation he’d fallen into. It came from the bartender, who was busying themselves with wiping down a few glasses, stood just on the other side of the bar in front of him.

“You know, that only works if you were actually a scout,” Spencer returned, though raised the glass to his lips after. It was sweet—a little too sweet by his standards, though it was a comfort now after the week he’d had.

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” the bartender said back. They looked comfortable here, like this sober bar were an extension of their own home. At one time, the BAU office had been the same for him. “You look like you could use a friendly face, and that just happens to be my favorite part of the job.”

“Part of the job…?”

“Oh you know, bartenders are the therapists for the lonely, or something like that.” They were comfortable, and more open to an effective stranger than Spencer ever thought possible. It was refreshing in a way, to be able to talk with them without having to worry about what case information he could get out of them. It wasn’t often, anymore, that he could relax and talk to someone just to talk to them. “What brings you to the Queen City?”

“I moved here,” Spencer answered automatically, looking down sheepishly at his glass before adding, “today, actually.”

“Oh, congrats then. New job?”

“More like a new start.”

It was quiet for only a moment before the bartender asked in a softer voice, “How long had it been?”

Spencer almost asked them what they meant, until he met their gaze. They had their full attention on him now, glasses left abandoned on the inner part of the bar. They’d been kind from the start, but the look they gave him now was the sort of pure understanding that made Spencer realize all at once what they were referring to.

“How did you know?”

The bartender sighed, though there was no sadness to it at all. They pulled something from their pocket, sliding it gently across the bar so Spencer could see. A metallic chip was place between them, silver on the outside and filled in with a green-blue color and a “V” engraved in the middle of it. It was different from the ones he’d used, but he recognized the meaning of it all the same.

“I opened this place because the day I relapsed, five years ago now, I’d had nowhere to go after. There wasn’t anywhere people like us could go and relax without having to answer the tough questions, like why I drank orange juice instead of ‘what all the other adults were drinking’. It seemed silly at the time, but I think I was just looking for somewhere I could feel normal.”

“My family were the ones who helped me get sober, and sometimes they still forget and will ask me why I’m not drinking.” Spencer returned the sentiment with a light laugh. He loved everyone in the BAU, and even though it had only been a few days he already missed them terribly, but it was nice to have someone there who understood what he was feeling, what he was going through now.

“Exactly!” The bartender said, following Spencer’s lead and letting out a laugh of their own. “Though I can’t say I ever moved to a new city because of it.”

“It was the most impulsive thing I’ve ever done,” Spencer admitted. “I…really needed a fresh start. I needed somewhere noone knew who I was, somewhere I could get a completely different job and…I don’t know, figure out who I am.”

The bartender nodded. “Sounds about right. This family you left behind, are you gonna go back to them?”

“Eventually. We’ve worked together for so many years. I spent more time with them than I’ve actually ever spent alone, and I think I just need…”

“Something new,” the bartender finished, “I’m starting to catch on. What d’you think you’ll do?”

“I’ve always loved teaching. Maybe that?”

“You know, I have some friends who work at UC. Depending on what you wanted to teach, I could see if they could get you an interview.”

“Just like that?” Spencer asked, wondering only briefly if there was going to be a catch somewhere down the line.

The bartender shrugged. “Why not? I never up and moved cities, but I’m no stranger to new beginnings.”

“I wouldn’t recommend moving cities without thinking it through,” Spencer laughed then. “I have no plan for what comes next.”

“Do you have somewhere to stay, at least?”

Spencer only winced, which he was sure was answer enough for them. He was expecting some kind of sympathetic response, but he never expected the bartender to shrug again and say, “Well, how about I be a little impulsive too. I’ve been looking for a new roommate, why don’t you stay tonight and see how it goes?”

“Really?”

“Yeah, sure. You seem decent enough not to be some secret axe-murderer or something.”

Oh, the irony.

Spencer didn’t really know this person except for the limited conversation they’d had so far. It would’ve been safer, and probably smarter, for him to just find a hotel room for the night and come up with a plan later. But something was telling him that he should agree, that there was something more to this person that he wanted to get to know.

So not for the first time that day, Spencer trusted his gut and nodded. “Okay, let’s try it.”

It wasn’t a fix for everything. The changes would come slowly, so slowly that sometimes Spencer himself wouldn’t even notice them happening. It would take time to get to a place where Spencer felt okay again, and a large help in that ended up being his new roommate who seemed to just get him in more ways than one. As time went by, Cincinnati truly began to feel like home.

And two years after he’d left, when Spencer turned on the news and saw the BAU standing before a large crowd as they announced they’d finally caught the serial killer behind the shipping container murders, he finally felt the string tugging him back in the direction of Quantico.

His home was there in Cincinnati, with the person who’d become a friend and even more in the last two years and the professor job that he came to love, but Spencer knew—beyond a shadow of a doubt—that it was time to see his family again, too.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfic #hurt/comfort #angst

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cactuscoolerr · 1 year

Text

character: isagi yoichi cw: smut. bestfriend!/boyfriend!isagi, reader and isagi are both switches !!

a/n: also this was stolen from a fic i wrote on wattpad so there might be some confusing parts since it was written for that lololol

you slept peacefully next to isagi after a tiring night spent with him. while you slept, isagi laid next to you, smiling softly as he admired your sleeping face, something he always found adorable.

isagi leaned down and pressed yet another kiss to your nose, hoping that this one would finally wake you. after you remained asleep, he sighed softly, rolled his eyes, and pressed a bunch of gentle kisses against every part of your face.

"yoichi.." you whined softly, pushing your hands outward into his face to get him away from you. "too early for this shit" a low groan sounded from you as you pressed your face into the pillow.

isagi laughed softly, pulling the blanket off of you so it only covered your bottom half. "come on, sweetheart" he said lowly into your ear and you could basically hear that stupid smirk on his face. "just wanna spend the day with you, my love.." his fingers lightly trailed down your spine, making you shiver and whine once more into the pillow.

you felt a gentle kiss pressed against your bare back and you raised your head to look back and glare at him. "i'm not having sex with you this early in the morning"

"it's nearly eight, baby. you need to get up soon anyway"

a scoff sounded from you and you pressed your face back into the pillow. "i can get up at any time i want" you said, though it was too muffled by the pillow for isagi to understand what you said. "repeat that for me, hun. i didn't quite catch that one" he teased and you felt your cheeks burn, refusing to lift your face so he can see the reaction he got from you.

"traveling abroad has made a serious change when it comes to your act" you muttered with your face turned out of the pillow but still covered by the blanket you pulled up so he couldn't see your reddened cheeks. "i still don't know this side of you.." your voice was quiet as you traced small shapes into the pillow you laid on.

isagi looked at you almost sadly before laying down next to you so he was face to face with you. "i'm still your yoichi, baby. nothing could ever change that"

"my yoichi..?" you asked softly with a pout and he laughed softly, pressing a sweet kiss to your pout in hopes of making it fall.

"your yoichi, y/n" he clarified and pulled you to lay on his chest. you sighed softly and he laughed, kissing the top of your head as reassurance. with your cheeks burning slightly, you leaned more into his touch, tracing small hearts next to his collarbone before pressing a kiss to each one.

you could feel all of the new muscles he gained since his time in another country. it made you wonder what was so different about this time compared to his training here at home and if this second time traveling abroad in a few days would also change him as much.

"i'm gonna miss you.." you muttered into his chest and he wrapped his arms tighter around you. "it won't be as long as the other times" isagi sighed and kissed your head again. "i'll come back to you as soon as i can"

a soft sigh came from you as silence settled in the room. with the soft sounds of isagi's breathing fanning into your hair, you began to grow emotional. after so many months of being away from him, you finally got him back for a month, only to have him taken from you again. it was so unfair.

you sniffled softly and isagi was quick to turn the two of you onto your side and hold you in his arms. "what's wrong, sweetie? hm?"

isagi pressed small kisses on the top of your head and stroked the side of your face in hopes of soothing you.

"i know how important all of this is for you and i'm so fucking happy that everything is going the way you want but i've just missed you so much" you cried softly, pressing your face into his chest as you gasped softly. "and i know i have no right to feel this way and i know it's selfish but i just need you here with me"

a gentle silence filled the room once more, aside from your soft sobs as isagi thought of what to say. he sighed gently and held you closer to his chest, "you're allowed to be selfish, hun. i kinda just left you all alone didnt i..?"

he sighed once more and ran his hand up and down your side before he gently gripped onto your hip. "wish i didn't have to leave you for so long. it killed me to leave you last time. not sure how i'm gonna survive leaving you this time"

"it's not like it's any different.." you cried softly, "you seemed to live just fine those other times.."

isagi noticed your tone was almost bitter and he couldn't help but laugh into your hair. "so fucking cute, baby" he laughed softly and gently angled your face upwards so he could kiss you. "you're my beautiful and perfect girlfriend this time.." another kiss was pressed to your lips. "of course it's different"

"yoichi..?"

he hummed softly and looked down at you, "what is it, my love?"

you groaned softly to yourself, wishing that he would just know what you wanted so you wouldn't feel so embarrassed. with his words, you felt the heat growing in your core and you knew that isagi was the only thing that would fix it.

instead of talking, you sighed and pressed your face into his neck, gently sucking on his pulse point. you nearly laughed at the way he stiffened, finding his reactions to pleasure cute.

"y/n.." isagi's tone was embarrassed but he still gently moved your hair to the side so it wouldn't get in your way. a soft moan sounded from his as you bit gently into his skin, leaving a small bite mark. you were still afraid of hurting him, so you wouldn't bite hard enough to draw blood like isagi does to you.

while isagi was distracted with the gentle bites you left on his neck, your hand traveled all the way down his naked torso and past his hips to grab onto his hardening cock.

over the past few weeks of isagi being home, you had only ever touched his cock a few times as you were still inexperienced and he didn't want to make you uncomfortable. instead, isagi would always eat you out then fuck you, which you didn't think was all that fair towards your loving boyfriend.

"y/n.." isagi breathed out, whining softly when he felt your thumb swipe gently over the tip of his cock. "please, sweetie" he begged and thrusted slighting into your hand to find pleasure.

trying to focus, you muttered a soft 'okay' and moved your hand up and down his cock. it was fully hardened now and all you could think about was how he would feel inside of you. part of you wanted to skip this part and ask him if he could just start fucking you, but the other part of you wanted to hear just how loud isagi could get for you.

moving from base to tip, your palm dragged over his sensitive glands faster as his noises grew louder. your cheeks burned at the way he whimpered out a broken 'please' and pushed his hips upwards. you gently took his hand that was fisted in the sheets with your unoccupied hand and pressed kisses over his knuckles.

"doing so good, yoichi" you said softly, letting go of his hand to swipe his bangs off of his sweaty forehead. "let me hear all your pretty noises, sweetheart" you laughed against your palm, wondering of his reaction if he caught onto you blatantly mocking him, but you figured he was too stupid to think that much with all of the pleasure he was feeling at the moment.

"please.." he whined, moaning and grabbing onto your wrist as you gently pressed your nail into his slit. "please what?" you mocked and kissed him. "i don't know what you want, so tell me"

"make me cum, please" isagi whined once again, shutting his eyes tightly as if he would feel the movements of your hand more. "please, please. i need it so bad. i cant-" he cut himself off with a loud gasp as you moved onto your knees and jerked him off while your other palm rubbed against the tip of his cock.

unintelligible noises slipped past isagi's lips as you rubbed your palm faster, the excessive amount of pre cum making it all the more easier to do so.

"i'm gonna.. fuck- please i'm gonna cum-" isagi gasped, writhing against the bed sheets. "gonna cum so hard for you, please please please"

with another gentle swipe of your nail against his slit, isagi moaned loudly as his cum began spilling from his cock. the desperation in his whimpers grew as he moaned out your name with every spurt of cum and you watched almost mesmerized.

"fuck.." you breathed out and slowly dragged your hand up and down isagi's reddened cock to help him through his orgasm. "you cum kinda of a lot, yoichi"

isagi breathed deeply as he began to calm down. his eyes were closed and his eyebrows were furrowed. you watched for an expression change, but he held that same look until he slowly opened his eyes to look at you. "that was good.."

"yeah, you came enough to breed like ten other chicks, sicko"

a breathy laugh fell passed his lips and he sighed, "always so vulgar, aren't you?" his words made you scoff and look at the cum that coated his abs. "sure.. i'm the vulgar one" you muttered and gently reached over to touch his cock again.

"i've always wondered if it felt different.." you accidentally said out loud and isagi gave a confused look. "oh uh.. you know getting off as a dude as compared to a girl.." isagi laughed as your words trailed off. "i can imagine that it does"

you hummed lowly and gently flicked his cock, wondering of his reaction. and once he jolted and glared at you, you laughed loudly. "you're a sensitive little thing, aren't you" you cooed, mocking his words once again and he rolled his eyes. "don't think i missed when you mocked me that first time"

"thought you were too fucked out to notice, oops"

he scoffed once more and reached out to trail his thumb against the side of your thigh. isagi's gaze softened slightly at the bruise he left a few days ago. he had always gripped onto your thighs harder than he intended when he was about to cum, but you didn't mind.

"come here" isagi said softly, sitting up and motioning to his lap. without thinking, you did as he commanded and wrapped your arms around the back of his neck with your legs on either side of his torso and his cock barely grazing your cunt.

isagi's eyes met yours and you smiled softly before his eyes cast downwards to look at your body. despite having been naked in front of him nearly every day since his return, your cheeks reddened and you grew slightly insecure.

"pretty.." he muttered softly and kissed against your neck. "always so fucking pretty just for me.." his words trailed off as he leaned in to lick up your neck and to your jaw. you shivered and he laughed breathily as he caressed your back as softly as he could.

you could feel the way isagi's cock began growing hard again and you were beginning to feel excited. "isagi.." your tone was desperate, though you didn't mean for it to be, and you were glad he knew exactly what you wanted.

still holding onto you gently, isagi laid you down, his hands sliding from your back to settle on your hips. he shuffled to sit on his knees, gazing down lovingly at your body. his favorite version of you was when you were all nice and pliant for him, naked and splayed out for his own usage and his eyes only.

"so god damn beautiful, y/n" he breathed out and leaned down to kiss you. as he did so, he brought one hand down to guide his cock to your entrance. the familiar feeling made you whine desperately into the kiss, and he swallowed the sounds you made as he pushed into you.

a low moan slipped past your lips as he bottomed out. as you opened your eyes to look at him, you noticed how red his cheeks were and the way he breathed heavily.

another desperate kiss was pressed against your lips as he began slowly thrusting into you. a shared whine was made into the kiss and isagi brought one hand up to gently caress your face as the other was pressed into your hip to keep him upright while also rubbing soothing circles into your skin.

"yoichi.." you whined desperately as he pulled away, wanting for him to be close to you again. "gimme a sec" isagi gently swiped your hair from your face and sat up. you whined loudly as he spit directly onto your clit and grasped your hand in his, bringing it down to press over your sensitive clit. "pleasure yourself for me, ok?"

you nodded and did as he said, slowly at first but gradually rubbing yourself faster as he thrusted harder into you.

"that's it sweetheart.." isagi smiled and leaned down again to kiss your forehead. "doing so well just for me.."

as you continued rubbing your clit and isagi thrusted his cock in and out of you, you were beginning to feel your oncoming orgasm. you moaned loudly and grasped onto the back of isagi's neck, abandoning what isagi told you to do to press him closer to you. "please" you whined, beginning to feel yourself tearing up as your desperation grew.

"so needy" isagi teased and thrusted into the particular spot that always had you on the cusp of cumming. "needy for my cock, aren't you? like some kind of cheap whore?"

the stimulation paired with isagi degrading you had your back arching off the bed as stray tears rolled down your cheeks. as your orgasm grew near, your legs wrapped around his back, forcing his cock deeper into your pussy.

isagi whimpered with each thrust and you knew based solely on that, he was close to cumming as well. the idea of cumming with your boyfriend did wonders to your brain as you desperately tried to grind into his cock on time with his thrusts. isagi noticed your efforts and whimpered, feeling your desperation as he grabbed your hips and pulled you up to sit up on his lap and force you down onto his cock.

"just like that, sweetie" his voice cracked and he pressed his forehead into the crook of your neck, whining soft praised as he unwillingly thrusted his hips into you whenever he forced you downward into his cock.

"i'm close, 'ichi.." you cried softly, hugging onto him tightly as you still weren't all that used to the feeling of cumming. "i've got you, pretty.." isagi breathed shakily into your skin.. "fuck- just let go for me.. just-" he moaned and thrusted harder, "please just cum for me, please.. need to.. ah- fucking feel you cum on my cock.."

you obeyed his words and tightened around him with a whiny moan as you came. your juices ran down his throbbing cock as he quickly pulled you off of him, letting you fall into his lap as he stroked his hard cock quickly, cumming with quiet whimpers.

with your face pressed into his neck, you tried catching your breath as he came onto both yours and his stomachs. glancing down at his cock, you moaned softly at the sight of his cum still spurting from his slit.

"god.." isagi breathed with his forehead on your shoulder and you laughed breathily. "that time was really fucking good, sweetie"

you smiled into his neck and peppered small kisses to the bruises that were forming from your bites. "you leave for your match tomorrow and i left fresh little marks on you, yoichi" you giggled and pulled back to look at him, your arms still draped around his shoulder.

"you know i don't mind that" he smiled and kissed your lips gently before wiping away the tears that had fallen from eyes when you came on his cock.

you snorted a laugh and stared lovingly into his eyes. "sweetheart..?" isagi suddenly said and your hummed, brushing isagi's hair behind his ears. "didn't mean to call you a whore.." he said nervously and you looked at him with a confused smile on your face. "yoichi, what?" you laughed and he glared.

"i'm serious!" he said and gently pinched your sides to shut you up. "it just slipped out, i didn't mean to call you that" his lips found yours as an apology and when he pulled off of your lips, he kissed your cheek. "i'm sorry, baby"

you laughed once more and kissed away the slight pout on his lips. "thought it was hot anyway so i don't care"

isagi looked at you with a shocked expression and laughed while shaking his head. "you are seriously something else.." he smiled and kissed you once more. "my beautiful girl"

#bllk #blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk smut #blue lock smut #isagi smut #isagi yoichi smut #isagi x reader #isagi yoichi x reader

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starchaserdreams · 6 months

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My fics on AO3

Alright, so I deleted my AO3 account a few months ago (thinking I was done with this) and orphaned all of my works. Well, now I deeply regret that. But I have collected as many of them as I could find here for anyone who's interested.

Jegulus/Starchaser

Temptation Eyes (Now Complete!) - My Jegulus Regency AU. Completed, being posted one chapter twice a week. James enters the London season hoping to find a wife. What he finds instead is Regulus Black, and he never looks back. But as implied by the era, it won't be easy for them. Background wolfstar, shown as a different approach to a queer relationship in the regency era.

Get Regulus Out - 82k, Rated M, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Working Through Trauma, No War/Riddle AU, background Wolfstar, background Marylily. James tries to convince Regulus to leave Grimmauld Place as Sirius once did, and save himself from his parents.

How to Spot Signs of Jealousy - 4k, fake/pretend relationship, mutual pining, miscommunication. After Regulus gets fed up with people asking him out because of his family name, he and Barty agree to fake date. For some reason, James Potter seems livid...and Regulus can only guess that it's because he's homophobic. That's got to be it, right?

But Where's Regulus - 1k. James on laughing gas after getting his wisdom teeth taken out and talking about how much he likes Regulus

Waking Up Slowly - 2k. James wakes up in bed with Regulus in the Gryffindor dorm, something Sirius might not take kindly to.

I've Read Your Book - 1k. Two one shots based on the same premise: Writer!James didn't even know Regulus knew about his book, let alone had read it, but Regulus comes up to him and says "I've read your book" aka the most exciting words of all time to start a conversation for a writer.

Little Ball of Fire - 1k. Regulus gets into an argument with Snape. Regulus begins threatening him, so James picks Regulus up and carries/drags him out of the room before anyone gets hurt.

Prongsfoot/Bambibelle

What's in a Name - 5k, Soulmates AU, secret crush. In a world where soulmates exist and can identify each other by the feeling they get when they say each other's names, it's pretty easy to identify who your soulmate is. But for Sirius and James who only call each other by their nicknames, it takes a while to finally know.

The Bachelorette - 15k, mutual pining, Bachelorette AU. Sirius and James are both cast as contestants on the Bachelorette. Although their stated goal was to woo Lily and capture her heart, they don’t quite manage it. They fall for each other instead.

A Real Marriage Under Wizarding Law - 6k, mutual pining, fake/pretend relationship, drunken shenanigans. Sirius and James get a quickie drunken marriage in Knockturn Alley. When they wake up in the morning, they decide not to get it annulled so that they can save Sirius from an arranged marriage.

The Only Transfer Students to Ever Come to Hogwarts - 9k, arranged marriage, hijinx, angst with a happy ending. Sirius is upset to learn that not only does he have to transfer to a new school, but his parents have set up an arranged marriage for him. James assures him that's impossible, but Sirius knows his parents don't make empty threats. (Written for Prongsfoot Bingo)

The Smell of Water - 4k, Amortentia, idiots in love. Sirius and James argue about what they're smelling without realizing that there's Amortentia in the room. When Sirius realizes, he becomes a whole mess about it. (Written for Prongsfoot Bingo)

Wolfstar

Wolfstar Microfics Theme: Love - 8k, a collection of 22 microfics themed around love

6x James Found Out, and 1x Harry Did - 10k. Six ways James could have learned about Sirius and Remus' secret relationship, and one way Harry could have learned about it. *This is specifically ATYD fanfiction, and it's set in that universe.

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strayrumia · 16 days

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Unfamiliarity (oneshot)

felix x fem!reader

Synopsis: After her break-up from her long-term relationship, [Y/n] is left wondering if she was deserving of love and gentleness. Fortunately for her, she has a best friend who's been supporting her since the beginning. Not only that, but he's also more than happy to show her she deserves the love she longed for. -or- [Y/n] is left touch-deprived and doubting that she's deserving of anything wholesome after having left a relationship that left her with nothing but heartbreak, trauma, and neglect. Her best friend proves her wrong.

Genre(s): fluffy ending, implied best friends to lovers (can be taken platonically), angst Other tags: non!idol au, (wholesome) physical touch Content/Trigger Warning(s): mentions of SA (s*xual ab*se) and emotional ab*se from past relationship, very heavy mentions of insecurity and feeling worth is based off s*x, mentions of food

[A/N]: This is more of a ventfic and something that I wanted to just let out. It might not be the best fic I've written as it has a VERY open ending/lacks a proper ending. I also wrote this late at night, very head-empty. I hope if you do read it, you'll feel heard or a reminder that you deserve the love you give to others! <3

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Weeks.

Has it been weeks?

No, it's actually been a few months since the day you gained the confidence and willpower to walk out on your past and very toxic relationship. You've kept track. After all, you thought your ex would be hurting too, until you've discovered from mutual friends that he had already moved on.

That's right. At first, it was a mention from a mutual that they've heard him mention on his own socials that he was going to a concert - a concert of a group you were very confident he didn't know nor listen to very much. Then the day came when it was the supposed concert. You saw on another mutual friend's Instagram that he was seeing the group with the same girl he told you not to worry about countless times prior. The same girl who he would not hesitate to make time when she said the word, yet when you asked him for his time, he would throw a fit. Then goes the most recent news - that he was supposedly trying to get on his coworker.

This boy was the same one who told you, when you sobbed to him while trying to stand your ground, that he didn't agree to this relationship ending and he wanted to continue fighting for you two. The same one that told you that he'd rather you stay with him and heal than walk away. The same one who told you, "will we ever be together again in the future?"

It hurt.

It hurt knowing that this person you gave five long, hard years for threw you away so easily. You fought for him despite your friends and family refusing to support your relationship, despite the fact that they all mentioned how he had red flags yet your young, naive self gave him the benefit of the doubt. You fought for him, yet you got taken advantage of in more ways than you want to remember while he felt little to no remorse for his actions as his words never aligned.

It hurt knowing that while you gave a lot of love to him, you're left wondering if you're even enough for another person, if there will ever be someone in your life to treat you the way you deserve to be treated. While you were still healing, your ex, who you walked away still full of love, was ready to find the next person to fuck around with.

Though many of your friends suggested you to hop on the dating apps and just fuck your feelings away to those who had no strings attached, you knew you couldn't do that. You love with your whole heart. Sure you can sleep with others and enjoy the sex life with potential partners who shared your kinky fantasies, but how can you? Your relationship was full of one-sided lust that you felt like you were only good for sex.

You were healing a lot faster now that months had gone by since your breakup, but it didn't stop the thoughts of insecurity that would constantly come up every now and then. You've gone on many hangouts with friends who happened to be dating and seen just how wonderfully they treat each other and it makes you wonder... 'Will I ever get that kind of treatment?'

After your breakup, you made a vow to yourself that you would set aside as much time as you can to spend with your friends and family, the very people who supported you individually from the start and continued to even after that. Through each hangout, your best friend, Felix, was there every step of the way.

He was always there since the beginning. He was there when he warned you about your ex before you got into that relationship. He was there during your entire relationship, albeit being at a bit of a distance to respect your space and privacy with your partner. Lastly, he's there for you right now.

You had spent the whole day with him, letting the day be a normal hangout - one that allowed you two to enjoy board games with other friends before they had to go home, leaving you alone in your small apartment with Felix.

After the mutual friends had left, Felix had noticed your mood shift slightly towards the end of the game night and decided to bake you some chocolate chip cookies as a treat to cheer you up. He knew they were your favorite sweet treats after all. While he prepped the ingredients and put up a YouTube video in the background, you scrolled through your Instagram feed lazily, only to have the worst timing and notice the same girl you were warned to not worry about post about your ex yet again. Yes you were doing better in this healing process but the pain was still ever so present.

You let out an exasperated sigh as your head dropped into your folded arms against the counter, causing Felix to look up from the video and pause. "Are you alright?"

You only responded with an unhappy, muffled groan in your arms. Felix raised an eyebrow at you as his gaze shifted towards the phone in your hand. Your screen stayed stagnant on the post with your friend and your ex.

"You know, you could always remove this girl from your socials. Why don't you? It's not like you still talk to her." Felix suggested, taking your phone out of your hands and analyzing the post.

"She hasn't done anything directly to make me have a reason to cut her off... it wouldn't be right." You retorted. That thought often crossed your mind without him even mentioning it if you were being honest. It would lift a mental load on you to remove the last person who wanted to associate with your ex from your social media, but you still felt it was wrong to remove someone who never hurt you, at least with intention.

Felix scoffed. "Does it matter? She doesn't know him well enough to know what he did to you, or to anticipate what he might do to her. If it helps you in the long run, you might as well do it."

You ignored his reply, your thoughts were going elsewhere anyway. You stared into nothingness as the post's image burned into your brain, how happy the girl was to be beside the abuser. Your thoughts were going all over the place if you were being honest.

'Why do you want to associate with him? He's a horrible person! Ugh, but you don't know...'

'You don't even know how terrible he is, but I guess sometimes people only learn the hard way...'

'He literally told me not to worry about her and how he only saw her as a little sister figure but why was his hand so dangerously low in that photo...'

'Just how many lies did he feed me to keep me from trusting my gut feelings...'

'She is a pretty girl with a gorgeous figure... it's no wonder he kept his eyes on her.'

'She was the one worth driving an hour and more for without hesitation. She was the one he was willing to treat out to restaurants and gift flowers for. I was the inconvenience after all...'

Your thoughts were becoming sadder and darker as they went through each and every lie he told you. Tears began to well in your eyes until you suddenly felt your hand getting tugged, dragging you out of your thoughts and into the situation at hand. Felix started leading you towards your couch and maneuvered you into sitting onto his lap.

"Wh- Felix, what are you doing? I-I'm heavy!" You started to get embarrassed and immediately tried to lift yourself from his lap, only for him to keep you there with his arms. He kept you in a gentle yet firm embrace that prevented you from trying to escape.

"You're not even heavy, stop it." You stopped squirming and just continued to avoid his gaze. You knew if he saw the tears threatening to fall from your eyes you would hear it from him, but he surprisingly said nothing as he kept you in his arms.

He reached over to the side and grabbed a blanket nearby, drooping over his back before he took each end to make his way to wrap you in. He gently cradled your head into his neck, his head sitting softly atop yours. His other arm kept you in an unescapable hold while rubbing small circles on your back. Although you wanted to escape out of embarrassment, you didn't retaliate to his small, gentle gestures. You felt your muddy thoughts begin to clear out as Felix continued to cradle you in his arms.

"Felix... what are you doing?" You repeated with more naivety and less aggression.

"What does it look like, [Y/n]?"

Your face began to flush, but you tried your best to pay it no mind. "You don't need to do this to me, okay? I don't... I don't deserve it."

"Why do you think you don't deserve it?"

The post burned into your mind again. "Because... there are better people out there who deserve it more than I do." Like her. I'm not someone you should be doing these kinds of things to. I don't deserve it.

"Hmm... maybe you're right, but I know you deserve to feel secure and have affection too." Felix replied, adjusting slightly to turn your head to face his direction as he started brushing his fingers through your hair, pushing your loose strands away from your face to the best of his ability in your position. The gesture small yet soothing, an unfamiliar feeling that you definitely leaned into and enjoyed every minute of.

"I can't imagine what he put you through but what I can tell you is that you too are deserving of more than just being treated as an object. You're not an object, you're a human, okay? So don't ever treat yourself as anything less when you deserve more."

You felt the tears in your eyes rebuild from the ever growing happiness in your heart hearing his words, but you fought them from overflowing. You shook your head, wanting to retort more but as you opened your mouth, the words never left your throat. It felt that if you tried to counter Felix again, the tears would win over and you wouldn't be able to stop. 'I really don't...'

"[Y/n]," he softly pressed his lips against the crown of your head. "You deserve to feel loved too. You deserve to experience the joys of getting a wonderful surprise from your support system. You deserve to be invited and brought to cute and romantic dates with lots of effort. You deserve something even as simple as handholding!"

It's as if he felt your tears fall because he pulled you away from him to use his free hand to gently wipe away the tears from your eyes, not caring that they lightly stained his sleeve and shirt. He continued to brush your loose hairs away from your facial features as he made sure you kept your eyes on him. "You are loved and you will experience that love too. If you allow me, I will show you exactly how you should be treated - although, it might just be the same as what we already do."

"But... what would be the difference between the things we do now compared to the things we will do after this point?"

"Well, I guess I won't have to hold back how I feel about you. That would probably be the only difference." He said with a small chuckle. "But you don't have to worry about anything, I don't expect you to feel anything right away nor do I want you to feel rushed into deciding anything with me. I just want you to experience the love, respect, and happiness you're supposed to have."

You thought about it with a smile. Your current experience with Felix as of recently has been filled with nothing but joy and laughter. There would be times where you would vent about your healing thoughts and he would generously offer an ear and shoulder. Most of the time, however, it was genuine laughs and happiness that triggered your habit of hiccupping when you laughed too hard. Those memories you've made with him recently just made you enjoy his presence more and more. It was no lie that he made sure he always thought of your picky habits whenever others wanted to go to a restaurant, how he made your heart flutter with every smile he shone at you and every gentlemanly gesture he did in consideration of you.

It wasn't going to be an easy lesson to relearn but you knew exactly what he was trying to teach you. You don't know how to accept such kind and affectionate gestures because you were so used to bland, lustful touches. You didn't think you deserved to be treated so delicately when all you've known is how to be used and thrown to the side when the other was no longer satisfied.

It was hard, but you can feel your healing process become much easier and smoother with Felix by your side. After all, he knew you best, he witnessed you through your highs and lows to the point where he learned what ticked you off and what brought you the highest joy. He's someone who observed and applied what he learned to make sure you would be treated with the respect you deserved.

It won't be quick and it won't be easy, but one thing you know for sure is that you felt the most safe and loved with him than anyone you can ever imagine.

-End-

#tw abuse mention #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #felix x reader #felix scenarios #skz x reader #stray kids x reader

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cnnmairoll · 9 months

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An Enchanting White Day

Character(s) : Jing Yuan, Dan Heng, Gepard, March 7th Genre : Fluff a/n : Starting to get a hang on writing multiple charas and hsr! This fic was inspired by the official white day fanfic hyv posted, I added march just because :3 But also, this is the first time I've written for a female chara! so feel free to give me a feedback!

Jing Yuan, A Handmade Connection on White Day

It was that time of year again, a month after the sweet chaos of Valentine's Day had settled down, leaving behind a lingering air of anticipation and excitement. The city of Xianzhou was bustling with preparation for White Day, a day when people would reciprocate the tokens of affection they had received just a month prior. Among the many hearts that fluttered with excitement, yours beat with a particular rhythm, for you had a special connection with none other than Jing Yuan, the revered general of the Cloud Knights within the Xianzhou Alliance.

Jing Yuan, an enigmatic figure known for his strength, wisdom, and grace, was a man who had captured not only the respect of his subordinates but also the hearts of countless admirers.His tall and commanding presence, paired with his striking white hair and golden eyes, made him a beacon of attraction. Among the many admirers he had, you stood out as someone who held a unique connection with him.

Valentine's Day had come and gone, leaving behind a trail of gifts and sweet tokens from his countless admirers. You, having a special bond with Jing Yuan, were no exception. Among the sea of presents that had been sent his way, yours stood out not only because of its intrinsic value but also because of the genuine connection you shared.

As White Day dawned, the atmosphere within the Cloud Knights' headquarters was charged with activity. Soldiers and aides bustled around, arranging gifts to be distributed to those who had showered Jing Yuan with tokens of their affection. It was a tradition that he appreciated and understood, the significance of reciprocating the feelings that had been expressed.

But amidst the orchestrated chaos, Jing Yuan's focus remained unwaveringly fixed on you. He knew that amidst the throng of admirers, it was your connection that was most precious. As the flurry of activity settled, he made his way to you, a small smile gracing his lips.

Amidst the bustling Cloud Knights' headquarters, you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder, and you turned to find Jing Yuan standing there, his presence commanding even amidst the commotion. His long white hair was elegantly tied into a ponytail with a red ribbon, and his golden eyes held a warmth that was reserved for you alone.

"Happy White Day," he greeted in his characteristic composed tone, the words carrying a deeper meaning as he handed you a carefully wrapped box. His fingers brushed against yours for a brief moment, sending a subtle jolt of warmth through your veins.

"Thank you," you replied, your voice tinged with a mix of surprise and gratitude as you accepted the gift.

Jing Yuan's smile widened slightly, as if he had predicted your response. "I made this especially for you. I thought it would be a fitting gift."

With his words, your curiosity grew, and you carefully unwrapped the box, revealing a small, exquisitely crafted bracelet. Its design was delicate, yet its intricate patterns spoke of the effort that had gone into its creation. It was a testament to the precision and care that Jing Yuan put into everything he did.

"It's beautiful," you breathed, your fingers brushing over the beads and threads, marveling at the craftsmanship.

Jing Yuan's expression held a mix of pride and satisfaction as he watched your reaction. "I'm glad you like it. I thought you might appreciate something handmade, something that carries a piece of my own efforts."

As you held the bracelet in your hands, you couldn't help but feel a warmth spreading within you. It was as if the bracelet carried a piece of Jing Yuan's essence, a tangible reminder of the bond you shared. You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his in a moment that felt like a private exchange amidst the bustling surroundings.

"Jing Yuan, I…" you began, searching for the right words to convey the depth of your feelings.

He held up a hand, his smile tender. "No need for words. Our connection speaks for itself. Every connection I've made here is important," Jing Yuan confessed softly, his voice carrying an unspoken depth of emotion. "But ours... it's unique."

In that instant, the world around you seemed to blur, and it was just you and Jing Yuan, bound by an understanding that went beyond words. As White Day continued around you, the exchange of gifts and expressions of affection unfolding, your heart remained tethered to the general's presence, to the handmade bracelet adorning your wrist.

Dan Heng, Unveiling Affections on White Day

You never really thought much about romance when it came to Dan Heng. He always carried himself with an air of quiet mystery, a stoic guardian of the Astral Express. But beneath that cool exterior, there was something more, something you were fortunate enough to witness. You knew the real Dan Heng, the one who was unexpectedly sweet and sentimental when no one else was around.

Valentine's Day had been a pleasant surprise. You had gifted Dan Heng a carefully chosen dark bitter chocolate and a quill pen that he could use during his quiet moments. He might not have been a fan of sweets, but his appreciation for the thoughtful gesture was evident in the way his eyes softened as he accepted the gifts. He had thanked you in his usual reserved manner, and you had both continued with your routines on the Astral Express.

Little did you know, Dan Heng had been researching the concept of White Day. He wasn't one to be caught unprepared, especially when it came to showing his gratitude and reciprocating your kindness. The idea of making homemade sweets had been discarded quickly, knowing his culinary skills were far from impressive. Instead, he delved into the databank that held information about you, hoping to find a suitable gift.

However, delving into the databank wasn't as simple as he thought. Sure, there were records of your preferences, hobbies, and favorite things, but Dan Heng realized that there was so much more to you than just the data. He recalled all the times you had shared stories during your hangout sessions—your dreams, your fears, your adventures aboard the Astral Express. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he wanted to give you something that reflected the depth of your connection.

Days turned into nights as Dan Heng immersed himself in his research. He began to notice the small things about you that others might overlook—the way your eyes lit up when you spoke about your favorite books, the times when you helped crew members with their tasks without expecting anything in return. Slowly, a plan began to take shape in his mind, one that would require more effort and time than he had initially anticipated.

As White Day drew nearer, Dan Heng found himself working in secret whenever he had a spare moment. He reached out to crew members who possessed certain skills, and he even sought assistance from the conductor themself, Pom Pom. The crew members were surprised by his uncharacteristic requests, but they could see the determination in his eyes, and they agreed to help.

On the morning of White Day, Dan Heng's room had transformed into a makeshift workshop. Various materials were strewn across the table, and he meticulously put the finishing touches on a project he had been working on for days. A knock on the door interrupted his concentration, and he quickly arranged everything to appear as inconspicuous as possible.

When you entered his room, he greeted you with a calm smile, his usual demeanor in place. You exchanged greetings, and then he gestured toward a modest-looking box on the table. "I have something for you," he said, his tone composed.

Curiosity piqued, you approached the box and opened it to find a beautifully crafted journal. Its cover was adorned with intricate designs reminiscent of the Astral Express's elegant interior. Inside, the pages were thick and high-quality, inviting you to fill them with your thoughts, memories, and adventures.

"It's a journal," Dan Heng explained, his gaze steady. "I know you enjoy recording your experiences and thoughts. I asked for help from our crew members to create this. Each page is handcrafted, and I thought it might be a fitting way for you to continue documenting your journey aboard the Astral Express."

You were touched beyond words. The effort he had put into this gift was evident, and it spoke volumes about his feelings. With a smile that held a mixture of gratitude and warmth, you looked up at him. "Dan Heng, this is incredible. Thank you so much."

He nodded, his eyes softening for a moment before he regained his composure. "I'm glad you like it."

As you held the journal in your hands, you realized that this wasn't just a gift—it was a testament to the depth of your connection with Dan Heng. He might have seemed reserved and distant to others, but you had seen the effort he had put into understanding you, appreciating you, and finding a way to express his feelings in a language that he wasn't accustomed to.

As the two of you spent the day together, you shared stories, laughter, and newfound closeness. The handcrafted journal became symbols of the bond that continued to grow stronger between you. White Day had not only been a celebration of reciprocated gifts, but a celebration of the unique and heartfelt connection that existed between you and Dan Heng—the guardian of secrets who had chosen to reveal his most precious secret of all: his affection for you.

Gepard Landau, A Blooming Bond on White Day

As the month of White Day drew closer, Gepard found himself in a rather peculiar predicament. It had been two weeks since you had presented him with a homemade sweet for Valentine's Day, and despite his reputation as an outstanding warrior of Belobog and the captain of the Silvermane Guards, he was utterly flustered. What could he possibly give you in return that would match the sincerity of your gift?

He had sought advice from his sisters, Serval and Lynx, who had teased him mercilessly about his predicament. They'd seen their usually stalwart and composed brother turn into a bundle of nerves, all because of a heartfelt gesture from you. After all, Gepard was meticulous and vigilant by nature, and his straightforward honesty was as much his strength as his weakness.

Gepard's hobbies included a somewhat unsuccessful attempt at growing flowers. It was a less-known fact about him, as most people only saw the warrior in him. He pondered the idea of gifting you a bouquet of flowers he had cultivated himself, but his first attempt had gone awry, leaving him without enough time to grow another suitable arrangement.

Though there was a reputable flower shop in Belobog's town, Gepard hesitated to resort to a simple purchase. He yearned to offer you something that would reflect the depth of his emotions, something that transcended mere material exchange.

The day of White Day arrived, and Gepard positioned himself near the city district during his off-duty hours. His heart raced as he anticipated your arrival, hoping he had made the right choice. When he finally saw you approaching, a warm blush spread across his fair cheeks, and he greeted you with a mixture of eagerness and shyness.

With a soft yet nervous smile, he presented you with a neatly wrapped box. His blue eyes held a sincere intensity as he explained his dilemma. He admitted that he had agonized over what to give you, unsure if he could match the sweetness of your Valentine's Day gift. His voice held an endearing touch of vulnerability as he confessed his feelings.

You accepted the box with curiosity and began to unwrap it carefully. Inside, nestled within delicate tissue paper, was a dried flower delicately preserved. Its petals held an array of soft pastel colors, and it exuded a faint but pleasant fragrance. Gepard's voice trembled slightly as he explained that it was a flower he had cultivated himself, albeit through a process of trial and error.

"This flower... it's not as vibrant as the ones in the shop, but it's a symbol of my feelings for you," he admitted, his cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink. "I wanted to give you something that would last, just like my feelings for you."

Your heart swelled with emotion as you listened to Gepard's heartfelt words. The sincerity in his eyes and the vulnerable honesty in his voice touched you in a way that words couldn't fully describe. The dried flower, though delicate and seemingly fragile, felt like a tangible representation of his affection, enduring through time just like the sentiment he held for you.

You reached out, your fingers grazing his hand gently as you met his gaze with a soft smile. "Gepard, this is more beautiful and meaningful than any bouquet could ever be. It's a testament to your care and dedication, and that means more to me than you can imagine."

A mixture of relief and joy flickered in Gepard's eyes, his worry dissipating like morning mist. He was not one to easily express his emotions, but in that moment, his gratitude and happiness radiated from him. His lips curved into a genuine smile, and the vulnerability he had shown earlier only added to his charm.

"I'm glad you like it," he said, his voice steady but warm. "I wanted to show you how much you mean to me, even if I struggle with all these... romantic things."

Your laughter bubbled up at his self-deprecating tone. "Gepard, your sincerity speaks louder than any grand gesture. And the fact that you tried, despite your worries, means the world to me."

As you continued to chat, your conversation flowed easily, both of you sharing stories and insights that brought you closer together. Gepard's guard seemed to lower further, revealing the endearing dorkiness that only a few were privileged to witness. You discovered shared interests and teased each other playfully, enjoying the easy camaraderie that had developed between you.

With the sun beginning to dip below the horizon, Gepard checked the time and reluctantly admitted, "I have duty tomorrow morning, so I should probably head back soon."

Your heart sank slightly at the thought of parting, but you nodded, understanding his responsibilities. "Of course. Duty calls, after all."

Gepard's blue eyes held a hint of regret, but he mustered a determined smile. "I promise we'll have more time together soon. Maybe we can even work on my flower-growing skills together."

You chuckled, appreciating his enthusiasm even in the face of his admitted lack of expertise. "I'd be honored to help you nurture flowers, Gepard. Who knows, we might end up with a garden full of stories."

As you said your goodbyes and watched Gepard walk away, the dried flower brooch glinted in the fading light, a constant reminder of the connection you had forged. White Day might have been about reciprocating gifts, but what you and Gepard had shared was something far more precious—an exchange of hearts, vulnerabilities, and the promise of a blooming future together.

March 7th, Captured Moments of White Day

It was a crisp March morning, and the anticipation in the air was almost palpable. March had been planning something special for you. White Day was here, and while the exchange of Valentine's Day gifts had left a warmth in your heart, March was determined to make this day just as unforgettable.

March had put so much thought into this day, carefully considering what would make you smile. She was a spirited and quirky young woman, known for her love of photography and her penchant for all things adorable. She had a reputation for being creative, and today was no exception.

As you stood there, March approached you with a playful twinkle in her pink and blue eyes. "Are you ready for your White Day surprise?" she asked, her voice a mixture of excitement and nerves. She gently tied a blindfold around your eyes and took your hand, leading you through a series of twists and turns until you reached her room.

With a flourish, March removed the blindfold, revealing her meticulously planned surprise. The room appeared the same, yet different – there was a box waiting for you, its presence a tantalizing mystery. With curiosity piqued, you reached out and slowly lifted the lid.

The sides of the box gracefully fell away, revealing layers upon layers of polaroid photos. Each image captured a moment, frozen in time – a candid shot of you laughing, a snapshot of a shared meal, a stolen glance that spoke volumes. You couldn't help but be touched by the effort March had put into preserving these memories.

But the surprises didn't end there. Delicate, hand-crafted butterflies in shades of pink and blue fluttered out of the box, a testament to March's creativity and attention to detail. These butterflies carried her signature colors, a symbol of her thoughtfulness and care. They danced around the room before settling near you, as if inviting you to partake in the magic of the moment.

Turning to face March, you were met with her beaming smile. She held out a bouquet of your favorite snacks, an array of treats that she had carefully selected just for you. "Happy White Day!" she exclaimed, her enthusiasm contagious.

You accepted the bouquet with a grateful smile, marveling at the variety of treats she had chosen. From savory to sweet, it was as if March had compiled a treasure trove of your most cherished indulgences. "This is amazing, March," you said, genuinely touched by her thoughtfulness.

She beamed with pride, her eyes sparkling with delight. "I'm so glad you like it! I wanted to make sure you had a little bit of everything you love."

As you both settled into the room, surrounded by the fluttering butterflies and the scattered polaroid memories, March gestured to the photos that adorned the space. "Each of those photos holds a special moment," she explained, her voice tinged with nostalgia. "I wanted to capture the moments that make us, well, us."

You found yourself drawn to the images, each one telling a story of your time together. There was a candid snapshot of you helping March pick flowers in the park, a mischievous grin on both your faces. Another photo showed the two of you caught in a fit of laughter during a movie night, a shared bowl of popcorn between you.

"Remember this one?" March pointed to a photo where you were both attempting to bake a cake, flour smudges on your faces and the kitchen a delightful mess.

You chuckled, the memory coming back to you in a rush. "How could I forget? We turned the kitchen into a battlefield that day."

March laughed wholeheartedly, the sound filling the room with warmth. "Yeah, but we had so much fun, didn't we?"

It was moments like these that made your connection with March so special. The ability to share laughter, create memories, and embrace each other's quirks was a testament to the bond you had built.

As you sat down together, the snacks spread out before you, March suddenly spoke up "I hope White Day feels as wonderful for you as it does for me," she admitted, her gaze meeting yours.

"It's more wonderful than I could have imagined," you replied, sincerity lacing your words. "And that's all thanks to you, March."

The two of you spent the rest of the afternoon sharing stories, indulging in the treats, and relishing in the comfort of each other's company. With each passing moment, you realized that March had managed to create a White Day that was uniquely tailored to your connection, one that celebrated your journey together.

As the day drew to a close, the room was bathed in the soft hues of the setting sun. March looked at you with a mixture of contentment and affection. "I'm so glad I could make this day special for you," she confessed, her voice filled with genuine emotion.

"You did more than that," you assured her, your heart swelling with gratitude. "You made this day unforgettable."

March leaned in, her eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. In that moment, it felt as though the world had faded away, leaving only the two of you in a cocoon of shared emotions.

With a gentle touch, March's lips met yours, a sweet and tender kiss that spoke volumes. It was a kiss filled with gratitude, love, and the promise of many more moments to come. When you finally pulled away, you could see the affection in March's eyes, a reflection of the connection that had blossomed between you.

"Happy White Day," she whispered, her voice a soft melody that resonated in your heart.

"Happy White Day, March," you replied, your voice equally tender.You knew that this White Day would forever remain etched in your memory as a celebration of love, shared moments, and the beautiful journey you were embarking on together.

342 notes · View notes

kdyism · 1 year

Text

STUPID CUPID.

pairing. haechan x reader

genre + themes. friends-to-lovers, fluff, smidge of angst, christmas-themed, college!au.

wc. 5,342 / warning. christmas, mention of kissing, being drunk, dumb decisions, mistletoes.

synopsis. after being victim to jaemin’s cupid-ing last christmas, lee donghyuck has to figure out whether he wants to give up on you or go for it while risking the comfort of your friendship because he think you don’t remember last christmas.

secret santa hosted by @neowritingsnet for @kthpurplesyou | hi bee! it’s me santa watermelon aka yunan <3 hoping i was mysterious enough and you are shocked, i hope this fic is to your liking! i switched writing between morning and night so it took longer, i wanted to drop it on dec 20 so that you’d have time before celebrations in case you do. crossing my fingers and sending this out to you, bee, i hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it 💞💖💓

yunn says hohoho likes, comments + reblogs are appreciated, i hope everyone else enjoys this quick fic!

Lee Donghyuck is known for his infectious personality. He can leave a mark of his existence within a few seconds, he knows way too many people and most people would just think he is someone with too much free time on his hands.

“Did you get a name from the box?” unfolding his paper while maintaining a neutral expression, he sits in his usual seat and you bite down on your lips, eyes sparkling as soon as your eyes fall on the unfolded paper in your hand. “Let me guess?” narrowing his eyes, he hums. “...Taeyong,”

Gasping quietly, you nod chaotically and show him the name. “How’d you know?” you ask, a smile crawling onto your cheeks and you twist in his direction, your eyes looking directly behind him.

“When you see someone’s face as much as I've seen yours…” Donghyuck pursues his lips, “I would be an idiot not to know,”

Rolling your eyes at him, you dismiss his comment and continue with your preying. “How’s your schedule for this month?” you inquire, slipping your phone out of your pocket and suddenly, you look determined and shift your eyes back to him. “God, are you that happy?” he churns his face, watching your shake excitedly and your lips barely holding down a grin.

You gush in response, “Of course! You know I want his number,” skipping away from him, all he could do was sigh.

Waving you off, Donghyuck tries to hide his disappointment; unsure whether it was directed towards his paper or because of yours. Lee Taeyong, your most recent crush-ish, is a post-grad whose taking the same course as you for the same reason, extra credit. Donghyuck is already familiar with your boy of the week kind of crush-ishes—it’s not quite a crush, more like surface-level infatuation but if he didn’t know you any better, that’s what he would’ve thought.

However, it has never bothered him. Not until a stupid thing happened last Christmas.

Last Christmas changed everything, no warning or heads-up was given. He still remembers the night, unlike most nights at parties. He was sobered up, mind buzzing with all kinds of things until he was finally asleep on your sofa at almost 4 AM. He blames Na Jaemin for what happened, from his needless matchmaking to his punch-worthy grin, everyone knows that Na Jaemin’s favourite hobby is playing Cupid, going to all sorts of lengths to get his couple of the month to date. Hell, Donghyuck has actively participated in the talking up of girls, spreading rumours and finally, getting the ‘Characters’ to go on their first date.

It was funny and oddly satisfying when they do end up dating, Donghyuck for one wasn’t one to interrupt the fun. Not when he was directly getting the kick out of it. Except, he realized, it’s not very fun when the character line-up had his name written in the main leads.

hyuck💞: im booked all month

hyuck💞: why???? did you have something in mind???

“I hate him.” you declare breaking the silence that he embraced, “He said, ‘Uhhh I don’t know you…’ and left! Ugh, I didn’t think—”

“You didn’t think what? That he would be a normal person and be cautious when a sophomore is asking for his number?” he cuts you off snarkily and you drop your jaws, putting your hands on his shoulder and asking, “And why would he be cautious?”

Cupping your cheeks with a smile, Donghyuck says, “One, you are not me.” raising his brows, you wanted to flick him but you let him continue. “Two, don’t you remember someone leaking Sehun—whose also from post-grad— his number was just spreading like disease between group chats, of course, they’d be more careful,”

Letting out an “Oh”, you pout, slumping weakly as you understand his reason. “Are they friends?” you wonder, Oh Sehun was also hot if your memory serves you well but he rejected you without hesitation and then you killed his memory along with your fascination with him.

“Yeah—we don’t really have that many post-grads,” releasing your cheeks, your face falls before you pull yourself up and you click your tongue at him and he shakes his head.

Donghyuck’s reasoning always changes your mind, he was the reason you were even in the social club, to begin with. He was friends with everyone, always making plans with everyone and you’d barely ever see him if not for your meticulous planning to match your schedule with him since you were naturally more free than he was with both his part-time and his “Hey, whose name did you get?” you ask, remembering that he was friends with Lee Taeyong as well.

“Why would I tell you?” he glares at you, backing away and immediately guesses, “I am not going shopping with you,”

Slapping your hand over your mouth, “How’d you know?” you splurt, your hands dancing in the air trying to show him your surprise. “Yeah, you’re obvious,”

Donghyuck could easily predict what was going on in your mind, not always but usually he could. From his second month of being your friend, he already knew that you thrived on being nosy. The way you made friends with people by letting them complain about their problems to having new crushes on every new person who you saw for the first time—there might be just one reason why Donghyuck would like some distance between the two of you.

“You know mine, why can’t I know yours?” you ask not looking away from him while he packs the study material he already knew you were going to ask that, so he scoffs wearing a smirk. “It’s supposed to be secret santa, not un-secret santa. Now,” he pauses, waiting for you to stand up again and he begins walking out of the hall as you follow closely beside him, mumbling, “That’s unfair…”

“To the cafeteria?” you ask and he nods.

“Yeah. so, I wanted to say but you keep shutting me up—Anyways, I am not going to see you until the Christmas party at Mark’s,” Donghyuck stops as soon as the elevator sounds, “I am blocking you and going on a detox,” stepping into the elevator, he leaves you behind stunned.

Just as the doors slide back, he smiles while saying, “I don’t wanna see your face anywhere near me, okay?”

To hyuck💞: you cant do this you hurt me 🤕🤕

To hyuck💞: im sorry what did i doooo??

To hyuck💞: unblock me plsssss 🙏🙏🙏

To hyuck💞: what will i do without you??? i need you bro

Message failed to send

There aren’t many nights where he quietly stays in his room, ignoring your text and pressing block on you. There have been times like tonight when the heart beating in his chest feels more painful than usual. He has never been the type to cry through the night. The ceiling of his bedroom is comforting, the mould collecting in the corners every winter, reminding him of his chores, and normally, he'd be on his phone scrolling mindlessly through social media and thinking about how he was going to be a better person tomorrow than today. Usually, they happen a lot later than 10 PM and only after he has spent his day with you already.

For one, he’s glad that no one could tell of his awful crush on you.

Christmas has always been easy, it's been pleasant, and unlike most seasons; the holiday season always gets him in the mood for a big gathering, cosying up with his friends and just enjoying their presence without having to mess around and it also makes him less of a troublemaker. He doesn’t follow Yangyang to the skating rink nor does he annoy Renjun in the library and he also leaves Mark to do his good thing of the day without bothering him about that club that opened a block away from college. He was even fine with you telling him that you’d be going out.

With someone who wasn’t him.

He was fine.

Until Last Christmas happened.

“I’m coming in!” Jaemin’s voice brings him back to his room and he sits up, sighing heavily. “Are you staying home tonight?” he asks as soon as the boy enters the room wearing his strawberry-patterned apron that a junior of his gifted him.

“Jeno has a project so he’s staying with his group at the library—I have been left behind,”

Rooming with Jaemin was a last-minute decision, when his dorm lease was up he was going to resign it, however, after your fingers held his hands this spring, shaking with excitement and your lips stretched in a smile, reminding him that you only lived ten minutes away from Jaemin. Before he knew it, he was signing a new contract with Jaemin who couldn't hide his mischievous eyes for him.

"Did you block Y/N?" Jaemin sits on the swivel chair in front of his computer, casually pulling the cord of his wired mouse. "I sent her back home saying you weren't here just now,"

"She came here?" Donghyuck bursts, eyes wide and Jaemin laughs, "Of course not."

Groaning, Donghyuck throws his head back in defeat. "This is all your fault. If I didn't kiss her at that party we wouldn't be going through this," he grumbles, closing his eyes and flashes of last Christmas pass by.

It was picturesque, so perfect and the heat of his lips on yours—he would've never guessed that you'd taste like wine.

You hate wine.

Jaemin rolls his eyes, dismissing the accusation. "It's not my fault you have a superiority complex about knowing where all the mistletoes are,"

Offended by that, Donghyuck gets off his bed and stares down at the boy who continues to grab his copy of the Forza Horizon 4 and strut back to the door. "You hang it up there knowing full well that me and Y/N always take that spot," Donghyuck said and he receives a loud hah from his friend who pulls the door open.

Jaemin looks him straight in the eye, his characteristic sweet smile on his face and he said, "Maybe you should've just been a big boy and kissed me instead,"

And well, he wasn't wrong, so Donghyuck resorts to slamming his face into his pillow and raging at it, screaming while swinging his legs recklessly until his shin stabs against his bed frame and gives him genuine reason to scream out. God, if you were here, you'd have a look of worry painted all over your face while you still laughed at his pain and to be honest, Donghyuck thought you would look nice against the background of his room.

Turning to lie on his stomach, Donghyuck wiggles in his bed to get comfortably under his sheets, and he unlocks his phone, your image glowing on the screen. He has an album full of just you. You love sending him pictures of yourself, outfit of the day, and once in a while, when you look really nice, you'll send him a decent picture that he would lose his mind about but all he responds with is an emoji, the one with two eyes looking sideways.

Gulping down frustratedly, he clicks off his gallery, and suddenly, his screen cuts with notifications.

leemark: u helping on 23?

leemark: please?? jisung broke his arm u know he can't help me now

leemark sent a sticker

you: you owe me one

Working graveyard hours, twelve-to-four, has its unexpected silver lining. Most people are asleep during this time and anyone awake usually just want to get home, aside from the hooligans who mind their own business if you mind your own because of the cameras placed inside the convenience store and the patrol team in the area from two-till-six because of recent crime level increase in the area. To Donghyuck, it was perfect for a decent-paying, low-effort job.

The one downside of this is, you live super close to Jaemin and share the same convenience store as them. Of course, he'd see you if you decided to visit the store at this time.

Donghyuck didn't think of you as someone hot before, casual dating was not his mind when it came to you and you were always busy being interested in whoever is new. Maybe you liked the unfamiliarity of them, the fact you didn't see them for consecutive weeks before they suddenly appeared in front of you, unlike the two of them, Donghyuck has been in your life consistently for the past two years and this year, something changed.

The pulsing of his heart, when the store's automated doors slide open and your familiar pyjama hoodie comes into his view, the way his lungs forget to breathe and he can't tear his eyes off of you until you make your way up to the counter with your BBQ pringles and cola on the side. "When are you gonna unblock me?" even your voice is so sweet now, his brain shooting fuzzy chemicals inside him and butterflies making his knees go weak.

Donghyuck doesn't want to like you.

"You know the schedule, wait until the party," scanning the codes of your items and billing you up, he takes your exact change, sliding your snacks to you.

"Can't you give me a reason? What did I do?" you ask, stuffing your snacks into your hoodie’s pocket and Donghyuck groans, you didn't plan on leaving, he could tell. "You saw my text and didn't reply, you could've just replied then—"

"That's just stupid, I blocked you as soon as I remembered I said I would," he argued back, clicking his tongue at your exasperated expression.

Giving up on that point, "Nevermind that then, just give me a reason then," you said, Donghyuck grumbling internally and you stare at him, waiting for a reply.

"Didn't I tell you I wanted a detox?"

Waving him off, you glare at him and ask again, "Am I toxic? To make you need a detox from me?" your eyes tingle, the heat making its way up to your neck and you mentally curse, you've never been able to argue without feeling the urge to cry.

"That's not what I mean by detox. I just need some time from you, my life is a mess right now you are at the centre of it," Donghyuck explains, his hands automatically holding your face and rubbing away the tears that brim in your eyes. "I don't mean to make you cry—with all the time away from me, you can go and try to snag Taeyong! Come on, you have a life without me in it too," he adds, his voice softer and fingers gently crease your cheeks, earning a pout from you.

You spit, "What's that supposed to mean?" you take his hands away from your face and wrap your fingers in his, "Taeyong isn't you, no one is you. You are not replaceable for me,"

Tears bubbling up again, Donghyuck shushes you and he doesn't want to feel this way; his chest clogs up and renders him breathless in front of you, and he feels guilty. "Hey, hey, come on don't cry," he frets, his fingers wiping away the tears and settling on your shoulders. If only the counter wasn't in between you, he knows for sure he'd have hugged you and given up already.

"You know, your touch always makes me not cry," you laugh, remembering the time when you almost broke down in class after getting an F and being required to repeat a course the next semester. He held your hand the entire two hours of the lecture and even stayed with you until you were back home. You didn't even know him too well back then.

It made your heart kinda race for him but the comfort of your growing friendship with him felt too precious.

"That's because you are like a baby, holding you will make you calm down," he exposes you, rolling his eyes as if it were an obvious truth and you scoff, "Just how many people do you think hold my face like I'm a chipmunk?" killing the mood, Donghyuck sighs, "Well, at least you are okay now,"

"Unblock me now," you said, regaining your reason once you've calmed down and he shakes his head without hesitation, suddenly regaining his previous determination. "Yeah, no."

A Y/N-detox isn't feasible if he thought about it, not when you've carefully matched your schedule to his because he is always working or has appointments with other friends, you work at the cafe down the fast food cabin he works at, take the same bus home as him and worst of all, you both share the same friend groups because of how much time you spend together as a collective.

"Do you guys like, hate me or something?" Donghyuck deadpans, slumping into the seat you were previously sitting at.

"You hate yourself," Renjun quips, his eyes not leaving his book and Yangyang nods in agreement while adding, "You didn't think it would be a good idea to tell us you didn't like her anymore? We would've not invited her,"

"We could've also made a group without you in it," Mark said, resting his head on the wall and dozing away. He had finished a shift and was supposed to work one more shift today because his junior broke his arm but thank the heavens, Donghyuck said okay and is covering the shift. Too guilty to go home, Mark has resorted to staying around until the end of the shift anyway.

Mark, unlike Jaemin, was Donghyuck’s only refuge. The one person who knew about his crush and the one person who told him, hey, she might like you. "Dude, just go home," he says, shaking Mark's shoulder and Renjun sighs.

Renjun says, "I tried already, he is just being stubborn," closing his book once he bookmarks it and crossing his arms on the table. "Now, you need to tell us what happened,"

Renjun has always been perceptive of his mood, always keeping up with the latest drama and the main provider of information to Jaemin's cupid hustle. Romance was just his forte. Donghyuck, though, was too scared to ask him his opinion on it in case he told him to just give up—as if he wasn't already trying in his own way.

"Promise me you won't laugh," Donghyuck gulps and Yangyang grunts loudly, "Dude, miss me with the suspense—We swear, now what happened?"

Inhaling, he blinks away into the distance. "I might be in love with Y/N and I am so ashamed to come out with it. I know it's stupid but you guys know how we are, it's always us together, Donghyuck and Y/N, we're friends.

Shit, I even blocked her to get over her but it's not working—I dreamt of her last night and it was so embarrassing to see her today,"

"Dreamt of her… like… like that?" Yangyang asks, his fists covering his dropped jaw and Donghyuck's face burns up at the suggestion but he doesn't deny it, much to Renjun's disgust, he gags and says, "Please don't give us the details,"

"She's been going insane on her own and constantly going on about you—this must be why." Mark nods as if a bigger picture was drawn in his head, he grins and goes on, "Jaemin wasn't joking when he said you liked her last Christmas. I didn't think the mistletoe trick would work,"

Gasping at him, "You knew!" Donghyuck points at him in accusation and grabs his collar, "That kiss messed up our relationship!"

Yangyang breaks them up, grinning at Donghyuck sleazily, and he says, "Dude, tomorrow's party, just fix it. There's nothing to lose—I can't believe you've dragged this on for a year, how adorable."

Two weeks without Donghyuck and you are but a shell of yourself.

It was so easy getting used to life with him, he came in and went out so nonchalantly. You hadn't realized how involved he was in your life until he was gone from your daily transit, he was gone from your walks home, he was gone from his shift at the convenience store and not a single text you sent him went through. No, your life didn't revolve around him but you include him in everything because, Donghyuck will think this is funny, you need to tell him about the stupid fight that happened in the café and Donghyuck will look good with this, you need to take him shopping with you.

Shit, you sent him a picture of random things that made you think of him.

There was only once that you thought you liked him, and you shot that down as soon as he said he liked a girl in his social club—you even joined the club for him, how could he like someone else… you gave up as soon as your heart latched on and to be honest, you were okay with that because well, he was still the closest person to you.

You didn't need the kisses to feel loved. His gentle hands creasing your cheeks habitually and his warm hugs because he feels like it, they made you feel loved. The way he makes time to see you in his busy schedule, you know he leaves hours in his day because you'll ask him for time, which makes you feel loved as well.

It didn't make sense for him to suddenly shut you out, not when he was leaving all these signs, he didn't do any of these with anyone else—last Christmas meant something to him.

You just knew it did.

"Have you guys seen Donghyuck?" you ask, holding your red cup of punch barely full and your head feeling dizzy.

Pointing towards a corner, "I THINK HE WAS WITH MARK," Yangyang screams at the top of his lungs, the earmuffs doing their work to shut out even his loudness.

Lee Mark throws the most exciting Christmas parties every year in his apartment building in collaboration with his neighbours. The shared pool and backyard were completely theirs to use, Mark would normally hang up mistletoes in the spaces between his apartment and everywhere else. The kissing begins as soon as you want to leave his front door anywhere else. And you never leave his apartment, so you never had to deal with the plant.

That wasn't the case last year, someone had hung up mistletoes inside the apartment and exactly at the spot you and Donghyuck always beeline to, that's where everything changed for him and out of nowhere, you had to be the one acting normal because he wasn't.

Stumbling your way into the living room, it wasn't too crowded in here and it usually only had Mark's closest friends loitering around. Your eyes immediately find Donghyuck, laughing loudly and he leaves his beanbag, and almost instinctively, you plop down on it as soon as you near it.

Fading out of consciousness, "Who said you could sit there?" he whined, his eyes half-lid as he grabbed your hand and you shot up, your head feeling clearer now.

You always steal his seat when he leaves to get a refill. "I was just keeping it warm. You don't have to yell," you said, jutting your lips out. Your cheeks painted in a flushing colour, Donghyuck guessed that you already had your share of drinks and made a mental note to leave the party soon because he was your ride home. Not that he'll be driving but even walking you home is considered a ride.

Well, maybe not this time because you guys didn't come together.

Letting go of your arm, you fall back onto the beanbag, and he gives you puppy eyes. "I wasn't yelling," Donghyuck grumbles, getting shoved to the side by someone and he turns to face them.

"Are you okay?" Jaemin asks, his lips almost meeting his eyes in a wide grin, and Donghyuck immediately has his guard up, feeling a wave of deja vu.

"You look tipsy, aren't you gonna go home?" Pressing his hand on your forehead, Jaemin looks towards the ceiling above you and smirks. "Oh, look here, guys," he gasps loudly. However, Donghyuck could hear the pretentiousness of it.

Donghyuck followed his gaze with narrowed eyes, right above him, wretched mistletoes greeted him in the dimly lit corner of the room immediately releasing a groan. "Ugh, not again!" Donghyuck cries.

Scoffing at Jaemin, he rolls his eyes. "What? You wanna kiss me this time?" he asks in a mean tone, and Jaemin giggled, moving away from the spot while saying, "Of course, not," Donghyuck felt his blood boil, if Jaemin was a cupid, then maybe that song about a stupid cupid was right.

Clearly, his arrows were faulty this time.

Last time, it didn't cross his mind that someone else would be hanging up mistletoes, Mark never hung them up in the corners of the rooms and especially not inside Mark's apartment because he was scared someone would make out on his sacred sofa or worse, inside his toilet. But he learnt his lesson, Na Jaemin goes to extreme lengths to pair up his couples after all.

You then ask, "Then—Are we going to kiss?" your eyes look curiously at him as you pointed at the plant. "It's you and me under it now,"

And from that point, it's never been the same. The last time, he kissed your lips, it was stupid. You were drunk and said okay for the fun of it, Donghyuck could only hope neither of you remember it.

But when his lips lightly brushed on yours, and he realized that tomorrow morning you'll be back to normal, your memory in fragments and he remembers it clearly, the regret that washed over him the next morning when he opened his eyes to the ceiling of his bedroom, the horror that clung to him when his phone was bombarded by his friends curious about how he felt now that he had kissed you.

He was in denial for a whole year.

Once more, "Are we going to kiss again," you ask, your fingers pulling his shirt, you bring him back to the present and guide him down towards you.

Donghyuck's knees go weak, and he falls onto the floor with his breath caught. This time, you are the one taking the lead. "You remember," he breathes out, looking away from you and you give him a tight-lipped look. "Yeah, I never forgot it," you said.

"Why'd you never say anything, I am so sorry about the kiss—" Donghyuck immediately says and you cut him off, —"I didn't say anything because I didn't mind, I actually liked it and I thought you did too because you kissed me twice…"

Perhaps it was the lighting in the room. Donghyuck never thought you looked hot but he did always think you were beautiful, but today, the lipstick you wore made him want to go crazy. "Don't you like Taeyong now?" he just had to ask to be sure and you scoff, rolling your eyes.

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you said, "You know my fascination with all my crush-ishes dies after I talk to them,"

"But you were so excited for the secret santa," "That's because it's gift giving and that's fun,"

Donghyuck didn't get your name, so he thought you weren't meant to be. No matter how stupid he thinks that idea is now, he still thought it was fate that you got Taeyong's name when you liked him. "I thought you were going to cut me off this Christmas to spend it with him, that's why I came up with the detox… to give you time away from me and me time away from you,"

Biting down a smile, you place a peck on his lips. "Have I ever gone on a date with anyone since you've known me?" you tease, and he immediately says, "Yeah, Yangyang. The two of you go on skate rink dates all the time, I see you guys,"

"That's just you being picky—you don't know how to skate so, of course, I go there with him and not you," flicking his forehead, you click your tongue and went on, "Plus, you always come along anyway,"

"Because I come along, it's not a date anymore,"

"Wow, genius," you giggle, rolling your eyes and Donghyuck sighs into your side, he thinks, his arms are allowed to go around your waist now and he's allowed to keep staring into your eyes.

Your eyes don't leave him either, the thumping bass of the background blending in with the sound of your heart skipping beats and your toes curl, butterflies choking your breath when you say, "Hey, there's a mistletoe here—can't you just kiss me already?"

Dipping his head down, his lips catching yours and this time, you taste like berry punch, your favourite and his hands cradle your face, he still isn't sure if this is the right way to go with you but when your lips synchronise with his, moving softly against his with your hands desperately clinging onto his shoulders.

It took him a mistletoe and a whole year to realize his feeling about you, so maybe, cupid wasn't the only stupid one, he was stupid too. You've been right in front of each other and yet, "Does this mean you like like me?" you ask against his lips.

Smiling, "Just how many people do you think I block?" Donghyuck lets his head rest on your shoulder, the rest of his body going limp as well on the floor, and you pat his back. "Are we together now? Next Christmas, will I be your boyfriend?" he asks weakly, and you nod. Although he couldn't see you, he could tell there was a smile on your face.

"Oh, by the way, do you know who put this in here? Mark doesn't put mistletoes inside his apartment right?" curiously, you point at the plant on top of you and he grumbles, "Na Jaemin," tightening his grip on you. Donghyuck thinks he should give his thanks to Jaemin too because, without him, none of this would've happened.

"Aah, now it makes sense why he came here last year—doesn't he always stay at the pool area with Jeno and that Junior of theirs?"

Nodding, Donghyuck says, "Yeah. He even came up this time too," mentally deciding to spare him this time.

And you giggle, cheerfully saying, "We should thank him, he is kinda like our cupid if you think about it. It goes well with his reputation on campus," the sound of your humming makes him smile, agreeing with you, "Huh, you think so?"

BONUS:

Beknownst to both of you, starting next semester Na Jaemin’s position as campus cupid was solidified using a picture he took once the two of you knocked out in the corner of Mark’s living; Donghyuck’s head nestling on your stomach and your head tilted upwards in a way that looked like it hurt—His greatest masterpiece he said, showing the photo and relying on the great love story until “How come none of you tell me about this?” Donghyuck accuses his friends, shifting his weight to one side and scoffing indignantly.

Yangyang shrugs, “It’s funny. And you guys look cute anyways, what are you mad about?” he asks, his face genuinely looking confused, which makes Donghyuck click his tongue, and Mark asks, “Are you mad we didn’t share the photo with you?” his eyes narrowed, hoping his guess was right.

“How’d you know!” you clap, nodding your head. “Hyuck changed his wallpaper as soon as he got the picture,”

“How did it take this long to find out, though?” Renjun asks, “You’re friends with everyone on campus. It's unbelievable it took you this long,”

#neosecretsanta #neowritingsnet #nct-writers #haechan x reader #lee donghyuck x reader #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct imagines #nct dream imagines #nct haechan x reader

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yunxi-11085 · 1 year

Text

“The star of the void.”

× part 1 - meeting

part 2 - the voice

↝

˚ · . pairs ¡ hsr men(&women) x gn! reader

˚ · . sypnosis ¡ “you didn't know how you got here, in the world of your favorite game.

You just remembered being approached by a man, you dont remember.

Why- cant you remember?

You were the newest member of the astral express somehow, and - yet why do these characters- people, like you so much?

"don't worry, i have the perfect little plan."

TLDR; You were suddenly thrown into the world of Honkai Star Rail, right after speaking to an unknown man. but it doesnt seem to be the only confusing thing happening. ”

₊˚ପ⊹ tw ¡¿ : (none)

·˚ ༘ tags // @

send me an ask if you want to be tagged in my stories!!

"hello, there."

a young man slightly taller than you, approached you. leaning against the balcony and facing you.

"hm?" you hummed, looking back at the man.

"i was wondering if you played Honkai: Star Rail, the game that recently launched" he said.

your eyes lit up the moment you heard that name, and the man noticed as well. he chuckled as you said "i do! its my favorite game!"

"how did you know?"

"your bag has quite an interesting amount of HSR merch" he pointed at your bag, you realized and flusteredly nodded. you are quite a fanatic, as someone once said Star Rail is taking over your life quite literally.

"soo.. what are your favorite characters?" you said, leaning on the balcony. you smiled excitedly. wanting to know more of this person

"haha, i must say, i like [▇▇▇▇▇] the most. that character is my favorite." that— you don't remember, you don't remember which character they said. but you remember getting super excited when you heard it.

as the conversation goes on, you felt— something warm building in your chest. It made you feel giddy. you don't know how, and what to call it.

was it love? or the joy of meeting a fellow HSR player? what was it?

that was when the question popped up. "If you could choose to live in star rail, would you?" you replied, "absolutely!

i think i would be really happy if I could live in a world like star rail."

maybe in the future, you would regret ever saying this

you said as you stared at the dark sky, gazing at the stars. you didn't notice the man smiling.

"i agree. in a world like star rail, i would be happy despite the many dangers, like stellarons. atleast the trailblazers could save us" you nodded at his words, agreeing.

you felt lightheaded at his words, you blinked your eyes at him. "mhm..." you hummed, eyes threatening to close on you

you look at the man, and he smiles at you. "it seems like our time is up"

you were confused, but you couldnt say anything as you felt darkness creep at the edges of your vision, and he raised his hand and covered your eyes.

the last thing you heard, was

"good night, although you might not remember me. but we will meet again."

and you fell in the arms of the man.

end note¡ : its been so long since i've last written a fic??? i swear its been months or prob a year.. also hi 1st hsr fic, i have another one in drafts but i have no idea how to write it.

crossposted on AO3 ¡ here.

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rojacatmisa · 1 month

Text

Starting over In Madrid

Chapter 1 : A harder job than I thought

Misa Rodriguez x Reader (Nicky/first person)

Hey, I'm going for it ! This is the start of my Misa fic. I planned it to be quite long in several short chapters. Also, I'm not personally feeling the Y/N + you kind of writing, so I've written the story at the first personne and chosen a nickname that you can pretend to be yours if you like.

No warning at the moment, but there'll be sex in the further episodes. I'll put the warning when needed.

Sorry again for any grammar and voc mistakes, english is not my mother tongue.

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

I was never really interested in football before getting employed at Real Madrid. Of course, I used to watch a few games on TV during the main championships. But I have never intended to work for a football club, least of all, in Spain. But here I was, late twenty, speaking a few words of Spanish, entering the Cuidad Real Madrid for day one of my new job as the new official photographer.

Introductions went well. Staff was nice. Work seemed interesting, with quite a lot to do on the creative side. I felt great. My office was located on the second floor on the west side of the building, a bit appart from the training grounds. I took time to settle a few minutes in my chair, gazed through the window at the Alfredo di Stephano stadium and saw the tiny silhouettes of the footballers training. My manager, Ana, came back to have me introduced to the girls. I quickly grabbed my camera and followed her to the pitch.

The sun blinded me as I came out. My eyes took a moment to ajuste. Shouts of trainers and players echoed all around. They were many. Ana spoke with some guys and training slowly stopped. The Real Madrid players came toward us and gathered, some of them still panting. Ana spoke again.

"Hello everyone, let me introduce you our new photographer Y/N. But you can call her Nicky as she likes it better."

"Hi, I never liked my name" I said nervously.

The girls stared at me, smiling. I couldn’t help to notice their muscular arms and thighs. Strength oozed from their bodies. There were pretty faces too. Ana spoked the name of each players. One very tanned girl was looking away, looking slightly bored.

"And finally, this is Misa" She said pointing at her. Misa looked at me, her eyes rested on my face just a moment while quickly waving her hand in a welcoming gesture and then looked away again. I felt my face grew hot. I was a professional photographer. It was explicitly written in my employment contract that dating the team members was prohibited. I shook of my inappropriate feelings as the introducing part ended.

A few days passed as I settled in my new life. I had found in a tiny appartement in Lavapies. Got everything I needed. I was rather happy to start over. I had quitted my toxic ex girlfriend a few months ago and my very boring previous job. Each day, I went to the pitch to film the team arriving and to take pictures of the footballers training in order to post on the social networks. They all seemed nice, thought some of them looked bothered to be photographed all the time. Linda, Naomi, Sofie and Hayley clearly enjoyed being in front of the camera while Ivana, Olga and Misa tried to avoid it most of the time. We had chatted very little, everyone focused on their respective work.

***

Then, arrived the day of the brand new kits big photoshoot. It was a very busy day. Adidas had designed a specific set with a moss background and real plants around. It was a bit to much for my tastes but I didn’t had my word to say as the campagne was managed by the brand. I was assisting the Adidas photographer by giving pose instructions to the girls. I took some shoots too. We were shooting for nearly five hours when came Misa’s turn. I couldn’t say I didn’t noticed how pretty she was in her new pale purple kit. Her tan skin contrasted frankly with the fabric. She had a piercing on her left nostril I’d never seen before. Her long hair was taken down, falling on her broad shoulders. She took her place, clearly used to being a model.

"Misa, face the camera" I said. Her dark eyes crossed mine before she looked straight at the camera and composed a smile. I could tell she was feeling confident, but I wasn’t sure she really was enjoying it. "Switch to profile, please". "Strike a pose". "Now put your gloves on". Misa obediently took all the poses shots after shots.

"Are we done ?" She asked, looking at me patiently.

"I think we are thank you. Thanks god you’re the last one !"

"I find it long already, so I can’t imagine how it must be for you." She said, her brows frowning. She walked aside from the set. I started to put away the equipment next to her. "It’s okay, I like my job. Today is just a bit repetitive"

"Are we cool models ?" I looked up at her. Her face was relaxing since the photoshoot ended. A shy smile appeared on her lips as she suddenly seemed to think her question was embarrassing. "In fact yes, indeed. Like, as a photographer, they’re is everything to ajuste. When you’re training, you’re moving fast so I have to increase shutter speed. When you’re posing like today, shutter can be slower but you have to have good exposure…" My voice trailed off as I took a glimpse of her perplex expression. "Sorry I have never known how to talk about my job. You see, technic plays a huge part in photography."

"Don’t worry, I haven’t a clue of what you are taking about but it actually got me interested." She was smiling frankly now and that made her ever more beautiful. I tried to focus one folding the spotlights back in there bags. "Those lights make you very warm and sweaty" she said. "I’m sorry I’ll go and change. See you Nicky."

"Bye Misa."

I was feeling both disappointed by her departure and relieved to be able to finish tidying thinks up more serenely when I heard Misa’s embarrassed voice rise from the backroom. "Hum… please can someone help me?"

I dropped the camera I was packing and went there thinking that fucking day would never end. I suppressed a laugh when I saw Misa struggling with her jersey up her head. The collar was picked up somewhere around her nose. I forced myself to look away from her well shaped abs and the low-cut of her sports bra.

"Misa, I’m there, what’s happening ?"

"the jersey… in my nosering. I can’t take it off !"

"hold still, I’do it."

I slowly came close to Misa and delicately hold the jersey’s collar while looking for where her piercing had gotten stuck. A fabric fiber had indeed been taken inside the small golden ring. I tried hard to concentrate. Her mouth was twitching nervously. I was so close to her face I could feel her breath. She pursed her luscious lips as I finally removed the string, let out a sight and took off the jersey. Her eyes met mine again while I took a step back. "Thanks, I thought I’d lose my nose on this one…"

"You did well to ask for help, you could have hurt yourself."

"I’m glad it was you and not some random Adidas guy, all my friends are gone by now."

"anytime !" I shrugged, feeling hot again. She gathered her clothes and started taking off her shorts. Footballers really weren’t modest. I turned around, ready to leave. I felt I was unable to take anymore glances at Misa’s body parts. "Bye then" I said softy.

"Bye, and Nicky, you definitely have to teach me some photo stuff ! I’m serious." I slowly turned back to her. She had already put her trousers and T shirt on. "Yes, sure… after tomorrow’s training if you’d like."

"Yeah, count on me". She gathered her stuff, gestured goodbye and left.

My job was turning out to be harder than I expected.

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

That's it for chapter 1, hope you enjoyed it. Drop a like if you're hyped !

Chapter 2 ➤ Clearly on a bad slope Chapter 3 ➤ Calmly panicking Chapter 4 ➤ Hell Clasico Chapter 5 ➤ Valleys and peaks

#woso x reader #woso community #woso fanfics #woso blurbs #woso imagine #misa rodriguez #misa rodriguez x reader #woso #woso soccer #espwnt #spainwnt #fanfic #fanfic art #real madrid femenino

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coucouatoi · 8 months

Text

we're not who we used to be | h.s.

Pairing: Harry Styles X Reader

Summary: Some letters you've written but never sent to Harry over the years.

Warnings: Angst... so much... there's some fluff, emphasise on the some, there's a hopeful ending tho!

A/N: Sooo this is the childhood friends to strangers fic no one asked for... Hope you all enjoy! This is my writing debut in Harry land :)

╭┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈╮

April 10' 2010

To: Harry Styles From: Your first fan

Hiya Harry,

It's currently 11:29 pm about 10 hours away from your audition. I figured since you told me to stop praising you and boosting your ego, I'm writing down the rest of the things I want to say.

Firstly, I know you're going to smash it! All the judges are going to want you in. There's no chance that they won't see how special you are, how you're the next big thing.

I won't let you back out of it last second! Anne, Gemma and I are ready to drag you onto the stage, we've discussed it thoroughly...

Secondly, I'm already so proud of you. This is a huge step, I know how nervous you are about it. How you think that everything is going to go wrong and that you'll fail. I've got enough hope in you for the both of us. I'll stand by your side the whole time and I'll cheer the loudest.

To finish, you're Harry Styles. You can do anything.

Break a leg superstar!!

Cheering you on already,

Your first-ever fan

╭┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈╮

December 12' 2010

To: Harry Styles From: Your biggest fan

Harry!

You've made it all the way to the finals! It's crazy! I knew you could do it but seeing you go further and further has been surreal.

I hope you and the other boys get along well! We haven't had much chance to really gossip about it all, you seem excited with them!

The finale is set to start in about 2 hours and I had to get some emotions out (my mom was tired of hearing them... rude) Anyway! I remembered that I had written you a letter a few months ago and now I'm back in this notebook.

I'm so nervous, excited and kind of nauseous about watching the last episode tonight. I can't even imagine what you're feeling right now... You must be so scared but incredibly jittery!

I'm counting the days until I get to see you again! I want to hear everything that's happened behind the scenes! You know how nosy I am!

I've already taken up two pages so I'll stop for now.

You can do this!

Talk to you soon,

Your favourite person ever

╭┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈╮

March 7' 2011

To: You From: Me <3

You called me Angel today...

I don't know what to make of that.

I had so many butterflies in my stomach.

Could you call me that again?

You're my favourite person,

Angel

╭┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈╮

November 20' 2011

To: Harry From: Angel

Boo!

You finally let me listen to the full album today! Said you had to be there when I listened to it so you could give me all the secrets. You also wanted to see live how I reacted to every song. You're too cute.

"I Want" is my current favourite.

You did tell me that you'd resonated with a lot of the lyrics you sang on this album. That almost scares me.

How did you relate? Who was going through your mind?

You do have the world at your feet now. I shouldn't feel jealous but I do like having you all to myself. Don't worry I'll get used to sharing...

The Up All Night Tour is starting soon! I'm happy that you've invited me to come to some shows. I'll be there no matter if I have to miss school.

I have to show all these newbies that I'm THE biggest Harry Styles fan out there!

Hopefully, you thought about me while signing.

Because I think about you all the time,

Your favourite fan.

╭┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈╮

April 13' 2012

To: Harry From: Angel

G'Day Mate!

So you're officially all the way in Australia now! That's so exciting I wish that you could have stuffed me into your suitcase... sniff

I bet it's super warm there! Or not wait their seasons aren't the same as ours, are they? I'm not even sure...

Hopefully, you can tan a little while you're there! Don't go near any animals or insects!!

I miss you a lot, maybe I'll send this one (spoiler I definitely won't).

Talk to you soon hopefully.

Go swim in the ocean,

Someone who wants to be in it

╭┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈╮

August 29' 2012

To: Harry From: Angel?

You haven't come to see me since you've been back.

Too busy being a celebrity?

I've been seeing all these tabloids... I'm not allowed to be jealous I know but I miss you.

I hope you've missed me.

I really really wish you were here with me or that I was with you wherever you are now.

I just want to be us.

Have you forgotten your friend from the small town already?

╭┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈╮

January 1' 2013

To: Harry From: Someone You've Hurt

I don't know what to think,

You kissed me. It made me happy.

You said it was a New Year's kiss.

You said you drank too much, it hurt.

You ended up kissing someone else about 20 minutes later.

That hurt even more it almost made me feel used.

I'm happy you were my first kiss.

I don't think you'll even remember it,

Y/N

╭┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈╮

November 27' 2014

To: Harry From: Me

I love the new album, took me a while to finally listen to it. I thought you'd come home and make me listen to it in your presence.

You didn't. The first album that I've listened to alone.

Spaces and Fools Gold are my favourite songs. I wonder how many lyrics you resonate with. How many of them did you write?

Come home?

Only for a day please,

Your first Angel

╭┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈╮

October 21' 2015

To: Harry From: Y/N

It's been a while,

It's your mom's birthday today. Well only for a few more hours...

She invited my family and me to the party, and of course we went. I didn't think you'd be there. I haven't seen you in almost a year.

It was fun.

Catching up about everything that's been going on with you and the band. Your life is so much more interesting than mine now.

I'm just a boring college student... you're this huge star but that's ok there's no one like you for me, you're my safe place. No matter how far away.

You asked about my love life and I told you about the date I had a few days ago. You asked if we had sex, I lied and said yes. I didn't want to embarrass myself by telling you no one's ever been with me like that.

We ended up getting drunk. Too drunk.

We fucked.

You took my virginity and you have no idea... should I tell you? You were so good. So gentle, loving but you fucked with a purpose, you needed to get off. I won't ever see your childhood bedroom the same way.

This was only a few hours ago.

I've felt every emotion about it. Now I'm crying because I know you'll find someone new to share a bed with. I'm just a notch in your headboard.

It meant everything to me.

But I think I regret it...

Y/N

╭┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈╮

May 12' 2017

To: You From: Me

Really?

I hope Only Angel isn't about me.

But I'm overanalysing every single song. Is one about me? Did you think of me while making this album?

We haven't talked since the last time we saw each other. When we fucked again. It wasn't even the second time, after your mom's birthday two years ago we never stopped. It's all we do when we see each other.

It doesn't make me feel all that much better but I feel like if it wasn't for that we wouldn't even know each other anymore.

I'm moving away this year. Got a job offer in Canada and I'm taking it.

Maybe I'll get over you... hopefully.

I can't live my whole life waiting for someone who I don't know anymore.

I'm blocking your number.

I miss who we used to be,

Your first-ever fan

╭┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈╮

December 4' 2019

To: H From: Y/N

Hello,

You've crawled your way back into my life, Harry. This morning, you decided to send me your album. Your new one, Fine Line. Your fans haven't even heard it yet. The public hasn't either.

You didn't write a single thing in your email, the mp3 link was staring me down with your automated signature. Not even a greeting.

I shouldn't have listened to it.

I don't know why you sent it to me. We haven't spoken or crossed paths in over a year. Not since I moved and tried to get rid of every way of contact between us.

I still haven't answered, I don't think I will.

You don't get to know what I feel about it. Not anymore.

I'm sorry Harry.

I've moved on,

Y/N

╭┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈╮

December 13' 2019

To: H From: Y/N

Your new album came out today.

I'm proud of you even if we are strangers now.

You're a superstar.

I always knew you would be,

Y/N

╭┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈╮

March 17' 2020

To: H From: Y/N

I saw that you had to postpone your tour.

You must feel so defeated.

I know I do. Everything's been closed and opened and closed again here in Canada. It's getting exhausting.

I hope the world starts working again soon.

This all sucks...

Crossing my fingers for the tour,

Y/N

╭┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈╮

May 18' 2022

To: Harry From: Y/N

Hi,

You sent me the album before the release again.

This time you did say something: I miss you Angel, Can we meet up?

I didn't think I could feel so many butterflies in my stomach. I felt like a teenager again. And I cried more than once listening to Harry's House.

I'm still considering if I should answer... if I do what should I choose? Should I agree and go into the unknown or forget it happened and keep on going with my life?

I miss you too... the one I knew. Not the one who used me. I guess I used you too... How did we get here?

All I want is to be loved and to be in love.

I'm not sure if I'm ready for the hurt this will bring but maybe I should just be a grown-up about this...

I want you back in my life.

That scares me,

Y/N

╭┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈╮

August 16' 2022

To: Harry From: Y/N

Well,

I'm going to the Love On Tour today and after we are going to "meet". We even have until the 20th because that is when your next show is, after today obviously.

You were so excited when I agreed.

It's almost as if no time has passed when we text (he changed his number in the last few years... no need for an embarrassing unblocking).

My friend, the one who convinced me to agree, helped me pick out an outfit. Thankfully for her, I won't stick out like a sore thumb in the crowd of feather boas and cowboy hats.

I really want this to work.

I want to believe that we can be good again. We can be healthy for one another again but I'll be worried until I see you.

Until we speak.

I won't let myself touch you, I have a feeling that it would be far too easy to fall back into a bed. Maybe a hug would be okay.

I'm excited for the show, to see the Superstar Harry Styles in action. After so many years you have to have evolved so much.

You aren't little Harry from Worcestershire anymore.

I'm not the same person I once was either.

See you tonight.

Break a leg,

Y/N

#harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry x reader #harry styles fic #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n

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