#<- now scared hair will look bad from haircut | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

blush-pedri · 2 months

Text

fans are assholes | r. dias

summary: fans compare your pregnancy to fellow wags, leaving you to feel not so good.

notes: as requested! i don’t think i specified that it was twins but it still works. dad!ruben has to be my fav genre 🤪 i hope you all enjoy, some very cute at moments 💘 let me know what you all think! <3

IT WAS MATCH DAY, and although you were feeling rough like you had done the last 7 months, you had promised your fiancé you would make it to today’s knockout game rather than watching from home. he wanted you to support from the stadium, but he also wanted to get you out of the house too.

you were 32 weeks along and feeling very heavily pregnant.

yeah, it’s all fun and games when dating a tall man until you have to grow his unnecessarily large children.

all you wanted to do was lie down and moan this entire trimester, having nothing but a hard time with this one you were growing. you’d had every bad symptom imaginable, from the nonstop sickness and heartburn, to back and hip pain, difficulty sleeping and sore boobs, and now in the final stages you were experiencing braxton hicks, so yeah - all you did want was to lie down and whine. more than ever, you just wanted to stay in the comfort of your own home and nest.

“—you’re not even nesting though! you’re sitting here watching tv all day! get up and get ready!” rúben had said to you just yesterday morning after you’d told him you were too busy nesting to grab a coffee with him before training.

“mama, i think you should go tomorrrow . .” another sweet voice said from the sofa, glancing sympathetically in your direction.

your sweet boy, elias, didn’t want to offend you and make you feel like a slob, but he really wanted you both to go to his papa’s games. with school, you didn’t allow him to go to any late night matches which were always the majority, but tomorrow’s kickoff was 3:30pm and when he pitched the idea, you felt awful for feeling like you’d deprived him of some fun memories.

you really didn’t want to go, but your baby boy deserved it. he’d been working so hard in the last weeks of school and rúben would agree that you needed to take him - he wanted you both there just as much but he also knew not to tell a pregnant woman what to do - he wasn’t the one carrying an 8lb baby around in all summer.

“you nearly ready, baby?!” you called from your room, trying your best to look acceptable for today’s outing. you couldn’t remember the last time you’d done your makeup and styled your hair so neatly, baby dias was really kicking your butt that you hardly had any energy after a shower, let alone doing your makeup and hair.

you really needed them out so you could go back to your old self.

you didn’t remember pregnancy being this hard with eli. with him, you were able to get through the rest of school with him growing in your belly! taking notes and listening in class. sure, you had sickness and a sore back but that was really only at the start and at the end. given, you were younger and full of energy.

eli came along in the last of your teen years but you wouldn’t change anything for the world, same with rúben. he blamed that baby boy for being the reason he pushed himself so hard to get where he was today. he was such an easy pregnancy, and an easy kid.

being honest, you felt more unprepared for this new baby as a grown adult than you did as a teenager back in 2016.

with a few thuds across the landing and a solid jump at your bedroom door, you turned to see your 8-year-old all ready holding two thumbs up. with a man city kit on and trainers, he looked like rúben more than ever. seriously, if you got a photo of rúben back then, it was like looking at eli with a slightly different haircut. it scared you so much. “ready!”

traffic was always bad no matter what time you left, but you got there in one piece and already left eli with one of your closest friends and bernardo’s wife, ines, while you had to run to the bathroom even after such a short journey. jeans were longgg out of the equation so you’d gone with some loose, white trousers to go with the blue football shirt, hoping they didn’t wrinkle too much but still looked good with the outfit. ��you are glowing!”

“no, it’s probably just my highlighter,” you pointed to your cheekbone as ines laughed cheerfully.

“no! you look amazing, what are you talking about?! i have missed you!” she couldn’t help but hug you again. “you’re ready to pop!”

she felt your bump and you huffed a sigh, pulling your sunglasses down, “i know, it feels like it.”

you didn’t really like being out this far along, not because you were afraid, but you were at that stage were you were starting to feel gross. like, you looked like a whale no matter what you wore or styled yourself to look like. realistically – you were one of the most beautiful pregnant women the internet had saw. truly, you may have felt like an elephant, but you were still posted on WAG accounts, getting shared by millions of women who begged they could only look as good as you when pregnant or better - envied you for still looking so hot while suffering the struggles of pregnancy.

how?! 😭❤️

life’s not fair!!!! 😫

what’s her secret?!!! 😍😭🙏🏼

but you could have gotten a thousand comments like that . . but all it took was the one bad one.

fucking hell, keep her inside 😂🫣

who is that??

🤣🤣🤣🤮🤮

a lot of the time you didn’t care because you knew how the internet worked, and you know the majority were sad-little-pathetic-football-fan men. they barely impacted you.

when it was women on the other hand . . .

“i just can’t believe one woman would say that to another woman,” you tilted your phone to show ines the replies. “what happened to the whole ‘girls help girls?’” you had to put your phone down before you ended up on a gossip page for arguing with people in your comment section.

“it’s always down to jealousy, babe. they hate you ‘cause they ain’t you,” she pointed, the same thing you had told her when she got her first negative comment, and you smiled at her attempt of making you feel better. she was such a good friend.

the internet was a weird place. your life was a weird place, you didn’t think there’d be a day people hated you for simply being with a person. you found it weird paparazzi followed you around when rúben was the famous one. you found it weird there were accounts dedicated to you when you didn’t do anything. it caught you off seeing people notice every little thing about you or knew things you forgot you’d explained. it did add a little bit of pressure knowing you were being watched and most likely compared to other beautiful WAGS. you’d be lying if you didn’t say you’d put on makeup in fear you’d be posted all over those news articles and WAG accounts.

you forgot how stressed matches made you until kickoff, two minutes in and already overthinking how this would go down. rúben had your heart fluttering nontheless with how he ran up and down the pitch, giving orders all sweaty and even repping the captain band for a bit. it made you feel real good about your baby daddy.

“come on, pa!” your son would shout when a bit of a ruffle would occur, his father speaking passionately to the ref with frustrating hand movements.

the halftime whistle blew and you let out a breath, fanning yourself as your body relaxed for a small moment. 0-0. “ma, i need to go to the bathroom.”

“me too, let’s go!”

perks of dating a footballer? renting out their own box for friends and family - including the private bathroom. no queues around hereee.

walking through the rows and steps, you couldn’t help but feel eyes pinned to you. ines would tell you because you’re a WAG of a player (you regret ever educating her on that term) but really you felt like it was because you looked like a whale making her way through the stands.

eli convinced you to do a lap of the stadium just once to ‘stretch your legs’ when really it was something he always liked to do as he believed it ‘made halftime pass quicker’. so hobbling around with few staff members recognising the kid (or rather seeing the clear evidence he was a mini rúben) , you strolled around the packed building, trying to squeeze past football fans, getting stopped once for a picture.

“thank you so much!”

“no worries at all,” you waved to the two girls, shooting them your kindest smile. they were so lovely, and even complimented you for ‘pulling off pregnancy so well’.

“you’re sLayiNg” eli mocked them, taking your hand.

“shut up,” you tutted. you appreciated being told you were still slaying.

“matt!”

the 8-year-old suddenly bolted to a familair security guard in a neon vest who was delighted to see the boy. “my man!”

you didn’t bother rushing over, you were out of breath as it was and decided to just lean on the wall while elias got his quick catch up, waving at matt instead. halftime was almost over. you should be heading back now.

“—not the best one though.”

“—no, sasha is definitely the best wag.”

i swear, the word ‘wag’ triggers you like nothing else.

you tried not to look around, but to your left, you could make out two bodies mingling with each other. both wearing light blue tops with stylish jeans and trainers, the two girls waiting outside the bathroom, trying to talk quietly between then in a mumbled manner.

you were a mum - you had mastered your hearing to hear the grass grow.

“–but sasha’s not pregnant?”

“–but if she was, she’d have a cute bump, not . . ”

their silence had you believe they’d glance in your direction, and it took every bone in your body not to stare dead on at them with a smile to let them know you heard every word - but you didn’t. you played oblivious and stayed watching eli, a forced sweet smile on your lips.

“–foden’s girl always has a cute little bump too!”

“–oh my god, yes. she’s stunning.”

“–he’s stunning too, to be fair.”

“eli, come on son!” you wanted to bang your head on the wall not wanting to endure the conversation anymore. now you’d tune in, you couldn’t tune out.

“–ok. bye matt! see you later,” he didn’t waste a second to return to you. “see you soon, buddy!”

you waved at matt and led him through the crowds, not meaning to hold his hand so tight until he pointed it out. “ow, ma, you’re hurting me.”

“sorry baby.” you didn’t sound sorry but you felt utterly hot and bothered. and not in the good way.

for some unreasonable reason, a small line of carts drove through the halls, and you stood against the wall as they passed by, holding your son by his shoulders. you could hear a small utter of whispers from your side but refused to turn your head. you really needed to fucking sit down.

“—dias’ girl! look at the size of her!”

“–rob that’s so mean! she’s pregnant!”

“WOW!” eli stole your attention as he almost stepped out in front of a last minute one zooming by. you smiled, and quickly manoeuvred him on your way.

“keep going, keep going,” you shuffled behind him in the stands, but stopped amidst a waiting line as someone caused hassle. your foot kicked something. “oh i’m so sorry!”

you accidentally tapped your foot to a lady’s handbag, but she smiled and waved you off. “you’re alright, don’t worry!” shortly adding, “i’m not surprised!” glancing to your belly.

it wasn’t malicious, but it was about to be the last straw of some floodgates. “ha! i know . . I’m like a whale.”

“how far along are you?” her friend asked.

“about 7-8 months,” you smiled sweetly, ignoring the fact they didn’t assure you that you didn’t look like a whale. thanks.

“oh wow!”

“i know,” you fake laughed. why wasn’t this line moving?

“is it twins or just the one?”

you tried to stop your eye twitching. who in the right kind said that?! was that . . a backhanded compliment?! what that even a compliment?! or was she genuinely asking in a stupid and nosey manner? “no, but it feels like it,” you fake laughed, and they did too. twats.

“oh my! you’re so big!”

“he or she will be a big boy or girl,” the other corrected with her pint in hand, knowing her friend’s words had just flown out of her mouth.

“yeah . .” you were done with this conversation but you didn’t dare be rude. thankfully, the line moved, and they waved goodbye. “congratulations!”

“thank you!” you replied, turning back around, mouthing absolute knobheads.

“mum, i don’t think you’re a whale,” eli’s hand patted your own that rested on his shoulder, bringing you back down to earth.

your heart thumped and although he didn’t look at you, your heart melted to a puddle as you squeezed his shoulders and ruffled his hair, knowing you’d embarrass him with a kiss. “thank you baby. you’re always to sweet to me.”

and he was. you actually . . wanted to cry. shock.

“hey!” ines greeted. “where’d you guys go?”

you only shook your head and nodded to you son who was standing again, ready and recharged for more yelling. you felt ines squeeze your hand and you looked at her, “are you ok? you look . .”

“yeah, i’m fine,” you dabbed your eyes and put your sunglasses back on. “just . . stupid stuff, and then e said something really sweet and i just,” you held your heart which made her laugh and reassure her for the time being. “ok, but . . you can tell me, y’know?”

“just being emotional,” you said the obvious, making her laugh as you leaned into her for support.

you would tell her later, but right now, you were going to use the rest of the game as your excuse to start screaming.

the game ended on a win. you saw rúben briefly when the players walked around and applauded, and eli mirrored his excitement and happiness, waving and calling to him as he spotted you guys. he was ecstatic you could make it.

it was after 6 by the time you got home and settled. you were about to order food when you second guess your options, today’s events replaying in your mind:

look at the size of her!

sasha would have a cute bump.

you’re so big!

you knew you were pregnant but there were far nicer things to say to a pregnant lady. what a bunch of assholes.

instead, you cooked some carbs up for eli and made yourself a seperate dinner, feeling the need to watch what you were eating now - you’d be giving birth soon and all those pregnancy cravings didn’t just leave when the baby came. you weren’t silly - you weren’t going to deprive yourself of food, but maybe they had a point - why wasn’t your bump considered cute? was it hard to tell you were pregnant? what were you doing differently?

you were on the verge of calling sasha and asking her what she put in her green smoothies when the door opened.

“meu amor?”

“in here champ,”

something rúben didn’t expect to see what you lying on the couch with a salad balanced on your bump, and you munching away like it was a 5-star dish. “what’s this about . . ?” he smiled sceptically, dropping his bag to the floor.

“what’s what?”

“that.” he nodded to your plate.

you shrugged. “took a notion for it.”

“for . . a salad?” he clarified, looking down at you, entertained in some sense.

your craving for the last 5 months had been anything with chocolate frosting on it. rúben had watched you talk yourself out of buying a tub of it on its own because you knew if was weird and would have to bake go use it.

“yeah.”

to be fair, the salad was tasty, and you were enjoying it but . . at 7 months pregnant? rúben tilted his head. “where’s eli?”

“is his room.”

“he had salad too?”

“he had pasta and garlic bread.”

now he knew something was up. you? not eating garlic bread? italian in general?

someone had said something to you.

he looked at you concerningly, but he was too afraid to ruin the peaceful moment. you seemed calm. he had won a game and you were in a good mood today. baby boy or girl mustn’t be giving you too much trouble so that was a win in itself. so he just leaned down and kissed you lovingly. “hi.”

“hi,” you smiled, pecking him three more times before he rose again. “well done today.”

“thank you,” his hand touched your belly for about two seconds before you swept it off smoothly with your own, squeezing it instead. you smiled up at him again, “love you.”

he kissed you again trying to hide his confusion – but something was up. you were being odd. “love you too.”

and he left and headed for eli’s room, leaving you to let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding before slouching again and continuing with your dinner.

the rest of that evening, rúben was correct. you weren’t yourself.

your mind was somewhere else, and your head wasn’t out of your phone. constantly scrolling, you had overanalysed every picture captured of you today and tried not to nitpick. reading comments. comparing yourself. he wondered what you were doing.

but everyone else did have small bumps. everyone’s looked so cute. they didn’t use pregnancy as an excuse to eat whatever they wanted or slack with self-care. they still wore tight clothing. they still looked gorgeous. you began to compare yourself to all these other wives and girlfriends on the page, wondering how on earth they looked that good.

ummmm, ‘cause maybe they’re 12 weeks along and you’re triple that?

the next morning, rúben kissed you in the kitchen before leaving. “what’s that?”

“what?”

“that,” he nodded to the drink in your hand.

“a smoothie?”

“for breakfast?”

“well yeah,” you furrowed your brows, and he immediately shook his head, pulling that judgemental, disapproving look you sometimes wanted to punch. “no, no, come on, don’t be silly, now,” he almost laughed, “you need to eat something proper.”

“it’s a smoothie, it has everything i need in it?”

“y/n, make something to eat. you’re almost 8 months pregnant for crying out loud,” he looked at you seriously. he didn’t want to sound like he was scolding you or making you feel stupid but you knew he was worried about the lack.

overprotective rúben had always been a constant in your relationship but when you were pregnant — phew, “you got my baby in there.”

“–and he or she is looked after, it’s a healthy drink—”

he took it from your hand and kissed your cheek in the process, taking it with him to training with a smirk, “stop being lazy and cook.”

you were furious. you were actually annoyed that he had taken the drink himself and didn’t find it funny. he kissed eli’s head and the door closed, and you were left highly irritated.

you couldn’t see eli shrink, but he did, looking wide-eyed at the table as he considered his dad a brave brave man in that moment to do that to you - considering the look of your face.

and as a pregnant woman with her emotional struggling to stay in check - you lost it as they all blended together once eli was dropped off at school, sitting in a car park of a café you regretted going too now that you sat with your decaf latte and triple-choc muffin. the frustration quickly turned to tears as you had a moment, eyes in your hands, thinking over everything the last couple days.

yes you were pregnant, but was there a need to be that big? were you even that big compared to others? were you really that bad to look at? that unflattering? did it even looking like you were pregnant? the loose clothing probably didn’t help, but who wanted to wear tight clothing? pregnancy was hard - it was hard to glamourise it all the time!

you’d never cried over looking bad the first time you were pregnant, maybe once or twice when a pair of jeans didn’t fit or you couldn’t reach your shoelaces, but never over the way you felt about yourself. you actually were starting to feel disgusting, and it was embarrassing because you let randomers make you feel this way!

. . and then the pathetic-ness turned into anger because why were people such assholes?! how can they not keep an opinion to themselves?! making you feel bad about your baby!

. . and then the anger turned to guilt because your sweet little baby was just trying to grow and be healthy and you were upset over it. tears again.

you didn’t know how to fix it. the damage was already done, you had a month left, there was no going back now with salads and smoothies, you yanked your paper bag with your muffin off the floor, eating your money’s worth. rúben subconsciously popped into your head as he was probably eating some fruit salad or nutritious sandwich at this time.

oh rúben. you wished he was here but you also knew you wouldn’t want him near you at the minute, not when you weren’t feeling yourself and you had people in your comments telling you he was on his way of replacing you.

he would call you stupid, but rúben just wouldn’t understand. he wouldn’t get being on the other side, the built in competition that automatically comes with being a woman, more than ever with this lifestyle he had given you. one where you’re compared left right and centre with a certain standard to achieve.

you bet every handbag you owned, he’d screw his face up and go ‘are you serious’ if you told him your issue. he knew you were above anyone commenting stupid things on your posts and found it immature of you in a way if you did take those things to heart - i mean they were nobodies! jealous nobodies! but that’s easy for him to say, his comments are flooded with never ending support, guys praising him for his talent, physique and hard work and most girls telling him to hurry up and leave you. spamming with flame and tongue emojis, thirsting over your man just the way you did, only boosting his ego more which rúben did not need.

so you just felt silly, and picked at your muffin, accepting your were going to be a whale wag.

you felt like a slob when you got back home, staying on the couch after cleaning, and then crying except you were watching a movie to blame it on that.

you still couldn’t get comments out of your head, i mean what was an ‘expired wag?!’ or a ‘busted oven?!’ what did that mean? and why always the skull emojis?!

scrolling once again through photos of comparison, you scrolled onto a beautiful pic of your beautiful bestie, ines, and straight away phoned her. “hey.”

“hey! what’s up! what’s going on? why do you sound you out of breath?”

“why do you think?” you laughed.

“girl are you crying again?!”

and you started talking. you had to get things off your chest and you needed ines to make you feel better, to assure you and let you rant, and she happily did, after all, you’d always been there when she was having a moment.

“–what did rúben say?”

“nothing, i haven’t told him anything. he’ll just tell me i’m being ridiculous.”

“he won’t!”

“ines, he would, he’s not like bernardo. rúben’s harsh!”

“so are you! which is why i can’t believe you’re still crying over this!”

he was harsh in the good way, in the same way you were. you were both practical. real. realistic. you picked each other up and told each off when you were being ridiculous. pulled each other out their asses. brought you back down to earth.

but you just needed comforted at this current moment by your girl.

as you continued to chat and laugh more than you thought, the front door opened without your acknowledgment and rubes stepped through. freshly showered after a long morning of training, he instantly heard your voice rambling over the phone. he took notice of the tissue also crumpled on the floor by the door (you’d been carelessly tossing them for dramatic effect) and paused after he thought he’d heard a sad sniffle. he closed the door quietly and crept near the living room.

“i can’t help it, i do just feel . . blegh,” you felt like you were being ridiculous but you couldn’t help it. “like, why does everyone keep making a big fuss about it? am i really that massively huge or am i just not liked?”

he heard another woman’s laughter on your phone and recognised her as soon as she began talking to you, “y/n, i promise no one is making a fuss of it, it probably just seems in your face all the time because you keep going back to check. i promise the world is not broadcasting you,” ines chuckled sweetly, which followed your sad laugh also.

“well the wag world does!”

“y/n!” she laughed, “you’re overthinking it. i promise you have nothing to worry about. the only person who’s opinion should matter to you is rúben’s and everybody knows he has you on a pedestal!” rúben found himself smiling. he’d always been a fan of ines. “he’s called you his wife since you came to manchester! he’s always been proud to show you off, you look good - you look amazing! people are just saying that stuff about you to make themselves feel better.”

“mm, i guess,” you sniffed, holding your forehead. “i don’t know, it’s just been getting to me . . and i’m not saying to rúben because he’ll tell me i’m being stupid. i wouldn’t be surprised if he was leaving an hour earlier in the mornings to get away from me. it’s not like my looks can make up for my psycho-ness anymore,” you joked.

“y/n!” she tried not to laugh. “though, pregnancy psycho-ness is definitely real.”

it is, rúben mentally agreed also, though his heart still sank further as he heard you talk about yourself in such ways. he didn’t want to call you ridiculous but come on, you were pregnant! didn’t they all count as compliments to a pregnant lady?!

“it is,” you let out a sigh, “i wouldn’t want to be around me either, just this big angry rhino walking around the house,” you laughed together, “he goes to a paris event on friday anyway, he’ll get a break and have plenty of french models to—”

a clear of a throat had you whipping your head to the door, seeing rúben’s hard stare. your mouth went dry. “uhhh, ines i’ll call you back.”

you felt bad hanging up as she was speaking back, too shocked you’d been heard rambling for the last couple minutes. or probably longer! how long had he been standing there?!

“listen—”

“french models?! french models, y/n.”

“rúben, it’s not in context—”

“oh i heard the context, i heard everything,” he came in the room, not one spot of happiness found on his face. he was fuming. you could tell, and disappointed too, you felt like eli getting told off by him, throwing yourself back into the couch as he stood with that gruff, intimidating look, hands shoved in his pockets.

“you don’t get it—” you could already feel the tears welling in your eyes, though a pit of frustration was brewing in your chest hot and fast. this was going one of two ways.

“what don’t i get? you don’t tell me what’s wrong when i ask you!”

“‘cause you wouldn’t understand!”

“ok but what i do understand is my wife accusing me of what? getting to pick which ‘french model’ i want to take home next week?”

now your face fell flat, realising how ridiculous and cruel that sounded. you shouldn’t accuse him of that kind of stuff.

“rubes, i just—” your mouth felt dry again. tears brimming again, you could feel how hot they were. the words were on the tip of your tongue but you didn’t know how they were gonna come out.

“what is it? tell me,” he pushed, eager for you to actually get out what you wanted to say so he could help sort it. “i’m here to listen.”

and you did, you unleashed it all. “people are assholes. your fans are assholes. i’m sorry but i cannot believe the stuff people have no issue saying to other people - pregnant people at that! as if the 9 months aren’t hard enough, i have this mob of men and women on my back, judging and critiquing my every outting. i can’t do it anymore, it’s actually ruining whatever self-confidence i have left!” the tears were streaming as you began your rant, choking down sobs as you moved your hands, a fury behind all the sadness.

rúben crouched down, wanting to be nearer as you let it all out. “every day, every hour, i have someone online, reminding me off how big i am, how unflattering my paparazzi pic is, how whale-like i am! how hard it’s gonna be to shift this baby weight! i’m getting put in competition with every other pregnant wife and girlfriend of your teammate and showed how much better they pull it off! how gorgeous they look all the time! how their bumps are ‘cute’ and small and ‘suits them.’ i heard it myself at your game the other day! it’s like they’ve never seen an un-photoshopped pregnant woman before!” you met his eyes, realising you were probably being silly and that there were bigger problems in the world. “i just feel disgusting, rúben. i never felt like this with eli, i was in this perfect little bubble but this time so different. i don’t want to leave the house when i know a monstrosity of photos are getting taken of me, pointing out every flaw. i don’t have a cute, small bump! i do look like a whale! i can’t dress sexy! and i get what people are saying when they say it’ll be a bit before you can look at me again ‘cause god knows—”

“shh,” he quickly silenced you, placing a finger to your lips. his brows were furrowed as yours did, fed up of hearing you ramble about all the bad things about yourself. he felt pain in a way. he just couldn’t believe you actually thought these things about yourself. “wha— . . . are you being serious?”

“OH MY GOD!” you threw your arms up. see!

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry, meu amor,” his big hands softly caressed your legs in front of him, along your smooth thighs to stop you from exploding again, “i’m sorry. it’s just . . i . . it annoys me that you let these things get to you, these random, strange people that you don’t even know. you take their opinion over mine. so mine doesn’t matter, it doesn’t count?” he looked you deeply in the eye, “how does that make sense? explain that to me.”

your head hit the cushion as you groaned but rúben held your hands comfortingly. he didn’t want to make you feel stupid, but he wanted to hear your thought process. “to me, it’s like . . you have the choice of walking into a room full of all these people who hate you, and you know the hate you, after being in one full of people you love . . and you go into the hateful one and are surprised that all these people are saying all these bad things about you when you could have just left it alone and focused on the lovely ones - from people who matter to you! who are actually in your life! do you understand?”

you nodded along, entranced by his eyes and how they were able to ground you alone. “you know that i think you’re the best thing in the world. you know i would love you if—” he thought off the top of his head, “you had 10 extra toes. a third eye. if you had a cow nose. elf ears!” your hair slipped silkily through his fingers, “you know i think you’re the most beautiful woman ever even dressed in a trash bag. i would still love you if you did wear trash bags. if you had a cow nose. if you weighed the same as a cow. if you weighed the same as a baby cow,” you broke a chuckle at that. “i’ve loved you through our ugly teen years, when i shaved my hair and your eyebrows were stick thin,” you laughed more as he let out a breath of relief, “i loved you when with vomit down your shirt and your hair dyed that weird colour—”

“rúbennn . .”

“what? and i loved you when you had eli in your stomach, and he was big baby,” his hand touched your belly, moving it in the same motion he always did because that’s when he got to feel the small kicks of this baby dias. “i loved you even more even when i saw how he came out,” he shot you a wildered look.

you facepalmed, dragging your hand down dreadfully at the thought of having to relive that moment all over again in over a months time.

his features turned as his thoughts turned sour, “why are you letting stupid fucking people affect you?”

“i don’t know . . i guess ‘cause so many people are saying it i . . it must be true to some extent—”

“y/n—”

“seriously, rúben. i don’t have a cute, small bump. ines and rebecca are always such sweet—”

“Y/N! have you SEEN the size of bernardo and phil next to me! is it any wonder they’re small! their child comes out the same size as them!” his hand shot out with passion.

now your head was in your hand with muffled laughter, caught off guard by his statement. “seriously! seriously, now you’re supposed to be the smart one,” he tried to look at you, that loving smile shining your way as his heart sang at the sound of you laughter. “you’re shocked that me, that we, have big babies . . that ines has a much smaller bump than you . . are you serious? that rebecca has a smaller bump than you? rebecca, phil and elway stacked on top of each other wouldn’t even reach the height of me!”

“rúben,” you laughed, feeling an actual blush of embarrassment coat your face at how stupid he’d made you feel, but in a good way.

he was so right. what were you thinking?

“i’m like, the biggest guy on the team! sorry i didn’t realise that was gonna be a problem for you,” you lightly hit his shoulder to wrap up the sarcasm, still giggling. he looked at you from the floor, his hands still on you, on your leg on bump — the bump that he did make look small next to his hand. “and please remember you’re a month away from giving birth, you’re supposed to be a healthy size. and i been going to training an hour earlier ‘cause i know when this one comes along, i’ll not want to go as much and i’ll want to stay with you both. i’ll start working on my dad bod . .” he felt the small, subtle movement happening inside, but he could feel them if he kept still enough.

“you’d look good with both.” you rolled your eyes.

“and you’d still look better. y/n, you’re not a whale. please stop saying that,” he finally crept to his feet, climbing on the couch on top of you, leaning his arm behind your head. “you are the most beautiful-est woman to me and no-one, NO-ONE can convince me otherwise. you’re my standard of perfect, of gorgeous and sexy and all the rest of it. i’ve found you sexy before this baby, during this baby, and after this baby — i still get comments of people telling me how ugly i look when you’re next to me! you bring my value down!”

his arm wrapped around your neck while the other threw itself over your bump, shifting and snuggling into the sofa more comfortingly, you relaxed alongside him, the tears no trickling down but with good reason behind them as you were shocked to find your love growing even more for rúben when you thought it was impossible. “i don’t know what comments you’re seeing because all i see are the ones calling you a milf, and it takes too much time to try and report them all.”

you held his hand at your shoulder, his lips kissing your cheek repeatedly, over and over again. you knew how much he loved you. “yeah, you’re right. fans are just . . assholes.”

“fans are assholes,” he agreed, stroking your cheekbone, “. . don’t listen to them. you think i listen to everything they say about me?” he perked a brow.

sometimes! you wanted to say but knew better. it was rhetorical question, and you knew his sweet intentions.

“alright? i don’t so why should you? you’re hot stuff babe,” he looked at the side of your face, inspecting every little freckle and faint scar, he just wanted to never stop kissing you. “i love you the way you are. eli loves you for the way you are, and this baby,” he rubbed circles on your belly, “he or she is going to be so unbelievably lucky when they see who they have as their mam. i know it’s not the smallest bump but i think it’s the cutest i’ve ever saw, with my baby girl or boy in there,” he kissed the size of your stomach. he grew more and more excited each day as he got a day closer to meeting who was inside. he couldn’t wait. “. . who they get their good looks from and skill and personality - well, i mean i would like to take some credit for the both of those ‘cause i mean their daddy is pretty c—”

you playfully jabbed his side, making him laugh. “yeah, he’s the hottest one on the field,” you glanced at him, kissing his cheek.

one thing about him, he’d always blessed you with beautiful children.

“yeah, and their mum is coolest one at the school pick up,” his lips trailed along your cheek to your jaw, the slight scruff of his beard tickling you. “you’re the biggest milf to walk the planet–”

“rúbennn,” you chuckled, blushing at his words whilst trying to push him away.

“i’m serious,” he proceeded, peppering kissed down your neck, “and she’s coming to paris with me for the weekend so she can outshine me like she does at every event she comes to.”

you laughed at that, smiling dreamily as he proceeding to love on you.

“and eli?”

“elias gets to stay with his favourite uncle who owes a favour,” he winked.

“hmm. ok.”

“and i’ll give her a reason to cry if she starts thinking like that again,” he whispered in your ear.

your heart slipped a beat. “oh yeah?”

“ohh yeahhh,” he nodded, standing to his feet, not before a loud ‘smack’ echoed the room as he mimicked what your poor backside would get if you kept up that kind of behaviour. “see you upstairs, mama.”

you blew your hair from your face, heart thumping, your hands slowly crept up to your adorable little bump where you caressed it gently as he headed for upstairs, whispering softly, “you are soo lucky he’s your papai.”

your heart raced as he peeled his hoodie off, back muscles staring right at you as he headed for your room, you felt your insides begin to sizzle.

— but you were even luckier he was your husband.

#ruben dias #ruben dias x reader #rúben dias #ruben dias fic #ruben dias fanfic #ruben dias imagine #ruben dias fluff #ruben dias x y/n #ruben dias x you #ruben dias oneshot #dad!ruben #football imagine #footballer fanfic #football fanfic #footballer imagine #footballer oneshot #man city #manchester city

571 notes · View notes

thefabulous-mostgroovy · 6 months

Text

Beautiful Boy

"You're sure you want to do this?" he asks, softening his voice. Jon nods.

"I... I think it'll be good for me."

That's all Martin needs to hear.

(art included!)

Jon/Martin, 1.7k words, rated Gen, read on AO3. this is for day 3 of @jonmartinweek for the prompt Hair Care!!

Martin truly thinks he's an absolute genius for using one of Jon's hair clips to keep the towel in place. Jon snickers a little at his chuffed face in the mirror, holding the other end of the towel up with his hands in front of him.

"Don't laugh," Martin tuts. "Or I'll give you a bad haircut.

"I don't know if a buzz cut is possible to mess up," Jon says. Even joking, he sounds a little nervous. His eyes dart from his own reflection to the scissors in Martin's hands, and back again. Martin plants a kiss in his hair.

"You're sure you want to do this?" he asks, softening his voice. Jon nods.

"I... I think it'll be good for me."

That's all Martin needs to hear.

They've gone over his decision a few times. First of all, the long hair has gotten a bit annoying. It blows in his face, especially in the Highland winds. It's a pain to maintain. But, mostly, it has too many negative memories attached. The only reason it's as long as it is, is he's been too tired and stressed and scared to go outside to get a proper haircut. He didn't grow it out, it got out of control. Just another thing he couldn't fix, couldn't get a handle on. Not to mention the fairly recent fear of strangers welding blade near his throat. Chopping it all off is about as good of a fresh start as Jon is going to get right now.

He remembers Jon's hair when they first met. It had been a bit long, even for how short he used to keep it. He kept it loosely pushed out of his face, but it fell in loose waves over his face whenever he was concentrating on anything else. Martin was never able to pay attention to the day's to-do's because he was always too busy watching Jon's hands run through his own hair, flipping it out of his face, the grey strands at his temples revealing themselves when he combed it back.

Despite his scruffy, ill-fitting suit jackets and trousers, his hair always fell perfectly with seemingly very little effort. Martin has curly hair himself, and he's never been one to get jealous over someone else's hair, but he really thought that's what he felt about Jon in the early days.

(It was not jealousy. He was just completely arse over kettle for his boss. But, can you blame him? Jon might be the prettiest man Martin has ever met.)

After Prentiss, Jon let his hair grow out a bit more. Well, let is a strong word. More like, he neglected in getting a haircut as his paranoia grew and grew. It reached his shoulders in just a few months, and Jon had taken up keeping it tied back in these large clips that's currently holding up the towel that will catch all that hair when Martin shears it off.

Martin remembers being quite surprised at how long his hair had gotten when he returned from his brief stint of running from the police. It was hanging in loose strings over his shoulders, like it hadn't been very well taken care of. Part of him had wanted to sit Jon down and detangle the nest residing on his head. Maybe give it a good wash.

The next time he saw Jon, it was with his hair in a braid. Or, an attempt at a braid. It was a bit more like a series of knots, a bit lopsided and kind of falling out. In his week-long shock at the fact that his boss was not, in fact, just a creepy middle aged man who was way too into administrative work, but an evil eldritch monster who is still way too into administrative work, he told Jon this. While he waited for Jon's tea to steep, he turned around and told him, 'Hey, your braid's a mess. Want me to fix it?'

To his everlasting surprise, Jon said yes.

With shaking hands and a beet red face, Martin had sat behind Jon on the couch, and carefully brushed Jon's hair through with his fingers. His hair looked healthy, like it had been recently washed, and smelled of coconut and bergamot. There was a lot more grey in it than when he first met Jon (but not as much as there is now).

Jon had sighed and closed his eyes, tilting his head back as Martin had brushed his hair back. He had wanted so badly to run his nails over his scalp, and he just barely restrained himself from doing so. His hair was soft under his hands, and it bounced back into shape when his fingers ran through the ends.

Actually putting the plait in was easy. Martin fell victim to being a girl's Gay Best Friend while he was still in high school, which is never all that great, but he did actually enjoy styling her hair. It came to him as muscle memory, twisting the three sections around each other, careful not to pull or tug by accident. He kept it fairly loose to not give Jon a tension headache, and the shape of his curls were still visible as they flowed into the braid.

After tying it off, Jon had gotten a bit stuttery and smiley, tucking the shorter strands that fell over his face behind his ears, and Martin had practically short circuited and fled the room.

Jon never got around to properly cutting his hair, even as it reached further and further down his back. After Daisy, he could never let anyone near him with a blade without falling into panic. So, he simply put up with the choppy cuts from cutting the dead ends off with a pair of kitchen scissors. It was good enough for him, apparently. And he never had to let any strangers near his neck.

Martin can't help but feel a little pride at the fact that Jon is allowing him to do this. Sure, he's screwing his eyes shut and bordering on holding his breath, but Jon is letting him do this in the first place.

"I'm gonna start now," Martin warns him. Jon hums and nods minutely, and Martin gathers some hair in his hands. He gives him another moment to change his mind, then makes the first cut.

He starts near his nape, moving along in as straight a line as he can manage. He cringes a little at the slope he creates—he somehow manages to cut a bar graph into Jon's ends—but it doesn't matter. He drops the cut strands into the bin below him, not bothering with the bits that stick to the towel. His hair goes from ending at his mid-back, to... whatever Martin has managed to make. It sits in an odd, blunt bob, just above his shoulders. When Martin sets the scissors down for a moment, stretching his hands, Jon's shoulder slump and relax, and reveals that Martin has actually cut much further than he thought.

"You look like Lord Farquaad," Martin snickers as Jon opens his eyes. They glow green for just a second, and Jon gasps in offence, then laughs.

"So mean to me," he bemoans. "Why must I face such treatment? Go to jail."

"If I go to jail, I can't do the rest of your hair, m'Lord." Martin picks the scissors back up, ready to cut more off before going with the razor. Jon closes his eyes again.

"I'll just visit you in jail," Jon says, seeming much more relaxed now that the first shock is over. "Give you a spoon to dig your way out."

"I'll Shawshank Redemption my way out of there," Martin promises as he cuts shorter and shorter. "Come back with scissors and a vengeance."

Jon laughs quietly. After another few minutes, Martin has gotten his hair into a rather shaggy short cut. It looks awful.

"Okay, I'm gonna plug in the razor, don't look at your hair."

"Why not?" Jon immediately opens his eyes and starts to laugh at the sight.

"Don't look!" Martin splutters, scandalised.

"I look like I got attacked by Edward Scissorhands!" Jon cackles, running a hand through the choppy sections.

"I'll fix it, just hold bloody still," Martin grumbles, face red. Even through the buzzing of the razor, he can hear and see Jon humming with giggles. He never could have guessed that Jon's favourite hobby, should they ever have actually started dating, would be winding Martin up at every opportunity.

He starts, again, at the neck and works his way up. His grey hair sits in patches through the black, buzzed hair. Martin wouldn't tell him, but it makes him look like a spotted cat. The hair falls into the towel above Jon's lap, onto the floor. Once Martin is done, and it looks a relatively even length, he turns the clippers off, and kisses the top of Jon's head.

"All finished," he says softly.

Jon opens his eyes and stares at the mirror. He runs a hand over his head, tilting it to the side a little. Martin, to busy his nervous hands, removes the hair clip from the towels and gathers it up with the pile of hair in it.

"Do..." Martin tries to act and sound casual. He does not. "Do you like it?"

"Yeah," Jon says, and finally smiles. There are pinprick tears in his eyes. "I do. I really do."

Martin kisses the top of his head again, running his hand over his hair. The short strands are still soft, but sliding his hand up the opposite direction leaves his palm a little scratchy. Jon doesn't stand, but he reaches up and pulls Martin down into a proper kiss.

"I love you," he whispers on Martin's lips.

"I love you, too," Martin whispers back. He brushes some of the stray hairs that somehow found their way onto Jon's jumper before he kisses him again.

That night, in bed, Martin strokes his hand back and forth over Jon's hair while he sleeps, tucked under Martin's chin. It feels nice. Different.

And Jon is still the prettiest man that Martin has ever met.

#tma #the magnus archives #jonmartin #jmart #jonmartin week 2024 #jmart fanfic #jmart fanart

286 notes · View notes

volturissideslut · 10 months

Note

Hi! Just read your Marcus x reader fic where they get compared to Didyme.

I was thinking maybe a Poly! Volturi comparing Reader to their ex/late partners and Reader shuts down. They don't mention it, but it really hurts cause they've always been a replacement, so they leave Volterra. The Volturi don't realise for a while.

Feel free to ignore this if it's too repetitive or you've done one like it before.

𝖁𝖔𝖑𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖎 𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 (𝖕𝖔𝖑𝖞)

Angst, no comfort. Pure angst, literally no fluff at ALL. Bad relationship, couple of swear words in there, let me know if you want a part two of making it up <3

Part 2

It's not like you were the second choice

They had been adament that they wanted you, that you were their true mate

So why were they acting like this now?

After almost a year of being together, they were starting to fall out of the 'honeymoon phase'

Had it always just been a phase? Was this doomed from the get-go?

It started with little snippy comments about acting proper. You were human, not raised in the fine luxury and manners they were, and apparently that showed in your actions. And apparently the way you dress too.

It's like they were moulding you into their exes, it it was making you miserable

And it's not like you didn't try to tell them, you did. Only to be shut down. "Cara mia, I'm working. This is not an appropriate place to discuss this" Aro told you, despite being within the privacy of his study

Caius was no better, in no mood to 'entertain you' and your 'whims' as he put it, brushing you off with a sigh

Marcus, too, was no use, disregarding the emotion and making it perhaps worse by saying that didyme would have taken of the constructive criticism

So there you stood, looking at yourself in the mirror. The big dress, the light makeup, the haircut, even the fucking posture just want you.

And so you left.

Silently, seeing as communicating clearly wasn't an option

How long had it been when they realised you were gone? Three days at least

Honestly, Aro had assumed you were annoyed with them and wanted space, telling his brothers suck. It had never crossed his mind that you had left

I mean, the clothes you wore every day were still there, all the gowns and dresses still in place and -

Where were the clothes you brought with you?

The ones they insisted you wouldn't wear?

Caius walkers into your personal room with a huff, intending to talk some sense into this tantrum you've been throwing, and instead intruding on Aro's realisation

The grounds are searched and Marcus is informed

It is pure and utter panic

Chaos as they look for you

Demetri was called back from his mission early to search for you and you were in another country

Marcus was practically having heart palpitations, he can't lose another mate. "Why would she do this, Didyme would never scare me like this"

And he pauses

So does Aro

And so does Caius

And for the first time, they truly hear themselves

Caius is the first one to remember you bringing it up. "Did she talk to you about it too..." the proud kings' voice is for once delicate and quiet

"... I made her leave" Aro practically folds in half, having to grip over where his hear would be in his chest and lean over because of the burning sensation. It aches, it physically aches him to know he messed up this badly - he didn't give you the time of day

"... I told her I don't have time for this" Caius' fist is buried in his hair, gripping in stress and nearly ripping the strands out of his head. His hands are jittery, shaking, and his hair is tussled - a perfect relection of his inner turmoil

"... In the very moment she asked me not to compare her to Didyme anymore, I told her Didyme would take the criticism" is it possible for vampires to be sick? Because I think Marcus is about to be. His eyes sting and he makes a gagged choking noise like he's dry heaving. Like his fight or flight has chosen freeze and the rising anxiety makes his stomach churn

A knock on the door is what pulls them away

Instead of coming to the turbulent kings and taking them with him, it seems Demetri picked you up on his way back instead and brought you right to them.

There are bags under your eyes, and your skin is sickly. Your cheeks are stained with dried up tears and your eyes are bloodshot like you cried so hard you broke a vessel

They rush toward you and Demetri takes that as his cue to leave

Marcus ever so gently holds your face, eyes scanning you for any physical harm, and when he finds none he feels so much temporary relief he almost collapses into himself. "Thank goodness you're okay, I couldn't bare to lose you-"

"what, like you did Didyme?" you spit back with more venom in your voice than their combined fangs have ever produced in their millennias of life

"No, no" Caius' voice has never been so gentle, he takes your hand in his and places a kiss to the inside of your wrist

"Oh, so I'm gone for three days and suddenly it's about me and not your exes?" there is spite in your voice, but it still wavers with how upset you are

Exclaiming "three days?!" was a big mistake on Aro's part, but in that moment he was so full of concern he hadn't realised it would only worsen the situation

"... You didn't know?" and the look on your face is absolutely heart shattering

And they have no words, nothing to say. Because there is no words, and there are no excuses.

"I was gone for three days, and you didn't care enough to notice?!?" your angry now. And you have every right to be. But they have no idea how to fix what they've done

1K notes · View notes

sopiao · 1 year

Text

(i’ve been searching for the artist since forever 😭😭 only trace of it is from pintrest 🥲)

but könig’s cut looks so fresh omg 🤭 JUST LOOK AT HIS FUCKING HAIR

anyways, a lil snippet of him showing it to you!!

Soldiers can’t have their hair too long, can’t touch the collar, it says. But even with König’s mask, there’s no exceptions. So, he was forced to cut it. For the longest time he managed to get away from it, his hair was so long it was a little past his shoulders, collarbone length.

And you loves it. Loves playing with it, running your fingers through it, playing with it, rubbing suds through his scalp while you wash his hair. You always loved how it was always so soft and shiny, so silky with minimal care. Lucky.

After his first cut, he felt so weird. His head felt lighter, and somehow he feels.. naked? Even with his sniper hood on he still felt naked. For the first couple hours he rubbed his hand against the nape of his neck, feeling how shaved and short it is, so foreign for him.

He was more worried about how you’d react. He knows how much you love playing with his hair, trying new hairstyles you find, tying it in little ponytails or the half-up half-down do. It was 2 weeks until he went on leave. So he had time for it to grow out a little and get more comfortable with it.

His hands are shaky when he unlocks the door. Usually he’s very excited and wastes no time to just rush in and lift you in his arms. He still has his hood on too. König relaxes a little when he enters your shared home, the familiar sound of your playlist hitting his ears, unconsciously putting him at ease.

He steps out of his boots and placed them on the ground next to the entrance. Taking light and quiet steps to make his presence unknown, planning to surprise you. The smell of your food, his favorite meal, almost made him forget about what he was nervous about.

The sight of you doing little dances and singing along to your music while you prepare König’s coming back dinner puts him at ease. Maybe it’s not that bad. Maybe you’ll like it.

When you turn around to grab an ingredient from the island behind you, you catch a glimpse of him entering the room. For a split second you think it’s an intruder, since he never comes home to you with his mask on, but then realize it’s your husband :>

“König!” You squeal, turning off the stove, and excitedly sprinting your way into his arms. The Austrian lovingly accepts your love, engulfing you in his big arms and lifting you off the ground as you squeak in joy.

“Vergib mir, maus. I’m sorry I’m late” He apologizes, looking down at you, his worries immediately washing away and not even wanting to eat, just wanting to lay in your arms and sleep on you for hours, days even.

“Why do you still have your mask on?” You ask, more worried that something happened to him, rather than bothered that he’d hide his face from you. It was quite odd since he’s been very comfortable about his face being seen by you, and now he’s hiding it, just like when you first met.

“Uhm..”

“What?”

König’s arms slowly unwrapped and moved away from you. Hesitantly, he lifted up his sniper hood and set it down on the counter. Eyes down, too scared to look up and see your reaction. You stood still, mouth agape, just taking in the whole new feature.

From the beginning of your relationship till now, he always kept his hair long. Always preferred it that way. He’s not sure how he developed a taste for it. He just started missing his haircuts at a young age and just kept it like that.

This was all so new to you. You could see so much more of his face now. Come to think of it, this is the first time you’ve seen his neck. The more you stared, the more you were amazed with such a change.

“Hm?” König finally took together the courage to look you in the eyes, head still low, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. He couldn’t really decipher what your expression meant. Looked like a mix of shock, surprise. Just couldn’t tell if you liked it or not.

“Oh. My, God” You reach your hands over to his face, first at the base of his neck, then slowly up to cup the sides of his face, slightly squishing his cheeks.

“You look so handsome!” You grin, once you take in every detail, and start to slowly get used to it. He looks up again at you, hands holding onto your wrists softly.

“You like it?” He asked, not sure whether you just lying to make him feel better or being genuine.

“Do you?” He nods in response.

“Then I like it” Smiling once again, you start to run your hands up from the nape of his neck to the back of his head, fingers relaxing between his hair, not very used to how short it is.

“Why’d you cut it?” You ask, slightly tilting his head to get a better view of every angle, not really bothered that he did cut his hair, just curious since this is a big step outside of his comfort zone.

“They made me. Said it’s way past regulations” He sighed and shrugged, missing the feeling of how you’d massage his scalp and scratch his head before bed, making him feel drowsy.

“You look so handsome” You coo quietly under your breath, after a couple seconds of comfortable silence. He’s slightly hunched, his natural posture, to accommodate the height difference between you two. Basking in the familiar and home-like feeling of your touch.

—

After dinner, the two already began to wind down for bed. König takes his usual position next to you, arms around your middle, your leg draped over his, and his head resting on your chest. It took a while to actually get to sleep since König’s hairs was tickling your chest.

When his hair was longer it just draped and laid on your skin. It took some getting used to but soon the two fell asleep, König first. Usually, on most nights, you’d rub his back and scratch his head with the other hand while you hum him— and yourself— to sleep.

#call of duty modern warfare #cod fanfic #cod mw2 #cod men #task 141 #cod headcanons #cod modern warfare #konig headcanons #konig #konig x reader #konig mw2 #cod konig #kortac #konig cod #ghost mw2 #eepy #eepy time

625 notes · View notes

system-to-the-madness · 6 months

Text

Cherry Blossom Confessions 🌸 Okkotsu Yūta x Reader

Pairing: Okkotsu Yūta x Reader (can be read as any gender, no pronouns used) Genre: fluff Word Count: 1 423 Summary: Yūta spills a well-kept secret Prompt: accidental confession A/N: Firs time writing for Yūta! Also, I wanted to post these stories in time with the local cherry blossom, but it keeps delaying because the weather was too cold (on Wednesday it snowed even). I’m just gonna start posting and hope the cherry blossom will eventually catch up with me.

Sakura Festival Masterlist - Masterlist

Pink petals drifted through the air, looking like snowflakes in the warm afternoon light. It was only late March, but the sun had already gained back a lot of its power after the colder winter months, making you smile contently to yourself as you closed your eyes and held your face into the sun, trying not to let yourself be distracted by the person at your side.

Yūta was, for once, out of his school uniform, and instead dressed in an oversized shirt and some wide jeans which made his slim figure seem to drown in fabric. But it looked good, unfairly good even. You could tell he was fiddling around with his necklace, even without looking at him, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that he seemed nervous.

“What’s wrong,” you asked eventually, unable to take his fidgeting any longer.

You had known him for a good while, and his behaviour now was more like he had been when you had first met him. Back then he had been jumpy and shy, always expecting the worst of people. But as he had settled more into the life at Jujutsu High, the shy and easily scared boy had turned into the open-hearted, funny, and fiercely loyal friend you had gotten so attached to.

“Nothing,” Yūta’s answer came almost too quickly, making you raise your brows before you blinked open your eyes and turned to look at him.

He had cut his hair a little since winter, the formerly long strands having been trimmed into a new haircut, which made him look gentler than the rather harsh look he had been sporting before. His grey eyes met yours defiantly, as if he was challenging you to question his reply, but you didn’t do him the favour. Instead, you continued watching his face.

Recently he had started getting cute freckles over his nose that now started to turn a darker shade as he blushed under your inquisitive gaze. You wondered if he could tell your own cheeks were heating up, too.

“Anyway,” you shrugged, tearing your gaze away from him and focusing back on the pink petals of the cherry trees you were sitting under.

Silence engulfed you for a while, but you couldn’t quite tell if it was the good or the bad kind. You also didn’t know what you were supposed to say. Which was weird, considering you never had any problems of engaging in conversation with Yūta. You always found things to talk about, to joke about, even if it was only Gojo-sensei’s latest shenanigans. But somehow it suddenly felt as if this silence was important, as if it were the preparation for whatever was to come next. What a strange sentiment…

“You’re beautiful.”

Confused you turned to Yūta, who was still watching you, his eyes widening as you met his surprised. He had never said anything like that before, usually his compliments were limited to your fighting in training or during missions.

Quickly you looked away, unable to hold his gaze any longer.

“Uhm, thanks…” you trailed off. Certainly he had to pick up on your embarrassment now, right? Your warm cheeks, the way you subconsciously had started playing with a blade of grass underneath your hand… you quickly pulled your hand away and intertwined it with the fingers of your other hand to stop the motion.

“Did I say that out loud,” Yūta wondered, a hint of amusement, but also embarrassment in his voice.

“Yeah, …”

He chuckled, and you glanced at him from the corner of your eyes. He had averted his eyes, and instead was staring up at the branches over you as he was chewing on his lip, clearly thinking hard about something. Suddenly he snapped his head back at you, almost startling you with the sudden motion, but it was obvious he had come to the conclusion of whatever he had thought over.

“I don’t tell you enough. Actually, I think I’ve never told you, but I always think you’re beautiful,” he confessed, his voice lacking any of the embarrassment from before and instead sounding determined now.

“Careful,” you chuckled nervously, “what will Rika think?”

Rika. Probably the biggest reason why you had never dared thinking of Yūta as anything other than a friend. You didn’t exactly feel like getting into a fight with a special grade curse over your classmate.

“Oh, she knows I think you’re beautiful,” Yūta shrugged, his voice returning to the more relaxed tone you usually knew from him.

“Does she?

“Yes, of course she does. I talk to her about you all the time.”

You furrowed your brows and turned back to look at Yūta. He had leant back, hands propped behind him against the grass, eyes closed. Black lashes rested against his pale, lightly freckled skin, and shadows of the cherry blossom danced softly over his features. He looked like an angel, you thought, or like the protagonist in some rom-com.

“You talk to her about me?” You hated how small your voice suddenly sounded.

“It’s not so strange, is it,” Yūta asked, his eyes still closed as he let the shadows slip over his face. “I have to talk to someone who won’t judge me. And Inumaki just keeps insisting I should finally confess to you. I can’t hear it anymore.”

You blinked, once, twice, wondering if Yūta was aware of what he had just said. And then you wondered if what he had just said meant what you think it meant.

“Confess what?”

The way Yūta tensed up revealed that he had not been aware of what he had just said. His eyes snapped open and quickly he sat up.

“I-”

The way he looked at you now, with widened eyes, and clearly insecure reminded you painfully much of the way he had looked at you in the first weeks of knowing you, always scared he had or was about to say something wrong, always worried you’d laugh at him, attack him, make fun of him or were out to hurt him.

“I- I didn’t…” His eyes kept skipping over your face as if the words he was supposed to reply with were writing in your features. After a few moments of stuttering around, he squeezed his eyes shut. “Confess that I like you,” he blurted out. “And have liked you for a long time. I didn’t want to tell you because I don’t want to put you in the weird position of rejecting someone who-”

“Yūta, Yūta!”

You interrupted the ramble he was picking up, instinctively bringing your hand up to his cheek. He still had his eyes closed, but instantly relaxed into your palm.

“Relax, it’s okay,” you assured him. “I like you, too.”

It took him a moment, but then the rest of the tension in his body fell away, and he blinked his eyes open.

“You do?”

The hope in his voice tucked at your heart and you nodded with a gentle smile.

“Yes, I do, you idiot. How couldn’t I?”

Yūta blinked at you, clearly surprised by your answer and uncertain what to do next. It took a few moments before the confused expression in his eyes melted away and was replaced by the joyous glimmer you loved seeing in his eyes so much.

“Then go out with me,” he demanded, a smile beginning to tuck at his lips, which turned into a proper grin as you nodded in agreement.

You were about to pull your hand away from his face, but he caught it in his, and keeping your eyes fixed on yours, he lifted your hand to his lips to place a delicate but lingering kiss on your knuckles, never breaking eye contact. The action drove heat into your cheeks, which only seemed to raise his confidence as he carefully lowered your hand and scooted closer to you.

“How about,” he leant in, his face right in front of yours now, “how about I take you out for dinner after this.”

You smiled at his suggestion and nodded. “I’d love that.”

“Perfect,” Yūta nodded to himself.

Then he wrapped an arm around your shoulder and gently pulled you backwards until you were laying in the grass, squeezed against him, looking up at the blue sky above you through the pink petals of the cherry tree. Suddenly he groaned, making you raise your eyebrows at him again even though you knew he couldn’t see it.

“What’s wrong?”

“Inumaki will be so pissed that he didn’t get to come up the ultimate confession-plan.”

@delzinrowe

197 notes · View notes

fic-heaven · 4 months

Text

But you belong to me. (Graves x reader)

He was so annoying... And yet you craved his annoyance.

(graves never betrayed the 141 in here)

A whistle startles you when you were returning from the city to Alejandro's base, said man gives you a knowing look with a very noticeable hint of annoyance before he scapes with Rudy and you flip him the bird for leaving you behind to deal with-

"Lookin' good, gorgeous. I like tha' dress. It suits." Graves.

"Nice eye, American boy. Who are you? The fashion police? Here to admire my wardrobe?" You ask still a little confused as to how he spawned right next to you. Jesus, you'll have to burn this dress later... And apologize to Ale, he was the one who gifted it to you when he helped you pick something to impress a certain someone.

"Could be." Graves winks following your hurried steps with a small trot.

"Not with that haircut you ain'."

"You'll realize ma' hair won't matter much once I get to take off that pretty dress of yours and show ya what I've got in store."

You scoff and chuckle astonished. The Shadow commander never seemed to give up on his constant flirts, getting bolder and bolder with the passing time. Your banters with Graves have been quite frequent and very, very awkward. As much as you try to light them up with your wit, he screws it all with his broken humour and poor flirts which ends up in you feeling uncomfortable and your sass levels to increase but it never seemed to scare him off, it only tempted him further. You see, when you all were forced to collaborate with Shadow Company to track the missiles and Hassan in Las Almas you didn't think much of it, you'd stick to your thing and that was it. But the bad side of being and feeling attractive is that sometimes instead of gaining the attention of your crush, you'd end up having Phillip Graves licking your ass every opportunity he got seemingly enchanted with everything you pulled when you were trying to flirt with another different man.

That man being Soap frickin' Mactavish, the oblivious Scotchman. You could strip naked right in front of him tying your waist in a little bow like a wrapped gift and he'd pay more attention to the bow than your bare body. That sexy fool...

"I ain't got no time for this, dear. I'm tired. Mommy needs her beauty nap before we head to El Sin Nombre's mansion or wherever the hell he's hiding later tonight."

"I could accompany you. You know, warm the covers for ya before we-"

"I'll pass. But thanks! Ask Soap if he'd be interested in doing so instead, yes?" You smile to later grimace before going to the barracks leaving Graves behind laughing bitterly. How the hell could you make him take you seriously? That man had less brain than a sack of potatoes.

______

Perhaps you also had less brain than a sack of potatoes.

There was a very noticeable shift in the air when you went working solo with Soap at Diego's mansion. And it begun after you two bantered with one another and your team had finally managed to trap Valeria. Soap was characteristically oblivious of your flirting, and there was one certain pick-up line you said that was so clear of your intentions it made Valeria, who was handcuffed to the other side of the Heli scoff in disbelief, the other men chuckled lowly amused by your bold flirt.

For the first time in all the months you spent trying and failing at wooing Johnny, you felt pure embarrassment. Suddenly your team's laughs felt like they were mocking you, Soap seemed to be playing oblivious on purpose probably irritated by your futile attempts, and the weight of Graves' eyes made you shiver a bit, now you understood Phillip all those times he spent trying to court you only to end up being the butt of the joke.

Ghost was quick to notice your discomfort and with an authoritative bark he shut the other men up quickly before he gave you a knowing look you returned with a tight-lipped smile and a single nod. You all were quiet then, which took you by surprise because normally Graves wouldn't waste a minute trying to shift the attention you gave Soap to him, but this time he stayed quiet stealing a glance or two you way from Valeria's side, as if the blonde was giving you time to digest the discomfort and finally realize that perhaps Soap simply wasn't interested in you.

And fuck did it sting.

During the interrogation you remained professional trying to move on from the previous very awkward situation. Alejandro's temper tantrum and Phillip's sass helped you focus on the tied woman you were all supposed to squeeze information out of, the embarrassment was still burning your insides so you didn't comment much leaving the boys to their thing.

Soon enough, when the interrogation finished, you were approached by an smiling Phillip. He was content with how fast the interrogation had gone but you could feel his worry in the way he softly called out to you.

"You have a way with words." You said casually trying to halt him from making the question that almost fell from his lips. He obviously came to ask if you were okay and you weren't ready to answer that because frankly you didn't know for certain. Graves' fingers graced your forearm, you were wearing short sleeves at that moment so the gentle touch made your skin erupt in goosebumps, his face was sickenly soft as if he was approaching a wounded kitten until he broke it with a crocked smile and a little chuckle.

"Made her talk real quick. I'm an expert when it comes to interrogations, but that's only one of many skills as you'll come to know."

"Maybe she wanted to get it over with so she wouldn't catch more of your smelly breath." You picked on him with a playful smile of your own pinching his arm back before you crossed your arms on your chest.

"Were you jealous I was standing so close?" He bit stepping a little closer, both hands now tucked under his vest giving you this seductive look you were so familiar with.

"Should I? After all, I know you'll come right to me whenever you're done playing." Graves' brows quirked a bit in surprise. You were teasing him back, this was new.

But... Were you doing it because Soap had let you down yet again and you wanted to use him as a way of revenge trying to make your crush jealous?

Phillip moved his head to the side spotting Ghost roughly yanking Soap by the arm and walking away with him while bombarding his eardrum with whispered snarls, men stalking to the opposite hall you two were in. Phillip then looked back at you, your eyes were still on him, amusement written all over them. Now that Soap has left the scene would you drop the act if he pressed you a bit?

Graves launched forwards, his arms trapping you against the wall with a type of dominance that could only belong to a possessive commander. The huff you let out when your back hit the wall and the way your eyes widened in surprise as your palms shot to his chest so he wouldn't crush you made the blonde's smirk widen.

"You look adorable denying my advances, teasing me by staring at other men and fluttering those gorgeous lashes pretending you are not into me, (y/n). Lucky you, I'm not dumb." He whispers, his voice a growl of clear desire.

"What-..." Your voice failed you intoxicated by the delicious smell of Graves' minty breath. It seems you were in the wrong.

"I've got a darn good taste in women. Do you?"

He left you perplexed then. His back was to you when you were able to break out of your stupor. Graves just questioned your taste in men, what a joke.

But was he right, though?

______

The next time Graves tried to pull a move on you, Ghost, Soap, him and you were detonating a missile in the middle of the gulf of Mexico, the turbulent waters showed some mercy on Alejandro and the other shadows when they evacuated the zone of impact, the gigantic missile blew the oil rig and with it, one of Hassan's deathly weapons of mass destruction.

You couldn't remember how it went exactly, but in an instant Ghost was behaving strangely, taking the mercenary by the shoulder and guiding him somewhere else as Johnny approached your side near the big window that overlooked the chaos.

"I've seen plenty of explosions. But never like this one..." The Scott said softly under his breath like he was contemplating an spectacle of beautiful fireworks.

Somehow you weren't in the right mind and you simply hummed feeling distracted as hell. You'd excuse it as if you were simply worried about Alejandro and the other shadows but the truth was clear when your eyes went from Soap to Phillip. The last interaction you had with the commander had made your brain explode with a thousand new thoughts and none of them were about Soap.

The blonde was shaking Ghost's hand eagerly with a delighted face, he seemed satisfied with how the mission went. These Americans and their love for explosions...

"Y' alright, lass?" Soap called startling you.

"Sorry, what was the question-?"

Johnny brushed his mohawk back with a charming chuckle, you smiled at the sound of his sweet laugh but... You still felt very distracted. It was when Graves' blue eyes met yours from Ghost's shoulder that you felt something warm on your stomach before the tall Brit blocked both your line of view.

"Say, what if we all go find the others? I wanna see if Ale shat himself during the explosion, poor man must have lost a few more inches of hairline with the stress." The men laughed at this bumping fists and patting shoulders with one another, a short celebration for the successful mission. General Sheppard congratulated all of you individually in the comms and after thanking the general, Graves walked up to you while all of you were walking to the boats, Soap pressed to your side hugging your waist with one heavy arm as he looked at Graves as if whatever he was about to say was also directed to him. Normally you'd silently fangirl on the spot but right now the Sargeant's touch felt slightly suffocating. As usual, Graves never showed any care for Johnny's presence when it came to bantering and flirting with you.

"Nicely done, sarge. Next time we work together, remind me to send ya an application, you'd look great in black."

"You offering me a spot at your company, mister Graves?"

"More like a spot right by my side. I could use a very loyal shadow watchin' my back. Y'never know, right?"

"I think you have plenty of those under your command." You smirked waving a hand around you three, some Shadows who passed by chirped a "yep yep!" Instantly making Graves puff up his chest with pride, your sassy smirk melted into a sweet smile at his reaction. You knew Phillip was faker than Price's favorite Nike's, but the love he had for his Shadows was clearly real and honest.

Was his attraction to you just as honest? You asked yourself.

The American replied to you instantly making Soap stiffen. "You'd make a great Shadow, love. You'll never change ma' mind on that."

"And what makes you think I'd be so loyal to you, Ken doll?" You teased. Johnny was baffled on the spot but knew better than to say shit.

The way Phillip looks at you says it all. The bastard knows he lives rent free in your head, and sadly you just realized this now, just when Soap seemed to be reciprocating your advances you stuttered. Grey eyes under dark brows faded in your mind, orbes changing to a color blue under dark blonde brows. The weight of the American's eyes felt more intoxicating than Soap's.

"Yeah, we gotta go. Lt will lose his shit if we keep him waitin' any longer, right (y/n)?" Soap said in warning patting your shoulder.

But he was met by your silence, your eyes were firmly planted on Graves' as if leveling him, he didn't waver either. The bastard only broke eye contact to shoot Soap a smug look, he then turned back and joined a small group of shadows who awaited him on his boat but not before winking your way.

Fucking Graves...

_______

You all left after Hassan. Trying to corner the rat on the spot before he blew the whole country to the ground was hard, specially when Phillip aided you with a bunch of shadows seeking to trap general Shepard and luckily press charges of his traitorous intentions when he forced the commander to order his men to betray you.

You had missed Graves for the whole mission and it was taking a toll on your senses making you clumsy and risky. You suffered many close-calls until Hassan attacked Gaz, Soap, Price and you along with some of your men and neutralizing the little group of shadows you had left working by your side, the Iranian had wounded the captain and you while poor Garrick did his best to pull all of you out of harm's way. Soap went after him and not so long after you all received Ghost's call that Hassan was dead.

Hurrah.

"Hurrah." You huffed out drinking your tequila in one gulp. The whole gang was tired to their bones and weakly cheered drinking their own glasses. But then out of nowhere a voice you all knew too well broke your comfortable silence.

"He-hey!! Look at the gang enjoying a celebratory drink after a job well-done!"

None of you said a word, too exhausted to even look at the approaching commander who cheerfully perched himself near your stool.

"I'll let ya have this round under ma' count and forgive ya for not inviting me this once but only because I'm in a pretty good mood."

The captain sighed. "Shepard?"

"Laswell's dealing with the preparations. Soon enough that ol' bastard won't bug us no more."

That seemed to take a huge weight on all your shoulders, your team's faces changed in an instant, they seemed much more relaxed than before.

"Now there's only one thing to deal with." You heard Graves whisper behind your ear.

"The day you get more annoying I'll shove my knives so far up your ass you'll be shittin' blades for weeks." Maybe it sounded more rude than you intended but right now you couldn't indulge him on his charming shit.

"My good you are sweet. Mind if I call ya sugar pop? Or perhaps pumpkin is more fittin', what do ya think, love?"

"You can call me whatever you want but do not call me later for dinner."

"Even if that implies my infamous Texan-style ribs? I'll even serve em' with sweet potatoes. Have y' ever had sweet 'tatoes, pumpkin?"

Your brows could have very well reached your hairline, eyes wide in surprise, you pursed your lips and tilted your head slightly at the idea of trying such dish. After what happened with Hassan, the plan of eating a whole pig with the commander sounded too good to refuse.

"Are they just like normal potatoes but sweet?"

"I'll take that as a yes!" Graves laughs soundly pointing a finger to your very expressive face.

You groan rubbing one eye with your open palm. "Fine, fine. But only for dinner. Don't get too excited."

"Sure, love. One meal and I'll drive ya home like a gentleman."

"Youuuuu got it."

______

One fucking hour later at Graves' provisional apartment. He had pinned you under him on his comfy couch as the TV lowly played a mix of soothing music from YouTube that Graves had prepared for the occasion.

"Fuck you taste so sweet..."

"Maybe's cuz you didn't let me wash my mouth after the whole-ass dinosaur of a pig we has just eaten."

"The bbq sauce and the sweet potatoes are one thing, your tongue is just fucking addictive. Worse than nicotine I might add..." He sensually said before nipping your chin gently eager to attack your lips once again.

The way Graves kisses your mouth as if he was a man starved steals your breath away, his hot muscle swipes every corner of your mouth turning sloppy and if it wasn't because of how hot this man was and how amazing he has been treating you for this whole night, you'd say gross. And yet you look up at him, how his blue irises twinkle with desire, his reddened lips shine with all the saliva he was able to steal from you, and you feel so content. Like this was meant to be.

You broke the kiss panting, both hands pushing his chest back slightly to catch your breath from how sticky he has gotten ever since the first small peck.

"Fucking hell, Lip... You kiss like a middle schooler."

"Keep that up. You have no idea how hard you make me with your insults, woman..."

"Lil' bit of a masochist ain't ya?"

"Only for you, pumpkin..."

Yes, you do have good taste in men.

_______

"When your ma and I first met she was obsessed with me."

"Obsessed!? I was after another totally different guy!"

Your son laughed baffled at this new information shaking his head in disbelief making his dirty blonde hair sparkle under the rays of sunlight from the nearby window. With ten years of age, little Dominic was asking for more and more stories about how you and your husband met, eager to brag in class about the cool adventures you two shared with him. It was tradition. Every third of January Graves and you would sit Dom at the couch to grace him with a new cool story of the old days and reminisce on how you two met before your mother in law would pick him up so you two could celebrate your wedding anniversary.

"Ma', you have a funny taste in men."

This pearl from your son made Phillip spit out his lemonade staining your brand new carpet, you bursted out laughing from your spot of the couch, your legs spread to the side where your husband previously massaged your feet with one hand and supported his glass with the other. Said glass was carefully placed on the table as he cursed lowly at the freshly stained carpet.

"Oh you have no idea, little one..."

#call of duty modern warfare #cod #phillip graves x reader #graves x reader #phillip graves #cod mw2 #cod mw3

122 notes · View notes

cameronspecial · 9 months

Text

Assisting In Deception (Part 1)

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: People saying bad stuff about Rafe.

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.4K

Summary: A wedding and rumours lead Y/N and Rafe in need of a partner.

Masterlist

The sound of the keyboard as Rafe types is the only thing that can be heard when Y/N enters the room. She places his coffee in front of him and opens the planner she designated for work as she sits on a chair facing his desk. “You have appointments at eleven, two, and five for today. I’ve booked your haircut at three tomorrow and your dad called saying he wants you to call him when you get off of work. Is there anything else you need me to do, right now?” she questions, leaving a checkmark beside each reminder she informed him about. Rafe takes a second to look up from his computer, “No, assuming you put all of that in my digital calendar with more information. That’s all, thank you.” He returns to work and Y/N retreats back to her desk outside of his office.

Rafe Cameron is a cold and distant boss. He is polite, but he never smiles. Everyone in the office is scared of him, except for Y/N. Her kind and warm personality makes him not as stern with her, but it doesn’t mean she has the privilege of getting past his hard exterior. No one knows anything about him. However, this doesn’t stop her from developing a tiny crush on her boss. She knows it is a cliche, but she recognizes it is probably only because he is handsome and polite. Even if it was based on real emotions, she would never try to develop a romantic relationship with him. She doesn’t believe in love anyway.

Y/N is taking calls for him when he leaves his office. “I’m going for lunch,” he informs her and she gives him a nod to signal she heard him. He is watching her as he waits for the elevator. “I’m not sure if Mr. Cameron can fit you in today. He already has meetings up until six today. No, he normally doesn’t go to meetings after that time, Mr. Rosa,” Y/N begins, but upon hearing the name, Rafe flashes seven fingers to her. “Actually, I just checked with Mr. Cameron and he is fine with the meeting beginning at seven. Is that okay for you? Great. Have a good day, Mr. Rosa. Thank you.” Y/N goes to get her lunch but is immediately stopped by another call coming through. Rafe observes from the elevator that she takes the call and doesn’t go to lunch.

——

When Rafe returns from lunch, Y/N is still on a phone call with the same client as when Rafe left. He takes note of that and reminds himself to have a chat with the client about holding up the phone line around lunchtime. She watches as Rafe approaches the desk and gives her attention to him, waiting for him to tell her what he needs. Instead, he places a paper bag on her desk and takes the phone from her. “Hello, Mrs. Matthews. Ms. Y/L/N has been very polite by letting you take up her lunch hour, but right now, I’m letting her go on lunch, so you can call back tomorrow. Thank you, goodbye,” he hangs up the phone and sets it to voicemail, then turns his attention towards Y/N. “I’ve bought you lunch, please, eat it. Take an hour and don’t call back Mrs. Matthews until tomorrow. I know you feel bad, but she never has anything important for me. And next time, just tell the client that you have lunch. If they have problems, then direct them to me.”

He enters the office and she opens the bag to see what he got her. Inside, she finds the creamy mushroom gnocchi from her favourite Italian place. She has it at least once a month when she treats herself to lunch that is not leftovers from the night before. Y/N didn’t know that he noticed. She moves a strand of hair behind her ear and heads to the break room to enjoy her lunch.

——

Y/N returns from lunch and is just settling down at her desk when Jenna approaches her. “Hey, how was your lunch?” Jenna asks. Y/N knows Jenna wants something so cuts to the chase, “What do you need?” Jenna gives Y/N relieved eyes at not having to keep up the charade. “Could you please tell him some contractors have been saying some pretty bad stuff about him on the news this morning? The media is going crazy about it,” Jenna begs, widening her eyes and pouting like a puppy dog.

“Why me? Aren’t you the head of PR? Last time I checked, that’s in your job description.”

“It is, but he’s scary. He doesn’t get as mad at you as he does with anyone else. Maybe he has a crush on you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s because I don’t dance around telling him the truth. He likes my honesty.”

“Yeah, yeah, but can you pleaseeee do it? I’ll buy your coffee for the whole week if you do.”

“Fine, but I want that coffee. What have they been saying about him?”

“That he has a heart of stone, he’s rude and has secret children that he makes the mothers keep a secret.”

“Damn, that’s a lot. Only the first thing is kinda true, but the others are like so far out there. He barely leaves his office. How is he supposed to father children? I guess that’s why his dad wanted him to call him.”

“Probably, thank you so much. I owe you.”

Jenna runs back to the elevator to head down to the PR offices and Y/N makes her way into Rafe’s office. She doesn’t stick to pleasantries as she knows he has a meeting soon. “Contractors have been on the news all day saying crude things about you. PR wants a meeting to do damage control. You know before random women start popping up saying that you are their baby daddy,” she tells him, hoping the joke will soften the news. Rafe looks up from his computer with a confused look on his face, “They are saying I fathered children? Obviously, they don’t know me well enough to know that I barely leave my office.”

“That’s what I said, but it’s what I’ve been told to tell you. Do you want me to cancel your other meetings this afternoon so you can head to PR?”

“Yes, please. Why are you telling me this and not Ms. Walsh?”

“Uh, she had to get everything ready for the meeting. She had her assistant relay the message to me.”

“I see. So it wasn’t Ms. Walsh that I heard a few minutes ago.”

“No, sir.”

“Well, then I guess you’ll need someone to get you coffee for the next week.”

Her eyes widen at being caught in the lie and quickly leaves the office after his teasing. He only ever teases her.

——

Y/N leaves work at five o’clock on the dot after being told by Rafe that it is okay to leave. Before she left, he was still in the meeting with the PR team. She wonders what they could possibly be talking about to be in a meeting for so long. She enters her apartment to find Juni at the small kitchen island. Their small New York apartment doesn’t have much, but the view is incredible. It almost makes the absurd rent worth it. “So your hot boss was on the news today, Sweetie. How is he? Does he really have a million baby mamas?” Juni jests, pointing her pen at her roommate. Y/N just shakes her head at her friend, “He’s still in a meeting with the PR team. You know none of that is true, Juni. He literally never leaves his office, so unless he can get his work pregnant, then he is the father of nothing.”

Juniper Cresswell has been Y/N’s best friend since they were ten years old. Juni had just been adopted by the Cresswells and started attending the same school as Y/N. The pair instantly bonded over not having a traditional family. Y/N’s mother, Phoebe, had her at a young age and her biological father was non-existent in her life. Her mom did get remarried though to Nate and they had Nancy two years later. Nate treated her like his own daughter and even changed his last name to Phoebe’s so that they could all have the same last name. Y/N grew up in Queens and when she moved out, she was able to rent an apartment close to home with Juni.

The knock on the door and the quick opening of it pull the attention of the girls. Standing at the entryway is Alexander. “Sup neighbours. How was our day?” he questions, leaving the doorway to sit at the kitchen island with the girls. “Mine was good. I got to help a mom get custody of her children from her wealthy asshole ex-husband, who only wanted the kids to get back at his ex-wife,” Juni retells, going back to her paperwork. Y/N walks over to him, “It was okay. Mr. Cameron got me lunch and he is being accused of having more children than Nick Canon.” This causes Juni to look up from her work, which goes unnoticed by Y/N because she is going through the mail that Alexander brought up. “How come you didn’t tell me your hot boss got you lunch, Sweetie?” Juni interrogates. Y/N stops at one particular letter, “Because it’s not that big of a deal. He knew I couldn’t eat mine. A client wouldn’t let me get off of the phone.”

Alexander and Juni give each other a look and then stare at her as she ignores them. She opens the pink envelope to find a wedding invitation from her cousin. Francine has been dating Gwen for eight years now, so it isn’t a surprise that she is getting married. Y/N loves her cousin, but she can’t help groaning. She hates the idea of having to go to another family event alone. She doesn’t mind being single, the issue is that family events come with constant badgering from relatives. Why are you still single? Don’t you want to start your family soon? Aren’t you lonely? You only have a few more years to have a baby. Juni looks over Y/N’s shoulder to see the invitation. “Ooh, another event you have to go to by yourself,” Juni wisecracks, taking the invitation out of Y/N’s hand to show Alexander. She gives him a pleading look that asks if he could go with her. He shakes his head with pity, “Damn, I wish I could go with you, but that’s when I have to get my wisdom teeth removed.”

Y/N turns to Juni in the hope of finding someone to be a buffer at the wedding. Juni sadly makes her lose that hope. “Sorry, Sweetie. That’s my dad’s birthday. My mom is planning a big party and everything.” The other girl sighs, resting her chin on her hand, “I guess I’ll just fly solo. Again.” Juni shrugs, “You never know. Maybe you’ll meet a handsome stranger, who you fall so head over heels for that you’ll be married before Francine.”

——

The PR meeting finishes at eight and Rafe is home a half hour later. It was an unproductive meeting of just going around in circles with the same weak idea of him making donations to various organizations and suing the contractors for defamation. Donating probably isn’t going to do much in the eyes of the public; they would say he is doing it just for how it would look during a so-called scandal. Suing won’t do much because the damage is already done. Dax greets Rafe at the door with an excited wag of the tail. “Hey bud, I miss you,” Rafe pets the German shepherd, moving over to the kitchen to get something to eat.

He gets Dax’s food ready first and watches as the dog devours the food soon after it is placed in his bowl. Rafe then moves over to the stove to make himself grilled salmon, fondant potatoes and steamed broccoli. He makes his way to the living room and turns on the TV. He quickly changes the channel from the news, which has his face plastered on it. He knows his issues aren’t the worst problem in the world. He’s a wealthy, white, male; this society is designed for him, but he can’t help feeling disappointed that people would blindly believe things about him they hear on TV, especially if they aren’t true. Rafe had to deal with enough prejudices when he was growing up and he went through a little bit of a wild phase. He might have been a little rebellious, but not so much that he should have been judged harshly by the media.

He settles on the couch, remembering he has to call his dad. He takes his phone out, dialling the number he needs. The phone stops ringing after a few seconds, “I know most of what they are saying is not true, but we need to workshop how we are going to fix this.” Rafe shakes his head at his dad’s direct approach.

“Hello to you too, Dad. And Jenna thinks it would be good if I make some donations and sue the contractors.”

“Okay, that’s all fine, but you need to do something more. It’s too bad that you don’t have a girlfriend. You could show just how dedicated you are to her and that might distract the media.”

Rafe frowns at his dad’s slight disappointment and quickly wants to rectify the issue, “Actually, I’ve been meaning to tell you. I’m dating someone.”

“Really? Since when? How come you haven’t told me about her?”

“Um, we’ve been dating for about a month. And I haven’t told you because I wanted to see where it is going. But it’s going good so I guess this is as good of a time as ever.”

“This is great, Rafe. How about I come over later this week and we can talk to the PR team about making appearances with your new mystery girl? Talk to your girl about this too. Tell her how important this is going to be for your media image. ”

Rafe nods at his father's suggestion, “Yeah, Dad. That sounds great. I’ll see you later, bye.” Ward utters his own goodbyes and hangs up his phone. Rafe moans, sitting back on the couch. He looks at his now cold dinner in dissatisfaction. “What am I going to do now?” he whispers to himself.

Taglist: @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @aprilrudgate @loving-and-dreaming @victory-in-the-llama

279 notes · View notes

14thcommander · 3 months

Text

loml | hange x reader

summary: the first time hange sees you after your breakup.

cw: 1k words, and listen this is angst okay. open ending. smoking and swearing. both of them are bitter af. no beta we die like hange: scared but willingly. recommended songs for listening while reading this: cowardice by defeater, loml by taylor swift and/or such small hands by la dispute. enjoy!

Hange has managed to avoid you for a few of months now.

It didn’t really manage to soothe the ache in their heart, almost as if the phantom of your relationship still existed around Hange. Traces of you left behind the scene of their heartbreak, a couple of lipsticks in the bathroom, a Polaroid of your smile attached to the fridge. There isn’t a day in which Hange wakes up in a cold bed and not misses the feeling of your body next to theirs.

“Tch, gotta at least pretend a little. You look miserable.”

Levi’s mellow voice doesn’t hurt them, and Hange notices how he hasn’t used any insults to address them for the past couple of weeks.

There’s music and chatter filling the air, making Hange feel exhausted at the thought of interacting with people alone. They are hiding in the balcony, with Levi by their side. Smoking seemed like a good reason to excuse themselves from the conversation.

“Well, Sherlock, I am miserable.” Hange mumbles, cigarette dangling from their lips. “Shit, where’s my lighter?”

Before Hange can look in their pockets, Levi fishes a silver lighter from his own, handing it to them. A muttered thanks is all he gets in return.

It was Nanaba’s birthday celebration, a dinner slash party slash event happening at the shared house of Miche and Nana. The thought of the happy couple only makes the pain more sour.

“You sound like a fucking emo teenager. What is this, 2006?”

Needless to say, they weren’t handling the break up very well. They wonder if you were affected by it at all. It’s been, what, three months?

In the meantime, Hange’s hair got messier. Dark circles now adorned their brown eyes. They picked up the bad habit of smoking again, one they had dropped when they were a graduate — the reason they quit in the first place was your breathing issue. Was it bronchitis?

Everything is blurry lately.

Hange hears Levi mutter yet another curse word under his breath, but they think none of it. Smoke enters and leaves their lungs, slowly poisoning their body.

“Smoking kills, you know.”

The sound of your voice makes Hange momentarily freeze in place, as their brain short circuits at the sound of the words you once told them years ago.

Slowly, awfully slowly, they turn around, being met with the sight of you.

You got a haircut since the last time you saw each other, and it suits you perfectly. There’s a guilty smile playing on your lips, painted in a color they haven’t seen you wear before. Something darker, edgier. After all, your favorite lipstick was left at Hange’s place.

“Yeah, too bad.” It’s what they come up with, taking another drag, blowing the smoke towards the open air, in order to avoid it reaching you.

There’s a beat of silence, and you get closer.

What now? Hange thinks. What the fuck am I supposed to do?

Perhaps they should have been nicer, more gentle.

You give them a chuckle, followed by “It doesn’t smell good, either.”

It was a far friendlier response than what they originally expected.

“I’ll leave you two to it.” Levi states, before discarding his own cigarette in the ashtray. It was awkward enough as it is. “Figures.”

Silence weighs heavy between the two of you, the tension so thick it barely allows you to move — but you do. Of course you do. While Hange is curious and erratic, manic even, you manage to be the reckless one in this relationship. Did, actually.

“How you’ve been?” You dare to ask, and Hange almost gasps in disbelief.

Their dark eyes find yours as they bury the remains of the cigarette in the ashtray. Something inside them snaps, thinking about how this seems like a scene straight out of a nightmare.

“The usual. You?”

Their stab seems to reach your heart, from the look on your face, and it almost pains them. Almost.

“Well, uh… still living in Petra’s guest room. Working a lot. You know, stuff.”

Hange chuckles in return. They know damn well about stuff — crying before sleeping, not being able to eat from how much they miss you, smoking for breakfast. Stuff.

“Stuff. Yeah, I know.”

A glean around your neck makes them notice how you are still wearing the necklace they gave to you, the jewelry reflecting the moonlight. It was Hange’s birthstone or something like that. Something they didn’t understand why you liked, but still gifted it to you in order to make you happy.

“Yeah.”

Another beat of silence. Another piece of their heart dropping on the floor, cracking like glass.

“Was wondering if you’d like to, um, catch up or something. I miss you.”

They chuckle again.

“Sweetheart.” They fully turn their face to you, seeing you standing closer than they thought you were. The sound of the old nickname tastes bitter on their tongue. “You are the one who decided to call it quits. You don’t have to make small talk out of pity.”

You make a sound that seems like something between a scowl and a sigh, avoiding Hange’s somber eyes.

“I don’t pity you. Believe it or not, I don’t see you as a victim-”

“Excuse me?”

“although I do regret what I did. I was fucking depressed and didn’t want to be a burden to you. I’m sorry, I realize I fucked up. All I’m asking for is a second chance to make this right, to take care of you again. And, you know, let you take care of me too.”

Hange sighs. You blink at them.

“I really am sorry, Han. I wanna make this work. These past months have been the worst of my life. I regret breaking up every single day.”

Hange stares at your moonlight glazed eyes, nodding.

“Yeah. Guess we can go out for coffee or something.”

#hange fanfic #hange x reader #hange x y/n #hange zoe x reader #hange zoe x you #aot fanfic

56 notes · View notes

deathbyhertouch · 4 months

Text

Chance of Fate

Julien Baker x f!reader

warnings: smut (minors dni), fingering, oral (reader receiving), trapped in small spaces, corruption kink if you squint, bad cliche, softdom!Julien, swearing, general cuteness, choking if you squint

word count: 2.2k

AN: hello! this is my inaugural post. I hope you like it!! please send me requests for more if you like my work :)

Your day started off like any other, it was a warm day in downtown Nashville, and you had a bunch of adulting to do with absolutely zero motivation. You had already gotten your dentist appointment as well as your haircut out of the way. All that was left was to drop off some stuff at your friend's apartment complex. She lived in a high rise building right off the corner from your favorite coffee place. As you made the trek towards her building, you noticed how the breeze picked up, flowing through your hair, and bringing a slight smile to your face. You made your way up the stairs to the front entrance and pressed the buzzer for her apartment.

“Y/N? Is that you?” Kacey’s voice rang out to you. “Hey girlie, just dropping off those books you wanted to borrow.” you replied. “Sounds good, come on up.”

You heard the door click open and you made your way to the elevator. How she ever managed to find this place for a decent price you’ll never know, she had always had the best luck when it came to stuff like this. You pushed the call button for the elevator and waited for the doors to open. After what felt like an eternity of waiting, the doors creaked open and you waltzed on in.

“Hey wait! Hold the lift!” You turned to see the sweet sounding voice belonging to a shorter girl covered in tattoos. You stuck your arm out to halt the elevator from leaving her behind. You looked her up and down as she walked in with you, noticing her big brown eyes, and taking in her scent. She smelled like coffee and something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“Thanks! I owe you one.” She beamed up at you, now noticing she was shorter than yourself. You smiled back at her and told her; “No problem, happy to do it.” You smiled back at her. She pushed the floor two above the one Kacey lived on. You noticed the intricate ink and how slender her fingers were. You could feel the blush creeping up your neck as you were lost in your own thoughts.

“Like what you see?” Oh fuck. She caught you staring at her hands. Way to go, creep. Scare off this absolute dreamboat. “ Y-yeah, I like your tattoos, they suit you well.” Your voice cracked and your breath quickened. She smirked at you and muttered a thank you.

A sudden jolt made you lose your balance. “ Oh shit.” Your mystery girl looked at you with wide eyes and the sudden realization made you groan. “Seriously? This fucking sucks.” You sucked your lip between your teeth in frustration. Of all the things to happen, the old elevator breaking down on you, trapping you inside with a total stranger, albeit a drop dead gorgeous stranger, was not on your list of things you wanted to happen today.

“Well this is just great, not like I had anywhere to be or anything.” You quipped under your breath. She chuckled and moved to the door of the elevator, trying to squeeze her fingers in the crack to try and pry it open. “Sorry, hun. I guess we are stuck here until further notice.” You gazed at her and gave her a bleak smile. “Awesome.” You slid down the wall and took a seat on the floor and pulled out your phone to see if you could get a signal. No service. You huffed and looked at her and smiled. “ No signal here, you?” She pulled out her phone and flashed it to you, also no signal.

“I’m Julien, by the way.” she spoke softly. You accepted her outreached hand into your own, taking note of how soft her hands were. “Y/N. Do you live here?” You were curious to know more about her, seeing as you didn’t have much of a choice right now. What a shame, trapped in a small elevator with the hottest girl in Tennessee.

“ No, I’m cat-sitting for my bandmate.” She said, now joining your side on the hard floor. “You’re in a band, huh? That’s pretty cool.” You spoke, looking into her eyes. “ I am pretty cool, thank you for noticing.” She chuckled while replying to you. You blushed hard again, noticing how close you were, thighs touching.

“So what are you doing here? I’ve never seen you before, I would’ve remembered someone as gorgeous as yourself.” She smirked slightly, not so subtly eyeing your lips. Fuck me. “Oh I’d like to, babe.” “I-I didn’t mean to say that out loud. I’m so-” she cut you off, smashing her lips to yours in a heavy kiss.

You moaned into her mouth, your hands snaking their way up to her brown locks, tangling themselves in her long hair. She smiled into the kiss and licked your bottom lip, asking for permission to enter your mouth. Your lips parted for hers and her hands found their way to your waist, holding you in place, afraid you’ll slip away from her. You moaned at the feeling of her tongue on yours. She tasted so good, you didn’t want to ever stop kissing her.

“Julien, I need you.” You breathed into her mouth. She broke the kiss and winked at you. “All in good time, sugar.” she whispered, moving her mouth down to your neck. You gasped as she began to place her lips to your neck. Her hand moved down from your waist to your thigh, agonizingly close to your clothed pussy. You could feel the heat pooling in your lower stomach and you subconsciously rubbed your thighs together, aching for some type of friction.

“Mmm baby, tell me how badly you need me. I wanna hear that pretty mouth beg.” She said, nipping lightly at your neck. You whined and gripped her arm out of frustration. “Please Jules, I want you so bad. I want you to f-fuck touch me. I want to feel your mouth on me.” You whispered, panting heavily as you could feel your arousal start to seep through your panties. “Yeah? Does my pretty girl want me to fuck her in an elevator? What a whore. Are you my little whore? Just can’t wait for me to ruin her?” You could hear the grin in her words, and you moaned at her words. Her hands migrating to your heat, fingers ghosting over you through your shorts.

You whined, more needy than ever, and she brought her lips back to yours. Her fingers pulled at the drawstring before they dipped under the waistband. You gasped and she took the opportunity to stick her tongue back in your mouth. Her fingers traveled further down and barely made contact with your swollen clit but it was enough for you as your hips bucked into her hand.

“Is this what my pretty girl wants? My fingers on her pretty pussy?” She whispered into your mouth, absolutely loving the way she had your wrapped around her fingers. You moaned again and nodded pathetically. “Yes please. I want you to make me cum around your fingers. I want you to make me yours.” You breathed into her mouth.

Without warning, she removed her fingers from your pussy and your eyes shot open to give her an annoyed look. “Tease.” you muttered under your breath. Her eyes lit up with cockiness and she grabbed your throat, not hard enough to hurt but it definitely was enough to let you know who was in control.

“ Y’know, good girls get to cum, not mouthy ones.” She was looking deep into your eyes now with that same smirk on her face. “I-I’m sorry baby, it won’t h-happen again.” You replied looking down at her lips. The way she was looking at you was sending electricity straight to your center. You were so utterly turned on by this woman, you would’ve done any number of things if she asked. She smiled back at you and let out a light giggle.

“Good girl. Now open that pretty mouth of yours.” She spoke in a softer, but very serious tone. You obliged and she smiled before spitting into your mouth. You just about burst from the pure sex appeal of her. You wanted her to do awful, filthy things to you. You moaned and swallowed her spit, like it was the best thing to ever touch your tongue.

She moved her hands to your stomach under your shirt. She slowly began to pull your top above your head, exposing your bare chest to her. Your cheeks began to run warm with blush, and your nipples began to harden under her gaze. “No bra? My my, what a naughty thing you are.” She told you while taking one of your breasts into her hand, fingers pinching your nipple. You yelped at the sudden touch and she chuckled. Her mouth leaned down, taking the other nipple between her lips. You threw your head back, letting a moan slip out. You looked back down at her and found her doe eyes looking back to yours.

You wanted to freeze this moment, she looked so good, good enough to be in a museum. Her tongue swirled around the hard bud and your eyes screwed shut. She flicked her tongue against it and came off the nipple with a small pop before quickly capturing your lips in hers again. She hummed into your mouth and you decided to slip your hands under her shirt. She squeaked out a small moan, making you smile against her soft lips. You broke the kiss to lift her shirt over her head before bringing her mouth back to yours. You pawed lightly at her chest over her sports bra and could feel her nipples start to harden.

She broke the kiss, much to your discontent. You whined, chasing after her mouth. “I know baby, but I want to make you feel good.” She chuckled at you. You huffed lightly at her, but you understood. Her fingers hooked your shorts and began to slide them down. You lifted your hips to help her out and she made quick work of it, throwing them behind her. She spread your legs with her hands and smiled at you.

“My goodness, what do we have here? I wonder who made you this wet?” Her words dripping with desire as she eyed your panty-covered pussy. You knew you were soaked, how could you not be. You blushed hard at the comment, feeling bashful. “You, Jules. You did this. I need you so bad.” You whined out at her. She shifted her body so that her face was inches from where you needed her most. You could feel her warm breath on your arousal, and the wait was agonizing.

Her finger hooked your panties and pulled them to the side, finally revealing your wet folds to her. She looked up at you and you gave her a slight nod to continue. She hummed and pressed her thumb to your clit once more, your hips bucking into her hand and you gasped at the contact. Your eyes closed and your head leaned back as you reveled in the pleasure. Her tongue fell flat as she licked a stripe through your folds.

“Fuck baby, you taste so good.” She told you as she placed a kiss on your clit. Her fingers gathered your slick and she pushed one into you, sliding in with ease. You let out a soft moan and weaved your fingers into her hair once more. Her finger began to pump into you and her mouth sucked hard around your clit. You were panting and your chest was heaving. She seemed to enjoy how much you were getting off because of her. She added a second finger and you could feel your stomach start to build a knot.

“Jules please, go faster.” you whined and she obliged happily. Her fingers began to move in and out of you at a fast pace, her tongue flicking your bud faster as well. You could feel yourself coming undone at her doing. Your grip on her hair tightened, nails grazing her scalp. She moaned into you, the vibrations sending shock waves across your whole body. You let out a moan at the sensation and she chuckled against your clit.

You could feel your orgasm building and your hips began to buck up into her. She used her free hand to hold you steady. Your whines were becoming louder and more frequent and she added a third finger. “Fuck Julien, don’t stop, I’m so close.” You spoke, looking at her eating your pussy like she was starving. She kept at a fast pace and began humming more into your pussy.

“C’mon pretty girl, you feel so good around my fingers. Let me taste you. Cum f’me.” She whispered, only egging you on. You let out a loud moan as your orgasm began to come to a head. She smirked and pumped her fingers a bit slower, helping you ride out your orgasm. You came hard, dripping down her fingers onto the floor. She pulled out of you and came up to kiss you, her chin glistening with your juices and a shit-eating grin plastered to her face.

She kissed you feverishly and you moaned into the kiss, tasting yourself on her tongue. She moved your panties back in place for you and then brought her hand to your boob. You couldn’t get enough of how good you felt because of her. You broke the kiss and pressed your forehead to hers.

“Wow.” you breathed, smiling widely and looking deep into her eyes. “You are so hot, how did you get so good at that?” She let out a laugh at that, taken aback by your blunt honesty. “Well, I wanted to be prepared in case this exact scenario happened.” She quipped at you, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. You hummed and gave her a peck on the lips.

“ After we escape this elevator, can I treat you to dinner, as a thank you?” You asked, wanting to see her again after this chance encounter. She smiled and nodded and kissed your cheek.

“You must be high if you think you’re getting away from me this easily.”

#julien baker smut #boygenius #boygenius smut #boygenius x reader #julien baker x reader

65 notes · View notes

possibilistfanfiction · 8 months

Note

Surgeons au: "please take a break"

[idk where this started & idk where this went but boy is it soft lol]

beatrice is exhausted.

you get home — to her house, but you have a key and most of your things have migrated over steadily: a drawer for your underwear; your favorite coffee roast in the cabinet; your spare cane in the corner of the bedroom; the garden you’d planted and tended in the back yard in full bloom now — and see her slumped over, her head in her hands, sitting on a stool at the kitchen island. it’s been like this for days, since she lost a patient from a routine surgery that went badly and then went worse than badly. it wasn’t her fault, not at all, but beatrice, you’ve found, despite her reticence and calm, is a person who feels everything deeply. for all of your differences, you think this is maybe the similarity that makes the most sense to you, the one that lets you navigate what she needs when things are too big and too near and impossibly sad.

she lifts her head, a blush rising to her cheeks, when you come in from the garage. ‘oh,’ she says, like she lost track of time; she probably did.

‘hello to you too.’

she smiles apologetically. ‘hello, darling.’

you toss your tote on the couch; on a normal day, when things aren’t so heavy, this would make her sigh in fond exasperation, but now she just waits, still, for you to slip your shoes off and pad over to her.

‘i’m all sweaty,’ she says, holding up a hand before you can hug her. you glance down and see that she’s still in a pair of her climbing pants and an old hoodie, her hands still slightly dusty with chalk.

‘you went to the gym?’

she nods, and you spare her the lecture of why it’s a bad idea to go bouldering after a marathon shift, especially when she hasn’t been sleeping even on her days off.

‘i just needed something else to think about, to — to feel with my hands.’

you’re, like, the most mature person in the world now, basically, because you read the room and refrain from making one of many of the dirty jokes that immediately pop into your head. it’s too easy anyway. ‘are you feeling better?’

she sighs, slumps even further onto the stool. ‘i’m feeling tired.’

‘yeah, i bet you are.’ you don’t care about her being sweaty, don’t care about any of it, really, but how to possibly comfort her. you rub your hand along her back, her perfect, strong spine, her exacting, taut muscles, the grief wedged between them all.

‘i have to read dr. adebeyo’s new research article, and review for my septal myectomy on thursday, and —‘

‘you’re not at work right now, babe.’

‘i can’t think of anything else.’

you don’t often ask things of her, mostly because she offers so much so readily but also because asking is still hard for you, impossible some days. but you’re working on it and, besides, this is for her: ‘please, please take a break.’ what happened wasn’t your fault, you want to say, but it would be too much and you get the feeling that she still isn’t quite ready to hear it yet.

she leans into your side then, a little awkward but bone-weary and still, you can tell, in love. it’s scared you for so long, what it’s like to be adored by someone, to be valued and admired; it’s the most terrifying thing you’ve ever felt in your life, worse than your accident and the scars along your back and the hollow of your throat and all the surgeries to follow, worse than the horribly hopeful future spread out in front of you when you got accepted to work with jillian, worse than when you matched with your dream program. beatrice simply is — in love with you, loving you — and, finally, finally, you’re starting to trust it.

‘you need a haircut,’ you say after a while — beatrice usually buzzes her hair every week, neatly and like clockwork, because ‘it’s easy, and, so i’ve been told at least, that it looks good,’ she’d told you, to which you’d rolled your eyes but had no argument against — and she snorts a laugh from where she’s pressed her face into your arm. it’s amused and exhausted, all at once. ‘i can do it, if you’d like.’

she waits for a moment, considers it. there’s the intimacy you’re familiar with: how warm her center is with your fingers curling inside, the way her mouth feels when you’re about to come. the way your body was able to feel during sex was the wildest, most heartbreaking discovery for you at first, but you settled into it with joy after a while. after chanel had very seriously given you a lecture your second week of college on how to be safe, it was fun and light and never so serious. with beatrice, it’s easy intimacy: you know that kissing her pulse point makes her arch her back and beg, that you know how to be kind, even when rough, every single time.

the intimacies of life, though, are where you sometimes both get stuck, the smallest parts of you that had hurt the most, that had had to heal so slowly, that you hold so tight to your chest. you hate playing all your cards, and you’re certain she does too: to be cared for can feel suffocating, in the wrong circumstances. to be cared for, though, you’ve discovered a few weeks ago when she brought you a heating pad and picked up the new pain medication your neurologist wanted you to try, in the right hands, in beatrice’s hands, is a miracle.

beatrice looks up at you, the question clear: you would do that for me?

you smile softly, lean down to kiss her like things are easy, like things are good. in so many ways, in the ways that sit in the marrow of your bones, they are.

she smiles back, finally, eyes brightening, unfurling after days trying to hide in the dark. ‘you think you can manage it?’

you nod. ‘you can trust me.’ it comes out so sincere, despite the fact that you add in a wink to try to dissipate it.

she straightens up, then, and squeezes your hand. ‘thank you, ava.’

you tell her, ‘of course,’ because, of course.

‘you know,’ she says a few minutes later, sitting on a kitchen chair in the big primary bathroom, her shirt discarded in the hamper in your room, ‘i’ve never let anyone do this for me before.’

‘really?’

‘yes.’ she’s quiet for a moment, the buzz from her clippers, with the guard she’d precisely put on, the only noise as you run them along her scalp. ‘well, it’s fairly simple, for one.’

you hum. ‘and for two?’

she rolls her eyes, shrugs, blushes. you love her. ‘i didn’t…’ she pauses, tries again, ‘it’s close.’

‘yeah.’

she meets your eyes in the mirror, quiet. you know from what she’s told you about her past, when she was younger, when she knew who she was but was made to feel scared and so ashamed : the tears and the heartache and how much she thought her life wasn’t worth anything, the heaviness that sits around her like a soft cloak sometimes, even still. but, right now, you see her, and you care for her, exactly as she is. it’s different than anything you’ve ever had before, more than you could’ve convinced yourself to want: she’s going to stay. she wants to stay.

a smile grows on her face and it’s like the whole world lightens. ‘lilith thought i was having a breakdown, the first time.’

you laugh, go over the spiraling, small cowlick a few more times so it’s all even. ‘was she maybe a little bit right?’

she hums. ‘a little, perhaps. but i’d been curious for a long time, and i knew — it would feel right. i knew it.’

you resist the urge to kiss the top of her head, one of your favorite activities, only just avoiding it when you brush all the little hairs from her bare shoulders and some of them stick to your hand. ‘well, it suits you. i mean, i think anything would suit you, probably, but i get it.’

her smile softens, just for you. ‘plus, my mother almost fainted the first time i went home for the holidays. worth its weight in gold, honestly, for both me and lil.’

it’s rare beatrice mentions her parents, especially in a way that encourages a little laugh to bubble out of her chest. you grin. ‘i would’ve paid to see that.’

she fiddles with her watch band, one of her only nervous tells, and then sighs. ‘well, they’re visiting in a few weeks, after my boards.’

you take the guard off and tilt her head forward slightly so you can clean up her neckline. it gives her time to take a deep breath, and for you to calm your nerves. ‘oh. how do you feel about that?’

‘i mean, well, it’s fine. i suppose this is the sort of things parents would be proud of.’

‘any sane parent would be, like, bursting at the seams proud of you. i need you to know that.’

‘i —‘ she pauses, puzzles through it. ‘i do, for the most part. when they’re a continent away, it’s different. easier.’

‘for sure.’ you walk around in front of her and brush hair off of her forehead, the tip of her nose which she scrunches up. you’d told a patient the other day, scared and hurting, that dr. choi was the best, and, in all the ways that matter — her steady hands and kind hugs and the stretch of freckles across her cheeks — you had meant it.

‘do you — would you like to meet them?’

you’d like to fucking punch them, but — ‘do you want me to meet them?’

‘yes,’ she says, certain and stoic. ‘you’re my partner, and we live together, and i’m going to spend the rest of my life with you.’

there’s such tenderness, such assuredness, the rain calming and her strong shoulders and the smile you feel on your face. it’s quiet, now, the clippers turned off and sitting on the counter. ‘we live together?’

‘that’s what you got from that?’

you shrug.

she takes your hand, laces your fingers together. ‘your lease is up next month, right?’

‘yeah.’

‘i can’t remember the last time you didn’t spend the night here, and i certainly can’t remember the last time i didn’t want you to.’

‘you’re full of big declarations today.’ it’s ineffective, because your laugh comes out as mostly a snot-filled snuffle when tears press at your eyes. you’ve never, really, had a home before.

beatrice just squeezes your hand.

‘you’re gonna spend the rest of your life with me?’

‘ah, there we go.’

‘you do know that i’m, like, a whole lot.’

‘yes,’ she says. ‘and i love you.’

just like that. just like that, and it’s so easy. ‘i love you too.’ you wipe under your eyes, grimace for a moment when stray hairs get stuck on your cheeks, but you let out a big breath. ‘i can’t promise i won’t at least tell your parents off.’

‘if they say anything that warrants that, i’m fine with you causing a scene if you’d like. shannon loves to, so she’ll have fun.’

‘i think that might be too much of an opening for me, honestly. i’ve been waiting to yell at them since like, two hours after i met you.’

‘there’s no way you knew after two hours on my service.’

‘i could sense the, like, childhood trauma, gentle, brooding, gay vibes. i’m talented that way.’

she rolls her eyes but she’s clearly so fond of you, still holding your hand. ‘well, shall i shower, and then we can order in? catch up on the traitors, maybe?’

‘god, that is my love language. for real, bea.’

‘would you like to shower with me?’

‘okay, i take it back. that is my love language.’

she laughs, and stands, and you clean up and get in the shower and kiss her. you don’t do anything more, not tonight, not when things are still the raw end of a live nerve wire, hurt dissipating near the surface. you cuddle on the couch and steal bites of her biryani and she falls asleep, warm and soft, her head resting on your chest while you scratch her scalp. you live her, for real, you think, as you pause the episode before the roundtable because she hates missing it even if she pretends to not care — asking for a full recap the next day — and then rouse her as gently as you can and lead her by the hand to bed, to rest.

#wn #wn fic #avatrice #avatrice fic #butch bea 🥺🫡#surgeons au #idk! the INTIMACY! mary oliver was right!#the girls who get it get it (gender expansive)

107 notes · View notes

arafilez · 7 months

Text

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ▰ ▰ ✶ WØRLD EPISØDE FIN: WILL ⪨

ㅤㅤ➛ ㅤii.ㅤ WE KNOW 𒉽 park seonghwa❛ 𓇿

🥂̸̤ㅤㅤf2l, fluff ㅤ ✸ㅤfighting beside him has always been your special thing, but when feelings intervene?ㅤㅤ───ㅤㅤ w: kissing ㅤㅤ»ㅤㅤ wc: 2.1kㅤㅤ𠈔ㅤㅤ moodboard

❛ kissing after a convo, how we'll be better as friends. ❜

“Hongjoong, can’t handle rejection or what?” you speak in an annoyed tone as Seonghwa chuckles beside you.

“You and I both know very well, she isn’t rejecting his hand,” he tells you, his soft voice vibrating your ear and you slump your shoulders, frowning a little.

“Yeah I do, he has been visiting her at night, that lovesick boy,“ you tsk rolling your eyes and walking towards the base as Seonghwa follows suit. He giggles a little hearing your words about the captain but stops as soon as you glare back at him.

You and Seonghwa have known each other since Ateez started, in fact, you, Seonghwa and Hongjoong were the founding stones. You had tumbled into one of their artifacts and when you saw two teenage boys of your age threatened to kill you for it you had laughed in their faces.

Like who are they trying to scare with that emo haircut and minion size?

And you already knew you had no one to return to at the orphanage so you made a deal to join them. You were more than surprised when they said “yes” and slinging your school bag over your shoulder you had followed them to their “base”, or basically a run-down apartment.

Now, you enter the shiny building, your real “base”, the one you three with the help of your other nine members have managed to build. You put down your guns and enter through the body scanner as Seonghwa follows suit.

You slip into your room and put on some clothes for the night. You can hear the commotion between Wooyoung and his sister outside and shake your head mentally at the siblings.

Sitting down on the soft bed you look through your phone and hear the door creak open. You look up and see Seonghwa standing there with his hands in his pockets. His black hair is slightly messy and he is wearing a loose sweater over some sweatpants. Your heart lightly speeds up at the sight.

There he is, your friend, looking like a total boyfriend material and here you are with your racing heart sitting on the bed blankly.

When did you start having a crush on Seonghwa?

Well, funny story. You in your teenage always liked the nerd type not the rebellious ones. And Seonghwa was a rebellious one, so you had laughed to your mind about crushing on him at the age of seventeen. You were doing well, too well, maybe. You both were the fighters and have always been beside each other, whether practicing or in the playing field. And it has been a special thing of you two.

Until your feelings intervened!

Suddenly laughing along with him and having midnight snacks didn’t seem like just a friend thing to do. Holding hands while coming back after a fight and throwing it up together like a WWE contest didn’t seem friendly anymore. He and you discussing firing strategies with San made you feel more.

He usually fixed your firing positions during practice since he has more experience but you knew you were down bad when you felt yourself craving more of his hands as they were in yours fixing it.

“Hello? Earth to y/n,” Seonghwa’s voice brings you back from your thoughts as you jolt lightly and look at him standing in front of you. He smiles lightly at your dazing state before plopping himself down on the bed sheets.

“Hey,” you exhale lightly and bring your duvet up to cover the both of you. “So what movie are we watching tonight?” you laugh lightly trying to ignore your pounding heart as he snuggles closer to you, snaking an arm around your waist.

“Just turn on something,” he whispers, placing his head on your shoulders as you type away on your laptop. You scroll through the choices before turning on a movie you feel like seeing and lean back to his arms.

The whole movie becomes a blur in your eyes as soon as it starts. You do not care about the movie, the main characters that are being shown, or the fight scene between the families. All you care about is you cuddling with Seonghwa, your bare feet on his ankles, and his light cologne that is infiltrating your senses.

Think straight, you scold your mind but that is all in vain as he tells something to you, his deep voice vibrating just against your ears. You nod absentmindedly and Seonghwa pauses the movie.

You look up scrunching your eyebrows and he says, “You look sleepy,” brushing a stray hair strand out of your eyes and carefully placing it behind your ear. You look into his eyes and see the sparkle in them and abruptly sit up.

This is getting out of hand.

You can’t fall in love with him.

His actions don’t mean anything and he is a natural at skin-ship. He just likes to take care of everybody so you know you mean nothing more to him than a friend.

And you are not going to let your stupid feelings ruin it.

“Why are you so shaken today?” he asks you getting increasingly concerned at your lost state. You shake your head softly before getting up from your bed and fixing your night-wear.

“Hwa, I am just tired, I will get some sleep,” you lie to him and he nods not probing further. He presses a chaste kiss on your forehead before leaving and you sigh at yourself from defeat. Your heart defeats your rational mind. You are grateful Seonghwa has believed your lie though, you think.

Little do you know, he can always tell when you lie.

You get ready with your equipment and put on the overcoat to hide them well. Walking outside you are met with Yeosang in a sheer shirt and you cock your eyebrows in approval. In the usual and true Yeosang manner, he rolls his eyes before walking away and you laugh lightly walking towards the building center.

Seonghwa was already there in a black overcoat talking with Yunho and Hongjoong and San was playing around with his gun, even trying to bite it whenever possible so you left him to be himself. You walk towards your fellow ‘98 liners and greet them as Seonghwa casually drapes an arm around your shoulder.

“Slept well?” he asked his glistening eyes looking intently into yours and you could have stared at them forever. Yunho’s light cough brings you back to reality and you smile nodding a ‘yes’ and then look towards the digital map Hongjoong is showing. When did Yunho get here?

Normally, even with your feelings meddling, you would have paid attention to Hongjoong.

But all you can now think about is Seonghwa’s firm grip on your shoulder how he looks towards you as he asks you and how his beautiful face looks while pitching ideas with Hongjoong.

After a while Hongjoong and Seonghwa walk away, you frowning at the loss of his warmth and smell you love so much.

“God y/n, just fuck him already,” Yunho’s whisper makes you jump as you turn around to look at his baby face which is adorning a smirk. You glare at him but he pulls you aside and continues, “You two are so oblivious it hurts everyone here.”

“Are you out of your mind, Jeong Yunho? You know how Seonghwa is, he will ask this to a damned tortoise if it is within his sight after waking up,” you hiss out getting annoyed at how easily Yunho had caught you.

“Girl, you are tripping bad, Seonghwa likes you. You should have seen him when-“ his voice trails off and you turn around to see Seonghwa behind you.

“What new prank are you teaching her?” Seonghwa asks jokingly but Yunho is quick to catch the jealousy tinging in his tone. You? Not so much. You are just happy to be back in heaven, or rather, in Seonghwa’s arm which is around your torso.

Yunho shakes his head at you two and walks out not answering Seonghwa’s question as he screams a light ‘yah’ to warn the younger. Slowly he turns towards you and asks, “Movies tonight?”

“You know it,” you laugh out smiling brightly leaning back on his arms to look at him. Gosh, can he take your breath away or what?

Seonghwa comes in that night with a different vibe than usual. He has a small ponytail tied behind his head, bangs falling in front and covering his eyes slightly. He is wearing a leather jacket, black jeans and a pair of black sneakers. Usually, you would make fun of him with the all-black outfit but you are too busy staring now.

“Take a picture,” he grins and you come out of your trance glaring at him and praying that the dimly lit room doesn’t show your flustered face.

“Why are you here like this?” you ask eyeing him up and down pretending to judge but you are just shamelessly checking him out.

“Had a work with Hongjoong and didn’t get to change and then I saw I am already late,” he smiles at you, and again the stars in his eyes cloud your mind to be able to think straight.

A gorgeous face with a beautiful personality doesn’t help at all.

“Oh,” you murmur out suddenly feeling the air around you get hot as he dips beside you in the bed while you pick up your laptop from the corner and sit down beside him.

Or you were going to sit down.

Firmly placing his hands on your hips Seonghwa basically pulls you down on his lap as you let out a surprised yelp stiffing up when you sit down on his thighs.

Seeing your stiff state Seonghwa panics knowing he has done it wrong. He should have never done this, what was he even thinking about getting a “how you get a girl” class from Wooyoung? And actually applying it.

His hands abruptly leave your hips flailing around and you are frozen. You slide down beside him quietly and turn towards him just to see his red face fiddling with his hands.

You are not in any better state and look around quietly trying to look everywhere but at Seonghwa and relive the moment you just had.

Seonghwa speaks first saying, “Look, forget about that, I have no idea, what I was thinking.”

Your eyes flicker at him before you nod lightly and he sighs. Great, he has just ruined his friendship with the person he has been with so long. The rational part of his mind urges him to tell you the truth which can probably do some damage control.

“This was Wooyoung’s idea. He told me to do this the other day and I was so against it but he just went on and on about how oblivious I am and that maybe I should do something. But I didn’t know what to do and I was so confused and he told me to do this because apparently pulling someone down on your lap shows that you like the person and it was so stupid I-“ his rambles get cut off as you look at him and say, “You like me?”

Seonghwa starts rambling again, “Y-yeah I mean, yes, if you, I mean, don’t back, I mean, don’t lik-“You cut him off swiftly by placing your lips on his. Seonghwa takes some time to register that you are actually kissing him and he kisses you back, your soft lips moulding together in perfect harmony. His hands hold your cheeks and one of them holds your hip trying to steady your hovering form over him.

You move away but not before he slightly pecks you and you lose your balance and fall on him. You both start laughing at the ridiculous moment and Seonghwa wraps an arm around you pressing a light kiss on your lips again and endearingly looks at your face.

“Maybe, we should have told each other earlier,” he whispers and you curl up in his arms humming a ‘yes’ softly.

“Could have saved me all these times of pining over you,” he chuckles at your sentence and coo at the pout adorning your lips and you lean up to kiss him again once.

Finally, settling down, you snuggle into his arms and put out a weird question, “Should we tell the others or keep quiet?” Seonghwa looks at you with wide eyes and mischief plotting to stay quiet.

But before he can even form a sentence you can hear San scream, “We know,” from outside followed by Wooyoung’s hyena laugh. Only you both know how much teasing you guys will get from now on.

✸ㅤ ara's notesㅤㅤ───ㅤㅤ this one is cute? well it is supposed to be ㅤㅤ»ㅤ series mlistㅤ ateez mlist ㅤ main mlist ㅤ naviㅤㅤ𠈔

✸ㅤ taglistㅤㅤ───ㅤㅤ @haneagerr @tunaasan @evidive @huachengsbestie01 @philijack @atiny-lizbeth @chxnnii @nakiiko @jeonghanfr @weird-bookworm @therealcuppicake ㅤㅤ»ㅤㅤ comment here or in series mlist to be added or removedㅤㅤ𠈔

78 notes · View notes