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reidmotif · 1 day

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Check Your Window (He's At Your Window)

Summary: Reader discovers her window faces into the apartment of her very attractive building neighbor, Spencer. She's willing to do anything for his attention. He's willing to reward her for her efforts.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: voyeurism, lingerie, masturbation, slight dubcon (but for like 5 seconds i swear), nipple play, penetrative sex, apartment break-in.

Word Count: 3.9 k

Masterlist

It’s natural to believe you’re safe in your place of residency. You’re given locks, blinds, a security gate- all measures designed to invoke a false illusion of privacy. Of course, there are defects that no one can plan for that have the ability to shatter this illusion.

Mine happened to be a badly placed window.

Finding this apartment felt akin to love at first sight. It sounds dramatic, but I’m serious. Do you know how horrific real estate is these days? But when my eyes came upon piano oak flooring, the soft light of the day streaming onto a marble island, and of course, an in-home washer/dryer system, I was sold.

Due to my inherent awkwardness around meeting strangers, and lack of overt charm, I’d never been one to initiate introductions with my neighbors. I moved in quietly, packing up my life into neat little boxes and dispersing them throughout the emptiness of my new space. It was only then, when I realized a strangely placed window that seemed to fall exactly where I’d wanted my bed to be.

And while examining my outlandish situation, I saw him.

I didn’t want to assume he’d been watching me. I wasn’t paranoid like that. Nevertheless, I didn’t want to give off the aura of, for lack of better words, a creep, so the quick aversion of my eyes from his gaze felt instinctual. Curiosity won over me a millisecond later, though, and against my better judgment, I quietly peered into the window again, wondering if the man in the glass had slipped away, or had looked away from where our eyes met last.

What I hadn’t anticipated, however, was to be met with the unflinching stare of his eyes, far from concerned with how he came off, holding his gaze with an almost disconcerting and defiant presence.

He gave me a subtle nod, before walking away, disappearing from view. I was left feeling.. unsettled. But also strangely thrilled. There was a certain peculiarity in knowing you were susceptible to an audience at any given moment. I vaguely recalled social facilitation as a possible explanation as to why the concept roused me the way it did, but whatever it was, I didn’t feel compelled to attach curtains or any kind of barrier to avoid the phenomenon.

While my thoughts occasionally drifted to the man, I didn’t actually know anything about him. He lived in the building beside mine, so we didn’t even share so much as a landlord. I truly never expected to gain any insight on him besides the location of his domicile in relation to mine, and the thought didn’t bother me by any means. I was completely fine with letting our connection stay as severed as it was.

Fate, on the other hand, had other ideas.

I found myself a few weeks later, struggling with an overstuffed grocery bag in front of my building, and in a terrible game of mismanaged weight and the flimsiness of grocery-store plastic, my bag gave way, scattering the contents of it across the ground. Further misfortune plagued me, as the bag in question had been holding a good pound of lemons, that rolled quite far from where I’d been standing. I immediately dropped to the ground, trying to gather up the ones by my feet in my arms, and noticed a presence nearby doing the same and bringing the runaway citrus to me. I was thankful, and was ready to express my gratitude to the helpful samaritan, until I saw a flash of recognition collectively pass over our faces as we made eye contact.

Him. The man in the window.

“You dropped these.” He says, his voice a little quieter than I’d expected from him, and I nod.

“Yeah, no. It’s these bags. Not really equipped to hold a pound of lemons.” I say, trying to gather the rest to my chest, our eyes still trained on the other.

“Can I ask why a pound of lemons?” He asks, a sort of playful lilt in his voice.

“Lemonade.” I say, almost immediately.

There’s a bit of confusion that flashes over his face. “Are you making a joke?” He replies, furrowing his brows a bit.

I realize that my response might’ve come off as too deadpan, and I shake my head to correct his misconception. “Oh, no. I’m serious.” I say, offering a grin. “I love lemonade. There’s a work party I’m attending, and I offered to make some for the office. Hence, the lemons.” I continued, gesturing at the aforementioned fruit, and feeling myself ramble slightly, but it didn’t seem to offend the recipient.

“That.. is a surprisingly normal response, given the situation.” The man says, nodding. “I love lemonade too.” He adds.

There’s a bit of silence as we both picked up lemons together, the man more focused than I on the task. I took the oppurtuinity within the lull of our conversation to truly examine the man, finally no longer separated by a pane of glass, and my observations all seemed to point towards one glaringly obvious conclusion.

The man in the window was hot.

He appeared older than me, yet his age did nothing to diminish the beauty of his features. His doe-like eyes seemed to shine with the same curiosity that I felt towards him. His hair was a bit longer than I’d expect from a man his age, but it suited him. The smooth slope of his nose had a certain charm to it, and his cheekbones were impossibly sharp. I wanted to run my thumb over the bone, and kiss him senseless until we could barely remember our own names.

“I’m (Y/N). You’re free to come over.” I say, a little more rushed than I’d wanted to. “For the lemonade, of course.” I add, trying to not drop the ball when it came to inviting this gorgeous man over to my apartment.

“Spencer.” He replies, offering his name to me. “I'll keep it in mind.” He says, smoothly. He flashes me a kind smile as he places the last of the lemons into my other bags or directly into my hands.

I’d hoped “I’ll keep it in mind” meant “within the next few days or so” but waiting seemed futile after a certain amount of time had passed. He never came, and I even stopped seeing him as often through the window in passing. In hindsight, it was rather naive to genuinely expect a near-stranger to come to my apartment, on account of an invitation that could have been interpreted as a thinly-veiled proposition.

It felt a bit dull, his lack of interest. I’d had a taste of his attention, and for some reason, I was hooked. It was irrational, and illogical, but I couldn’t help the desire I felt simply at the thought of this man. And in a mixture of perversion, desperation and pure brainlessness, I tried to use the one thing that had rarely failed me in the past. Sex.

I reasoned by telling myself it wasn’t like it was guaranteed he’d see me.

And it wasn’t as if I was standing directly by the window, exposing myself for his pleasure, and his pleasure only. So hey, if he saw my figure adorned in lacy lingerie in passing, and felt compelled to act on that in any way he chose, well. No harm, no foul, right?

So that’s exactly what I did. To my benefit, it was one of the hottest summers D.C had ever had, so the lack of clothing worked in my favor. I’d always felt quite confident in my own skin, so lounging around in bras, panties, barely-there cover-ups around my apartment didn’t strike me as the oddest thing to do. I felt comfortable, and in turn, possibly seducing the man in the window. Win-win.

And “win” I did, in some way at least, because I noticed the arrival of lingerie correlated in a sudden uptick in the times I’d see Spencer taking a longer-than-normal glimpse into my apartment. It was fucking exhilirating, to have his regard in this strange, taboo way. I’d find myself imagining him, surrounded by a sea of sheets and pillows slowly stroking his cock to the images of my scantily-clad body. I had no real way of verifying if this was the actual case, but the fantasy was enough to bring heat to my cheeks and an ache in my panties.

It started to drive me a little crazy, however, when after a week of this, literally no tangible reward came from the fruits of my labor. While I’d enjoyed his eyes on my form, that seemed to be all he was capable of. He seemed completely at ease with just watching (to my utter dismay) and it seemed the action I wanted him to take was sorely out of reach.

Reflecting on his shy, soft demeanor from the one time we’d spoken, I concluded that he might not be as forward as I am. It made sense; he never seemed to have visitors in his apartment and, seeming to be in his 40s without a stable partner, he probably wasn't accustomed to a woman's attention in this way. He didn’t exactly exude “womanizer” anyway from what I knew about him, and I began to connect his lack of initiative to these points.

It didn't deter me from continuing my attempts though. At best, I was at least providing a lonely middle-aged man some sorely needed imagery in the meantime. I’d always been a giver, anyhow.

It’s reasonable to assume there’d be some payoff down the road, right?

Wrong. I continued to wear increasingly revealing lingerie, going as far as just walking around naked once in a while. Nothing. I was a fucking saint at this point for continuing this for him.

It didn’t help that my mind insisted on taunting me with what I couldn’t have, as a moment of spare time in my day would constantly be preoccupied with thoughts of him in my bed, pinning my hands down and kissing up and down my neck. I’d imagine him pounding into me, or bouncing up and down on his cock, bringing us both to the throes of pleasure. I couldn’t halt the depravity of my thoughts, no matter how hard I tried.

What I also couldn’t stop, was the slow descent of my fingers into my panties one night, finding a delectable mess within them, signifying my deep arousal associated with the man. It’d been a long few weeks, the smell of summer and heat encasing my apartment, and a profound craving I couldn’t resist. I breathed out a sigh of relief as I began rubbing the small nub, alternating between up and down motions, and then a slow, circular rub. Little moans poured out my lips, before I quickly shed my panties entirely, watching a string of arousal stuck to them, kicking them haphazardly to the side, wanting more access to my clit.

My eyes naturally closed as I found myself lazing towards the precipice of release. Soft sighs and moans filled my apartment as I let my fingers rub a bit more desperately. I could see flashes of him again behind my eyes, his hand on me, instead of my own, mirroring the actions I was performing. A gasp of his name came tumbling out of me as the image became clearer and clear, my eyes opening almost frantically as I felt myself closer and closer.

That’s when I got the strangest sensation, and felt a pair of eyes on me. I jolted my head to the left, and saw Spencer, who was clearly watching at this point. His gaze was entirely trained on me, and similar to the first time he saw me, our eye contact didn’t deter him from his observation.

I refused to let it either, and kept my gaze trained on him. I was entirely exposed. I wouldn’t have been able to stop my actions if I’d had a gun to my head. It just felt too fucking good. A moment more of eye contact from him, and I felt the familiar clench and release from my body, waves of pleasure wracking my body. I let out another moan, but not once did my eyes leave his, as my back arched against my sheets, a silent plea on my part being conveyed.

Come here. What could you possibly be waiting for?

I watched him disappear from the window as I finished, both literally and figuratively, and panted, wondering if finally, finally, my prayers and fervent supplications would be answered.

After about 30 minutes, my anticipation was replaced with severe disappointment when I realized even after then, he wasn’t coming. I could no longer see him in the window, and at this point it seemed a little silly and pathetic to continue expecting him to come.

Maybe he was just entirely sexually inadept. That could be a possibility, right? How much more explicit could I get than this? I’d masturbated in front of him! Albeit, through a window, but masturbation regardless! Was this seriously all he was willing to do?

I roll my eyes at the thought. I came to accept that maybe, truly, there was nothing I could do to get this man to fuck me the way I deserved. Fine.

As I closed my eyes to get some necessary rest after my endeavors, I made up my mind that I’d buy curtains tomorrow. Fuck Spencer Reid, and his absolute inability to take any action in his goddamn life. Fuck this apartment. Fuck everything.

Was I dramatic? Yes. Was I still right? Also yes.

Despite the sour mood I’d taken to bed with me that evening, my dreams were anything but. The idea of Spencer Reid holding me down, whispering sweet and dirty nothings alike were all still incredibly tantalizing to my subconscious. I could hear his voice in my ear, soft pink lips brushing against the shell of my ear, a deep pressure imprinted onto my body, keeping me in my bed.

“Wake up, sweetheart.” He murmured, beckoning me out of the peaceful cocoon of sleep.

I felt a few more wet and warm kisses trailing up and down my neck, the sweetest sensation of pleasure being granted to me with every touch he gave.

“Need you to wake up, pretty girl.” He mumbles. “You really are so pretty up close.” His voice is slightly patronizing, and it does nothing to help the excitation that was steadily growing inside of me.

Suddenly, I became incredibly aware that the stimuli I was receiving didn’t appear to be a byproduct of my psyche, but rather- he was here? My eyes opened slowly to realize I wasn’t at all mistaken, the soft brush of his brown hair against my neck slightly tickling me as I came to.

“Atta girl.” He mumbles, his lips still mapping out every inch of my skin. Out of pure instinct, a slightly alarmed moan came from me, still unsure if I was dreaming or not. Surely I had to be dreaming. I had to be, because how the fuck did Spencer Reid get into my apartment? Into my bed?

“You want this, yeah?” He murmurs, taking a second to gaze down at me. I realized he’d been on top of me this whole time, and the pressure I’d felt in my dream was his skin on mine, trapping me in between his strong chest and the soft sheets adorning my mattress. “I know you do. Saw your little show and everything.” He breathes out, desperately, almost.

I know I should’ve thought about it. Perhaps I should’ve pondered on the idea of letting a man who’d just broken into my apartment full access to my body as he pleased, but there was no time. He was here, and how could I have ever said no to that?

There’s an equally as desperate and breathy, “yes” that escapes my lips, and before I can finish saying the word, he dives down, meeting my lips with his, absolutely devouring me with no hesitation whatsoever. If I'd thought his previous ministrations were delightful, this was absolutely heavenly.

I moan softly into his mouth, wanting to tangle my hands in his hair, or latch them onto his shoulders and sink my nails deep into the skin that resided there- anything to show even a semblance of control in this situation, but it seemed Spencer had already thought of that, pinning my hands against the mattress so tightly, I couldn’t have moved if I’d exerted every last bit of strength into it.

“God, the first time- first time I saw you.” He mumbles in between kisses. “With those lemons. I knew they’d fall. Saw you through the window across the street and practically ran. Wanted to meet you so badly.”

A small whimper escapes me, and I can’t help but get wetter at the thought. I knew he’d been watching me through the window, but the idea that I captured his attention, outside of my apartment, in the most mundane of situations only served to heighten the arousal I felt, my thighs rubbing together for any kind of relief.

He notices the movement and grins, planting one last kiss on my lips before slipping down. His hands cup the backs of my knees, forcing me to spread my previously shut legs.

“You had the prettiest voice.” He breathes out, examining my glistening heat. “Fuck. Couldn’t stop thinking about how you’d sound, screaming my name.” He leans forward, planting a chaste kiss on my clit that caused an incredibly breathtaking jolt through my body.

“Spencer-” I moan, my head rolling back as I felt it, my back arching slightly.

“Yeah, just like that.” He mumbles, clearly pleased. “Good girl.”

His hands traveled upward from where he’d been situated between my legs and squeezed my breast blindly. It didn’t feel like it was for my pleasure, but rather that he was desperate to touch anywhere he possibly could. Anyone else, and I might’ve been annoyed with the incessant touching, but with him?

It was so fucking hot.

“That goddamned lingerie.” He mumbles. “The things I wanted to do to you. Did you know that?”

I looked at him through hooded lids, unsure what he meant, and he took my diversion of attention to quickly tweak one of my nipples, eliciting another surprised moan from my mouth.

“I’m so much stronger than this, usually.” His large hands continue to squeeze and grope at my breasts. “But you.” He whispers, a hint of a growl making its way into his tone. “Had to push the limits. Practically begging me to come here and take you.”

I let out a gasp as I felt his hands trail down my stomach, the cool touch of his fingertips causing the muscles to tense up there.

“I’m gonna do it.” He whispers, his face only illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the open window, but I could still see the dangerous glint in his eye, thrilling me even further. “Fuck you exactly how you want it.”

Before I’m able to react to the sentiment, he’s grabbing onto my hips and turning me over, a yelp drawn out from me.

“Hands and knees.” He says, in an authoritative tone that doesn’t leave any room for any disagreement. I comply quickly, much to his elation.

“You’re so good for me, yeah? Gonna ruin you. Just how you want.”

There’s a hint in condescension in his tone, like he’s making fun of me for wanting to be fucked this badly, but I can barely pay any mind about it, especially when I feel his cock slotting itself betweet my folds, separated only by his boxers, a shaky moan coming from Spencer.

I can feel his hands leaving my hips and the slight lean away as he quickly shucks off the fabric, and within the next second, he’s pushing into me, providing me with a stretch and fulfillment that was so much better than I could’ve ever imagined. It doesn’t take him long to set a fast pace, the sound of our skin slapping and the smell of sex permeating the room.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” He moans out, and I let out similar noises in tandem.

I can barely find it in me to stay coherent. I want to scream how good he feels, how big his cock feels in me, how close I was- but instead the only thing I could manage was the borderline scream of his name and loud sobs of pleasure, fully at the mercy of the man behind me. I can feel the way I clamp down on him, absolutely imploring him for as much as he could give me.

“Gonna come for me, yeah?” He says, feeling the clench of my walls on his cock. “Come on, pretty girl. Give me what I want.” He murmurs lowly, leaning down closer to my ear. His hand shoots out a moment later, beginning to rub my clit, similar to how I had been doing a few hours earlier as he watched me, and the memory and sensation of it is enough to hurl me off the edge, my walls tightening around his cock as waves of pleasure wracked through my body.

It seemed that was enough for him as well. I felt his hips still, and a sudden warmth at my deepest point. He let out a groan of relief as he thrusted once, twice more, and then pulled out, his cum slipping down my thighs as he plopped down next to me. I’d already collapsed the second he pulled out, panting as I came down from the orgasm.

“You good?” He mumbles, wearily, and I can feel him moving aside my hair to kiss at my shoulder.

“Mhm.” I murmur back, a small sigh of relief escaping me. There’s a beat of silence, before he breaks it.

“Tomorrow.” He murmurs. “Wanna go out with me?”

I raise an eyebrow, turning at him with a playful expression- as playful as I could get in this state anyway. “Where to?”

“Target.” He mumbles, still stroking my back lazily, his eyes shining with something less intense than lust now, but still enough to turn my stomach over with butterflies.

“Target?” I say, squinting my eyes. “Why Target?”

“We’re buying you some curtains.” He says, a small grin appearing on his face. “And maybe a stronger lock.”

I giggle at that, rolling my eyes a bit. “But then you don’t get to see me anymore. I kind of liked what we had going on.”

“I did too.” He whispers, his tone slightly vulnerable now. “But I like this a lot more.”

A small smile plasters itself to my face as I nod.

“Me too.” I whisper back, biting my lip.

A mutual understanding passed through the both of us as we smiled at each other in the dark, and for a split second, I imagined myself possibly loving this more someday.

All in good time. Right now, I was going to sleep, protected by his soft, strong arms. That was enough for now. We’d finally gotten what we wanted.

woah!! trying to finally get back into writing semi regularly i see. i hope this was enjoyable. this is one of those pieces i'm kind of unsure about, so please, please interact if you liked it! likes, comments, reblogs, anything! or let me know if you didn't! i live for feedback of any kind. thank you for reading anyhow, i am very grateful for it <3

also lol if it wasn’t obvious i listened to “she” for fic inspo lol. linked below

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wososcripts · 2 days

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Face to Face (III)

Fridolina Rolfö x reader; Alexia Putellas x reader (platonic); Barça x reader (platonic)

Summary: your Barça teammates swoop in to save the day (or at least they do their best)

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: okay don't kill me but Frido isn't in this much... enjoy some sweet Barça hurt/comfort to make up for it because she'll be back soon. as usual everything is pure fiction and written in good fun! PREVIOUS PART

Warnings ⚠️: medical description, slight angst

"Hola Nena," Alexia said in a hushed voice as she came into your hospital room. Laura and Zećira had left earlier that morning with your mom, assuring you they would be back later in the evening.

Alexia had a stuffed giraffe and a small bouquet of yellow roses in hand, and she looked at you with soft eyes. You smiled at her weakly, the light in the room dim enough that the subtleties in her face were blurred. If you focused too much on them your head began to hurt more intensely.

"¿Cómo estás?"

You gave her a thumbs up, pleased with the smile you got out of her.

It was quickly replaced again with concern as you winced, a sharp pain searing behind your eyes as she set a vase down on the windowsill for the flowers.

"Has anyone else been over to visit?"

You knew it was Alexia's subtle way of asking if Frido had come. As far as you knew Alexia was in the dark as to your relationship (or lack thereof) with the Swede, but you could never be sure with her.

"Laura… Zećira and Magda came right after the game."

Alexia nodded. She took the giraffe and placed it on your chest, shaking it a bit as if you were a child she wanted to entice.

"You know you'll be out of training for a bit, sí?"

"Sí."

You weren't pleased with it, but there was no denying that you needed the rest. You could barely bear to open the blinds for now.

"Jona agrees, you should stay with someone when you get home. A few of the girls have spare rooms, so there's options. Ingrid and Mapí offered, and of course you can stay with me if you want."

You thought for a moment, letting Alexia's fast Spanish sink in. Your brain felt sluggish, as if everything took thirty seconds longer.

"If you don't mind… maybe I can stay with you?"

Alexia put a hand over yours, smiling brightly.

"Of course. I'd be happy to have you."

You chuckled.

"I'm not sure I'll be much fun for the next few weeks."

Alexia shrugged.

"It doesn't matter to me, we all take you how you are."

A comfortable silence fell over the room, and you began drifting off. Alexia promised to stay while you slept, her hand protectively on your calf as she studied up for the next Barça game.

Cómo está la alemana? Alexia saw her phone light up with a text from Mapí. She quickly snapped a photo of you asleep, frowning at your coloring and the wires that monitored your heartbeat. It was just a precaution, but it reminded one of how much worse this could've been.

Sleeping. She replied, attaching the photo.

Her head? Mapí replied immediately.

Not good, but not horrible. No training for a few weeks. Doctor said it was a serious concussion, but not severe.

Alexia watched as the three dots indicating Mapí was texting popped up, then disappeared, repeating a few times. Finally, just the message.

I'm glad she's okay.

Alexia knew there was much more weight behind that text than met the eye. You were vital to Barça—every player was, of course. But you had a kindness in you that helped glue the team together even when things were falling apart. Everyone was fond of you, and those you seemed to have chosen on the team (Mapí included) as your close friends cherished that. It was as if you had shone a light on them just by being around.

Alexia thought just of how much your Spanish had improved in the past few months. You spoke better Spanish than most of the international players—and it wasn't just because you had some kind of propensity for language. Alexia had seen you studying in your free time, listening to podcasts, practicing. She asked you once, why you did that; you replied that you simply wanted to understand them better.

That was how you were, thoughtful and kind and lovable. And it hurt everyone on the team to see you hurt—particularly because there was an added element of complexity with it having been Frido who caused it.

"Alexia?" Your groggy voice called out, "can you hand me my cup of water, please?"

"Of course, Nena."

Alexia watched as you drank slowly, and sat by as a nurse came in to examine you. She checked your pupils again, and didn't look pleased.

"I'm going to ask the doctor to order another round of scans, just to double check that no bleeds have popped up that we didn't see before."

"Why?" Alexia asked, concerned. She didn't feel equipped to deal with this totally on her own, especially with the doctor speaking English so quickly, with seemingly no time to explain or guide her through things.

"They're worried I've got a bleed in my brain because of how I fell, Ale." You explained to her.

"I thought they already checked that?" Alexia replied, trying to keep her Spanish slow enough for you to easily understand.

"Sometimes things can only show up on the scans after a little while, because they start so small. I hurt my head when I was younger in a similar area, so they're being extra careful."

Alexia rubbed her temples, worry increasing massively. She turned to the doctor.

"Will she be able to come home, still?"

"If the scans come out clean, then yes. She can be taken back to Spain." The nurse looked to you and asked in German, "you have a doctor there, yes?"

You nodded.

"She will need to be checked again in a little while, and monitored. Does she live with anyone?"

"She'll be living with me." Alexia assured the nurse.

A little while later, the doctor came in and wheeled you off to the CT scan. Alexia was not allowed to accompany you, so she stayed behind, waiting for you in that empty room. Suddenly it truly hit her how serious things could've been. There hadn't been more than a few bruises on you, so it wasn't as easy to understand how hurt you were. ACL, meniscus, these were things Alexia knew. Head injuries? Those certainly felt more daunting.

"María?" Alexia spoke into the phone.

"Alexia? Is everything okay?"

Alexia bit her lip, wishing she could keep herself in check a little more.

"Alexia?" Mapí repeated.

"Yes, sorry, yes I think so. They took her for more scans and it just… I don't know, it hit me."

Alexia heard Mapí speaking to someone in the background.

"Is someone with you?"

"Sí, Ingrid is here, and Pina and Patri are over for a movie. But I stepped out, so talk."

"The doctors were talking about brain bleeds and surgery, and I just couldn't handle it. She was so calm and I felt like I was freaking out…"

"Brain bleeds?" Mapí exclaimed, fear in her voice. Alexia heard something in the background. "Does she need surgery?"

"They don't know if she has one yet. The first scan was clear but apparently they can take a while to be visible."

"Dios mio… one moment, Ale, Ingrid is demanding I tell her what you're saying."

Alexia listened in to the faint mumblings from the other line, looking at the floor. There were raised voices and then a few more joined in, and Mapí returned.

"You're on speaker now, Ale."

"She has a brain bleed?" Ingrid’s voice appeared, a mix of anger and concern evident.

"No, no, they don't know yet. They're checking."

"Is she talking? Does she seem okay?" Patri interjected.

"Sí, she was talking fine. Her head hurts, of course. She can't handle much light, or focus very well yet." Alexia paused. "I don't know if she seems okay, but she'll recover."

The muttering on the other end picked up again, this time more audible. The girls were worried, of course.

"Why the hell did Frido hit her so hard!" Patri exclaimed, then it sounded as if someone had lightly smacked her. But nobody seemed to have a good answer.

Alexia explained what more she could from what the doctors and Laura had told her about your condition, and promised to update them again later. Ingrid promised to keep the other girls in the loop so they wouldn’t bother Alexia, which she appreciated. Everything felt overwhelming enough as it was.

Eventually Alexia hung up once she heard your voice from outside of the door.

“Brain bleed free, Ale!” you smiled as the nurse wheeled you back into the room. You had the stuffed giraffe she gave you clenched in your hand, and you waved it at her as you spoke for emphasis.

“Yep, the scans look perfectly normal.” The nurse affirmed. “Now let’s not try our luck for a third time.”

You saluted her as she left the room, falling quiet soon after. Alexia could see that you were still low on energy.

“Why don’t you rest a little more? I’ll deal with the paperwork in the meantime. Then we can get you home.”

Olga had made up your room already when you arrived back in Barcelona. She greeted you and Alexia at the door, pressing a kiss to her girlfriend's lips and pulling you in for a soft hug.

"¿Cómo estás, linda?"

"Okay," you gave her a small smile.

"You're my baby for the week," Olga said, taking your arm out of Alexia's hold and instructing her to take your bags into the guest room.

You chuckled as Alexia rolled her eyes playfully and followed orders.

"Does it hurt a lot?"

You nodded, feeling like you could be honest with Olga.

“My ears won't stop ringing… it's driving me nuts.”

"Why don't you go and lay down on the couch for a bit? I'll make dinner in a little while."

After changing into a borrowed shirt and sweats you settled with your head in Alexia's lap. She was stroking your hair very gently, trying to do what she could to make you feel better. Once you were asleep she looked to Olga.

"How are you, mi amor?"

Alexia rubbed her eyes.

"Tired."

"You've had a few very difficult days… she'll be okay."

Olga looked at your sleeping form.

"I'm not sure how to approach it at practice next week." Alexia fell quiet, "I can't help but feel upset at Frido, because I don't understand. If she had looked worried, gone to visit, something, then it wouldn't seem so bad. But she just got up and ran away, didn't seem to care at all. It's so unlike her."

"You let her know that behavior isn't acceptable, yes?" Alexia nodded, "then that's all you can do. And keep an eye on her."

You walked out onto the training pitch carefully, a pair of sunglasses covering half of your face and a cap on your head. Alexia held your elbow, keeping you close. You were already shorter than much of the team but you somehow looked even smaller tucked into yourself like that. Hardly anyone had seen you since you got home because of Alexia's insistence that you rest; only Patri had managed to convince Alexia to let her come over, and that was because she was one of your best friends on the team and you were dying of boredom.

Frido hadn't seen you, or heard from you since the friendly. She hadn't been allowed in your hospital room when they kept you overnight for observation, nor had she tried to visit you as you stayed with Alexia. Part of her had been too afraid to ask her capitan if she could come over. And you weren't allowed any screens, so texting was a no-go.

Ingrid, Mapí, and Pina all came rushing towards you, slowing once they were near your pitiful form.

"How are you feeling, bebita?" Mapí asked softly, putting a hand on your shoulder.

"Like shit," you mumbled, giving her a grin.

"With the way your head bounced, it's a miracle it's still attached!" Pina joked in a whispered tone, prompting a smack on the arm from Alexia.

You chuckled, clearly not bothered.

Ingrid, who had been quiet until now, wrapped you in a soft hug. She was careful with your entire upper half though she didn't need to be. You returned her embrace, looping your arms over her shoulders.

"Are you sure you're alright?" She mumbled to you.

You nodded, patting her cheek as she pulled away.

After that Alexia declared that you were going to sit in the shade and were not to be bothered, a glance thrown specifically at Patri and Pina. The rest of the team nodded, giving you quick smiles and thumbs up. Frido continued to stand awkwardly on the side, not sure what the best thing to do was. Would you even want to talk to her? Probably not.

Alexia walked you over to the bench and gave you water and some ear plugs to quiet the noise of the field. Unfortunately you couldn't really do much, no reading or phones allowed. All you could really do was sleep, which you did not long after, lulled by the warm air and low sounds of your teammates playing.

You didn't wake up until about an hour later. You were hot in your light jacket, so you shucked it off and gently sat up. Your sunglasses made it so your head didn't hurt too badly. Caro noticed you were awake and waved at you. You waved back, sending her a smile.

Alexia had mentioned that everyone sent messages of well wishes, not only your Barça teammates but your German teammates, and even a few from the Swedish team. You couldn't use your phone to see them, but Alexia had read them to you one by one. It was a little overwhelming, the support. Even players you had only interacted with a few times had reached out to check in.

"Hola cari" Patri said, flopping herself down next to you. It was a water break, and you could see the team dispersing to grab their bottles from their bags.

"Hola, Patri."

"Here," Patri shifted so she was sitting up, and patted her lap for you to put your head in. "How do you feel? Is it okay if I talk in Spanish or is English better for your head?"

"How about German?" You joked, prompting a large smile from Patri.

"Hallo?" She said, her Spanish accent laughably thick. You patted her leg fondly.

"Spanish is okay. It doesn't hurt my head anymore than a different language."

Patri began to stroke your hair as the two of you caught up. You learned that she had fought hard to get you to stay with her even though she only had one bed (the couch was a perfectly fine alternative for her, she had tried to tell Alexia), and that she was going to the coast during the next break with her family. You told her about seeing your family in Germany before the match, and how big your niece had gotten. Before long, another presence joined you.

"Hi," Caro's soft voice called.

She crouched down in front of you two, giving a faint smile.

"Do you need anything? Did you bring anything to eat?"

You shook your head, and Caro disappeared for a moment. When she returned, there was a bag of crackers in her hand, and a banana.

"I also found this at the supermarket."

She pulled out a packet of cookies, a German brand that you loved as a kid.

"I remembered seeing them when I was playing at Wolfsburg all the time…I figured since you're from around there maybe you knew them?"

You took them from her and held her hand, squeezing it in thanks. It brought tears to your eyes.

"I loved these when I was little… thank you Caro."

Caro smiled at you, taking a seat on the grass across from you and eating quietly. The Norwegian wasn't much of a talker, but she showed her affection just by hanging around.

"Here," she offered some of her water, realizing you had run out.

You took the bottle hesitantly, but Caro was firm.

"Drink, it will help your head."

Soon it was time for everyone to get back on the pitch, and you were left alone again. You put on a podcast through your headphones, passing the time as best you could.

The podcast served mainly as background as you watched your teammates train. It was hot today, and you could see everyone having to work a little harder to keep up. Your eyes fell to Frido naturally, even though you wished it weren't the case. She was partnered with Aitana doing passing drills. Her form was near perfect, you were jealous of her impeccable footwork. She looked beautiful: her hair was done up in a bun, her legs were glowing in the sun, and the muscles in her arm rippled as she picked up her water bottle to get a quick drink. It was disappointing that you still wanted her, even after all of this. Maybe something was wrong with you.

Later, as you waited for Alexia to finish with some promo stuff, Ingrid wandered over to keep you company. Mapí must have been getting a little extra physio time since she had only just been cleared after her injury.

"Can I sit?" She asked you, gesturing to the spot where you sat on the field.

You nodded and smiled, pulling your headphones out.

"How are you feeling?"

You shrugged.

"It's not so bad now, just like a regular headache. They gave me some medication but I'd rather not…"

Ingrid rubbed your shoulder, pulling you a little closer to her.

"You gave us quite the scare."

"Don't tell me you watched the video." You shifted to look her in the eye. "I know it freaks you out, makes you paranoid."

Ingrid smoothed the crease between your eyebrows with her thumb.

"Don't worry about me. Now is the time for us all to fret over you."

You huffed and rolled your eyes, wincing as it hurt your head.

After chatting for a little while Ingrid began braiding your hair into the intricate patterns she had learned to do as a kid. She took care not to pull at your scalp too much, and the gentle motion of her fingers felt lovely on your head. You were more relaxed than you had been in months.

"Has Frido said anything to you?" Ingrid finally asked after a stretch of silence.

You raised your eyebrows, surprised at the question.

"No, we haven't spoken since before we went on international break."

Ingrid paused, but didn't press. You felt her desire to do so, however. You wondered if Frido had spoken to her at all.

#woso x reader #fridolina rolfö x reader #fridolina rolfö #fridolina rolfo x reader #alexia putellas x reader #barca femini x reader #barca femeni #barca x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #my writing #woso

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all-purpose-dish-soap · 1 day

Note

out of pure curiosity, how the hell does soap use mer reader as a sex toy👺

and I love reading about the mer au pls give us more

rants are fine, we accept them wholeheartedly🫶

right, purely out of curiosity ;) consider this a follow-up to Soap chasing you down and indulging his baser instincts with you.

Soap is fascinated with your hands. the strange little suction pads on your palms. the way you groom his scales, the way they feel on his skin. how do they work?

he begins to develop a healthy curiosity about how they might feel elsewhere.

Soap asks you not at all casually how thoroughly you clean the other mer. or yourself—do you skim over the more sensitive parts of your own anatomy? he's eager to know. his filthy mind cycles through image after image of teaching you how shark mer like to be touched.

or, fuck, of you showing him what makes you feel good.

you notice as you groom him how he pays such close attention. the muscles in his lower stomach twitch when you brush your hands over the front of his tail.

seeing him that way rouses your curiosity, too. maybe he's right. maybe you do need to clean him more thoroughly.

⬇ nsfw, monster dicks, merman sex under the cut ⬇

you run your hands up and down his members (two, remember), disguising your perverse interest as innocent dedication to your craft. you're just doing your job, right? you’re certainly not getting anything out of this. not at all. no thoughts in your sweet head.

still. you’re not as smart as you think you are if you believe this ends any other way than him fucking you like a fleshlight.

it takes so little effort for him to wrap his hands around your hips and maneuver you where he wants you. he brushes his thumbs over the sensitive notch at the front of your tail, the subtle slit becoming more flushed the more arousal floods your body. his eyes zero in.

handling you like the sex toy you are, he pulls you closer and nudges himself in. you squeak, feeling the stretch--but you're not worried about taking all of him. you were built to service big mer. of course you can take it <3

you're happy to let him use you and he’s starving to finally take what he wants. he moves you up and down on one of his cocks. the other rubs over that sensitive region, scraping the outside of your pussy until you’re speaking in tongues.

you’re dizzy, not only caught up in the physical sensation, but also the oxytocin-laced high of how much pleasure you’re giving him. how much he wants this from you.

he watches where your bodies connect--the way you grip him--and then the way your eyes droop with drunken pleasure.

you're so rapturously happy with how much he likes this. how valuable you are right now--it's intoxicating. and the way he praises you--not with words, but implicitly, with the way he groans and his hands tighten, the way he squeezes you bruisingly hard and spills his spend into your body.

you're fulfilling your purpose this way.

...

more mer au /more Soap / masterlist tag

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studioghibelli · 2 days

Text

right person, wrong time.

| a joel miller x reader

summary: you had loved him since you met him. as the years pass, he never leaves your mind, and the next time you see him- he's someone else's.

warnings: a lot of angst, professor!joel, aunt's husband!joel, age gap (unspecified), no outbreak!au,cheating, literally just angst i am not sorry y'all i'm sick and want people to suffer too ok thanks by love u bitchez (jk obvs for legal purposes)

author's note: for @janaispunk's 1.5k celebration! enjoy "kissing in the rain" with joel miller.

The chilling rain was pattering against the cold car window, the heavy hand of December tugging at the wind outside. Your taxi driver was blabbering on about something or another, but you were too focused on the here and there of what was about to come.

Of the absolute shit show that was about to go down in your older brother's home.

Family Christmas in cold, lonely, crowded New York City. It was supposed to be wonderful, wasn't it? The thought made you want to throw up.

You weren't looking forward to this year's holiday season. Not one bit.

The Facebook posts were engrained into your head. They sat there, sizzling like raw meat on a grill, burning alongside the nasty coals of resentment until they were scorched like charcoal. The longer you thought about them, the worse the storm raging around in the rooms of your mind grew.

You unlocked your phone, staring down at the screen that it had been settled on for hours.

Your aunt- beautiful eyes, dazzling smile- standing in front of the Empire State Building with a handsome, and familiar, man behind her, his arms around her waist, and a subtle grin pressed to his mouth.

207 likes.

"You two are so cute together!" An Aunt Linda typed.

"OMG. Who's the Stud Muffin?" A Tiffany Hollis asked.

Fourteen heart eyes and thirty two green heart emojis from your nearly-senile grandmother.

"AHHHHHHH. Is this the guy you were telling me about? He is HAWT!" From none other than your dear mother.

You felt the familiar bubbles of jealousy brewing within your stomach. You stared at the screen until your eyes burned with the familiarity of tears, until your stomach acid was climbing and crawling up your throat. You wanted to vomit. You wanted to scream.

But when all was said and done, all you really did was press your lips together and toss your phone into your purse, shoving it all down deep inside of you.

"Is this the correct address, miss?" The driver asked, stopping the cab outside of a brick walled house. The golden hue of light twinkled out from every window, and the sound of old school Christmas music filled your ears as you opened the door.

"Yes, thank you sir." You handed him a twenty as he helped you grab your suitcases. "Happy Holidays." You chimed as happily as you could manage, walking towards the entrance of your brother's apartment.

Your whole nervous system was aflame as you stepped into the elevator. You had no clue what awaited you, but you knew whatever it was, it was going to be awkward, and it was going to be hard.

No one knew the truth. Not your aunt, not the handsome man in the photo, not your mother. And if they did, all hell would break loose.

For that man was none other than Joel Miller. Your former teacher, mentor, and most importantly to note- your old lover. You and Joel had spent many nights together, studying, fucking, talking. He taught you so many things about yourself, and entered in to your world exactly when you needed it.

In one of the darkest and most uninspired eras of your adult life, he filled it with joy and light. He sparked your interest in philosophy, introduced you to music you had never heard before, and helped you come in to your own as a young woman navigating the world for the first time.

Joel was there for you while you struggled with your mental health concerning your college graduation, he was there to help you pick out master's degree programs, he was there to comfort you when your childhood dog was put down and you couldn't be there- case in point, Joel was always there for you.

For three years of your life, he was always by your side.

Until he left.

Five Years Prior

"-And when we look to Nietzsche, many wrongly label him as a nihilist. If you are truly daft enough to believe his works are that of a nihilist, you need to learn to read better. Which is a shame considerin' y'all got into one of the best universities in the country.”

Scattered laughter echoed throughout the wood paneled room.

It was fall semester at the small liberal art's college you attended, and you had chosen Introductions to Existentialist Philosophy because you loooved philosophy.

Not.

In all truth, you were dragged in there by your best friend who refused to take it alone, and ended up staying in the class.

Not because of the subject matter of course, but because of the professor.

Dr. Joel Miller.

A rugged academic, a silent brute, and above all- an absolute dreamboat of a man.

The moment you had laid eyes on him, everything changed. You had never felt that way about anything or anyone so quickly. In a moment's notice your entire world was turned upside down. He snuck in to your dreams, trapped inside your brain like a life-sucking tadpole. You thought of him at dinner, while you were doing homework, when you went out with friends- he was everywhere all the time when it came to your thoughts.

And if you didn't do something about it, you were going to lose your mind.

So, you put on your favorite outfit, made sure your hair looked perfect, and made your way to his office for a one-on-one talk concerning your academic performance.

"I just want to know if there's anything I can do to stay on track better." You had lied straight through your teeth while you were emailing him. "Your class is important to me, and I want to make sure I excel." Another lie.

At the end of the day it didn't matter how hard you tried to look good for him, you ended up soaked to the bone by the time you reached his door, a stray rainstorm thundering down on you on your way there.

You knocked, teeth chattering, mascara running, sniffling to yourself as you blew hot air onto your hands. You honestly weren't entirely sure why you were still going through with your plan, considering the current state you were in, but something in your guts was telling you to keep going. Something deep within you just.... knew.

"Come in!" He shouted from the other side, and you heard the clanking of a keyboard as he typed away at his laptop.

You took in a deep breath, steadying yourself against the door frame.

You can do this. You can.

And you did.

You pushed the door open with a smile, and when he looked up at you, his eyebrows slowly raised.

"You're wetter 'n a water slide, girl." Oh fuck. Your knees were already weak. "Sit down, I've got a blanket around here somewhere."

"Oh, no I couldn't possibly-"

"Sit." He ordered sharply, before sending you a softer smile. He stood behind you, draping a blanket around your shoulders, before walking back to his desk. "They've invented these new things called Umbrellas. You might be interested in one." Joel teased, and you couldn't help but smile.

"Oh, have they? This is my first day off the compound, and Papa forbade me from keeping up to date with the news." You joked back. Something panged within your belly. What if he didn't like your humor? What if you sounded stupid?

You slowly looked up, and Joel was smiling at your joke. "Good sense of humor." He quipped, before grabbing his glasses that hung off his shirt. "Let me just pull up your grades here, then we can begin."

"Yes sir." You whispered. Joel cast a glance your way at the words, clearing his throat as he shuffled around in his seat.

"Alright, says here you've got a 97% in my class. I... well. Um, alright now. You did say you were lookin' to stay on track in my class, right?"

You felt your face grow hot. If only you were a worse student.

"Yes?" You squeaked.

"I don't know what to tell you, darlin'. Seems like you're pretty on track to me."

You closed your eyes for a moment, sucking in a sharp breath.

"What I'm about to say is going to...well, it's not going to be- some might- I- okay, so-fuck." You groaned.

"Come on now girl, spit it out."

Fine.

"Would you go on a date with me?"

When you garnered up enough courage to open your eyes and look at his reaction to your question, you were met with a grin. "You didn't have to do all that in your email, you know. Could've just stopped on by and asked."

"Oh. You're not going to kick me out? Yell at me? Tell me to get lost?" You were completely surprised, shocked beyond belief.

"Have I yet?" Joel asked softly, and you shook your head no. "Then I don't think I will." He took in a deep breath, picking up his cup of coffee to take a long drink, no doubt thinking to himself.

You sat there trying to catch your breath, unsure of where this sudden burst of confidence, of forwardness, came from.

Perhaps it was the universe.

"Look- I would say no... to anyone else. But..." He trailed off for a moment, his eyes tracing over your features. Joel swallowed something that became stuck in his throat, shaking his head. "But somethin' about you- I don't know. I don't know what it is."

You couldn't help the smile that had stretched across your face. "Okay, great." Were the only words you could manage to breathe out.

"How about we go downtown, away from wanderin' eyes? There's a fantastic bookstore there, and a great Mexican restaurant, if that interests you."

"Yes, yes it does. One hundred percent. Um... when?"

"I'm free now."

"Me too." You closed your eyes for a moment, unable to believe that all of this was coming to fruition.

When you opened your eyes, you were standing at the door of your brother's place, Christmas boxes in hand. You were coaching yourself on what to say when you saw Joel.

"Hi, nice to meet you. My name is... no, no. That wouldn't work."

"Oh! You must be new around here- no, dammit! This isn't a workplace. Fuck."

"Hey there, silver fox! Do I know you from somewhere? Like the six thousand times we've fucked? No, no. UGHH!" You screamed out right as the door was opening, and a group of people in the foyer stopped talking, all turning to look at you in unison as your mother fully opened the door.

You stood there like a deer in front of the headlights of a car, too stunned to speak. Hopefully, if the Holiday Spirits were on your side, they would have not heard any of what you just said.

"Oh!" She pulled you in to a tight hug, and soon you were flooded with lavender perfume and hugs from all sorts of relatives. "Your siblings are in the kitchen, grandparents are on their way. We're so happy to see you!"

You smiled, dropping your backs at the entrance. "Yeah, me too." You lied through a dazzling smile, taking off your scarf and hat.

"How has Austin been treating you?"

"Who?" You asked, looking up as you were kicking off your boots.

"Austin.... Texas?"

You could have slapped yourself in the forehead. "Oh-oh, yeah. Austin is great. Not cold like here!"

"It's so funny, you know. Aunt Marie's new boy toy- oops, did I say that? I'm so bad. He's definitely something though, rawr." Your mom giggled through the rim of her wineglass as you took off your layers.

"Mom!"

"Sorry, sorry. Like I was saying, Marie's new boyfriend is from Austin too. Maybe you know each other!"

"That's great, mom."

"Do you want to go meet him?"

"Can I take my things upstairs first?"

"Oh, don't be silly. It'll only take two minutes!" She exclaimed with a tipsy smile.

You stopped, staring at her for a moment. If you resisted, she may think something was up. If you went ahead and met this 'stranger', perhaps you could just get it over with and spend the rest of the night with an upset stomach and a glass full of whatever liquor you could tolerate.

"Fine. Fine."

You followed her, feet dragging behind with every step you took, until you reached the den. You saw your father sitting on a leather couch with a cigar and a glass of bourbon, accompanied by your aunt, your brother, a cousin, and him.

Thank the Heaven's above he wasn't looking up.

You were about to vomit all over the place. Your ears were ringing, fingers numb- oh, God. How were you going to do this?

The voice of someone or another made you come down from your thoughts, and that's when you were met with his gaze.

Just like Pavlov's dog you felt the familiar hug of warmth coursing through your veins at the sight of those honeyed eyes, knees buckling- with nerves or affection- you weren't quite sure. You grasped ahold of your father's arm as he went to hug you, holding on for dear life.

"Whoa there!" He laughed, holding you steady. "You drunk already?"

"Um..." You were doing everything you could to blink back tears. "I-"

Your dad pulled you in to a tight hug, standing by you as you held on to his arm. Joel stood up from his chair abruptly, his bourbon spilling on his gray sweater.

"Oh no, honey! Your cashmere." Your aunt spoke, before turning to you. "Hey there niece! Come give me a hug." You wobbled over to her, eyes wide and lips parted, your heart beating so hard against your chest you would be surprised if they couldn't hear it.

"H-Hi." You hugged her lightly, pulling away. For a long moment you stared at her, and a sudden urge to slam your fist across her face overtook you.

The countless thoughts of her and Joel, hugging, kissing, fucking, going to bookstores together, talking late at night- every horrible scenario you had tried to drown out for months filled your head and poured out of your ears like locomotive steam, and you were unsure of where to put all of this anger you felt.

So you gritted your teeth, slowly turning to him.

He was beautiful. He always had been. His broad shoulders pulled his sweater taut against his flesh, and a familiar golden necklace dangled from his neck, reflecting the absinthe lamp of the room.

You had given him that necklace. Your eyes filled with tears, and you quickly blinked them away. Not quick enough for Joel to miss- his face flashed with a pang of hurt, of guilt.

"I-I'm.... I'm-" You tried to introduce yourself, each time choking over your throat. It retracted like you were choking, closing in on itself each time you tried to form any sort of thought.

"Spit it out!" Your brother called with a laugh.

"We know he's attractive, but there's no need to be scared!" Marie laughed, and you saw a subtle wince prick at the corner of Joel's eyes.

You finally said your name, as quickly as you could.

Joel extended his hand, and you shook your head at him in a silent form of disbelief.

"I'm Joel." He spoke quietly, curtly, sadly. You reached out with a shaking write, and his warm, calloused palm wrapped around your own. When he went to let go, his fingers dragged down your knuckles, across the ring you wore on your middle finger that he had given you many moons ago, the ring that matched the charm on his necklace.

"Okay, I'm going.... I'm going to go and put my things away."

You pushed your way out of the room and ran up the stairs, gasping for air once you got to the hallway. You sobbed out loud, your hand covering your mouth as you fell to the carpet, rocking yourself against the dry wall. You had never been more thankful for loud, obnoxious Christmas music before.

"Thank you, Mariah Carey." You muttered, throwing your head back against the wall as you wiped off your cheeks.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." You whispered, the back of your hand dragging across your nose. "Fuck."

You stood back up with a vicious sniffle, grabbing your bag and tossing them onto your bed that was a few feet away. Closing the door to your bedroom slowly, you fell face first into the mattress, screaming into it. You weren't sure what emotion was overtaking you the most. Sadness? Rage? Guilt?

There was a knock at your door.

"Go away mom!" You called out.

"Ain't your momma."

You gasped out at the sound of Joel's voice, slowly standing to your feet. It must have taken you five minutes to reach the door, your whole body moving in slow motion against the caution your brain was screaming out.

When you opened the door he quickly stepped in, leaving you no time to process what was happening. He locked the door behind the two of you, his hands falling to his hips as he stood and stared down at you.

You didn't have the courage to meet him face to face, instead staring at the golden stain that had stained across his chest.

"Oh no, your cashmere." You bitterly mocked the voice of your aunt, finally looking up at him through wet lashes. "Why are you here?"

"Because your aunt and I-"

"I meant here, Joel. In my room."

He blinked a few times, taking in a quiet breath. "I ain't too sure why."

"Wha... okay." You threw your arms up in silent resignation, turning your back to him as you began unpacking your suitcase. "Then leave."

He was quiet for a long moment, before you felt a palm on your shoulder.

"Look at me, darlin'." Joel's voice was soft. He was... pleading with you.

Tears welled into your eyes again. "I can't." Your voice cracked, nails digging into your palms. "I can't." An ugly sob left you, and soon his arms were tight around you.

"Shh, s'alright now. Shh." He rocked you in his arms, his palms dragging up and down your back. "Shh, it's okay."

"It's not." You whimpered. "It's not." You pushed yourself away from him, stumbling towards the balcony. "I need some fresh air."

You stepped out onto the porch, holding on to the rails.

It was freezing, and rain was soaking you to the bone, but you had to breathe in something other than his cologne. His cologne. His woody scent that had burned its imprint in to your nostrils, never to leave.

Joel walked beside you, taking your hand.

"I didn't know she-"

"I know."

"I would never do that to you-"

"I know, Joel."

"Please look at me." He begged, and you couldn't help but look up at him. His hands moved to your face, his dark eyes full of sadness.

"Joel?" You asked quietly, a bought of worry crashing over you at his sudden silence.

"I-" He stopped himself, and you saw the tears growing in his eyes. "Every day I think about you. Every single day."

You nodded. "I do too, Joel."

"You were.... I loved you. So much. More than myself. And I- well, it took me so long to realize how selfish I was being. You're so young, you have so many possibilities ahead of you, you know?"

"Joel, I-"

"Let me finish." He whispered, his rough thumb brushing over the height of your cheekbone. "Please, let me finish. I have to."

You nodded, a shiver snapping through your body.

"And I just couldn't stop thinkin' about what would happen if we kept goin'. I was scared. I was scared of stoppin' you from fulfillin' your dreams, scared of tyin' you down. I'm an old man, honey, and I'm only gettin' older, and I just... it was selfish of me to take you away from what's supposed to be the best years of your life. Hell, give it another decade or two and you'd be takin' care of me, wipin' my ass and spoon feedin' me." He let out a sad laugh, and you followed suit, shaking your head.

"For what it's worth, Joel, I never...I never saw it like that."

"I know. I know you didn't. You never saw the bad in me. You're so patient, so kind, so.... just, you're everythin' I ever wanted, who I had always been dreamin' about."

"Then why... if- I just. I don't understand. I would have stayed with you, even when you got old and grumpy- grumpier." You corrected yourself with a sniffle and a laugh, wiping both the tears and rain off your cheek. "Why leave it all?"

"You say that now, but thing's always end up turnin' out differently. Right person, wrong time. Just like everybody always says."

Joel pushed a strand of wet hair behind your ear, a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever known."

"Please..." You let out a soft whimper, your bottom lip quivering.

"Don't give me none of that now, honey." Joel dragged his thumb across your lip. "Don't waste no more tears on me."

"Can't make any promises."

Joel rested his forehead against yours, his liquor stained breath fanning hot across your face. Your arms wrapped around his waist as he held your face, his eyelashes brushing against your own.

"Let me kiss you." You whispered, chewing on the inside of your cheek. "One last time."

Joel nodded in agreement, his plush lips molding in to yours perfectly, the way they always had, the way they always would. You kissed him deeply, with a hunger you had never known before and a sadness you had never felt before, his sweater bunching up between your fingers. Joel let out a quiet grunt into your mouth, his fingertips imprinting upon your cheek as he pulled you closer.

If he could, he would have morphed your bodies together from this kiss, never to be apart.

But he couldn't.

This was goodbye.

His tongue swept across your lip and you parted your mouth, your tongues tangling together, tasting, exploring, tangling up together in a maelstrom of emotion neither of you were prepared to feel. With the cold rain pouring down, chilling you straight to the core, the dichotomy of heat and ice made your chest compress, the wind swirling around your bodies, nearly freezing you together.

You wouldn't mind being frozen against him, you wouldn't mind thawing out together beneath the spring sun, only to do it all again the next time Winter approached.

But you couldn't.

This was goodbye.

You both pulled away at the same time, and you couldn't help the cry that escaped you, the realization that you would never feel him again surging through your blood.

"None of that." He whispered, pulling you in for a tight hug. "None of that." His hand held on tightly to yours, his fingers tracing shapes across your fingers as he soaked in your face.

Your teeth chattered, and you walked towards the entrance back into your room.

"Goodbye, Joel." You whispered, your lip catching between your teeth. It was a stupid thing to say, considering you would see him at every family gathering. He wasn't actually going anywhere.

But he knew what you meant. He knew the weight your words carried.

"Goodbye, darlin'." He held on to your hand as long as he could, your fingers untying as you walked inside and out into the hall, heading for the bathroom.

Joel heard the shower running, and he walked back inside, his knuckles dragging across the bathroom door as he walked past. With a heavy sigh he went to go change, making his way back downstairs.

You spent the rest of the night trying to feel better, but an anchor had lodged itself into your chest. Just as you predicted, you drowned yourself in cranberry mojito's and tried to find solace in karaoke with your siblings, stories from your grandma, anything you could get your hands on, really. But nothing helped. Each time you thought you were feeling just a bit better, you would catch his gaze, and the world around you would come to a complete stand still.

It took months to start to feel at least a little bit better, yet the thought of Joel always lingered in the back of your mind. He would visit your dreams, sit with you and your thoughts at breakfast, dance with you to the music you would play while cooking. He haunted you like a ghost, and to be honest- you would rather a ghost be following you than the echo of his memory.

After all was said and one, you truly thought you were managing to cope well, until you got a letter in the mail from your aunt.

You are cordially invited to the wedding of Joel Miller and Marie-

You didn't remember much after that.

341 notes · View notes

merakiui · 2 days

Text

angel/angler.

yandere!azul ashengrotto x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, nsfw, stalking, non-con, non-consensual photography, chikan/groping (train molestation), obsession, kidnapping/captivity, drugging, violence, blood, death (or is it??), azul's insecurities and low self-esteem, azul’s not-so-subtle breeding kink, implied disordered eating, reader's height isn't described, but it's written that azul is taller note - to obsess is to hunger like an angler from the deep sea. living his entire life in pitch-black solitude, entranced by an angel's halo; his only purpose is to find the body that will become his lifeline and, one day, his cemetery.

entry 1: 18 April, 20XX.

For anonymity’s sake, I’ve chosen to write using a vague pronoun. Additionally, this diary will be a record of my thoughts so that I can keep my mind and senses intact. In my youth, I was prone to terrible fits of self-destructive rage, and as a result they suggested I write my feelings down to prevent any outbursts. I’m not very physical towards others. Rather, it was the harm I posed to myself that fostered concern.

But this space isn’t for my own views on myself. It’s about someone else.

I have a confession: I’ve fallen in love with you from the train, and I’ve been in love with you for the four months I’ve come to know you.

You wear perfectly pressed suits, heels of a modest height, tights, and pencil skirts that cut just at your knees. I want to touch you, but if I do you might stop wearing skirts altogether and then I’ll never see your legs again. I suppose trousers aren’t so unattractive. They’re appealing in their own right. Everything looks good on you, though. (Nothing would look even better.)

You work in an office building. I’m not sure which floor, but I’ll know soon enough. I wanted to follow you inside, but there’s a security guard in the lobby. He always greets you, and you always smile and chat with him. You’re a kind person, so I let this pass without incident. But I can’t lie to these pages and say it’s not troublesome when I watch his gaze linger longer than it needs to.

I’d kill him, but then they’d employ a new guard and you’d make friends with him because you’re so kind. I don’t admire kind people. Rather, I find kindness to be a double-edged blade (Is that the correct phrasing? It’s different in my hometown. We say kindness is like pufferfish—harmless until it’s provoked and then it becomes poisonous). It’s not that I look down on kind people. I just think you shouldn’t be so quick to befriend the world in its entirety.

After plenty of observation, I’ve learned that you often leave your building to get lunch by yourself. This is what you’ve eaten in the week:

Monday - A salad at a popular café. Iced tea because it was a sunny day. A tiny cheesecake for dessert. It was blueberry.

Tuesday - A wrap of some kind. Chicken? Or was it vegetarian? Sweet potato fries. Water.

Wednesday - You didn’t leave your building. Were you at work today?

Thursday - Another salad. Water. Same café. No tiny cheesecake.

Friday - You went to lunch with that guard. I only remember my irritation and so I’m afraid I can’t make note of your meal for today. He looks at you like an obsessed puppy waiting for its owner to give it attention. I want to pluck his eyes from his sockets so he’ll never look at you in that way again.

You lead a healthy lifestyle, but I can’t help wondering if you’re eating well. Did someone say something about your figure? I’ll eviscerate them for you and then they can see how much it hurts when unnecessary scrutiny is thrown around.

It’s quite late. I want to sleep, but thinking about you has my body wide-awake. I wonder if your mouth tastes like the moonlight shining in through my window. I wonder if your body is soft like mine… Of course it is. A silly, irrational thought. You’re much warmer than me. This is just a theory. I’ve yet to feel and confirm for myself. I will in the foreseeable future.

Before we part ways, I want you to know that I’m not very good at cooking. I’ve picked up a few books and hope to learn. I’m going to practice so that I can feed you better meals one day. Salads are the worst. Fried chicken is the true meal of heaven. I’m certain you would share this sentiment.

If I were to be condemned to a last meal like those serial killers on death row, I’d ask for fried chicken. Knowing you, you’re too good to kill anyone. In this hypothetical, supposing you’re a heinous criminal, your last meal would be something healthy. Do you even like those salads, or are you forcing yourself because you must? I understand calorie-counting well enough, but if there’s one thing to enjoy in life it should be food.

I suppose that makes me a hypocrite. I ought to take my own advice.

Oh. I’m starting to grip my pen with more force and the lines have become shaky. I usually break my writing utensils if my focus strays. I’ll stop here for today. Ink is a pain to clean.

AA.

The morning rush is your greatest enemy.

Jack Howl, the lobby’s security, has suggested giving you a ride on numerous occasions. “It’s part of the reason I got my license,” he explained once, “so that I can protect those who work in this building from the rush. Not like you have to accept my offer. It’s just…convenient for both of us. Again, I don’t care what you do.”

(He does. You see through his gruff surface.)

According to him, the morning and night rushes bring out the worst kinds of characters.

But isn’t that everywhere? you think as you peer out the window, watching the city come into clarity.

Like every morning, the train car is more crowded than a sardine tin. You’re used to being pressed up against other commuters, pinned to the window or between people. You’re flattered to know someone’s concerned, but nothing has happened yet. And why would it? It’s bright outside. No one would dare do something during the day. At least, not in a crowded area where anyone could see and hear.

I wonder what I should have for dinner. I still need to go shopping. My fridge is way too empty, you think, sighing. And I need to follow up with that one author. They’ve yet to get back to me about my edits. Perhaps we should meet in the office instead of through video call… And I also need to finalize that other style sheet after the last round of editing. And then another conference… There was something else. Was I scheduled to have lunch with an author? Or was that next week? I should check before—

The train shudders as it slides into the station. Someone brushes against you from behind. Their hand is pressed against the window just near your head. They steady themselves, their body so close to yours you can hear their staggered breathing.

“Ah. S-Sorry…”

It’s next week, right? I really should check once I get to my stop. This is going to eat me alive all day.

“Mhm,” you hum, waving dismissively.

The stranger standing behind you peels his hand away from the window. A sweaty palm print is left in its wake.

“We will be approaching the next stop shortly.”

Just one more and you’ll be getting off.

A pair of bright eyes blinks back at you in the reflection, watching the city just as you are.

entry 5: 22 April, 20XX.

I’m not a social person by any means. If I can avoid crowds, I usually do. An introvert’s paradise is best spent in the comfort of their own room, after all. But if you prefer outdoor dates I can become extroverted for your sake. There are lots of things I’m willing to do for your sake.

Which is why I’ve forced myself to tolerate the train. I loathe it. It’s cramped and uncomfortable. Most days I’m not even near you, and so all I can do is stare longingly from afar. I content myself with imaginary scenarios like in the books you edit. I’ve mentioned it sparsely in this diary, but you’re a brilliant editor. Most of the novels you work on aren’t exactly my taste, but there’s something to appreciate about them. Reading through them knowing your very eyes pored over these pages dozens of times before publication… I admire your work. Immense time and effort goes into all professions, especially ones that involve meticulous touches.

With this discussion of careers, you might wonder what I do for a living. I manage my own restaurant chain off-site. It must be shocking news for you to realize: your secret admirer is actually quite successful.

If I’m not able to provide an adequate life—no, more than that. If I cannot drown you in all of life’s luxuries, I should sooner throw myself on the beach and let this soft, wriggling body of mine dry out than settle for the barest of minimums. You deserve only the finest.

In fact, I have a room in my home dedicated to you. A private office in which you can write and edit in peace. It’s furnished with everything you’d ever need. I hope to gift it to you one day.

Remote work is very relaxing. (You’ll know this once you try it here.) When you’re boss, you work your own schedule. That’s why I’m able to fit our secret meetings into my weekly itinerary.

Today’s meeting was quite fortuitous. I felt like I’d won the lottery. Mostly because I was finally given the opportunity to be close to you. So close, in fact, that you didn’t even notice when I slid my phone under your skirt to take a few photos. Your undergarments are unexpectedly plain. Truthfully, I’m somewhat disappointed. I was hoping to learn your lingerie preferences. At the very least, I know your tights are sheer enough to show me the color of your panties.

I consider myself a connoisseur of many things, and I’ve done enough interior decorating in my time to become well-accustomed to color palettes. A fool would say your panties are red, but they’re actually maroon.

That same fool wouldn’t take another breath after glimpsing such a private side of you.

If you must know, my dear, I am excessively avaricious when it comes to the things I like. I have always been this way. I am a collector. A hoarder of secrets. I refuse to let others touch or take the things that belong to me, especially when they are wholly undeserving…

I’ve broken another pen. Thankfully, the mess wasn’t so extreme. Not-so-thankfully, I’ve lost my train of thought.

Ah. Right. Trains.

Today I rode the train, and I was standing right behind you. You were looking out the window, lost in your thoughts, and so you didn’t notice me. You must have seen my reflection, but I wear a mask and a hooded sweatshirt when I go outside. Perhaps it’s a touch embarrassing to admit, but I am very self-conscious of the way I look. Firstly, my eyes are too tired. I’ve read that many people are not fond of eyes with dark circles under them. Secondly, my face is average—unworthy of your love by my lofty standards. My hair never cooperates. My smiles never fit properly. My skin is too pale. My eyes are too blue and my pupils are abnormal. My weight is just a few kilograms above the average. I will work hard to bring it back down for your sake and for my own so that it won’t show. I prefer a slim waist, so I must stomach all manner of healthy foods for the weekend. What a pity… Wouldn’t it be wonderful if you could eat whatever you wanted without having to worry about caloric intake and numbers on a scale?

That aside, there are times in which my glasses sit crooked on my face and it’s a horrifying thought to imagine I walk around looking like that! As if I’ve rolled right out of bed with no regard for my appearance whatsoever!

Perhaps the both of us share one similarity. We are vain creatures who care too much about how we present ourselves to others.

Thus, I conceal myself so that you won’t judge me harshly should you look upon me. Not like you’d do that. You were so immersed in your head that you hardly paid any attention to your surroundings. You should be more careful. What if something were to happen and I wasn’t there to protect you?

The train stuttered to a halt at the first stop, and some fool bumped into me. I should thank them because I got to brush against you. You gasped softly. I watched your breath fog the window. I placed my hand just above your head and apologized softly, and you weren’t bothered in the slightest. Oh, how I envy your carefree nature.

As a result of that stranger’s mishap, I’ve learned something new. You wear perfume. Even with my mask, I could smell it. Strong and flowery, overwhelmingly sweet. Maybe you prefer these scents? I’m more partial to mature scents, but I admit there’s a certain charm to the scents you wear. I wish I knew the exact brand. There are dozens of perfumes with the same notes as the ones I picked up, but none can compare to the one you use. I want to be able to hold the bottle knowing it’s your favorite.

I’ve prattled enough. With the length of my entries, you’d assume I was this chatty beyond the page. I’m not. I only say as much as I think is necessary.

Once again, I’m having trouble falling asleep. I can’t stop thinking about you. I’m looking through the photos I snapped and the outline of your lips against your panties is lovely. I’m sure you’re just as soft and sweet inside as you are on the outside. If only I could experience it right now. My hand can’t replicate the softness or the wetness or the way you’ll probably clamp down when we finally make love.

I can only fantasize for now. What a pain.

AA.

“It’s going to rain today,” Jack tells you the minute you step through the lift doors into the lobby. He stands straight like a soldier, his shoulders squared and features set into something serious.

“Looks like it, huh?” You glance at the darkening sky outside, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Hopefully it rains after I get home. I didn’t bring an umbrella.”

“I’ll drive you.” He falls into step beside you. “It’s dark out and the station is—”

“It’s only five minutes away. I’ll be fine. I take this way all the time.”

Jack’s lip twitches into a grim frown. The beginnings of a sharp, pearly-white canine flashes at you as his mouth curls. “Fine,” he concedes with a huff. Awkwardly, he scratches the back of his neck and looks elsewhere. “Do what you want. I’m not forcing you or anything.”

You smile at him. “You’re very considerate, Jack. I appreciate the concern.”

He’s like a puppy. It’s really sweet.

“W-Wha—who said anything about concern?” His face is growing warmer by the second, thawing his external ice.

“I’ll be okay. It’s not even that dark out either.”

“Still…” He sighs and cards his hand through his hair. “You haven’t noticed anything weird lately, have you?”

“Anything weird?” You furrow your brows, suddenly confused.

“On your way home. Nothing out of the ordinary? It’s the same every day?”

“Mostly, yeah. Why? Did something happen?”

“No. Just wondering…” Jack looks past you then, searching for something you can’t seem to see. “You sure you don’t want a ride? I can walk you to the station. Protect you if anything or anyone—”

You force yourself to laugh. “Come on. You’re trying to scare me on purpose. This is because I told you I’m editing a horror novel, isn’t it?”

Jack doesn’t share in your humor. Instead, his frown tightens on his face.

“While I’m grateful you want to help, I really don’t want to put that on you. It’s not your job to chauffeur me around. I’d feel bad if I made you do that. So thank you, but I’ll have to decline.”

You turn swiftly on your heel before he can protest, striding out the door into the gloomy night.

When is it going to be summer? It’s way too chilly.

You burrow into your jacket as you beeline for the station. A brisk breeze blows through busy city streets. Even though there are still people out and about, it feels strangely desolate.

Jack’s heart was in the right place, but did he really have to phrase it like that?

You wrap your arms around yourself and hurry along. Your steps are in time with your pounding heart. A cold sweat beads along your forehead.

Relax. It’s nothing to get worked up over. I’m fine.

Crunch.

You whirl around, clutching your bag between your arms. There’s no one in sight. The city seems eerily quiet tonight.

Stop scaring yourself. Nothing’s there.

No, it’s not something that could make that sound—a noise akin to a footstep. That belongs to someone.

Is someone following you?

You aren’t going to wait around and find out. Now you’re jogging the rest of the way, your heels clicking against the pavement. Your breath comes in shaky heaves, and by the time you finally step into the station’s blinding fluorescents, adrenaline still vibrating through your veins, you notice the time.

My train—it’s already here! Thank you. Oh, thank you so much!

You rush through the station in a flurry, and the relief is tangible once you’re safe and sound inside the train car. You squirm through the throng of late-night commuters towards the window.

“Sorry. Excuse me. Pardon me,” you murmur as you navigate the crowded space.

You make it to the window just as the doors slide shut. Moments later, the train squeaks into motion.

I worked up such a sweat. I can’t believe I got so frazzled over something as small as a snapped twig…or whatever that was. It wasn’t a footstep. And if it was, it was probably my own.

You shake your head at your reflection.

Look at me, losing my mind all because I let someone’s words get to my head.

The stranger standing behind you sighs alongside you. You’re about to turn around, but it’s their hands on your waist that stop you. Your blood freezes. Your spine goes rigid.

“Excuse me? Um… C-Can I help you?”

You gasp, horrified, as the hands creep higher until they’re wrapped around your chest. The stranger squeezes almost curiously. Their breath catches on an eager hitch. You peer helplessly at the window. Two blue eyes blink back.

“Wait… Hold on—”

“It’s okay.” A man’s voice. Sweet and silky-smooth. A reassuring whisper. Only you can hear it with this invasively close proximity. It might as well be a drop in the ocean that is the rickety din of the train on the rails. You reach to grab his arms, hoping to pry him off. “I’m not going to hurt you. As long as you’re quiet…”

“No, you can’t. Please, sir. S-Stop… Don’t touch there.” Your fingers curl around his wrists. You squirm against him, your brain blanking.

This can’t be happening… There’s just no way…

Something stiff prods at your ass from behind. You yelp softly when he rubs himself against you. You try to catch sight of his features when you crane your neck, but all you get is a faceful of a dark hoodie. He’s tall enough to block you from the other passengers, his body caging yours against the window. One hand slides away from your chest to slip under your skirt. He gropes at your inner thigh; his fingers draw dangerously close to private territory.

“Sir—”

He inhales a dreamy breath. “Perfect,” he babbles, his words muffled by his mask. “So perfect. Warm… And soft. Just as I thought.”

There’s nowhere for you to run. Nowhere to hide. You’re trapped here with this fiend until you get off at your stop.

“We will be approaching the stop shortly,” the woman on the intercom says, but it doesn’t give you the relief you’re after.

Three more stops and then you’ll be at yours. Three more. Three. Your stop might as well be years away.

Two fingers trace the outline of your pussy through your panties. You’re grateful you’re wearing tights.

His breathing is heavy. He’s mumbling filth in your ear. You hardly register it over the static in your brain.

Gross. So gross. Stop it. Please stop. I don’t want this.

A whine bubbles low in your throat when he presses down against your clit. He caresses you through the fabric of your panties. You slump against the window with your palms on the glass. Your heart is in your throat. You feel sick and dizzy. It’s too hot in here. Everything is spinning. Your heart is picking up its pace. Your hands are starting to shake.

And there’s nowhere to go. No amount of begging will stop him. He’s all over you, pressed impossibly close—so close you think he’s trying to fuse his body to yours, becoming one mutual unit.

You want to scream, but you can’t find your voice. You can’t do anything. You can’t even think.

“Don’t be scared,” he murmurs, twining his fingers around your trembling ones. “It feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Mmh, no… No—stop. P-Please, sir, please stop.” You shudder against him, and a choked, broken sob rattles through your ribs.

He chuckles and squeezes your hand. His other circles your tender, sensitive clit, and the contact elicits a whimper from you. “Even though you’re making the cutest sounds? Aah, I wanna be inside you so badly… I’m sure it’s even softer there.”

You bite down on your bottom lip so hard that your teeth pierce the skin. A thin ribbon of blood dribbles down your chin. You refuse to give him that satisfaction. Even though your attempt to snuff your voice is successful, your body doesn’t seem to agree. It shakes in fear and arousal. When he presses against your panties next, he feels the growing damp spot.

That’s just a natural reaction, right? I’m not actually aroused by this. There’s no way!

Just when you think he might pursue further, he pulls back. His hips are still flush to your ass. You can feel his cock straining against the fabric. It’s gross and demoralizing. You’re nothing but a doll for him to get off to. Less than a person.

The train glides to a halt and the doors open. People exit and enter in a busy fashion. You stare out the window at your blurred surroundings.

When the train eases back into motion, you realize tears are welling in your eyes. They don’t fall. Not yet.

It isn’t until you get off at your stop, sprint the rest of the way home, hurry up into your apartment, and lock the door that the horror of it all finally catches up to you. You collapse to your knees and wail like you’ve just lost something precious—something you’ll never be able to get back.

You’ve never felt more dirty before.

entry 36: 4 May, 20XX.

I did it. I finally did it.

My hand is shaking; I’m so happy. No, I’m more than happy. I’m absolutely overjoyed!

You don’t know this about me yet, but I’m terribly envious. I suppose that’s why I could muster the confidence to touch you and hold you… Your body is so soft against mine. Every inch of you is beautiful. I wish I could have felt beneath your shirt, lifted your bra to see your bare breasts in the window’s reflection. This is quite the shameless admission. Even I, despite admiring you for so long, am loath to admit it.

You mesmerize me. I’m already flustered just thinking about the way your hand fit in mine when I held it… And you were aroused! I was so close to such a precious area, and you were wet for me and only me. I feel so overwhelmed. It’s a dream come true. You’re such an angel. My angel.

My dear, darling angel, I’m sorry for startling you. That was the only way, you see, and certain circumstances led me to that point. You must understand.

To be unfiltered about it, it was annoying seeing that security guard pester you. I had the strongest urge to kill him, but that’s not something you can do on a whim. Murder is like running a business, in a way. One misstep, a bad investment or a sliver of evidence left behind, and it might spell the end.

That’s besides the point. It’s hardly worth the time.

Regrettably, while on the train into the city, I noticed you were wearing trousers today. I was right. Last night was a once-in-a-lifetime event. A pity. Your legs in those sheer tights is a vision to behold. Luckily, I have enough pictures to satisfy the craving to see you in them. When you live with me, I’ll buy plenty of tights for you to wear around the house. That way you won’t have to worry if I rip them.

That aside, you’ve started looking over your shoulder more. You talked to that security guard longer than you normally do. It’s irritating. Quite frankly, it pisses me off.

I don’t want to be childish. I understand you’re stressed and nervous. Anyone would be. That’s normal. But I’m not going to hurt you. I even told you those exact words! I’m certain you would have calmed down if you could see my face. Unfortunately, I’m not very blessed in that department. I assure you my personality is far prettier…despite the ugly truths I’ve penned here.

But then those don’t matter when it comes to love. Even in love, couples are supposed to recognize and accept each other’s flaws. So it’s fine if I’m an ugly person. It’s fine if I’m a devil or something grotesque from the deepest trench in the sea. At least, in spite of such darkness, your halo will continue to light the way and I will always be lured in by your luminosity.

I can’t do much of anything right now and that has led me to feel increasingly itchy. I want to feel you again. Smell you. Touch you. I’d like to taste you next time. Part your legs or tear your skirt off and indulge in the space you keep hidden from me. I want to sink into your depths and know the shape of you just as you twist yourself to take the shape of me.

It’s just not enough. I desire more of you.

AA.

entry 40: 8 May, 20XX.

It’s been a few days. You haven’t taken the train since. Now you’re driven to and from work by that pest. I was overcome with such frustration yesterday that I slammed my hands down upon my desk and fractured my wrist. For the time being, until my wrist heals, I must wear this unsightly stabilizer-brace-thing and write carefully with my non-dominant hand. I like to consider myself ambidextrous, if only because it’s a talent I’m sure will impress you, as you seem to surround yourself with successful, talented people, but I must admit my lettering is rather…subpar.

It’s not as neat as I hoped it would be. Something to practice while my wrist heals, I suppose.

There’s only so much strain I can take, my angel. Are you really so afraid of me that you’ve chosen to rely on someone else to protect you? If it was funny, I’d laugh. But it’s not. It’s annoying. Must I chain you up by the throat so that you won’t run away? Must I cuff our wrists together so that neither of us can part ways? What must I do to ensure you’ll never leave me?

Every day I spend in solitude, you grow closer to everyone but me. It’s infuriating.

However, there are always silvers of hope to be found and exploited in misfortune. As a businessman, I know this well enough.

I can plan around this. I’ve taken a few photos of your house at every angle. It’s important to think ahead when making a calculated risk.

When you go to kidnap the love of your life, you must dress appropriately, no? Now should I wear a formal suit or something casual?

I have some time and plenty to look forward to.

AA.

Like always, early as usual, Jack is waiting for you below your apartment. You see his car from the window and light up at once.

It’s been two months since the incident on the train. Jack insisted you go to the police when you confided in him a week after the fact. But what could they do? A story isn’t evidence. Evidence is evidence. So to combat that, you’ve avoided public transport altogether. Jack drives you to and from work and anywhere else you need to go. You never knew him very well before this mess, and you regret not starting a friendship sooner. He’s everything you need right now: a friend, a listener, and someone you can trust and rely on.

Like always, he unlocks the door so you can put your things in the back. “It’s my turn to treat for lunch today, so let’s go somewhere you like.”

You shut the door and open the passenger side, sliding in seamlessly.

“There’s no need for that.”

Your heart skips. Your breath stumbles in your lungs. Your body tenses.

You finally look at the driver.

He’s wearing what appears to be an expensive collared shirt with a tie, but the top half is covered by the soft hoodie he’s thrown on over it. He has a mask like before, but there’s no denying his eyes. Bright and blue, deep and deceptive like the ocean, they blink back at you.

The door locks with a click.

You throw yourself at it in a useless effort to escape. The masked stranger seizes your wrist. You scream.

“There’s no need to be afraid. I-It’s only me! I won’t hurt you.” He tugs his mask down to his chin so that you can see the wobbly smile on his face. “Please don’t be scared…”

“Let go of me, you pervert!” You rip your arm free and reach for the door once more. “What the hell are you doing here?! W-Where’s Jack? Why are you—”

You choke around the rest of your words when he wraps his arms around you and yanks you over the seat towards him. You kick out like a deranged animal, breathing heavy and frantic, your eyes darting to and fro. The stranger manages to manhandle you into a chokehold despite the struggle. With his arm wrapped around your neck, he grabs a plastic water bottle with his free hand. Clumsily, he unscrews the cap and presses the lip of the bottle to your mouth.

“I’m sorry for being so rough, but I need you to drink this. Can you do that for me? Drink all of it.” As he says this, he tips the bottle and the strange liquid fills your mouth. You fight against his hold, doing everything you can to resist. He tightens his grip on you, dragging your body closer to his. “Swallow it, or I’ll slit your throat.”

Against your will, very shakily, you gulp down the solution. It tastes bitter and vile like medicine. A little salty.

“I didn’t want to frighten you, my angel, but this is the only way you’ll listen.” He swipes the tear threatening to spill from your eye. “You don’t have to cry. I’ll take you home and keep you safe. Just drink the rest of this and take a nap until we get there. That’s it. You’re almost done. I know it’s disgusting, but you have to drink it all, my love.”

“Why…” you sputter, coughing. “Why are you doing this?”

“Why?” He blinks at you as if the answer is obvious. “Because I love you.”

You can’t understand the logic there. You don’t want to.

Slumping against the seat, boneless and disturbed, you tremble when he leans over to buckle you in. And you continue to do so until you’re pulled into sleep.

Two blue eyes follow you in your dreams, sticking to your body like old gum under a school desk. In sleep, you feel his hands on you—clinging and cloying like tentacles and the stench of brine, all-enveloping.

entry 179: 24 September, 20XX.

Summer is winding to a close. The last few vestiges of warmth are slipping away. Today’s weather was crisp. Autumn is approaching.

It’s been a difficult few months. I’ve catalogued my process in the time you’ve spent with me, locked away in our bedroom. I must keep you chained to the bed for the time being. It’s long enough to lead into the bathroom. Until I can trust you, this is the arrangement at present.

They’re still searching for you, albeit not as frantically and frequently. I hope they assume you’ve met some grisly end so that I can finally shelve that anxiety and move on with my life. While I’m relieved it wasn’t as messy as I thought it’d be, I’m just a touch disheartened. I would have loved to watch the light fade from that guard’s eyes.

But that just wasn’t feasible or smart. Besides, what else am I to use my current fortune for, if not the props needed for that day? You call it kidnapping, and while that term is technically true I prefer something sweeter. A reunion of sorts.

There’s nothing of note to discuss. You haven’t accepted your new home or me yet, so I will continue to wait. I can be patient. I must be if this relationship is going to work (and it will).

I don’t particularly believe in soulmates. Rather, I find the concept to be foolish. Fate does not dictate an entire life. It is the decisions you make along the way that shape your paths. Just like in my favorite board game. I’d like to play it with you. Although I must admit I already know how our life goes. I have a few routes in mind.

You look at me with such scalding contempt when I imply we ought to start a family, and even though I’ve been victim to that look so many times it doesn’t burn any less. You just can’t see how good this is for you yet.

What else are we to do with our time if not use it to fill quiet halls with the pitter-patter of tiny feet? I have a few names in mind, but for now we’ll take it one day at a time. I’m a patient man despite my temper.

AA.

entry 257: 11 December, 20XX.

Exciting news! Though it may seem small, we’ve reached an understanding. Or so I suspect. You’re not so averse to me anymore. In fact, we take baths together, eat meals together, watch TV together, play board games together… There are so many things we do together as a couple and so, despite the encroaching winter frost, my days have become warmer! Just last night you allowed me to sleep beside you on our bed, and I held you close and you kissed me and I felt like the luckiest man alive.

Finally! Genuine progress!

I won’t delude myself and say that you may finally love me in the way I love you, but a start is a start. I admit I couldn’t help myself. I returned your kiss tenfold, all over your face, down the column of your throat to your collarbone. I was gentle and careful. I didn’t rush.

I like to play experienced in all fields, but even I can’t act perfectly. How should I describe our first time without all of the shameless vulgarity? Perhaps it doesn’t matter. Sex is sex no matter how you try to embellish it. Filthy and imperfect, sweaty and sticky, more effort and exercise than I realized.

You pulled me in close, pursued my mouth with the same want in mine, and it was more cathartic than anything I’ve ever known. Oh, to be kissed by the love of your life! I wasn’t aware such joy existed.

You palmed me through my pajamas and told me you wanted a family—that the idea of raising a little one was perfectly charming. I admit it’s an alluring thought I’ve had long before you lived with me. I’ve always thought you would look very enchanting while pregnant. I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands to myself. Even though it isn’t official yet, it doesn’t hurt to call myself your husband. In my mind and heart, we’re married. It may not seem so to you yet, but it will be.

Back to the matter at hand. Hearing that you wanted a child with me made me happy. I can’t remember if I cried. I must have because you pulled me in close and you, lying beneath me, wiped at my face and told me you wanted me to give you a child. And who am I if not the most doting, most benevolent husband? I’d do anything for you.

This must be what a predator feels when they tear into prey: a rapture so absolute and all-consuming that it covers their brain like a cotton shroud and renders every other action a hazy instinct.

It was a blur even though I was sure I moved slowly. Clothes weren’t exactly shucked. They were in the way and we had a singular goal, far too focused to remove them completely. Thus, they were pulled up, down, to the side, in whichever way provided easiest access. I closed my hands around your breasts and they feel so much softer without the obstruction of clothes.

Perhaps, rather than humans, we’re just anglerfish. Hungry for each other, using the other, a voracious relationship full of mutual benefits. If I could, I’d love to live inside you. I want nothing more than to press myself close enough to feel your heart beat alongside mine. To feel rushing blood. To turn myself inside-out just to satisfy you. Give you every little thing I can offer—brain and body—and we’d cleave through sunless waters as one, together forever.

The word ‘love’ is not large enough to truly encapsulate all that I feel for you.

My forehead pressed to yours. You kissed me once. I felt sloppy. I was sloppy. Inexperienced. We both are. Your hand wrapped around me. I told you it was okay, to do it at your own pace, to tell me if it hurts. But you kissed my every anxiety away, and in just a few strokes we were connected. Perhaps I died then and I’m still dead now.

Maybe I’m writing this from the moon or the deep, dark sea. Maybe all of this is just a long dream and I’m not even human. Maybe I’m the anglerfish stuck to your side, latched on with my sharp teeth, our lives forever intertwined. You taste of fruit and blood and every beautifully painful thing in this world.

For the first time in the many months we’ve lived together, you called me by my name. You gasped it as you curled your legs around my waist and clung to my chest, your arms draped over my neck, nails in my back. You chanted it like a song. I must have done the same with yours.

However, no amount of carnal euphoria can change the fact that I still have my reservations about unchaining you.

A deliberation for another day. It’s time to cook dinner. I’ve improved lots in the time we’ve known each other. You help around the kitchen as well. Harmless things like stirring batter or mixing a salad. I can’t trust you with actual food prep for reasons I’m sure are obvious and understandable. I try to create balanced meal plans. Now that I’m no longer eating alone and surviving off of misery, I want to show you that I’m both a great chef and a conscientious eater.

AA.

You watch the seasons shift outside the bedroom window and there’s nothing you can do.

You live life chained like a prisoner and there’s nothing you can do.

You eat off paper plates with the same utensils made for toddlers and there’s nothing you can do.

You let the same man whose touch was once so covetous pet you all over with his hands and mouth and there’s nothing you can do.

You’re stuck here forever and there’s nothing you can do.

There are highs higher than the clouds and then there are lows lower than the sea. You oscillate between these temperaments, a body thrown around on rocky waves. How you’ve yet to sink and drown for good, you’re not sure.

Today’s low has brought Azul to his knees. You stand over him, gripping the knife in a shaky hold. Chopped vegetables scatter in a rainbow on the floor. He had been chopping them so methodically, so wrapped up in pleasant conversation with you, that he hadn’t been expecting the retaliation. The blade is freshly sharpened. The perfect weapon. The perfect opportunity. Freedom just after this final hurdle.

Freedom that comes with its burdens—with a child and the law and the media and… And then what? A life of loneliness. A life spent working through mountains of trauma. A life in which you can never look at the train again.

Two blue eyes blink up at you. For the first time, Azul looks scared and weak—a small, pitiful thing. For the first time, you have him trapped beneath your thumb.

You want to bring the knife down and put an end to these cyclical days. You want to crush his spirits in the same way he crushed yours. You want him to know pain so brutal it rots him from the inside.

But you can’t. You want to and in an ideal scenario devoid of fear you would. But you can’t.

You dig your heel palms into your eyes and sob. “I can’t! I’m sorry. I… I can’t do it!”

Azul deflates with a deep sigh. “Oh… Oh, my angel, it’s all right. I forgive you. You’re just a little confused. A little emotional—I get it. We all have emotional moments. I’m not upset.”

“But I—I almost… I was going to—”

“You didn’t. You didn’t, my love, and that’s what matters.”

He beckons you to his height; you lower to your knees. The knife is still clutched in your hands. He looks between it and you, as if weighing which is more dangerous. Volatile emotions or a blade. Maybe both.

Azul wraps his arms around you and rubs your back consolingly. “It’s okay. I’m not angry.”

You sniffle, but the tears won’t stop flowing. “Still… I almost did such a horrible thing to you. I could’ve hurt you—k-killed you!”

“My dear, it’s okay.” He kisses the top of your head, tucking you beneath his chin. “I forgive you.”

Your fingers tighten around the handle. “You do?”

“I do. I always will.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“Angel—”

You turn the sharpened point inwards and slam it into his side, just below his rib. It pierces through soft flesh. You pull away just in time to see hurt and betrayal flash across his face, hot like the tears you’re now drying.

Shakily, his movements unsteady, he reaches for the handle. His fingers dance across it, assessing the reality of the situation. You stabbed him. You did it.

He hisses through his teeth when he tears it out. Blood spatters the kitchen floor in a brilliant, vermillion arc. Azul, knife in hand, staggers to his feet and lunges.

You stumble away in a blind panic.

“How dare you…” He clutches his side with one hand while the other slashes through the air. You narrowly dodge before the knife can slice your arm. Blood seeps through Azul’s shirt, staining his palm red. His expression is twisted in a dark concoction of agony and anger. “I’ve shown you nothing but love and care… I’ve been nothing but patient. I’ve done everything! You were beginning to warm up to me—to this life—our life! I was wrong to trust you. Get back here—”

“You’re crazy! You assaulted me, kidnapped me, threatened me! Do you really think I’d love you after all of that?!” You yelp when his slick, blood-stained fingers wrap around your wrist to drag you down. “Stop! Let go of me!”

You elbow him in the ribs, which causes a shockwave of pain to travel through him, and it gives you enough time to wriggle free. Ripping your arm from his hold, you try to get away when he, aiming to subdue you, grabs hold of your ankle next. You feel the blade sink into your calf before you see it. A terrible cry frays your throat, torn from the depths of your chest like a flower pried from the soil.

“If I’m going to die…” He flops to his knees, wheezing. “If I’m going to die, you’ll die with me.”

“Like hell I will!” you hiss through your teeth, thrashing wildly.

Stupidly, you pull the knife from where it’s wedged in. Blood spurts from the wound, trickling down your leg in a thick, steady stream. You wince and limp towards the door. Closer… You’re almost there.

Azul reaches out with a bloodied hand, his expression utterly shattered. “Wait… Don’t go any further. Please… I need you. We need each other. My angel, my love, please don’t go!”

You tear your eyes away. He’s a monster. You’ll never sympathize with him.

Just before you can get to the front door, Azul picks himself up and wraps his arms around your waist. He pulls you down and your head hits the floor with a harsh smack. You see stars. The ceiling spins above you. You try to get up, crawl away, escape—whatever it takes to lose him—but he clings to your side, holding tight. His blood is warm and wet against your shirt. The pain in your calf is sparking up your leg, joining the ache at the back of your head in duet.

Pressed so closely, the flow of blood slows. Your shirt soaks up what the rest of his already drenched shirt can’t hold.

You watch the ceiling. The light looks like a halo; it shines brightly. Azul blinks up at you, hopelessly, sickly enthralled. The tip of the knife prods at your stomach. If it pierces, you don’t feel it. You’re sore all over. Bruises are already beginning to bloom.

At the bottom of the sea, clothed in frigid darkness, there is no sense of direction.

That’s the sweetest relief while you wade into unconsciousness with a parasitic angler.

#yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere azul ashengrotto #yandere azul ashengrotto x reader #yandere azul #yandere azul x reader #tw: noncon touching #tw: noncon #tw: chikan #n/sfw #tw: stalking

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thatsoraya · 3 days

Text

WHAT A WAY TO GO

pairing. satoru gojo x reader notes. i wrote this in so hurry. sorry for any mistakes. also, you all can give me any ideas for imagines/fics/headcanons here. since i needed new ideas, it'd be great if you drop by <3

divider by @saradika-graphics

2 0 0 6

the rhythmic squeak of sneakers against polished wood echoed through the gymnasium. gojo, like a blur of white and black, weaved past suguru and shoko, his laugh echoing as he dribbled the ball with impossible ease.

"about time you showed up, lazy bones," suguru drawled, his own movements fluid as he sank a three-pointer.

"busy schedule, you know," gojo winked, his playful blue eyes catching a glimpse of familiar figures entering the gym. nanami, ever the picture of stoicism, haibara, the ever-present strategist, and then there was you, y/n.

gojo felt a familiar tug in his chest, a pleasant tension that always seemed to accompany thoughts of you. you were in the year below them, a rising star in the jujutsu world, renowned for your sharp mind and even sharper technique. not to mention, undeniably attractive.

today, you wore your hair in a high ponytail, highlighting the sharp angles of your face. you were deep in conversation with nanami, a playful smile on your lips, a sight that sent a jolt through gojo. he bounced the ball with exaggerated force, the sound drawing your attention.

you glanced over, your eyes meeting his for a brief moment. he flashed you a blinding grin, earning a roll of your eyes and a subtle shake of your head. gojo's playful facade faltered for a moment. you weren't falling for his usual charms.

the game resumed, suguru schooling gojo on a few missed shots who was trying to see whether you were watching or not, drawing a playful scoff from the blonds. shoko, ever the referee, blew her whistle, calling a foul on gojo for a blatant travel.

"seriously, gojo? weren’t you supposed to be the strongest?," you called from the sidelines, a teasing lit to your voice.

gojo smirked, sauntering over to where you stood. "just letting you admire my skills, y/n."

you raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "more like admiring your lack of them. maybe some extra practice wouldn't hurt."

gojo chuckled, leaning in with mock seriousness. "perhaps you could offer some pointers, sensei?"

"don't push your luck, gojo," nanami interjected, a faint blush creeping up his neck.

gojo straightened, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "just appreciating a talented junior, nanami. no need to get jealous."

nanami scoffed, looking away. you, however, remained unfazed. "talent only goes so far, gojo. hard work matters more."

gojo tilted his head, intrigued by your indifference. most women used to swoon over his looks and strength. yet, you seemed completely unbothered.

"she's so cute," gojo murmured under his breath, more to himself than anyone else. "intelligent, smart, and sexy."

suguru caught his words, a smirk playing on his lips. "she could eat you alive, you know."

gojo didn't even flinch. "what a way to go out," he winked, returning to the court with renewed enthusiasm. he started playing with a ferocity he hadn't shown before, effortlessly stealing the ball from suguru and sinking a series of impossible shots. but all the while, his eyes kept drifting back to you, studying your every reaction.

he noticed you weren't cheering for him, nor were you scoffing at his missed shots. you were observing the game with a keen eye, analysing his movements, your brow furrowed in concentration. he found it incredibly endearing.

after practice, as everyone was leaving, gojo lingered near the door, hoping to catch you alone. you walked past him with nanami and haibara, a lively debate about cursed techniques playing out between the three of you. gojo cleared his throat, but you just offered a curt nod before disappearing down the hallway.

gojo sighed, a strange mix of frustration and excitement churning in his gut. he liked a challenge, and you were definitely a challenge. you were strong, intelligent, and completely immune to his usual charms.

that night, as gojo lay sprawled in his bed, a mischievous grin spread across his face. this wouldn't be over anytime soon. satoru gojo, the strongest sorcerer alive, had finally found something interesting. and he intended to win you over, one playful jab and stolen glance at a time.

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ahqkas · 2 days

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A funny little request of gf!reader who had a lot of brothers so she always had gotten into play fights with them. Soon into the future mattheo challenged her to an arm wrestle only to be completely stumped at her beating him.

STRONGER THAN ALL MY MEN ; mattheo riddle

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

GROWING UP IN A HOUSE FULL OF BROTHERS, YOU HAD ALWAYS BEEN BROUGHT INTO A WORLD OF PLAYFUL ROUGHHOUSING AND FRIENDLY COMPETITIONS. You were no stranger to the feel of a playful punch, the exhilaration of a well-executed tackle, or the strategic maneuvering needed to win an important wrestling match. It was in this home that you had gotten your strength and resilience, learning to hold your own and even come out on top more often than not. Your brothers had instilled in you a sense of fierce competitiveness, one that you carried into every aspect of your life.

So when Mattheo, with his cocky grin and challenging eyes, proposed an arm-wrestling match, you couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement. You had grown to love Mattheo's confidence and his restless spirit, but this was an arena where you felt particularly confident. You accepted his challenge with a smirk, a glint of determination in your eyes.

The two of you found a sturdy table in the common room, drawing the curious gazes of a few fellow students. Mattheo rolled up his sleeves, exposing his muscular forearms, and settled into his chair, his expression one of easy confidence. You took your seat opposite him, rolling up your own sleeves and revealing arms that, while not as bulky, were lean and defined from years of spirited competition with your brothers.

"Ready to be beaten by a girl?" you teased, arching an eyebrow as you clasped his hand.

"We'll see about that," Mattheo shot back, his grin widening. His eyes sparkled with amusement, but there was also a flicker of genuine curiosity. He was used to being strong, to winning physical fights with ease. The thought of you beating him was both surprising and strangely thrilling.

Lorenzo, who had been observing the scene from a distance, decided to take on the role of referee. With a dramatic flourish, he placed his hands on top of yours and Mattheo's clasped hands, looking between the two of you with a twinkle in his eye. "On my count," he announced. "Three, two, one . . . go!"

The initial push was intense. Mattheo's strength was evident, his muscles tensing as he applied pressure. But you met his force with equal determination, your grip steady and your arm unwavering. The crowd around you leaned in, eyes wide with anticipation.

As the seconds ticked by, it became clear that this was not going to be an easy win for Mattheo. His brow furrowed in concentration, a bead of sweat forming at his temple. You could feel his surprise through the subtle shifts in his grip, the way his eyes flicked to yours, searching for some sign of strain. But you held his gaze steadily, your arm a pillar of strength.

Gradually, you began to gain the upper hand. It was a slow, inexorable push, your arm moving inch by inch as you leveraged the years of playful battles with your brothers. The crowd around you erupted in cheers and gasps as you edged closer to victory. Mattheo's expression shifted from confident to incredulous, then to something close to admiration.

With one final, decisive push, you slammed his hand down onto the table. The room exploded in applause and laughter, the sound reverberating off the stone walls. Mattheo stared at his defeated hand for a moment, then looked up at you with a mixture of shock and respect.

"You . . . you actually beat me," he said, a grin breaking across his face.

"I told you," you replied, your own grin widening. "Growing up with a bunch of brothers has its advantages."

Mattheo shook his head, still smiling. "You're incredible, you know that?"

You shrugged playfully, though you couldn't hide the pride in your eyes. "Just don't forget it next time you decide to challenge me."

He reached across the table and took your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I won't. And I have to admit, I kind of like this side of you."

As the crowd began to disperse, leaving the two of you alone at the table, you felt a warmth spread through you. It wasn't just the victory that made you feel good; it was the way Mattheo looked at you, with genuine admiration and love.

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upat4amwiththemoon · 3 days

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came up with this idea and now i can't get it out of my head lol so nat saves and adopts a teenage reader but when yelena finally meets the reader she hates her guts bc she feels like nat loves her more/has replaced her ( i imagine yelena in her 20s so not that much older than the reader) and like during a sparring session or something yelena takes it too far and like breaks the reader's arm so nat obviously blows up at her but then they eventually talk about their feelings and then yelena apologizes to the reader for acting so immature and cruel to them

Fight for affection

Summary: aka jealous Yelena has a one sided fight with a teenager.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x daughter!reader, sisters Natasha Romanoff x Yelena Belova, Yelena Belova x teen!reader

Warnings: mean Yelena, purposeful hurting

Word count: 1983

a/n: best sister ever

Tags: @thought-of-you-and-me @rafecameronswhore @sayah13 @strangegardentaco @natashamaximoff69

masterlists | guidelines

Very nervous Y/N sits on the couch, moving her leg up and down as she waits for Yelena to arrive. She has never met the woman before, but Natasha has been waiting to introduce her two favourite people to each other, so, once Yelena found a free day to come over, they immediately made plans.

It doesn’t take long for Yelena’s car to park on the driveway. Natasha goes to open the door right away, while Y/N waits in the living room, taking some deep breaths to calm herself down.

She can hear the two talking, though she isn’t fully paying attention to it. Once they start walking towards her, she stands up with a smile on her face.

Natasha and Yelena stand before her, the latter looking confused. “Yelena, this is Y/N.” She gestures at the teen with a smile.

“Hi.”

There’s a silence. “She isn’t a baby?” Yelena whispers to Natasha, but due to their closeness Y/N can hear it clearly.

Now it’s Natasha’s turn to look confused. “Why would she be a baby?”

“I thought you adopted a baby.”

“I specifically told you I adopted a teenage girl.” An annoyance grows in Natasha, not wanting to have this kind of conversation in front of her daughter.

Yelena scoffs. “Well, you can’t blame me for not hearing that. You said you adopted someone, and then I lost focus because I started thinking what to buy to a baby.”

Natasha lets out a harsh breath, but she brings a smile to her face once she notices Y/N’s tense body language. “Well, she’s not a baby.” She whispers quickly before going to set her arm over Y/N’s shoulders, bringing her closer. “This is Y/N, she is 16 years old, and I adopted her.” A proud smile adorns her face as she looks down at her daughter.

“Hi.” She says again, bringing a slightly shaky hand forward. “It’s nice to meet you, Yelena.”

A tense silence follows. Yelena has a frown on her face, but it disappears quickly when she glances at Natasha. “Hey, you too.” Her voice doesn’t match the enthusiasm that Y/N has and the hand shake feels very forceful.

They move on quickly, going to sit down on the couch to talk. For the rest of the time they’re together, Yelena has a subtle glare fixed on Y/N, especially whenever Natasha touches her.

Her sister speaks so highly of this teenager, but Yelena doesn’t see what’s so great about her that she doesn’t have. They’re both grew up in a bad place, they both know how to fight, though Yelena would bet her whole fortune she’s better at it, and they were saved by Natasha. The biggest difference they have, is that Natasha has known Yelena so much longer. So, why does it seem like she care for the teenager more than her?

Once Yelena starts to leave, she is in a sour mood. It’s like the younger girl is flaunting Natasha’s love and care in front of her face.

“-sit us soon again?”

She lifts her head to look at Natasha. “Huh?”

Natasha lets out a laugh. “Will you come visit us soon again?”

“Right.” She sighs. “Maybe. I have a busy schedule.”

“Okay, we’ll see you at the compound some time then.” Natasha hugs Yelena. “Bye bye.”

“Bye, sestra.”

“Bye!” Y/N waves, half of her body hidden behind Natasha.

Yelena walks to her car, completely ignoring her.

The next time they meet up is at the Avengers Compound, and Yelena’s feelings have not changed. If anything, her hatred and jealousy have grown while having time to wallow in those feelings alone.

Natasha and Yelena are talking in the compound’s living room, while Y/N is sitting in silence, only following the conversation from the sidelines. She can feel Yelena’s dislike, but she is too afraid to comment on it.

“Hey, Nat?” Steve pops up from the hallway. “Could you help me out with a report now that you’re here?”

“Of course,” she stands up, “I’ll be back soon.”

The smile on Yelena’s face disappears when she notices the assurance was given to Y/N instead of herself. The jealousy bubbles to the surface once again.

“Y/N.”

Her wide eyes snap to Yelena. This is the first time she has been talked to by Yelena since they first met. “Yeah?” There’s a sliver of nervousness in her voice. A sliver, that Yelena can hear.

“Do you want to train together to pass the time?”

“Uhm,” she doesn’t, “I guess so.”

“Great!” The grin on Yelena’s face is unmistakable. “Follow me,” they start walking towards the training room, “the compound has the best supplies to train anything and everything you want.”

Once they get into the training room, Yelena leads Y/N straight to the mat placed on the middle of the room. Y/N feels the mat under her feet, it’s soft enough to make landings bearable, but it won’t take the pain completely away.

“You were trained in hand to hand combat when you were at HYDRA, yes?”

Y/N’s face screws up at the mention of the organization she was saved from. “Yes.”

Yelena gets into position, her hands raised and feet apart. “Good, then this won’t be a problem for you.” Before Y/N has time to prepare herself, Yelena is already lunging at her.

With a blink of an eye, she is on the ground. Y/N groans, looking up at Yelena with a frown.

“Come on!” Yelena claps her hands together. “Up, up, you gotta be ready.”

Y/N takes a breath and stands up, this time getting into position before Yelena can fully surprise her.

They start sparring.

It’s more like fighting, at least on Yelena’s side.

Y/N is good at fighting, but Yelena is better. She is older, she is bigger, and she was in the Red Room for a long time.

She gets slammed to the mat two more times before she starts panting, her hands on her knees. “I think I’m done.” Her voice comes out as a mumble.

“Come on! Don’t be a party pooper.” Yelena circles around her. “One more round, this time like you mean it.”

Y/N doesn’t have time to disagree. She desperately fight back against Yelena’s onslaught of hits and kicks.

After five minutes, she gets dropped to the ground, again.

She lays there on the ground, her breathing heavy and laboured. But Yelena doesn’t seem to be finished. There’s a certain fire in her eyes as she brings her foot up. Fear runs through Y/N’s body as her wide eyes are stuck on the bottom of Yelena’s boot.

A loud crack echoes through the training room.

Y/N cries out, rolling to her side to hold her now broken arm against her chest. Yelena’s eyes widen, shocked by what she did, though the feeling goes away just as quick.

Unfortunately for her, an immense feeling of guilt fills her body when a loud “Yelena!” comes from the door. Natasha comes running in, instantly kneeling to Y/N’s side. “What the hell was going on in your head?” She practically growls out while lifting up her daughter, shushing her in a comforting manner when she lets out a cry of pain.

Yelena opens her mouth to speak, though she doesn’t know what she could even say, but a harsh glare from Natasha shuts her up. She stays in the training room while Natasha and Y/N leave to the medical room.

After three excruciatingly long hours of pacing in her room, a knock on the door finally breaks the silence. Yelena opens the door, instantly stepping to the side to let Natasha walk inside.

“What were you thinking?” Natasha’s arms are crossed over her chest as she stares at her sister with an icy glare. “She’ll be okay, thank god for that, but she has a broken arm, Yelena.”

“I’m sorry.” She whispers.

Natasha shakes her head. “Sorry isn’t going to cut it now. You’ve been incredibly cold to her, and I chalked it up to nerves, but this,” her brows are raised as she gestures around, “this is unacceptable. She’s my daughter, Yelena. I can’t have you around her if you’re going to hurt her.”

“I won’t!” Her eyes are turning misty from tears and her voice wavers. “I- I don’t know what came over me. I was feeling…jealous…and, and insecure.”

“Why?”

Yelena tugs at the skin on her fingers, at times pressing her nails against her palm as her eyes drop to the ground. “I was scared you’d love me less.” A few tears fall down her cheeks at the confession.

A deep sigh leaves Natasha’s mouth. She rubs the space between her brows. “I love you, Yelena, I would never love you less. But I also have so much love for Y/N, she is my daughter.” There’s no anger in her tone anymore, but there’s a certain steadiness to make sure Yelena fully hears her. “I love both of you so, so much.”

Yelena nods. “I’m sorry.”

“You need to apologize to her.” Natasha mumbles, combing her fingers through her hair. “I’m really upset right now, so I’m going to leave.”

“I’ll make it up, okay?”

Natasha opens the door. “Make it up by treating my daughter well, be genuinely nice to her. You hear me? She is my daughter, that means she is your family too.”

“She’s my niece.” Yelena whispers with a nod, fully absorbing the words. She hurt her niece.

After Natasha leaves and Yelena has a minute to gather herself, she makes her way to the infirmary.

She knocks on the door gently, opening it after she hears a quiet come in. Yelena steps inside. “Hey.”

Y/N lifts her head. “Hi.” She scratches the cast on her arm, her eyes anywhere else but Yelena.

Clearing her throat, she takes a few careful steps inside, stopping beside the hospital bed. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, truly.” She whispers, her eyes on Y/N. “I was an asshole, an insecure and jealous asshole, who was scared that her sister would love me less because she got a daughter.” She lets out a butter laugh. “Which was very stupid of me, because I know Natasha isn’t like that.”

“She’s pretty great.” Y/N whispers.

“She is.” Yelena sits on the chair next to the bed. “She is my sister and you are her daughter, which makes you my niece. And…I’ve always wanted a niece, even though it might not be obvious from the way I’ve acted. I want to be what Natasha was to me for someone, except a little more fun, you know? I’d let you break the rules and drink a little bit and I’d teach you how to run away from the cops.”

Y/N giggles softly, glancing at Yelena every so often, but never looking at her for too long.

“Could we start over, maybe? I could be the aunt that you deserve.” There’s a silence as Y/N stares at the cast while biting the inside of her cheek. “You don’t have to be scared of me.” Yelena whispers. “Which I know is a stupid thing to say after I-“ she glances at the cast, “after I broke your arm.”

“Yeah.” She lets out a shaky breath. “I’m a little scared of you, but I’d like to have an aunt.” Y/N raises her head, giving Yelena a small smile.

Yelena smiles back, wider than ever. She inches closer to the edge of the seat, gently setting her hand on Y/N’s healthy hand. “I will make it up to you, I promise. I’ll spoil you so much.” She grins, already excited with the idea of buying things to her niece.

“Okay.” She laughs, already feeling better despite her broken arm.

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hawkinsbnbg · 1 day

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sweet tooth

“Do you have a sweet tooth?”

“Uh-huh,” Eddie glanced up from his sketchbook. “I thought everyone already knew about that?”

“I didn't, obviously,” Dustin let out a self-righteous huff. “I just found out recently because you keep running late to Hellfire's meeting.”

Eddie was confused at first, but then he remembered those bad innuendos he had told Dustin as a joke.

“Were those cakes that good?” The kid asked curiously.

“What cakes were good?” Steve returned from the kitchen with a tray of snacks.

Eager to be helpful, Dustin launched into telling Steve the tale about Eddie’s tardiness and the reason behind it.

Poor Steve was bright red by the time Dustin finished.

“Yup, those cakes were tasty, man,” he nodded sagely and winked at Steve’s not-so-subtle glare. “They were soft, sweet, and stuffed with cream cheese. Needed to take my time ‘cause high-quality goodness like that deserved to be appreciated.”

“And where did you find them?” Dustin squinted suspiciously. “If they're as good as you said, then I must've heard about them before. But I haven't,” a finger wiggled at Eddie, “ergo, you're either lying to me, or just talking out of your ass.”

Aha, what a nosy little shit. No wonder he was Eddie's favorite.

Ignoring Steve’s Don't you dare look, he grinned slyly.

“Why don't you go ask your mother, Dusty Bun? ‘Cause he made all of ‘em for me.”

And watched on in amusement as Dustin whirled around to pester a mortified Steve.

Once the kid left for the Wheeler house, Steve immediately rounded on him.

“Creampied cakes? Seriously, Eds?” Steve scowled, adorably flustered and irritated with Eddie's antics.

“My bad,” he chuckled and coaxed a pouting Steve into his lap. “Let me make it up to you, sweetheart.”

“How?” Steve arched a brow at him.

“For starter, I can help you stuff your cake with my–”

“–dick?”

“I was gonna say ‘with my love’–”

“Try again when you're not having a boner, babe,” Steve snorted in mirth.

“To be fair, I’m always horny for you, baby boy,” Eddie pecked his boyfriend’s chin with an impish grin. “Emotionally and physically.”

Steve rolled his eyes fondly, “You're such a dork.”

“But I’m yourrrr dork,” Eddie sing-songed, and smiled in triumphant when he was silenced by those pretty lips.

Once they eventually parted, Steve traced Eddie's cheekbones and jawline with gentle fingers as if cherishing something precious, something worthy of love and tenderness.

“Yeah, you're mine,” Steve said softly.

God, Eddie was so in love that it hurt.

“And you're mine,” he gazed at his sweetheart and felt his chest swell with adoration. “What d’you want, my darling boy?”

And like a dream, Steve smiled at him sweetly. “Wanna be stuffed with your love, Chief.”

As their lips melted together—like cotton candies and marshmallows—Eddie knew he would burn down the whole world if it meant he could keep his baby forever.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #smitten eddie munson #babygirl steve harrington #steddiemicrofic #sionewrites

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grind-pantera · 2 days

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How would Noa react to human reader on her period? I’m currently on mine and got this thought!

It's like you and i are the same person bc im on mine too ( The first time in like three years, im SUFFERING, ) Let's get self-indulgent. YOLO.

READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. READ THE PROMPT ABOVE AND MAKE THE CHOICE IF YOU ARE OKAY WITH THIS CONTENT, OTHERWISE, PLEASE DO NOT READ. Ty ty.

Due to the environment and stress of living in the society you were placed in, your period was admittedly not regular though you tried your best to keep track of it. It got lost from time to time and you were left unsure when it would rear its ugly head back in. Sometimes, it was remarkably early by a few weeks, sometimes, it was at least a month late.

Your first period while with the Clan? You had nothing prepared. Nothing to ease your bleeding, nothing to ease yourself into some semblance of comfort. You quite frankly go into a small panic. You don’t know who to talk to - there’s no humans here, and Apes don’t bleed and have symptoms like Humans do.

Oh my god avoiding Noa for the few days out of embarrassment - How do you even begin to explain to him?

Don’t think for a moment that Noa doesn’t know something is going on. The boy has an acute sense of smell. The roll of your pheromones, how they hit him and stuck around like a fog around his head, how they adjusted ever so slightly a few days before you began ignoring him? Noted. You’re more hungry than usual - going for seconds at the evening meal. Nothing savory though - you stocked up on fruits and berries and just explained to him that the sweetness was more up your alley. He’d mention that maybe you should have some meat to balance but the absolute daggers you gave him caused him to never bring it up again. Noted. The pull to your emotions, like you were swinging from a branch, back and forth not able to teether yourself to one? You began crying one day with him next to you while watching the Baby Apes play with each other. The next moment, you were snapping at him for even looking at you. Noted. The subtle shift in your body? Becoming a bit more reserved , you often kept your hands in front of your chest, blocking him from looking at you fully? Maybe, he even notices when your arms grazed your chest that you flinched - Tender breasts. Noted. Heightened mating the last few days? Oh, absolutely noted. Not as tired as you though - Noa noticed you getting more tired during the middle of the day, asking him a few days before your period actually hit if you could go take a nap while he went with Soona and Anaya to fish. Noted.

You go to Soona and Dar in hopes that maybe you can talk to them about it and actually have them understand. You’re too embarrassed to bring this up to Noa and you doubted that he’d understand at all. Noa does show up mid-conversation though- You had been talking to Soona and Dar about something from his perspective. He doesn’t take much time to notice that, letting his green eyes rest on you for a moment longer but the tone of the voice you’re using with his Mother and Soona? Quite, hushed, like you had a secret. Noa has to admit that he’s a tiny bit intrigued and he lingers, trying to pick apart the conversation despite his brain telling him not to, that it was obviously a private matter. But… The other side of him bargained and he wondered what secret you could have that you wouldn’t want him to know about. After all, you had been avoiding him for a few days and he needed to know why if that’s what you were talking to Dar and Soona about. Admittedly, as you explained to them what was happening ( Soona and Dar ) they were more confused than you initially wanted them to be with your vague words, having to go into more detail and explain - Which was not on your bingo-card at all. You were unsure of what words/phrases they were going to understand so you had to transverse carefully around the subject. You felt like you were going to cry from embarrassment before a look of understanding flashed from Dar. ~*So, from listening to the conversation he was not supposed to be a part of, Noa gathered only a few things: you were going through something that affected females? Hence, why you went to Soona and Dar. You were embarrassed to talk to Noa about it, it must have been pretty contentious. And went through this consistently, albeit not regularly? It was a sign of Echo maturity, your body coming into its own. On a consistent basis? Noa was confused. How does your body do that?

Oh my god Noa asking you about it. The blood rushing to your face as he mentions that he had heard you talking to his Mother and Soona. Your first instinct is to get defensive. You cross your arms in front of your chest, pretty adamant in telling him that there was nothing going on. Noa retaliates in defense of himself and says, “I… just want to know why… you… Are ignoring me.” The spacing of his words gives away that he was being careful to choose what he told you. Irrational anger bubbled to surface and you just snapped, “I’m on my period! Okay? I already talked to Dar and Soona about it and now you’re at my throat? Period! Is that a good enough answer for you!? It’s not always about you Noa!” You storm off, leaving the Ape bewildered. You eventually do return an hour or so later, this time, incredibly apologetic with tears in your eyes as you’re muttering to him through a flood of tears, telling him all about what was happening and how you were feeling. Your cramps, the headache that wouldn’t go away, your insatiable need to eat everything insight, the pure driven desire you had to be both angry and sad at the same time. You even went as far as to tell him that you were indeed bleeding -Something Noa didn't have the heart to tell you that he was aware of. Remember that acute sense of smell? He noticed it. He noticed it the last few days, figuring you would bring it up when you were ready. Noa pulls you into him, lightly pressing his forehead against yours. He’s still not 100% on the details but… He hated to see you cry. Hated to see you angry as well. He tells you that it’s okay, to calm down and that it’ll all be okay. Those swinging emotions he recalled from a few days before your period? Yeah, they happen during as well and you flew off the handle. “I am calm! What makes you think I’m not?” You groaned, pulling away from him, “I’m going to lay down.” He just watches wordlessly as you walk away; wondering what he said that was so offensive.

He definitely begins to track it with fever though; just another thing for him to notice about you, and he really did his best to be accommodating despite not fully understanding the reason why you went through it. He would tell you when he knew it was coming, something that you actually came to gratefully accept because the mutiny that was your body made it hard to track yourself.

Uhm hello? Noa bringing you an herbal drink that the Elders swore by to help with mild pain in the body. Usually, it was Apes that had joint problems from age, or some from injury, but the drink did help ease your headache and cramps to a semi-bearable state.

He scours the dinner for the most sweet berries and fruits. Noa is able to tell from look and feel which ones would be more welcomed by you and he’s always so diligent to bring you two bowls. One for now, one for later.

OHHhhh my god Noa resting his hands on your stomach when you’re tangled in the nest together. He can sense the discomfort you’re in. You had tossed and turned almost the entire night, keeping the two of you awake. Now that it was dusk, you felt more at ease as he placed a hand on the lower part of your abdomen and groaned at the pleasure of feeling his heated skin. ~*Definitely becomes more of a coping action that Noa works around. If Noa senses you’re feeling either nauseated or in pain, he’s rather quick to pull you into him and ease it the best he can. Favorite position? You’re laying on your side and he is spooning you from behind. Hands on your lower stomach, lightly at first but more intense if you’re craving more pressure and heat from him. He’s noticed you like to fall asleep like that. And he’s more than willing to oblige.

Ah god the forehead touches when you have a headache? Someone sedate me. ~* He really gets into it and will wrap his hands around your head, his fingers almost meeting at the back of your neck. The heat from his hands feels absolutely euphoric against your temples as he pulls you towards him. You fall lax against him and ultimately let Noa pull you into his lap. Hands run from the back of your neck down to your lower back. He’ll place tender touches there too, knowing that lower back pain was also common.

#noa #noa x reader #listen this is so sloppy im so sorry #cryin #pota #planet of the apes #planet of the apes x reader #TW: period #kotpota #kingdom of the planet of the apes

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kokoch4n3l · 2 days

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'•.¸♡BUY ME THE MOON࿐ྂ SANO "MIKEY" MANJIRO x f!READER

ONE — house of glass

chapter summary: a 'sheltered girl' living a somewhat secluded life, hidden away from the public eye as the secret daughter of Japan's president, celebrates her 20th birthday alone. Meanwhile, Sano Manjiro, the man with the country under his boot, helps the president win the election and gets engaged to his oldest daughter.

chapter warnings: DARK CONTENT 18+, mentions of prostitution, car accidents, spoiled!reader, inaccurate depiction of politics and political climate, infidelity, cheating, implications of abortion, character death, sexism, isolation, violence, corruption, objectification(not reader)

word count: 3377

masterlist | chapter 2

The world is unfair. You realized that pretty quickly when you were young. That's why every day you're thankful your dad is disgustingly rich and loves the smile on your face more than he loves being a good person.

You were the daughter of a prostitute and a politician. Odd combination, yes, you know. Years ago, your dad made the drunken decision to cheat on his current wife and there, low and behold, the story of your birth. Surprisingly, your father wanted your mother to keep you.

Your filthy rich politician dad buys your mother a mansion hidden away from the public in the woods. It's there you are born and there that your father's first wife finds out about you and what your father had done.

Saimori Shinichi was no good man and perhaps his wife, Saimori Kanoko should have known that the man would cheat. But what she hadn't expected was for him to keep you, an illegitimate child he looked at more fondly than he's ever looked at Kaya, his first daughter. You personally do not understand the reason for your father's blatant favouritism but you could care less.

Shinichi keeps his cheating under wraps and Kanoko is forced to go along with it. After all, what is more disgraceful than being cheated on with a prostitute? You are kept hidden away from the spotlight. No one knows of your existence except for a few of your father's bodyguards, Kanoko and Kaya.

When you turn 5, your mother passes away in a car accident.

You can't say you were... sad. You felt something but it wasn't like you got along with your mother when your father wasn't around. Your mother wished you were born a son but Kaya tells you she's thankful you aren't a boy or else she would have hated you more.

There were both good and bad things in life and it seems for Kaya, a good thing for her was that you were not only illegitimate but also a girl like her.

A good thing for you? Daddy's money.

Over the years, your father climbed up higher and higher in the social ladder and became a candidate for president.

You, on the other hand, were his hidden daughter, a current university student majoring in fashion design. You spend most of your time buried in books and fabrics, dreaming up designs that would never see the light of day. But that was okay, because the world outside was a scary place, and your cozy mansion provided all the safety and comfort you needed. You went to class and came back. You had no reason to make any friends. Friends were a security issue and you couldn't have that. It wasn't like you needed anyone else anyway.

On the eve of your 20th birthday, you wake up to the same routine. A luxurious breakfast prepared by the house staff, a solitary stroll in the mansion's sprawling gardens, and then back to your room where you lose yourself in the world of sketches and swatches. Birthdays were just another day, after all. But this birthday feels different, a subtle shift in the air that you can't quite pinpoint. Maybe it's the loneliness that settles heavier on your shoulders today, the absence of any real connection beyond the opulent walls of your prison. Or perhaps it's the nagging feeling that there's more to life than what your father's money can buy. But that's a stupid thought.

You sit in a room of the mansion on the floor with your laptop in front of you and an embroidery hoop in your hand. This specific room was set up by your father so you had your own space to store fabrics and other things you needed. But it wasn't really needed. You were the only one who lived in the mansion anyway. Kaya and your stepmother lived in Tokyo with your father. After all, they had to make it seem to the public that they were a happy family.

You thread the needle through the fabric in the hoop as you listen to what is being said on the news. It's about 11:30 pm. You're watching the live results of the election playing. The winner will be announced at 12 am. For this election, your father was one of the candidates.

As the clock ticks closer to midnight, you can't help but feel a sense of anticipation mingled with dread. You're supposed to be happy, right? After all, your father's victory would secure your comfortable lifestyle for the foreseeable future. But deep down, you can't shake the feeling that something about this whole situation is wrong.

The television screen flashes with the latest updates on the election results. Your father's face appears on the screen, his usual charming smile plastered across his features as he shakes hands with supporters. But behind that facade, you know the truth. You know the lengths he's gone to secure his victory, the shady deals and underhanded tactics he's employed.

You sigh, focusing back on your embroidery, the needle moving rhythmically through the fabric. Your phone buzzes beside you, startling you out of your reverie. It's a text from your father, a rare occurrence in itself.

"Victory assured. Be ready" it reads. Short and cryptic, as always.

You roll your eyes, setting the phone back down without replying. Be ready for what? Another party you won't attend? Another parade of false smiles and empty promises? You continue stitching, the repetitive motion soothing your restless mind.

As the clock strikes midnight, the news anchor's voice crescendos with excitement, announcing your father's victory. Your father's face is back on the screen, victorious and gleaming. For a moment, you let yourself imagine what it would be like to step out of the shadows, to be acknowledged as his daughter, to be part of the life you can only watch from a distance. But then again, you remember all the unnecessary scrutiny Kaya goes through on a daily and wonder perhaps it was for the best that you weren't out in the spotlight like her.

Almost like the cameraman heard your thoughts, the screen changes to Kaya who is hugging your father with a huge smile on her face. Her hair and makeup are done perfectly and her outfit is without a wrinkle in sight. You smile. She looks pretty. Now, you would probably text Kaya that but you don't get along with her. She doesn't like you and you don't like her. It's as simple as that. Telling Kaya she looked pretty would upset the fragile balance you've maintained with her and psychological warfare was more fun. So instead you text:

[12:04 am] cute outfit but is that a white hair I see?

You giggle to yourself and put your phone down. However, your smile quickly fades realizing you were spending your birthday alone. You just turned 20 and here you are, in one of the rooms in the mansion in the woods, surrounded by colourful fabrics and a laptop on the floor. The mansion is eerily quiet as the celebration rages on in Tokyo. The only sounds are the soft ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway and the occasional rustle of the wind through the trees outside. You look out the window, at the dark, moonlit forest surrounding the mansion. Sometimes you wonder if this isolation is a curse or a blessing. Your world is so small, confined to the mansion's walls and the occasional trips to your university. There's an almost suffocating security in your routine, a predictability that keeps you anchored. But tonight, the loneliness feels more palpable, more oppressive.

You didn't want to seem ungrateful or spoiled. After all, your father always gave you whatever you wanted and loved you a lot. You know he did and he showed it as well. The only thing was that he didn't acknowledge you in public and couldn't talk about you. It wasn't like you were really complaining about it. It was just that you felt really lonely right now.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a car approaching. It's unusual for anyone to visit the mansion at this hour, especially on election night. You set your embroidery hoop aside and move to the window, peering through the curtains. A sleek black car pulls up to the front entrance then a few more and then a truck. Your heart skips a beat. Who could it be at this hour? Your mind races through possibilities, none of them comforting. You consider calling your father, but dismiss the idea just as quickly. He wouldn't appreciate being disturbed during his victory celebrations. But then you realize that perhaps it's nothing as you watch security lead the cars to the side which was direct entry to the backyard. Maybe it was nothing.

The mansion was extremely secure and security very loyal. Your father paid them well and was actually pretty nice to them. They had no reason to sell your father out so, these new people arriving were not anything alarming. Perhaps your father was increasing security now that he was president. You shrug and pick your laptop off the floor, leave the room and head to your own bedroom. That was enough stitching for tonight.

You settle onto the plush bed in your room, laptop on your lap and start to do some online shopping. The rhythmic movements of your fingers on the keyboard and each new item you add to your cart help soothe your frayed nerves, but you can't shake off the curiosity about the late-night visitors. It's not unusual for your father to have secretive dealings, but the timing feels odd. You mentally list all the possible reasons for the visit, each one more unlikely than the last.

Oh well, you think and open up Viviene Westwood.

"Stupid brat" Kaya mutters as she closely examines each strand of her black hair in the mirror of the private bathroom in the president's office

After you sent her that text about white hair she couldn't help but internally panic. Kaya glares at her reflection in the mirror, running her fingers through her hair, searching for any sign of a stray gray strand. Of course, there isn't one, but your message has done its job: she's flustered and annoyed. She was on TV just moments ago with her father and the thought of the entire country seeing a damn white hair on her head makes her sick.

There was a lot resting on her now. She was the daughter of the fucking president and that came with responsibilities. Kaya takes a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging inside her. She can't afford to let her facade crack, not now, not when she's so close to achieving everything she's ever wanted. She splashes cold water on her face, letting the shock jolt her back to reality. She adjusts her perfectly tailored suit, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles. Everything about her has to be flawless, and impeccable, a reflection of the prestigious position she holds as the president's daughter. She can't afford any slip-ups, especially not now when the media's eyes are trained on her every move.

But despite her outward confidence, there's a gnawing sense of insecurity that never quite leaves her. It's always been there, lurking beneath the surface, a constant reminder of her status as the second-best daughter. She hates that you, the hidden daughter, exist. She hates that you're a constant reminder of her father's infidelity, a stain on their perfect family image.

But what she hates most of all is the fact that you seem to revel in your position as the favoured daughter, even though you're nothing more than a spoiled, sheltered brat. But Kaya refuses to let you get under her skin. She's worked too hard and sacrificed too much to let some spoiled princess steal her thunder. She'll do whatever it takes to maintain her status, even if it means playing dirty. She's learned from the best, after all. She tosses her phone onto the vanity, the screen lighting up with a text from her fiancé, Sano Manjiro.

Kaya found it dumb that her father even suggested this engagement. Sano Manjiro and the rest of Bonten were no normal businessmen. They were fucking snakes, criminals. Kaya hated her father for setting her up with a damn criminal like Sano Manjiro but at least he's hot and has money. Kaya scoffs at the message, her lips curling into a smirk. She knows Manjiro's just another pawn in her father's game, a means to an end. She doesn't love him, and she's sure as hell he doesn't love her either. Their engagement is nothing more than a business transaction, a way for her father to solidify his ties with the underworld. But Kaya isn't stupid; she knows how to play the game. She'll use Manjiro to further her own ambitions, to climb even higher up the social ladder.

But even as she revels in her own cunning, there's a part of Kaya that can't shake off the feeling of unease that's been gnawing at her ever since she received your text. She knows you're up to something, knows you're not as innocent as you pretend to be. And that terrifies her. Because if there's one thing Kaya can't stand, it's being outmaneuvered.

She glances at herself in the mirror one last time, adjusting her expression into one of poised elegance. She can't let anyone see the cracks in her facade, can't let them see the insecurity that's been eating away at her from the inside out. With one last deep breath, she squares her shoulders and steps out of the bathroom, ready to face whatever challenges lie ahead.

As she exits the bathroom, her eyes flicker to the closed door of her father's office, where he's no doubt celebrating his victory with his cronies. She knows she should join them, should bask in the glory of her father's success. But right now, all she can think about is you, the mysterious girl hidden away in the mansion in the woods, the one who threatens to unravel everything she's worked so hard to achieve.

With a determined set to her jaw, Kaya strides towards the door, her mind already racing with plans and schemes. She may not be able to control everything, but she'll be damned if she lets you ruin everything she's worked so hard for. You may be the president's secret daughter, but Kaya is the president's daughter, and she'll be damned if she lets anyone forget it.

She glances down at her phone remembering she hadn't responded to Manjiro's text. But then again, she also has no plans to respond to him. She rolls her eyes before responding with a quick, "Busy. Later." She had plans for this evening with a pretty boy she saw at the rally tonight.

Little does she know, Manjiro has his own plans for the evening.

You smell something burning. You narrow your eyes, push your laptop off your lap and get off the bed, heading for your balcony. You push open the double glass doors and the smell gets stronger, the acrid scent filling your nostrils as you step onto the balcony. The night air is cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth radiating from the source of the smell. You follow the scent, your gaze sweeping over the sprawling grounds of the mansion, searching for any sign of smoke or flames.

And then you see it.

A bonfire?

There are a few men standing around it with large boxes nearby. You furrow your brow in confusion, wondering what could possibly be going on. This isn't a normal occurrence at the mansion, especially not at this hour. You watch in silence as they throw sheets of paper into the fire, emptying out box by box making sure none flies away. Your curiosity piqued, you lean forward slightly, trying to get a better view of what's happening down below. The men seem to be completely absorbed in their task, their movements swift and purposeful. You can't make out their faces in the darkness, but their silhouettes dance against the flickering flames of the bonfire. "hmm..." you murmur when you see a flash of pink

As your eyes adjust to the darkness you notice the bright hair colours on a few of the men. Purple, white and pink. The rest have black hair. Your eyes focus on a few men in particular, laughing and smoking while the rest empty the boxes into the fire. You squint your eyes and notice the two men with purple hair have matching tattoos on their throats, the same design that the guy with the long white hair has on his scalp. With bated breath, you continue to watch from your vantage point on the balcony, trying to piece together what's happening down below. The men seem to be finishing up their task, the last of the boxes emptied into the roaring flames of the bonfire. "what..." You mutter trying to figure out exactly what is going on

With your focus being on the bonfire below you in the backyard, you don't hear your bedroom door opening. Before you can even blink, your body is forcefully turned around. Your heart leaps to your throat as you're suddenly spun around, your back meeting the balcony railing with a jolt. You gasp in shock, your eyes widening as you find yourself face-to-face with a man you've never seen before. He's sort of tall, but still somehow intimidating, with sharp features and piercing eyes that seem to bore into your soul. His hair is a striking shade of white, a stark contrast to his dark clothing and the darkness of the night.

But it's not just his appearance that sends a shiver down your spine; it's the aura of power and danger that surrounds him like a cloak. This man is no ordinary stranger; he's someone to be feared, someone to be respected. However, your eyes light up in interest. Oh wow. He may be scary but he's gorgeous. His arms are muscular, you can tell by the way his shirt creases while he keeps you caged in place against the railing. He's not huge though. He's lean and it's damn attractive. Your pulse quickens as you take in his intense gaze, feeling a strange mix of fear and exhilaration coursing through your veins. You've never encountered someone like him before, someone who exudes such raw power and authority without even saying a word. And yet, there's something undeniably captivating about him, something that draws you in despite your better judgment.

His eyes, sharp and calculating, seem to bore into your very soul, assessing you with a scrutiny that makes your skin prickle with awareness. You're frozen in place, unable to tear your gaze away from his, feeling as though you're trapped in some sort of unspoken standoff. But despite the fear that courses through your veins, there's also a strange sense of... excitement. It's pretty quickly you realize who this is as you think about the tattoos on the men around the fire.

Your mind draws back to your laptop, to all the tabs of designer brands open and the things in your cart. You can't help but compare this man to all the expensive items you've been eyeing online—the sleek leather handbags, the luxurious silk dresses, the designer heels. He exudes the same air of opulence and exclusivity, a rare gem in a world full of imitations. But unlike those material possessions, there's something inherently dangerous about him, something that sets him apart from the rest.

You remember your father's words, him always telling you he could buy you whatever you wanted. You were about 6 or 7 when you asked him for the moon. Your father told you he couldn't but it's always been a childish wish of yours.

However, it seems that Sano Manjiro is the closest to that moon you've always wanted.

His hand comes up and brushes a strand of your hair behind your ear, the tips of his fingers rough and calloused. "Happy Birthday, princess"

notes: welcome to Buy Me the Moon :)) I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. Yes, I know it was uneventful and short but this is also the introduction chapter. I promise the next chapter will have more... spice. lol.

check here for progress on the next chapter and other works

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated ♡

taglist: @m-ilkiee @reiners-milkbiddies @short-cxke @brisssaaa009 @tenjikusstuff4 @asirensrage @merrymerrykiss @fushiquro @iwasei @kiwixpi @mysouleaten @luminouslaybyrinth @maraya-007 @dolfiins-art @yuyu12mm @kodzubaby @zantetsuwu @hayatisyourlife

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catmiemy · 21 hours

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Another Chance to Live Part 5 (Ana Maria Crnogorčević x Reader)

Summary: Things between Ana and you are going great, sadly the same isn't true for other aspects of your life.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

A/N: One day early is still early, right? However the good news is that I almost finished editing the last part, so you should get that one at the beginning of next week. Although I might have to find a way to incorporate Ana's pink hair!

Happy reading! 😊

Things continued to flourish between Ana and you, and soon the two of you spent every possible minute together. Not that this was much of a change, you had more or less been doing that from the beginning. You still met up with other people too, you weren’t totally reclusive, but usually you did so together.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you started wondering if maybe moving in should be something that should be brought to the table sometime soon. What was the point of paying for two apartments when you were always together at one or the other?

However, you still weren’t confident enough to bring up something big like that on your own. Being with Ana, who constantly told and showed you how amazing she thought you were, had definitely helped bolster your confidence, but there were limits.

You were once again thinking about starting a conversation about moving in together while Ana and you were lying on your couch after a long day of training. The Swiss woman was in front of you, snuggled against your chest, your entangled hands resting on her stomach.

In the end you couldn’t go through with it though, just like always. You resigned yourself to wait for Ana to bring it up. Plus you didn’t want to complicate or possible even ruin a nice evening.

“I’m so glad I don’t have to go in tomorrow,” you sighed contently.

“Me too,” Ana agreed instantly, turning around to give you a soft kiss.

It went deeper than just the joy of having a day off for the both of you. Even after several months neither of you had really found your footing at your respective teams. At least it had gotten easier since you began talking about it together. It felt good to let out all of your emotions and complain about your situation without being scared to be judged for it.

It was in that moment that your phone buzzed and when you checked it you sighed again. This time out of unhappiness though. In an instant Ana sat up and turned around to you properly, a non nonsense expression on her face.

“Okay, what was that? This keeps happening, you checking your phone and then looking unhappy about it. Is someone bothering you? Mean comments? A stalker? Please talk to me,“ your girlfriend all but begged.

You hadn’t even realized that she had taken note of this happening. In your mind you had been subtle.

“It’s nothing really.“

Ana just raised her eyebrows, telling you with that one small gesture that she didn’t accept your answer. That she in fact thought this was something, something important even, if it was bothering you in any capacity.

“Just my parents, complaining I haven’t been around much lately,” you explained, not thinking much about it.

However, when Ana’s face fell and guilt spread across it, you recognized your mistake. Only now did you realize how this must have sounded to your girlfriend.

“Wait no, that came out wrong,” you scrambled to make this right, to put a smile back on your girlfriend’s face. You didn’t get far though before Ana interrupted you.

“Please don’t. You don’t have to lie, it’s fine. I’m sorry that I never thought about that. Now that I think about it, I realize that I have been monopolizing you a lot lately,” your girlfriend apologized, chuckling self-deprecating.

In that moment you hated yourself a little for making Ana doubt herself, for making her apologize for something that had made you so happy.

“No, no, no! Don’t apologize, tesoro, please. These last few months have been the best in my life and I’ve been so happy. And sure you’ve been monopolizing me, but only because I also wanted that. To be honest my parents aren’t the easiest,” you said, hoping that the Swiss woman could hear your sincerity.

You weren’t completely convinced that she did, still seeing some lingering doubt and guilt in her eyes, but the moment you uttered the last sentence, all of Ana’s focus shifted to that.

“Oh, I didn’t know. Do you want to talk about it?”Ana spotted your reluctance, so she continued, “You said yourself that talking about your emotions has been helpful.”

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly, leave it to the Swiss woman to beat you with your own words. She was right though. Still, this was different. This was definitely a case of you just being whiney and spoiled.

“Please?“ Your girlfriend pleaded and there was no way you could ever resist that face.

“Fine, but honestly it’s nothing bad at all, I’m just being ungrateful and apparently I love complaining about everything.”

You quickly moved on when you detected a fair amount of unhappiness about your words on your girlfriend’s face. She didn’t like it at all when you put yourself down. However, Ana also knew that you shouldn’t be stopped when you got into sharing mode, otherwise you would most likely withdraw again. Therefore the Swiss woman bit her lip and let you keep talking, vowing to bring this up again later.

“They just have a lot of expectations about who I should be and how a good daughter is supposed to act. Sometimes it feels like they don’t really care that much about me, but only about the person they want me to be. But that’s probably normal. I guess everyone has an image of how their kid will turn out. It just really sucks when you constantly feel like you’re not living up to the expectation.”

Once again Ana had to basically restrain herself from speaking her mind. This definitely wasn’t what she would describe as a normal relationship between parents and their kid. However, she sensed that you still had more to say, so she didn’t want to interrupt you.

“And the other thing is that it’s just me. You know I’m an only child, but also none of my aunts and uncles have children. Plus they all live here in Madrid too. So it’s just a whole lot of people from one generation against me. No wait, that sounds wrong, like we’re constantly fighting. We’re not, we just…” you trailed off, not even sure yourself what you were.

All you knew was that you never felt relaxed in the presence of your parents, aunts and uncles, that you always felt under scrutiny and every little thing you did or didn’t do was fair game for them to take apart and criticize viciously.

“But like I said, I shouldn’t be complaining. At least they care. I mean they’ve never missed a single one of my games,” you finished, happy with the way you managed to put a positive spin to this in the end.

Ana looked at you in confusion. “Really? I’ve never seen them at any of your games I’ve gone to,” she pointed out carefully.

“Oh yeah, I meant when I still played for Atlético. They’re all live long Atleti fans,” you clarified. “It was really hard for them when I had to transfer.”

Clearly the Swiss woman didn’t like this answer, her jaw was clenched tightly and anger burned in her eyes.

“That doesn’t sound very supportive! Honestly all of this doesn’t sound like a good family situation to me, but I know I personally can’t stand it if anyone other than me talks even remotely badly about my family, so I don’t want to overstep.”

You could tell that there was a lot more your girlfriend wanted to say and it was hard for her to hold her tongue. However, you appreciated that she did. You weren’t ready to get into a long conversation about this right now.

“I actually haven’t talked about my family to anyone before, so I don’t really know how I feel about that. But I also don’t really want to continue talking about them right now; I need some time to process first. Up until now I’ve been so convince that I was the problem and if I ever told anyone they would just laugh at me. I mean it’s not like they were ever abusive or anything.”

In your mind you were still being overly dramatic and ridiculous, but the simple fact that Ana disagreed with that assessment, made you re-think your convictions.

“There is more than one way to hurt someone. And, Schatz, it’s clear as day that you’ve been hurt and people have severely damaged the image you have yourself.”

The gentle way in which Ana spoke to you, brought tears to your eyes. There is more than one way to hurt someone. You had never thought about it like this before.

“And it’s totally okay if you don’t feel up to talking about it right now. Just promise me that you won’t try to process everything all alone in your head! Talk to me once you’ve had some time to let it set, yeah?”

You smiled at that, your girlfriend really knew you too well. No, not too well, she knew you the perfect amount well.

“I promise, I’ll try?” It came out more as a question than a statement. And in some way it was; a question if that offer was good enough. Of course you had no reason to worry.

“I guess I’ll take that. And in turn I promise that I will bother you about it again,” Ana retorted, winking at you.

You huffed in fake annoyance, but made sure to communicate that it was in fact exactly what you needed with a grateful smile and by closing the distance, that had been left between the two of you ever since your girlfriend had sat up.

Sharing your thoughts and feelings wasn’t something that came naturally to you, so you appreciated some gentle pushes. It made it easier to believe that Ana really wanted to hear what was going on inside your mess of a brain.

With this out of the way, you tugged on your girlfriend’s upper arm to get her back into your previous position. You wanted some more snuggles.

However, Ana didn’t follow your silent request, her body still a little tense and something clearly still on her mind. She was nibbling on her lips, having some sort of internal fight.

“What’s going on in that mind of yours?” You asked, placing a few kisses on your girlfriend’s shoulder. The soft contact made her relax visibly.

“Okay, so I’m just going to come out and say it, but I want you to know that there’s no pressure. And really it probably isn’t my place to bring this up. However, I also know that you tend to over think.”

“And you tend to ramble,” you quipped, hoping to soothe some of your girlfriend’s nervousness. It worked like a charm.

Ana chuckled, sounding much less stressed when she continued, “I’d be happy to come along to your parents whenever if you don’t want to miss out on any time together, but still want to go and see them.”

“Really? That would be amazing!” You replied. „And you were right; I never would have brought this up even though I have been thinking about it.”

One more time you pulled on Ana’s arms to get her to lay down with you again and this time your girlfriend relented without pause, snuggling into you.

“So should I tell them we’ll come over for lunch tomorrow and then we’ll say we are meeting friends at 3 or something, so we have a reason to leave,” you suggested.

Ana agreed easily, deciding to not ask why you felt the need to have other plans lined up, or well a lie prepared to be able to leave whenever you wanted. Without even meeting your family she already knew they were very different from her own. Also, you had asked for some time to figure stuff out, so she didn’t want to add another thing on top of it.

After your girlfriend had given her approval, you quickly texted your mother back, before putting your phone away and focusing on the moment instead. You gently stroked Ana’s arm, the rhythmic motion doing a lot to calm yourself down as well.

Normally this was the moment you would began to worry, think through every possible and impossible scenario that could occur the next day when Ana met your family, but with your girlfriend in your arms it was easy to put a stop to that and instead bask in the peaceful quietness.

---

However, the next day not even Ana’s usually almost magical presence did anything to help you relax. Seeing how nervous you were, your girlfriend insisted on driving, which left you with the job of giving directions. But with how preoccupied with your worries you were, you missed several turns.

“Schatz, do you just want to give me the address so I can put it into the GPS?” The Swiss woman proposed carefully, after you had gotten annoyed with yourself for missing a turn for the fifth time.

“No, no, it’s okay. I’m going to focus now. I’m sorry,” you apologized, trying to slow down the tornado of thoughts going round and round in your mind.

“Everything is going to be fine, just take a deep breath. We can always leave if you don’t feel comfortable.”

You only nodded tersely. It was sweet of Ana to try and calm you down, but she didn’t know your family like you did. You couldn’t just leave whenever you wanted, not if you didn’t want to risk a whole lot of guilt tripping and harsh words.

“Or we can just cancel?” Ana tried again, when she noticed her words had done absolutely nothing to soothe your nerves.

You chuckled humorlessly. That was even less of an option.

„No, it’s fine really. I’m just being dramatic again, don’t take me seriously.“

Ana frowned at your attempt to downplay things, but she decided to stop her futile attempts. She had to accept that words were not going to do anything for you right now. Instead she reached over and took your hand into hers, trying to communicate that no matter what happened she would be right there with you.

Although in reality that was part of the problem. By now you were seriously berating yourself for not thinking this through more. You had just decided one random evening to bring your girlfriend to your parents’ house, a first time occurrence since you had never been serious enough about someone before.

A little while later Ana parked the car in the spot you pointed out. And as soon as she didn’t need her hands to drive anymore, she reached over to awkwardly hug you over the center console. It helped to bring you back to your body from where you had been lost in your head.

“We can still leave,” you girlfriend offered, making sure you knew she was completely serious.

“No, it’s okay. Let’s just get this over with,” you sighed.

Only when you were walking towards your parents’ front door, did you remember to check in with Ana. You should have learnt from the past that just because the blonde often seemed so calm, didn’t mean that she always was.

You tugged on her hand to get her to stop, hoping your parents weren’t already keeping an eye out through the window for you.

“And how are you doing? I’m sorry I’ve been making this about me so much. Now that I think about it, I should probably be the one calming you down.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Schatz. Also, I can see that this is really hard for you, so I’m happy I can be there for you. And really I’m fine.”

Ana’s voice sounded sure and steady, but still you couldn’t accept that answer so easily.

“Look, I’m being completely honest, somehow it helps me stay calm when you’re anxious, like I have something else than my own thoughts and worries to focus on,” your girlfriend explained once she saw your doubtful face.

This you could believe, you felt the same when Ana was particularly stressed or emotional. You gave the blonde’s hand a good squeeze, not feeling comfortable enough to hug or even kiss her when your parents were possibly spying on you.

“Good, but tell me if things change, yeah? We can always leave if you want to.”

Ana nodded, touched at this offer. From what she could gather just leaving whenever you wanted wasn’t something you ever did, even if your family made you uncomfortable. So, the fact that you were willing to do so if Ana needed it meant a lot to her.

Walking to the front door you gave yourself an internal pep talk. Surely things wouldn’t be as bad as some of the scenarios circling through your mind. Your parents weren’t the easiest people, but they also weren’t bad or anything. Ana and you would spend a couple of hours with them and then leave again to enjoy the rest of your day off. You could do a few hours! That was nothing in the grand scheme of things.

Sadly, this time you were proven wrong. Things turned out to be as bad as you had pictured them. And it all started with the realization that not only your parents, but also all of your aunts and uncles were there.

Your first thought, once you noticed, was that you were now severely outnumbered. At this point you still had hope though and even chastised yourself for thinking about this in a ‘you versus them’ manner.

However, then it continued with your family basically treating Ana like she wasn’t there. They didn’t address her, they didn’t react to anything she said, they didn’t even look her way. It made you want to scream at your family, but when you glanced over at Ana to gauge how she was feeling, she smiled at you bravely, mouthing that she was fine and that you should stay calm.

You wondered if she was hoping things would turn around, that your family just needed a little time to adjust and warm up to her. Or maybe your girlfriend had already resigned herself to a few hours of suffering through the awkwardness because she didn’t want to do anything that might impact your relationship with your family. Both were very Ana things to do.

You reached the end of your patience though, when your mother started dropping passive aggressive remarks aimed at Ana. The second time she mentioned how heartbreaking it was when people just swooped in and ruined a family, without mentioning your girlfriend of course, but clearly talking about her, you jumped up from your chair.

“Can we talk in the kitchen?” You gritted out between your teeth, staring daggers at your mother.

She just looked at your father meaningfully, like she has done so often when you were a kid and were throwing a tantrum. You balled your fists in anger; you hated how easily they could make you feel like a child again. And not a happy, excited about life child, but a stupid, worthless child.

“What is it, niña?” Your mother asked you innocently when you entered the kitchen, making your blood boil even more. It felt like you were one wrong word away from having steam shoot out of your ears like in a cartoon.

“You know exactly what I want to talk about,” you snapped.

Still feigning ignorance your mother looked at you in pretend confusion. “No, niña, I obviously don’t, otherwise I wouldn’t have asked. So can you just tell me, so we can go back. You’re being really rude right now.”

This was the final straw. You were going to tell your mother exactly what was wrong, in great detail and not quietly at all. However, before you got around to venting your anger, you heard a loud voice from the living room.

Without even sparing your mother a second glance, you rushed back there. The only thought on your mind was that you had to make sure Ana was okay. That was much more important than shouting at your mother, you could do that later.

The scene you walked into wasn’t pretty. Your uncle was standing, his face red and contorted into anger, while he was throwing a stream of angry words at your girlfriend. The rest of your family was nodding along in silent agreement.

Ana on the other hand was still seated, her hands balled into tights fist, just like yours had been seconds before, and her gaze fixed on the table. It made her look small and defeated, but one look at her stormy eyes was enough for you to recognize that she was actually doing her best to keep her temper in check. Despite everything she was still trying to keep peace, even if your family had been nothing but horrible towards her. It filled you with so much anger and disappointment.

You caught the last few words your uncle was yelling, before he snapped his mouth shut, the moment he noticed you. Clearly you weren’t supposed to hear this.

“Isn’t it enough that you stole my niece’s place in our team?! Now you’re also taking her away from us! But I’ll tell you right now, you will never be a part of this family!”

Anger was roaring through you at this point. So when you opened your mouth to defend your girlfriend, you didn’t hold back anything.

“No, let me tell you something! Right now I’m ashamed to call any of you my family. This is how you treat my partner, the woman I love? She isn’t taking me away from you, I just finally feel happy and accepted exactly the way that I am. And she definitely didn’t take away my spot at Atleti, we don’t even play the same position!”

With that you marched over to your girlfriend and took her hand to pull her up. Ana followed your guidance without resistance, holding on to your hand tightly.

“Come on, tesoro, we’re leaving,” you told her quietly.

“Wait what? You can’t do that, we’re your family,” your mother cried out.

You shrugged your shoulders. “Just because you’re my family doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want and I have to put up with it.”

And without listening to anything else you walked out of the front door, the warmth of Ana’s hand in yours giving you the courage to do so. In the past you would have given in to your mother’s pleading, you would have been intimidated by your father’s anger, but not this time. You had learnt that you deserved better, thanks to your girlfriend.

Swiftly you guided Ana to the passenger side, before getting into the driver seat yourself and pulling away in a hurry. You didn’t want to risk your family coming out to try and talk with you again. Your confidence was only so strong; you didn’t need to put it to any more tests.

You didn’t drive all the way home though; instead you found a quiet place to park. It was important to you to check in with Ana as soon as possible. After all, you were used to your family, but she wasn’t.

“Are you okay?” You both asked each other at the same time. It made you chuckle which diffused some of the loaded atmosphere in the car.

“You first,” you pleaded. You needed to know right now how your girlfriend was feeling.

Ana stayed silent for a moment, mulling her answer over. It had been a lot to take in and she wasn’t completely sure yet how she felt.

“I’m a bit overwhelmed I guess. You warned me about your family, but I didn’t expect this.”

“Honestly I didn’t either and I’m so so sorry for it,” you apologized, harshly rubbing away the tears filling your eyes.

Ana gently caught your hands and brought them to rest on her knees instead.

“Schatz, you have nothing to apologize for. Your family’s actions aren’t your fault, not ever!”

You took some deep breaths to avoid breaking down into tears completely, there was still so much more you wanted to say.

“I’m still sorry and I hope you know that I don’t share their beliefs at all.”

Your girlfriend looked at you searchingly. “Not even about me taking your spot a Atleti?” She asked quietly.

“No, of course not! Why would you ever think that? Wait, has anyone else said anything like that to you?”

How long had your girlfriend been worried about that? It had never even crossed your mind, so you had never thought to talk about it with her. But maybe she had been feeling like she had taken something from you all along.

“No, no, no one said anything. I just thought…I mean with the timing…So you really don’t feel like that?”

The hope in Ana’s voice hurt your heart. Now you knew without the shadow of a doubt that she had indeed been worrying about that, probably been feeling guilty since she met you, for absolutely no reason.

“Oh my gosh, no! I really never thought about it like that. Like I said we play on completely different positions. Plus I’m pretty sure that the decision to let me go was made weeks before Atleti ever signed you.”

Tears of relief began trickling down Ana’s cheek. She had been holding this inside for so long and now she finally had confirmation that she had worried needlessly. You gently wiped the tears away with your thumb, a complete antithesis to how unkindly you had gotten rid of your own tears.

“I wish you were as gentle with yourself as you are with me,” your girlfriend whispered, leaning into your soft touch, letting her eyes flutter shut for a moment.

You bit the inside of your cheek, frowning. “I’m working on it,” you offered.

“I know you are, Schatz. Now please tell me, how are you feeling?”

Ana fixed you with a serious gaze, making it clear that you weren’t going to satisfy her with any sort of generic reply. Therefore, just like she had done, you took a moment to tune into your feelings and gather your thoughts.

“Angry, disappointed, sad, guilty but mostly angry,” you listed, “I can’t believe they treated you like this!”

Just thinking about it made you mad all over again. How dare they! And sure maybe you were biased, thinking Ana was the most amazing person in the world. But then again you had yet to meet anyone that didn’t like the kind-hearted Swiss woman, so you weren’t alone in your assessment.

“You want to know the funny thing about all of this?” Your girlfriend asked.

Somehow you doubted that there was anything funny about this entire situation, still you motioned for Ana to continue. You were more than happy to get out of talking about yourself more.

“The thing that really makes me angry? The way they treated you and apparently have always treated you! I don’t care that much about what they said to me or how they ignored me, especially now that we cleared up the whole Atleti thing, but the way they treat you? Let’s just say I was very close to punching someone.”

Ana’s voice shook with anger, and suddenly you were glad you were the one sitting behind the wheel. Otherwise you wouldn’t have put it past her to turn around to actually give your family a piece of her mind. And as satisfying as that would be, you didn’t want to complicate this entire mess even more.

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t. They probably would have pressed charges and I don’t want you to get into trouble because of me.”

Your girlfriend shook your head vehemently. “Because of them”, she corrected.

“Fine, because of them,” you relented, “But the most important thing is that it didn’t happen and you won’t have to deal with any legal matters.”

Once again Ana shook hed head, “No, the most important thing is that you recognize that you’re not responsible for your family’s actions.”

You swallowed a couple of times, trying to get rid of the lump that had formed in your throat. It continued to overwhelm you how much your girlfriend cared for you, how important it was to her that you healed from every bad thing that had ever happened to you.

“I’m going to work on that too,” you promised.

“And I’ll be right here by your side, helping you,” Ana vowed.

That was something you were never going to say no to. Everything seemed much less daunting with your girlfriend by your side. It was nice to know you had someone in your corner, and not just someone that pretended to be there for you, as long as you stayed in the corner they wanted you to be in.

“How about we go back to my place now and have a cozy afternoon after all of this craziness?” Your girlfriend suggested.

It was precisely what you wanted to do, still you couldn’t agree right away. Instead you chewed some more on the inside of your cheek, stuck in indecision.

“Or maybe I should go back and clear everything up right now?”

“It that what you want to do? If so, then definitely do it,“ Ana responded.

You didn’t even have to give it a single thought to come to the conclusion that it wasn’t what you wanted at all, but it was what you thought you should do.

Your silence was enough of an answer for Ana and somehow she guessed very accurately where your mind was at, “I get that you feel like you should figure this out right away. But, Schatz, I don’t think it’s something that will be easily resolved in an afternoon. So, I really think that putting it to rest for a little bit might be best. Or if you just want some time alone, I also totally understand that.”

“No!” You jumped in, “That’s the last thing I want. What I really want is to go home with you, have a nice cuddle session before cooking dinner together. But I just feel like I should try again. Am I a bad daughter if I don’t?”

You knew what you parents’ answer to that question would be. They had been telling you all your life that you were a bad daughter when you couldn’t meet their needs and obviously their need right now was for you to come and make things right.

However, Ana had slowly started to change the way you thought about yourself and your family, so you were curious what she had to say.

“Absolutely not! If my parents ever did something like that, I would expect them to come to me and beg for my forgiveness.”

“Except they never would do something like that in the first place,” you added the part your girlfriend had so graciously omitted in a vain attempt to spare your feelings.

“True. So can I take you home now and shower you with love?” Ana pleaded, unleashing her secret weapon on you, her pout.

“You know there’s no way I can say no when you look at me like that,” you groaned.

“Good,” Ana replied with a satisfied smile. “Do you want so switch so I can drive?”

You nodded, feeling too jittery to safely drive anything more than a few blocks. Ana and you both got out of the car and when you met in the middle, your girlfriend pulled you into a hug, swaying you softly from side to side.

“Just a little teaser for all the cuddles to come,” Ana joked after she let go of you.

You smiled at her brightly, glad that you had made the decision to go with what you wanted, instead of doing what you thought you should do. Going home to snuggle with your wonderful girlfriend sounded so much better than going back and dealing with you very frustrating family.

---

The next few days Ana was extra affectionate with you. To be honest it was surprising she could even step up her affection game since she was already very affectionate to begin with. However, you appreciated it and it helped soothe the fresh wounds your family had inflicted.

You got a lot of messages from them, although not a single one contained any sort of apology. There were a lot of, sadly very successful, attempts to make you feel guilty, and if it weren’t for Ana, you would have felt like the world’s worst daughter.

A little over a week after the initial fight you felt ready to try and sort everything out with your family. Ana offered to go with you, but you decided against it. Your girlfriend being there and potentially being disrespected again would only make you more emotional. And the one thing you needed was to keep your composure, if you wanted any chance at having a calm conversation about this.

In the end it didn’t matter though. Within minutes the conversation turned into a shouting match that resulted in you storming out of your parents’ house once again. You rushed home to fall into the waiting arms of your girlfriend.

“I just want this to be resolved,” you whined after the worst of your sobs had died down, “But there’s nothing I can do if they don’t even realize what the problem is. And I hate that so much! I hate not being able to do anything!”

Ana rubbed soothing circles on your back, humming in agreement. She very much felt the same; she hated that there was nothing she could do to make this all better for you right this moment. Having to accept that something sucked and you could do nothing to change it, was a bitter pill to swallow.

You cried for a long time that evening, and you cried a lot more in the next few weeks. Then slowly you began to accept this reality, resigning yourself to having no contact with your family for the moment. You only reached out once more, sending them a text with your thoughts and explaining that you wouldn’t come around anymore until there was a clear signal from their side, that they were prepared to work on themselves.

After that you ignored every other message they sent, even debating if you should block all of your family members, but you weren’t ready to go that far yet. They were still your family! Plus you had left the door open an inch, for the unlikely scenario that they wanted to work everything out, so you had to at least glance at their texts.

Ana wasn’t too happy with that decision because every message made you sad and worried that you were being selfish all over again. She even offered to read the messages for you, but seeing your girlfriend get upset on your behalf was even worse than reading the harsh words yourself.

Therefore every time you got one, you quickly scanned it, getting disappointed each and every time, and then deleted the message. Unfortunately getting rid of the words wasn’t as easy as getting rid of the texts; they played on a loop in your mind.

We did so much for you and now you just turn your back on us?

You’ll come running back to us, as soon as she dumps you!

How can you do this to us? Your mother can barely eat because she’s so upset.

We didn’t raise you to be so stupid and blind. I can’t believe you’re letting her manipulate you like this.

Why are you being so dramatic about a few words?

It all fell apart completely at the game between Real and Atlético. You had been dreading that match for a long time. Not only would you be playing against your girlfriend, but also against your former club.

Ana and you had talked about it beforehand and promised each other that there would be no hard feelings, no matter what team won. You were pretty confident that the two of you would be able to follow through on that promise, but the anxious part of you still fretted about it.

However, once you entered the pitch for warm up you were slapped in the face by a harsh surprise, making every other worry seem obsolete. Your entire family was there, clad in Atleti’s colors and loudly supporting your former team.

It wouldn’t have hurt quite so much if they would have been at any other Atlético game this season, but they hadn’t. So the only reason why they were doing this now, was to upset you.

And they succeeded. Forgetting all professionalism you turned around and ran back into the tunnels, chocking on the tears you were holding back until no one could see you anymore. You heard a few confused voices calling after you, but you couldn’t explain right now, you couldn’t talk.

You found a quiet corner where you slid down the wall and buried your face in your hands, your knees pulled closely to your chest. Your entire focus went to keeping your breath as normal as possible to avoid spiraling into a full blown panic attack. Therefore you didn’t even notice someone coming up to you until that person sat down next to you and gently pulled you against their side.

For a moment you went stiff, uncomfortable with the sudden closeness. But then you smelled Ana’s coconut shampoo and allowed yourself to melt into you girlfriend.

“Wait, you shouldn’t be here,” you exclaimed once Ana’s calming power had helped you feel less overwhelmed and think more clearly again.

“Of course I should be here, you’re my girlfriend. No way was I not going to check on you after that stunt they pulled,” Ana replied harshly, softening her tone when she noticed you tensing up, “You’re much more important than any possible repercussions this could have, Schatz.”

“I just want to go home,” you mumbled, hating how much you sounded like a little kid.

“You can if you want to. I’m sure your coach would understand and if not I’ll beat them up. I could even go with you! Or I can go out there, grab your family and throw them out of the stadium. I’d happily do that.”

The mental image of your girlfriend literally throwing your family out made you chuckle. Although you had no doubt that she would actually do it if you asked her to.

“Or you go out there, completely ignore your parents and play an amazing game. And afterwards we’ll go home and I’ll hold you all night long.”

You stayed safely tucked away in Ana’s arms for a little while longer, before extracting yourself with a sigh. There was only one option you could live with, even if it was the one that meant suffering for the next few hours.

Ana studied you with pain in her eyes. You didn’t need to lay out for her what you wanted to do, she knew without a single word. And while she understood, she also longed to take you home, far away from the harshness of real life.

“If you change your mind at any point, let me know, yeah?” Your girlfriend requested.

“And then what? We run away together in the middle of the game?” you joked, but Ana didn’t react to your attempt at humor, instead she nodded seriously

“Yes,” she confirmed.

You swallowed, fresh tears pricking in your eyes because of your girlfriend’s willingness to do an absolutely crazy thing, if it was what you needed. And just that knowledge was a huge help in getting through the game.

Not once did you look over at your family, telling yourself they weren’t there. Still, you knew, and it hurt. It felt like something had been stuck right through your heart, twisting and turning with every movement, inflicting pain over and over again.

You didn’t let it show, though. There wasn’t a lot you could control when it came to your family, but you could at least decide how much or how little of your feelings they got to see. And they didn’t deserve to see any of them.

Because while you always felt horrible when you knew that you were the reason someone was hurting, you had to assume your family didn’t feel the same; that they might even get some satisfaction from knowing they upset you. Otherwise why would they have done this?

Throughout the entire game you functioned on autopilot, and you continued to do so until hours later when you stumbled into your girlfriend’s apartment. You had asked to go there instead of yours because absolutely nothing at Ana’s place reminded you of your family.

The moment you stepped through the front door, tears began running down your cheeks. Ana had been expecting this and pulled you towards her couch, cocooning you in her arms. She didn’t even attempt to say anything to make you feel better; there really wasn’t much she could say. She just let you get it all out.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Your girlfriend asked softly, after your tears had stopped and your breathing had been much more even for a while.

You shook your head, not trusting your voice to function right now. Not having to rely on words to communicate was one of your favorite things about your relationship with Ana.

“Okay, I’ll be here to listen whenever you feel ready,” Ana reminded you. “How about we block their numbers now?”

Again you shook your head and you could tell that your girlfriend didn’t agree with this decision, but she kept her tongue. She watched you like a hawk when you sat up and grabbed your phone.

“What are you doing?”

Ana did her best to keep her tone neutral, but internally she was anything but. She was of course curious, but mostly your girlfriend was worried that you had already convinced yourself again that this was somehow all your fault and were going to apologize to your family.

You simply showed Ana your phone, erasing all of her fears and replacing them with satisfaction and heartbreak. You had typed out a message to your family, stating that you would block them, and expected them to leave you alone until you were ready to talk with them again.

After you pressed sent, quickly so you couldn’t second guess yourself, you handed your phone to Ana.

“Now you can block them,” you instructed her, snuggling into your girlfriend again.

It didn’t necessarily feel good to cut all contact with your family for the moment, but it definitely felt right. However, lying all night long in your girlfriend’s arm definitely felt good, so much better than having another argument with your family that somehow always refused to see your side of things.

And being told that you were loved and that Ana was so proud of you, was also much better than being called childish, dramatic, ungrateful and whatever else your family came up with. Still, was it too much to ask to have a wonderful girlfriend and a loving family?

#woso #woso imagine #woso x reader #ana maria crnogorcevic imagine #ana maria crnogorcevic x reader

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coffe-and-tea-time · 6 hours

Text

HEAR ME OUT: A LIMINAL SPACE BUT YANDERE

…we seem to have drifted from our original plans with this account-

I call dibs on the dilf then

No, back off, he's mine🤺

Word count: 1.6k (the very first long post) (subtle brag)

TW: hinted yandere behavior but soft since it's the introduction, monster/non-human, written in you/yours, don't expect it to make much sense it's a liminal space that we created with things that came along the way and a bit of the backrooms wiki, human! reader is confused but interested (willing? Mostly confused)

“ugh… What time is it?”

You go grab your phone, annoyed that your stomach managed to wake you up. Maybe you really do need to eat something before trying to go back to sleep, though it's too comfy being in the warmth of the blankets… still, a loud grumble from your belly ruined your plans, with no other option left, you sight and reluctantly got out of bed with your phone in hand, however, as you were making your way to go to the kitchen, you heard the distinctive ping of your phone's notifications which made you turn around to see… you have your phone in hand, why is there a replica of your phone on your bed?

You get closer, thinking it's surely something else and your eyes deceived you because of the dim lighting, when you grab that second ‘phone’ you got even more confused, is a perfect replica of your own, you even compared them both side to side wondering if you finally went insane but you didn’t get enough time to question your sanity as you start to feel extremely dizzy, like everything around you is spinning around so damn fast you can't even tell if you were the one moving or see properly at all, you close your eyes in hopes that it will prevent you from getting nauseous.

"Why is feeling so fucking chilly?"

You said in a shiver as you feel yourself fall, this time you know you are really moving, why? Because your face hits the snowy ground… Snowy ground?

You move yourself a little too fast for a person that just kissed the ground with so much force, all you can see around you is softly falling snow through what looks like a residential street.

The night sky a little too black, there were no lights that you could clearly see from just a swift look around, no stars, and… no clouds, the sky was pitch black, yet the houses were illuminated with a slight glow from moonlight even as the moon was nowhere in sight.

The place was eerie to say the least, the overwhelming quietness of it all almost a warning of danger. There were no sounds of people, no distant murmurs of far away conversation, no barks from pets, no chirping of shivering birds.

This place is nothing like any place you've ever been in but it still gives you a nostalgic feeling.

What can you do to return to your home?

You start walking, maybe you should knock on a house with the lights on? It can be dangerous but there aren't a lot of options, one thing is sure, when you return home, you're gonna go to the hospital for a check-up, mental or physical? You aren't sure yet.

You thoughts were stopped when you catch a silhouette not so far away, seems the darkness makes it hard to see properly, but it's seems like the shadow of a little girl making a snowman, the sight relieves you somewhat and you decide to approach, asking the little girl is far more secure that knocking on randoms doors.

"Excuse me, little miss! It seems like I got lost, is there an adult with you that can tell me which street this is?"

You said out loud, it seems like the little one hears you when she tilts her head a little and moves her arms around cutely, the girl seems eager for you to come closer although you can't really tell if she is looking at you or not, it's odd, even as you get closer, you still see a shadow more than a child.

And then, you feel a soft and cold touch on top of your head, the faint snowing plus the silence makes you feel like you could hear as the soft snowflakes fell around you, like your sense of hearing heightened from the sheer lack of any other sounds.

That being said, you couldn't help but jump when the loud sound of the door opening abruptly met your ears and even more when you hear like somebody is running behind you, you quickly look back but all you can see is snow and darkness.

You return your gaze to the child, and got even more taken aback to find a shadow shaped like a abnormally tall man with horns sticking out of the dark smoke that seems to shape his 'hair' in front of you, and in the blink of an eye, you were picked up by 'him', he ran faster that you ever thought was possible, before you can even breathe, you already were inside of a house still in the man's arms, his hands under your armpits cupping you up like a soggy cat.

You try not to panic, as you let your eyes inspect the place, only one thing is sure: if it is dangerous, it is better not to test his patience, horror movies taught you better than that.

You feel something really cold hugging your leg, you gaze slowly going downwards only to find what you think is the little girl you saw earlier… seems like your eyes didn’t trick you before, it is in fact, a silhouette, a pitch black outline of a child.

What in the world is going on?

Well, at least they seem to understand you, the little one let go of your leg and gestured, trying to explaining you everything with charades, you would find it very lovable and adorable in any other occasion; your focus on the kid quickly interrupted by the man's hold of you shifting, his hands coiling around you and pressing you to his chest in what felt like a hug, your feet don't even touch the ground, you can feel thought your pajamas the cold emanating from his.. body? Well, unlike his gastly looking hair, the rest of his body did feel more solid, seems like even shadows can have a sleeper build…

Wait, what?

Before you can think of anything else, your stomach growls, right, you were about to fetch yourself some food before you ended up here, though, their reaction to the grumble of your stomach amused you, how the tiny blank eyes of the little girl widened, them both freezing in a second of shock before the man ran again with you in his arms.

You can sense the toddler running after you two as the man runs into what seems like a rather luxurious kitchen, your bare feet finally meet the rather warm floor again although you still don't have time to relax as the shadow man tries to hurriedly feed you a spoonful of baking powder.

“I’m sorry but I can’t eat that…”

You anxiously try to explain why you can’t just eat baking powder, hoping he didn’t take it the wrong way and lucky for you, he seems more concerned than anything, his.. mouth? twitches making more of a weary expression, at least you think so as he hurried to open all of the cabinets and even the fridge, letting you look through everything to search for something you could actually eat.

You sense a gentle tug on your pajama's shirt, when you look down, you were met with the little girl shyly offering you a fruit that you can actually eat, so you gladly accept it, you can’t help but find the shadow duo cute as they start cheering between themselves, seemingly celebrating that they found something that you can eat, you kind of want to take a photo but well, you don’t have your phone and probably if you had it, you would be calling for help rather than recording cute moments.

You start to relax on the chair as you eat, the adrenaline slowly wearing off of your body and with that comes the pain, right, you slammed on the ground a few minutes ago, you feel your body between a state of numbness and pain, you can't help but to winche because of that, which make the duo approach you again quickly.

“Sorry, i-is nothing, I just… need some sleep”

You come up with a quick excuse, even though they are weirdly kind and seems harmless, just in case, it's better to avoid mentioning any injury or damage since you still don't 100% trust how they'd react, you trust the outside even less though. Your mind plays back to that running you heard behind you before the shadowy man took you away, the memory still sending shivers down your spine. To escape from them without proper knowledge of how things work here sounds dumb.

As you were lost in thought, the tall man scooped you up once again, this time his cold touch felt gentler than before, you start to wonder if he sees you as a cat of some sort but there is no use in asking since these creatures don't seem like they know how to speak.

He walked you upstairs into what seemed like the master bedroom and gently tucked you into the bed with a soft pat on your head, you start to sense that these shadows love being affectionate, a little touchy feely; Maybe is the contrast of his cold body with your warmer human body, you can’t really blame him, the smoke that he has for hair seems really soft to the touch too…

For better or for worse, he stood up straight again and start checking the lock on the windows, making sure they were well covered, only opening the door to invite the child in, who quickly layed besides you handing you a little book, a bedtime story, with a smile, You find endearing the fact they so eagerly want to hear a story, but a chill runs to your spine when you hear the tall man locking the door and then laying down on the other side of the bed beside you.

The night ends up peacefully although the exhaustion wins over your sense of self preservation, you slowly drifting off to sleep after reading the story to the little girl.

sorry for any misspellings or weird sentence structure ❣

images from pinterest

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allurilove · 3 days

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Okay but.... What about Stalker / boyfriend / husband Yandere in their firt time with reader but Reader simply does not moan?

She hold it, cause she used to please themselves in silent and have a good self-control and does not make any noise apart from sights? or maybe they are embarrasing cause her moans are "cringy".

Yandere husband would think that he’s not good at sex. He’s used to having his partners be more vocal, moaning all the time, and telling him to go faster or harder. He would put you into a different position, testing out different things to see if you’ll finally crack. He’s not that vocal himself, but he wasn’t used to hearing someone just sigh. Yandere husband would pull out and ask if something was wrong. Because he doesn’t want to hear himself moan, and that just wasn’t pleasurable to him. He would tell you that it’s okay to moan, and he won’t do anything else but go down on you, and tease you until you finally said something.

Yandere stalker wouldn’t say anything. He’ll let his curiosity build up until he just had to ask you about it. He thought that maybe that was just how you were. So, maybe at dinner wasn’t the best idea to talk about your sex life so publicly. But, he just needed to know why. He would lean in and whisper his question, or just drop subtle hints about how “quiet” you are.

Yandere boyfriend if you’re his first, which is probably most likely, he would think that women just dont moan 😭😭😭 He doesn’t watch porn, never really had a girlfriend (except for one but yall can decide if that’s canon or not), and he would just be like “yeah my partner doesn’t moan.”

#Allurilove asks #yandere husband x you #yandere stalker x you #yandere boyfriend x you

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thatsoraya · 1 day

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COMFORT

pairing. nanami kento x fem!reader abstract. a sudden thunderstorm triggers y/n's childhood fear, thankfully she has nanami to comfort her. wc. 1290 notes. guess who stayed up the whole night due to thunderstorm and wrote this.. lol tbh i wish i had someone to comfort me like this <3... not me projecting myself in this one !!

divider by @saradika-graphics

the night had been pleasant, the air thick with the scent of jasmine filtering through the open window. you snuggled closer to nanami, his warmth a comforting presence beside you. thunderstorms were a rare occurrence in this calm weather, and the thought hadn't even crossed your mind.

a low rumble in the distance, barely audible at first, shattered the tranquility. you stirred, the sound a subtle prickle against your sleep-laden senses. nanami, ever attuned to even the slightest shift in your demeanor, stirred as well.

"is everything alright?" he murmured, his voice a low rumble against your ear.

you mumbled a noncommittal reply, trying to convince yourself the sound was just a figment of your imagination. but as if nature conspired against you, a flash of lightning illuminated the room, followed by a deafening crack of thunder that seemed to shake the very foundation of the building.

your breath hitched, and you instinctively burrowed deeper into nanami's side. a tremor ran through your body, the fear a primal thing that clawed its way up from the depths of your being.

nanami, sensing your rising panic, tightened his hold on you. his touch, usually light and reassuring, was now a firm anchor, a silent promise that he wouldn't let you weather this storm alone.

"it's just a thunderstorm, alright?" he said, his voice calm and steady, a stark contrast to the chaos raging outside. he knew your fear of thunderstorms – a childhood holdover you weren't particularly proud of.

you nodded, but the gesture was more for his benefit than yours. the rational part of your brain understood it was just a weather phenomenon, but the primal fear refused to be quelled. every boom of thunder sent shivers down your spine, and the flashes of lightning momentarily painted grotesque shadows on the walls, fueling your terror.

nanami, ever the pragmatist, didn't try to belittle your fear. instead, he flipped on the bedside lamp, dispelling the dancing shadows. the soft yellow glow, while not entirely removing the fear, offered a semblance of control over the situation.

he shifted, placing a hand on your cheek, his thumb gently stroking a soothing circle. "come here," he murmured, pulling you closer until you were practically nestled in his lap. his other hand carded through your hair, a slow, rhythmic motion that mimicked the gentle rocking of a cradle.

you buried your face in his chest, the steady rise and fall of his breath a calming counterpoint to the erratic thudding of your heart. the scent of sandalwood, his usual cologne, filled your senses, a familiar comfort that grounded you amidst the storm's fury.

"focus on my breathing," he instructed softly while softly patting your back. you hesitantly followed his lead, inhaling as his chest expanded, exhaling as it contracted. with each shared breath, your own ragged gasps became shallower, a semblance of calm returning to your racing heart.

the rain lashed against the windowpanes, a relentless drumming that seemed to vibrate through your bones. the thunder still boomed, but it seemed further away now, muted by the soft cocoon nanami had created around you.

he continued to stroke your hair, his touch a silent promise of safety. he spoke in a low murmur, not necessarily coherent words, but a soothing stream of consciousness that soothed your frayed nerves. he spoke of mundane things – the upcoming mission, the stack of paperwork that awaited him at work, the stray cat that had taken to hanging around their apartment building.

his voice, a deep baritone, was a soothing balm against the storm's fury. you found yourself focusing on the sound, the rhythm of his words slowly lulling you into a state of drowsiness. the fear hadn't entirely vanished, but it had receded to a dull ache in the background.

as the storm raged on outside, a different kind of calm settled over you. the warmth of nanami's body, the steady rhythm of his breath, and the gentle murmur of his voice all conspired to lull you into a peaceful slumber.

when you woke the next morning, the storm had passed. sunlight streamed through the window, painting the room in a warm glow. the world outside seemed washed clean, the air crisp and fresh.

you stirred, feeling a pleasant drowsiness clinging to you. a weight on your side made you turn, and you found yourself nestled comfortably against nanami's chest. his arm was wrapped around you protectively, his face relaxed in sleep.

the memory of the previous night's storm flickered in your mind, but the fear was gone, replaced by a warm sense of gratitude. you shifted closer, nuzzling your face against his chest. he stirred slightly, his eyes fluttering open.

a ghost of a smile played on his lips as he met your smile. "feeling better?" he asked, his voice a husky rumble.

"much," you replied, your voice thick with sleep. you couldn't help but lean in and press a kiss to his jawline, a silent thank you for chasing away the storm clouds, both literal and metaphorical.

he chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through his chest. "sleep well?"

"like a baby," you lied with a sheepish grin. you hadn't exactly slept through the night, but the snatches of sleep you did get were filled with a sense of security thanks to him.

"don't worry about lying," he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "i could tell by the way you were practically glued to me all night."

heat rose to your cheeks. "well, you were a pretty good human shield," you teased, playfully punching his arm.

he raised his eyebrow in mock offense. "human shield? i prefer the term 'comfort provider.'"

you laughed, a genuine, carefree sound that filled the room. "alright, alright, comfort provider it is."

he pulled you closer, his lips hovering near your ear. "next time a thunderstorm rolls in, just wake me up. i'll be more than happy to provide comfort again."

his words sent a shiver down your spine, but this time it was a pleasant one. the lingering fear of the storm was completely forgotten. you knew, with unwavering certainty, that no matter what storm raged outside, you'd always have a safe haven in nanami's arms.

the weekend passed in a blur of comfortable silences and shared laughter. you spent the mornings curled up on the couch, sipping steaming mugs of tea while watching the rain-soaked city slowly come back to life. in the afternoons, you helped nanami clean up the apartment, the mundane task surprisingly enjoyable when done in his company.

one evening, as you were cooking dinner, a sudden flash of lightning illuminated the kitchen, followed by a crack of thunder that almost made you jump. you let out a small yelp, a reflex you thought you'd overcome.

nanami, who had been reading at the table, appeared by your side in an instant. his hand settled on your back, a comforting weight that instantly calmed your racing heart.

"still a little jumpy?" he asked, his voice laced with amusement.

you sighed, a playful smile gracing your lips. "apparently so."

he leaned in, his lips brushing your ear. "don't worry," he murmured, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "i'm here now."

his words held a deeper meaning, a silent reassurance that transcended the fear of a thunderstorm. they spoke of a bond that could weather any storm, a love that provided a haven in the midst of life's uncertainties.

that night, as you lay curled up beside him, the rhythmic patter of rain against the window no longer filled you with dread. instead, it became a gentle lullaby, a reminder of the love that kept you safe and warm, a love that had turned even thunderstorms into a testament to nanami's unwavering presence.

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fanaticsnail · 20 hours

Text

Killer Watchdog

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,700+

Synopsis: Studying at sea was never an easy feat, especially while travelling under the captainship and serving alongside the unruly crew sailing on the Victoria Punk. As you complete your intensive over Den-Den, you notice the silence and choose to investigate the cause.

Themes: Killer x gn!reader, fluff, sfw, studying, flirting.

Notes: @ushoppu said they wanted some Killer fics to help through studies. He is such a supportive blorbo, and everyone deserves a Killer watchdog to guard their valuable study time.

Tag list: @sordidmusings @feral-artistry @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @indydonuts @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @carrotsunshine @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training

The silence reverberating in your room had a subtle ring of tinnitus echoing in your eardrum. It was quiet. Too quiet. The most quiet it had ever been in all your time traveling and serving beneath Eustass Kid and his unruly crew.

Never one to give up on your dreams, no matter where the vessel drew you towards, you took to earning your merit and continued to study despite your career in piracy. As your intensives drew all the closer, to say you were stressed was a gross understatement.

The crew was loud, their ruckus was boisterous and unhinged, and there was no way you could ever aim to complete your final timed report over Den-Den with your assessor aboard the Victoria Punk. At least, that was what you thought. A call of your full name and title through the mouthpiece of the snail drew back your attention.

“Are you still with me?” the voice called, snapping you back to reality, “You have another fifteen minutes for the final assessment. Do you require more time?” Drawing your eyes back to the page, you noticed your penmanship and calligraphy was almost completely concluded. All you had to do was flicker through your notepaper and cite your references, and your assessment was completed.

“I can get it done in ten,” you smirked to yourself, the snicker through the mouthpiece from your assessor was emitted in response to your confession.

“Well then,” the smirk they were wearing was depicted in their tone, “Make my day. Get it done, you've got this.” You hummed, steadily locating all of your quotes, highlighting your final masterpiece and running over your paper for any grammatical errors and spelling mistakes. As the clock’s minutes ticked over, you huffed out a sharp exhale and nodded at the snail’s eye lenses.

“It’s done, stop the clock,” you smiled, presenting your sheet up to the snail's face for your assessor to shutter the final flicker over your page. You hum enthusiastically, turning through the pages and allowing a moment for several flickers to resound before removing them completely.

“You’ve done well for so little time,” they praise you, their voice distorted in the crackled hum of the den-den speaker. “Especially considering the captain you sail under.” You huff, scoffing at the transmitter end of the speaker and glaring into the glaring lens.

“Who I serve and sail with is none of your business,” you snarl into the snail, your aura turning dangerous and resolve dark and unwavering, “All that should matter to you is the merit of my marks, and quality of my work. That was our agreement, was it not?” The voice chuckles into the snail, the crackling voice reassuring you with a soft hum.

“Of course. All I was saying is your companions have been awfully quiet during your intensive. I feel like the silence aided the quality of your work,” they relay on you, the rustling of printing paper and clinking of several pens retracting from a ceramic bowl over their desk while adding, “I will assess your etchings and research here and get it back with your final tally. Dismissed, and good job."

The click and muffled silence had you exhale in relief, slinking back into your chair and releasing a breath you didn't know you were carrying. The gentle rock and sway of the ship had you more at ease as you rose and fell your breath with each softening swell. Closing your eyes, you focussed on the sounds of crashing waves meeting the wooden hull, and noticing the absence of your captain's barking roars, and your crew's daily spats and roughhousing.

Silence, the encumbering depths of uncomfortable unfamiliarity. Reopening your eyes, you furrow your brows as the silence grows more intense. Finally plagued by the bewilderment enough, your curiosity needed to be sated and you could no longer tolerate the unknown.

Removing yourself from your chair, you cast the wood backwards and hastily stalked towards your door and flung it wide enough to indent the knob in the door beside it.

“Why is everyone so fucking quiet?” you yell into the wooden hallway, your agitation and disdain for the silence forming in a rough grimace.

“And here I thought you'd thank me for it,” you yelped in shock, jumping as you snapped your head over to the voice and gruff cough. Reclining beside your door, arms folded and feet outstretched on the hallway wall in front of him, his dual sythes lay beside him and itching to be claimed in his hands.

His mask lay bobbed and downturned, his shoulders squared but his back arched in a concave atop the all-too-small stool beside the wall. Your lips parted as you attempted to reign in your grin.

“You're keeping everyone quiet?” You gasp back your shock, gently reaching down and giving his shoulder a gentle nudge, “What made you decide to do that?” He gruffly grunts back his displeasure at the gruff motion, shrugging off your movement and seeming to pout with his biceps curling ever tighter.

“I enjoy being your watchdog,” he mocks his tone, shimmying his shoulders with pride at such a title, “Guarding you as you study, given what happened last time with your Den-Den presentation, has been my top priority.” He stands from his recline hastily, his hulking form immediately towering over your smaller stature.

“It's true, Bubblegum’s shanties are still the talk of the lecture hall,” you give a gentle nod, smiling up at him while he steps all the closer to you. “I can still hear the chorus in my mind each time I try to recite my finals. I'm glad to have such a killer watchdog in you. But why do it?”

Slowly reaching for your chin with his scarred left hand, he steadies your face with his index finger and thumb while stooping over you. Drawing his mask all the closer to you, you could feel the whisper on his tongue before a sound was ever truly made.

“I want to see you thrive,” his voice held sincerity and a gentle, soothing hum, “You’re the best of us, and we're all so, so,” he leaned in further, the blue of his eyes shining and glimmering between the circular holes, “Proud of you. I'm proud of you.”

You felt your breath stolen from you, as your eyes darting over the divots and indents within his mask. He held you captive, your lips parting within each moment he drew you up to him.

As you stepped up to your toes in an attempt to make your distance close further, the sound of your crackling Den-Den printing immediately drew your attention away and back to your desk. Spinning on your heels, you sprinted to your desk and immediately clutched the papers in your hands.

“I-... I-...” your eyes scanned the papers, darting over the page and noticing your final grade marked and annotated in bold. Your hands shook and shuddered the page, prompting a steady hand to cradle your arm from his presence behind you.

“You…?” he whispered behind you, gently coaxing you to steady your hand, “You, what? How did you do?”

“I did it,” you whispered, reaching up and clapping your hand over your lip to stifle your glee. Turning in his arms, you shriek your glee up at him, “Kil, I did it! I did it! I passed the- Kil, put me down!”

Immediately hoisting you up over his shoulder, he stomped with heavy footsteps out of your room, your eyes wide with horror and shock as he chaperoned you like a sack of flour easily over his body. Marching upwards, you finally made it to the deck, glancing at the retreating darkened hallway beneath the stairs.

“We got a pass!” Killer’s voice bellowed with glee in his tone, cheering your name in a hefty boom, prompting the crew to join him in celebrating your accomplishment. He spun you, earning a shriek from your chest as he twirled you so easily on his shoulders before grappling your waist and pinning you facing against his broad chest in a warm embrace.

“That mean we can fuckin' speak now, Kil?” The captain bellowed in a gruff snarl, “Not gonna withhold our rations anymore? Gonna stop treatin’ us like children?”

“You were going to withhold rations, Kil?” you slapped him in the chest with a soft pout on your features, “Why would you do that, big guy?”

“To ensure you had every opportunity to do your best,” he uttered nonchalantly, a soft shrug in his tone and a hidden smile on his lips, “And it paid off, didn't it?” Your heart began to flutter and flood your chest with a warmth unmatched. You offered a soft smile as your eyes began to glaze over.

“Oh Kil, I could just kiss you right now-,” you began, your voice being cut immediately by a bark from your captain go break your attention away.

“-Yeah, yeah. Food now, big guy. Hungry,” Kid brushed aside your moment together and marched over to your side, “Take our little scholar with you down there. Have ‘em in the kitchen with you for all I care. As long as I get some barbeque, I don't give a fuck. Food. Now.”

Both chuckling, Killer switched you to cradle his arms behind your knees and around your shoulders to make you more comfortable in his arms.

“Alright, little scholar,” Killer whispered huskily into your ear, gently escorting you below deck, “Come put your hands and mouth to good use. You get first bite for being such a clever little scholar.”

His rumbled purr rose peaks of goose flesh on your neck, your heart palpitating with each spurred moment. You attempted to stifle your nerves and gulp back your rising fluster.

“Only if it's from your fork, big guy,” you flutter your eyelashes and feel the tense swell of his broad arms tighten their hold on you.

He coughed his nerves back behind his mask, finally reaching the kitchens and placing you down on the stool at the kitchen island before walking to the other side of the island and beginning to ready the meal preparation for the crew.

“You just sit right there,” he purred at you, gathering tongues, forks and several pots and grilling plates, “Be my muse, clever little scholar. Let me make you a reward.”

“Watching you work is all the reward I need, big guy,” you quirk back at him, leaning forward on the bench and slowly raking your eyes over his figure and watching him prepare the flames and fires.

Killer attempted to stifle his soft, nervous giggle behind his lips to now avail, but he was ever thankful to have his blush hidden behind his blue and white mask. He couldn't wait to grant you a sample of the meal he'd been marinating for two days just for this occasion.

He would do anything to earn him that sultry and possessive gaze, alongside that smile he had come to pine for. The willingness to guard you as you worked stemmed from the fact that he was truly and deeply infatuated with you, and hoped you might be willing to reciprocate his affections eventually.

If not his stance as your noble knight clad in mask and leather, then perhaps his cuisine could grant him that final push to earn a more intimate look from you. For now, he could settle for flexing his muscles as he prepared your meal, and watching that hunger grow in your eyes for not only his barbeque, but for Killer himself.

#one piece #x reader #op killer #killer x reader #one piece killer #op killer x reader #one piece fluff #one piece x reader #sfw #kid pirates

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